Salvaged
Page 22
Scowling a little over my wandering thoughts, I told Poppy, “Thanks, but it’s all going soon. Kallie picked all the furniture out and did all the decorating. I told her today that she could have it all.”
Her lips twitched and I noticed she had a little bit of ketchup on the side of her mouth. If she was any other girl hanging out on my couch, eating a burger I brought her, I would reach out and swipe it away, but I didn’t want to spook her or alarm her by touching her without her permission, so I pointed to the spot on my own face and lifted my eyebrows at her.
She blushed prettily and gestured to the stupid, pale-colored couch. “I kind of figured. You don’t strike me as a dove-gray kind of guy.”
I snorted. “What kind of guy do I strike you as?” I was honestly curious about her answer.
She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. She was still dressed in her work clothes and her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail on the top of her head. She didn’t have any makeup on and she hadn’t managed to get all the ketchup off her face, and yet that simple gesture, done with an unpracticed and effortless grace, managed to be more provocative and alluring than the striptease I’d been given by the last girl I brought home in an effort to fuck my problems away. I balled up the wrapper to my burger, picked up the bottle of Laughing Lab that was in front of me, and reminded myself Poppy Cruz was all kinds of look-but-don’t-touch until she asked to have my hands on her.
“I would guess black leather because that seems to be the standard for any guy who lives alone, but your car is so nice and you obviously aren’t afraid of a little color.” Her brandy-colored eyes swept across the tattoos that circled my throat and dropped below the collar of my T-shirt, and skimmed over the ones on the back of my hands. “So maybe something blue or red with white piping.”
I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to replace Kallie’s awful choice in couches with but now that she mentioned it I kind of liked the idea of something red. I could try and find something that looked vintage but was still comfortable enough that I could sit my happy ass on it in front of the tv and watch some goddamn football whenever I wanted to. It would be reclaiming my space.
“I bought this house and pretty much handed the task of making it a home off to Kallie.” I ran a hand over my face and nudged the puppy that was asleep on the toe of my boot. Happy lifted sleepy eyes to mine and begrudgingly got to his feet so I could stand up and take the trash to the kitchen. “I wanted her to love it here. I wanted her to make it her own.” I blew out a breath and shook my head when Poppy’s knowing eyes hit mine. “I didn’t realize that when she was putting the house together she was leaving me out in the cold. None of this is for me.” It never had been and I could see it all so clearly now. “When I was growing up I never lived anywhere long enough to have my own space. I guess I got used to trying to fit myself into whatever nook and cranny was left.” I’d blindly allowed Kallie to push me out of the first home that was actually mine because I was so depressingly accustomed to not belonging anywhere.
I heard Poppy exhale a breath and then her fingers were lightly touching my arm. If I hadn’t been so twisted up inside my own memories, I would have let out a victory whoop. I understood the significance of her voluntarily putting her hands on me two days in a row and I could only pray that she did as well.
“This place is all yours now, Wheeler. You worked hard for it and you deserve to make it a place where you want to be.” She tilted her chin down a little and let go of her hold on my arm. “You should make it a place that both you and your child will think of as safe and warm, a place you both can grow into … together.”
Her words made me physically jerk, so I took a step away from her and turned to make my way to the kitchen. I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that I was going to be responsible for creating a home not only for myself, but also for my kid. I’d never settled anywhere, the closest being the spot on Zeb’s bedroom floor when we were teenagers because his mom never told him no when he asked if I could stay over. I didn’t know if I had the tools required to turn a house into a loving home for someone else, especially considering I’d failed at doing it for myself up until this point in my life. It wasn’t like anyone had set an example for me when I was growing up. I’d been shuffled from place to place so often that to this day I still had stuff in boxes from when I’d moved out of my apartment and into this house with Kallie. That same stuff had stayed in boxes regardless of what foster home I’d been in. They were never unpacked and they sat gathering dust waiting for the next time I was uprooted and displaced.
I heard Poppy follow me into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when I heard the puppy as well. The little dog wanted to be right in the thick of things and wasn’t keen on letting his humans out of his sight.
I tossed the trash and leaned back against the counter where the sink was. “I’m going to need a nursery. Fuck. What do I know about putting together a nursery?” I was clueless.
Poppy stood on the opposite side of the kitchen where a big butcher-block island divided the space that Kallie told me she designed to be something called shabby chic. To me it looked like she had taken her grandmother shopping and let her pick out whatever struck her fancy. The more I was noticing my ex’s mark on my house, the more aggravated and restless I started to feel. That unease was intensified by the woman looking at me with sympathy and understanding shining out of her eyes.
“You know home isn’t really about what color your couch is or what you hang on the wall.” Her voice was quiet like always but there was a firm thread woven throughout it that refused to be ignored. It was like she knew the words she was saying were going to matter to me long after she was no longer standing in front of me, so she had to make them unforgettable. “Home is about knowing you are in the right place with the right people.” She gave me a lopsided grin. “Plus, once you know what you’re having, you can get on Pinterest and learn all about how to decorate a nursery.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “Do I look like I know how to use Pinterest?”
She cocked her head to the side and lowered her lashes shyly. “I’ll show you how.”
I pushed off the counter and took the steps required to move me across the space separating us. I needed to change the subject before I came up with any excuse I could find to keep her close. I copied her pose on the opposite side of the island and hid a grin when her gaze went immediately to where my T-shirt pulled tight across my chest and tugged against the bulge of my biceps. “Is that why you came here when you got out of the hospital? Denver was the right place and your sister found the right people?”
Her lips twitched and I noticed she had a little bit of ketchup on the side of her mouth. If she was any other girl hanging out on my couch, eating a burger I brought her, I would reach out and swipe it away, but I didn’t want to spook her or alarm her by touching her without her permission, so I pointed to the spot on my own face and lifted my eyebrows at her.
She blushed prettily and gestured to the stupid, pale-colored couch. “I kind of figured. You don’t strike me as a dove-gray kind of guy.”
I snorted. “What kind of guy do I strike you as?” I was honestly curious about her answer.
She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. She was still dressed in her work clothes and her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail on the top of her head. She didn’t have any makeup on and she hadn’t managed to get all the ketchup off her face, and yet that simple gesture, done with an unpracticed and effortless grace, managed to be more provocative and alluring than the striptease I’d been given by the last girl I brought home in an effort to fuck my problems away. I balled up the wrapper to my burger, picked up the bottle of Laughing Lab that was in front of me, and reminded myself Poppy Cruz was all kinds of look-but-don’t-touch until she asked to have my hands on her.
“I would guess black leather because that seems to be the standard for any guy who lives alone, but your car is so nice and you obviously aren’t afraid of a little color.” Her brandy-colored eyes swept across the tattoos that circled my throat and dropped below the collar of my T-shirt, and skimmed over the ones on the back of my hands. “So maybe something blue or red with white piping.”
I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to replace Kallie’s awful choice in couches with but now that she mentioned it I kind of liked the idea of something red. I could try and find something that looked vintage but was still comfortable enough that I could sit my happy ass on it in front of the tv and watch some goddamn football whenever I wanted to. It would be reclaiming my space.
“I bought this house and pretty much handed the task of making it a home off to Kallie.” I ran a hand over my face and nudged the puppy that was asleep on the toe of my boot. Happy lifted sleepy eyes to mine and begrudgingly got to his feet so I could stand up and take the trash to the kitchen. “I wanted her to love it here. I wanted her to make it her own.” I blew out a breath and shook my head when Poppy’s knowing eyes hit mine. “I didn’t realize that when she was putting the house together she was leaving me out in the cold. None of this is for me.” It never had been and I could see it all so clearly now. “When I was growing up I never lived anywhere long enough to have my own space. I guess I got used to trying to fit myself into whatever nook and cranny was left.” I’d blindly allowed Kallie to push me out of the first home that was actually mine because I was so depressingly accustomed to not belonging anywhere.
I heard Poppy exhale a breath and then her fingers were lightly touching my arm. If I hadn’t been so twisted up inside my own memories, I would have let out a victory whoop. I understood the significance of her voluntarily putting her hands on me two days in a row and I could only pray that she did as well.
“This place is all yours now, Wheeler. You worked hard for it and you deserve to make it a place where you want to be.” She tilted her chin down a little and let go of her hold on my arm. “You should make it a place that both you and your child will think of as safe and warm, a place you both can grow into … together.”
Her words made me physically jerk, so I took a step away from her and turned to make my way to the kitchen. I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that I was going to be responsible for creating a home not only for myself, but also for my kid. I’d never settled anywhere, the closest being the spot on Zeb’s bedroom floor when we were teenagers because his mom never told him no when he asked if I could stay over. I didn’t know if I had the tools required to turn a house into a loving home for someone else, especially considering I’d failed at doing it for myself up until this point in my life. It wasn’t like anyone had set an example for me when I was growing up. I’d been shuffled from place to place so often that to this day I still had stuff in boxes from when I’d moved out of my apartment and into this house with Kallie. That same stuff had stayed in boxes regardless of what foster home I’d been in. They were never unpacked and they sat gathering dust waiting for the next time I was uprooted and displaced.
I heard Poppy follow me into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when I heard the puppy as well. The little dog wanted to be right in the thick of things and wasn’t keen on letting his humans out of his sight.
I tossed the trash and leaned back against the counter where the sink was. “I’m going to need a nursery. Fuck. What do I know about putting together a nursery?” I was clueless.
Poppy stood on the opposite side of the kitchen where a big butcher-block island divided the space that Kallie told me she designed to be something called shabby chic. To me it looked like she had taken her grandmother shopping and let her pick out whatever struck her fancy. The more I was noticing my ex’s mark on my house, the more aggravated and restless I started to feel. That unease was intensified by the woman looking at me with sympathy and understanding shining out of her eyes.
“You know home isn’t really about what color your couch is or what you hang on the wall.” Her voice was quiet like always but there was a firm thread woven throughout it that refused to be ignored. It was like she knew the words she was saying were going to matter to me long after she was no longer standing in front of me, so she had to make them unforgettable. “Home is about knowing you are in the right place with the right people.” She gave me a lopsided grin. “Plus, once you know what you’re having, you can get on Pinterest and learn all about how to decorate a nursery.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “Do I look like I know how to use Pinterest?”
She cocked her head to the side and lowered her lashes shyly. “I’ll show you how.”
I pushed off the counter and took the steps required to move me across the space separating us. I needed to change the subject before I came up with any excuse I could find to keep her close. I copied her pose on the opposite side of the island and hid a grin when her gaze went immediately to where my T-shirt pulled tight across my chest and tugged against the bulge of my biceps. “Is that why you came here when you got out of the hospital? Denver was the right place and your sister found the right people?”
