Her Dakota Man (Book 1 - Dakota Hearts) (6 page)

“You sound like you had a problem with that.”

“If I did, she wouldn’t have been my best friend, Logan.”

“That’s something you seemed to have forgotten.”

“No, Logan. My loyalty to Kelly was real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She sighed and looked away. Then turned back to him.

“Look, if it’s too difficult for you to have me here, I’ll leave right now.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? Your mother already offered me a bed. It’s not like I’m going to have to sleep in my car.”

“No one is sleeping in the car. Not tonight or any other night.”

“Then what do you want, Logan?”

“I saw the way Keith was with you today. He misses his mother. I don’t want him to get attached and then be heartbroken when you leave.”

Realization showed on her face. “Are you sure it’s Keith you’re worried about?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course. He’s always first in my mind.”

“If it’s too difficult for you both, then I’ll leave in the morning.”

He looked at her directly, fighting a war of emotions inside himself that he couldn’t define.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Pure emotion flared in her beautiful green eyes. “You don’t?”

He stumbled on his words, not finding any that made sense to him. “You said you came here to help…so I guess…if you can care for Keith, I can get started cleaning up the barn tomorrow.”

She nodded. “And then?”

“Let’s not make this what it isn’t, Poppy.”

“And what’s that?”

He didn’t utter a word but his face said it all. He believed all the lies. Well, that shouldn’t surprise her. She’d believed them too. Poppy was standing right in front of Logan and yet she felt as far away at that moment as she’d been when she was in New York.

* * *

He should have slept like a log, but as Logan pulled himself out of bed due to the sound of cartoons on the TV downstairs in the living room, he felt like road kill. Cartoons. Early Mornings. That was normal.
Having Poppy Ericksen sleeping in the bedroom down the hall, most likely naked, was not.
He hated that he remembered such details about the woman.

At least he’d have a few minutes to collect himself with a cup of coffee before Poppy got up and he had to face the day with her again.

He quickly dressed and quietly walked downstairs. From the center hallway, he peeked into the living room and saw Keith sitting in a child-size plastic chair in front of the television, watching his favorite Saturday morning cartoon. He quietly walked by the doorway to the kitchen, hoping he could catch a few minutes alone before starting their morning breakfast ritual. He stopped short as he walked into the kitchen.

Poppy stood in front of the stove with a grimace on her face reading the side of a box of pancake mix. On the counter, he saw an empty bowl, a measuring cup and a full cup of hot coffee.

Her gaze lifted to him when she noticed him standing there. “Do you know this pancake mix doesn’t call for adding any eggs?”

“Good thing. We don’t have any.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She put the box down on the counter and picked up the cup of coffee, handing it to him. “I figured you could use this first thing. I just poured it so it’s really hot.”

He looked at the coffee cup, a little taken aback that she’d set the tone of the day this way. “Aren’t you having some?”

“I’ve already had two. I’m still on East Coast time. This is from a fresh pot.”

“Oh.” He took the cup in his hand and sipped it. Strong coffee, something he was not used to. Kelly had always made it weak and liked it light. He’d gotten used to it that way. But this tasted good. “How did you know I was awake?”

“It doesn’t take a PhD. I knew you wouldn’t let Keith stay up by himself that long. And I heard you coming down the steps.”

Recollection dawned on him. “The creaky step?”

“Bagged me every time,” she said with a smile. She waved the box. “Want some no-egg pancakes?”

“We have no maple syrup.”

“I saw some strawberry jam in the fridge. That’ll do.”

“Oh, okay, sure. But you don’t have to make us breakfast.”

“I can do pancakes with, or in this case, without eggs. Why don’t you give Keith his bath and I’ll fix breakfast for all of us. It’ll be done when you are.”

He nodded his thanks. “Call out if you can’t find anything in the kitchen.”

Once the warm bath was filled and Keith was playfully splashing in the water, Logan allowed himself to think about how normal it all seemed. He’d missed the scent of hot coffee brewing this morning, but now it was unmistakable. The smell of food cooking was coming upstairs and invading his senses. He hadn’t had anything like this since before Kelly died and suddenly it reminded him just how alone he’d been this past year without her.

Keith giggling pulled him from his thoughts.

Logan picked up a pile of soapsuds with his fingers and dotted Keith’s nose. “What’s so funny?”

“Auntie Poppy’s singing.”

Logan listened for a minute. Indeed she was. It brought back memories from their childhood, and he realized Poppy always had. He’d forgotten how he used to hear her coming down the hall at school long before she walked into the classroom because she’d been singing whatever popular song was on the radio. It was almost as if she was unaware she was even doing it.

Keith splashed some water that hit him in the face and he realized in that moment he’d been smiling with the memory. He quickly pushed thoughts of the past away. Poppy hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours and the normal cadence of their lives had been shattered.

Routine had been important to Kelly, especially when she’d gotten so sick. Logan diligently followed that pattern, especially after Kelly passed away. He reasoned it was best for Keith to stay in their normal routine, something he could count on.

But he hadn’t woken that morning thinking of the normal routine that had sustained him. He’d thought about Poppy. She’d been the last thing on his mind last night and the first thing he’d thought of when he’d opened his eyes. He’d been angry with her for so long that it was hard to imagine that the woman who’d greeted him this morning was the woman who’d walked out on her best friend in her time of need. And every time he thought about that, his anger swelled again until Logan thought it would choke him. It had been hard enough to keep that anger in check yesterday.

Truth be told, Logan could hardly be angry with Poppy for leaving South Dakota all those years ago. She hadn’t wanted to leave. That had been forced on her by her parents’ decision to sell this very house.

No, Logan’s anger grew as the years went on because despite her promise on the day she’d left, Poppy hadn’t come back. Not even for Kelly. It had always been Kelly who’d felt compelled to visit Poppy in New York.

Anger surged through him with the memory of Kelly’s tears those months when she was sick every time she’d talked about Poppy. Why hadn’t Poppy come back then? None of it made sense. Least of all, Poppy showing up on his door yesterday. Why now after all this time? He just didn't understand it.

As Keith splashed in the tub, Logan thought of how he’d tossed in his bed last night, knowing Poppy was just a few feet down the hall in bed. He knew she always slept naked because he’d walked in on her once while in high school, sending his teenage hormones through the roof in one fell swoop. He’d never been able to get the image of her lying in bed; auburn hair splayed out on her pillow, her creamy white breasts looking full and every bit a young man’s dream.

A splash of suds hit his face, pulling him from the thoughts. The way his body immediately reacted to the memory only fueled his anger toward Poppy, but he pushed it aside as he pulled the plug on the tub and grabbed a towel. He wasn’t a teenage boy lusting after a beautiful girl. He was a father and a rancher.

“Okay, little man, I think you’re wrinkled enough. I smell pancakes downstairs.”

Within a few minutes, they both made their way downstairs, the creaky stair tread announcing their approach. Keith ran to the kitchen and climbed on a kitchen chair in front of a place setting with a tall empty glass in front of it. Without a word, Poppy reached over and swapped the empty glass with a cup of milk in a plastic cup. Keith grabbed the cup and took a quick sip.

Logan looked at the table, set with a tablecloth he’d forgotten they’d had. He could smell the warmed strawberry jam now sitting in a gravy boat on the table. He looked at everything Poppy had put together and then glanced at the smile on her face. Even still tired, with her face scrubbed of the makeup she’d worn yesterday, she was an incredibly beautiful woman. The years hadn’t changed that.

He cleared his throat and searched for something appropriate to say.

She tilted an eyebrow at him. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” he finally said. “This is…this is nice. Thank you.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet.”

“Can I have a pancake?” Keith asked.

“Please,” Logan reminded him.

“Can I have a pancake, please?” Keith repeated with his best manners.

“Sure can.”

“I don’t ever remember you being this chipper first thing in the morning,” he said as he sat down.

Poppy took in the surprised look on his face. “I'm used to New York time. To me it seems much later than it is right now.”

“Oh,” Logan said.

“Sit next to me, Auntie Poppy!” Either way, Poppy would be sitting next to Keith at the table. But the sweetness of his request startled Logan, making it clear to him that his little guy missed having a mother, or at least a woman around the house, more than he thought.

* * *

Poppy washed the dishes like she’d done hundreds of times at that very sink. She hadn't wanted to admit how stiff she was from the days’ worth of work and playing in the yard with Keith. Her only reprieve had been when Keith had gone down for a very brief nap.

But more than the work of watching a young boy in his quest to explore endless puddles in the yard, Poppy was emotionally drained. March was always a cold month, but the chill she’d been getting from Logan all day had gotten the best of her. As the water drained from the sink, she felt the tears that she refused to let fall. How had the man who’d once been her best friend become this stranger? How could she have let it happen? Even if she’d known about what Kelly had done at the time, would things between her and Logan been different? She had to believe they would be. Otherwise, why had she bothered to come?

When the last of the dishes from their dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup were dried and put away, Logan came into the kitchen.

“You don’t seem as peppy as you were yesterday,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“Keith can really run you in circles. It can be a lot when you’re not used to it.”

She wiped her hands with the dishtowel and dropped it on the counter. “You still trying to get rid of me, Logan?”

“I’m trying…to say thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice managed to squeeze out the rest of the irritation Poppy had felt all day by Logan’s cold shoulder toward her.

“Keith has always been fascinated by the heavier equipment and I couldn’t have managed to get as much done as I did if you weren’t here to keep him at a safe distance.”

“He told me about a hundred times how much he loves to ride the Bobcat with you.”

“Yeah, he does. But today wasn’t the day for that. You were a…help.”

She drew in a deep breath and smiled, hoping the tears she’d been on the verge of shedding all day would go away completely.

“Careful, Logan. You may just remember you actually like me.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “You’re welcome.” She motioned to the living room where Keith was playing with some monster trucks on the floor. “He played hard out in that mud today. He needs another bath.”

Logan gave her a half smile. “Of course he does. He’s a McKinnon.”

Poppy used the time while Logan was giving Keith a bath to unpack the clothes that had been in her suitcase since the day she’d arrived. She hadn’t been sure how long Logan would tolerate her being there and didn’t see the point in unpacking. Until now.

There’d been a shift. Something she didn’t think was possible. Small as it was, the look Logan had given her in the kitchen was void of the anger she’d seen and felt since she’d arrived. They were still light years away from where she wanted to be, and they’d have to confront the truth before there’d be any real change, but this was a start.

As she hung the last shirt in the closet, Poppy’s eyes fixed on the big decoupage hatbox that Kelly had always used as a little girl to put notes and mementoes in. It was sitting on the top shelf of the spare room almost like it was cast away. Kelly had always kept it by her bed, but that was when they’d been teenagers. They’d lie on the bed and look at the little notes they’d passed to each other in class and talk about boys and their future.