TWENTY-SEVEN
Oddly nervous, Poppy lit the candles on the table laid for two, then went over to check the playlist for the tenth time. Pressing play to start the music was like a symbol for beginning the evening.
Dinner at the house should’ve started already, which meant someone would be sending her man out on the hunt for her.
He hollered for her as soon as he came through the front door. “Candy!”
Pouncing to attention, Poppy hurried to put herself in the middle of the room. As the door opened, she smoothed her dress over her hip.
Turner stopped to absorb the low lighting and soft music. His brow was still tense when his focus landed on her.
“I’m nervous,” she said, l*****g her drying lips. “Is that weird?”
“Depends,” he said, closing the door at his back. “What’s this for?”
“We…”
