Read Online Poppy's Picnic (Poppy's Place Short) by Stephanie Beck - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Beck
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but left the pitiful cookies on the plate.
Paul was the most down-to-earth and practical of the fathers, a man of the land for many years. He and Cody spent their days working the shared ranch. She saw a lot of her youngest husband in his father. Big mouth—gentle soul.
“I hate weeding,” he muttered. “Why’d you want the organic stuff anyway? Doesn’t SaraJean carry that crap?”
She slammed her glass down. “Organic is good. We have the space; why the hell shouldn’t we grow something other than freaking cows? You even did a herd of grass-fed steers last year—as hippy dippy as it gets. Didn’t you make a mint? Why are peas so crazy?”
Paul gulped his cracker and took a sip of milk, wide-eyed. He’d worked the ranch for decades. The question was perfectly valid. Tears slipped past her eyelashes. I’m such a shrew.
“Hey, hey, none of that. No tears. I don’t care about the peas—I promise.”
Poppy covered her face with her hands then his strong arms encircled her. She rested against his comforting shoulder.
“Oh girlie, what’s going on? You’ve been off your game the last two months. Ever since you came back from San Antonio you’ve been different. You know we’re here for you, right? Nothing has changed for us. You’re still our girl.”
She sniffed back tears, reaching for control that didn’t come as easily as the breakdown. “I know. Thanks.”
“Thomas and I will have a talk with your father if you want. We’ll make sure he understands the way he should treat his daughter.”
“No, please don’t. He wouldn’t understand, anyway. I’m just….” She pulled away, rubbing the backs of her hands over her face. Why was this so hard?
“Time to come clean,” Paul said, his eyes sparkling even as his lips turned down in a frown.
He’s trying to keep a straight face.
“How do you already know?” she wailed. “I didn’t even realize until two weeks ago—about three days after Cody planted the peas. I feel so stupid.”
Paul hugged her again. “Now, don’t do that. You’re just fine. So pregnancy has you a little emotional. You’re allowed. I don’t understand why the boys are bitching about the garden. They for sure don’t want you doing it.”
She sniffed. “I haven’t told them yet.”
He held her at arm’s length. “Come again?”
“I haven’t told them. I don’t know how! This was so not planned.”
“Come on, honey. Let’s sit down, and you can tell me all about it. Just a sec.” He strode to the doorway. “Thomas, got a minute?”
Poppy hated spewing her problems all over, but crunch time approached, and she’d hit a brick wall. She needed to tell Cody, Trevor, and Michael they would be fathers again, and she needed advice—or at least a pep talk.
Paul’s twin stepped in, his orange T-shirt and sweat pants much more casual than his lawyer attire. Thomas was also easing into retirement, allowing the sons to do more: Cody on the ranch, Michael in the law office as he worked toward taking the Bar exam. Even Trevor would make the occasional coffee run or document drop for the flourishing businesses.
“What’s up?” Thomas turned to her. “Oh no, what’s wrong?”
Paul pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. “Take a seat, girlie.”
Poppy sat, slouching low. Only a few weeks pregnant, already she wished she wore sweat pants instead of her ever-tightening jean shorts.
The men took opposite sides of the table. Though they were twins, time had given them differences. Gray in their blonde hair showed more for Paul, who grew his longer. His face held more laugh lines, where Thomas’ forehead was creased from hours of reading legal briefs. The lawyer enjoyed a slimmer physique and enjoyed working out, where his brother was softer. In Poppy’s seven years on Paraby Ranch, they’d made her feel loved every day. That reminder gave her confidence. They would help her with this.
“So, what’s the problem?” the always logical Thomas
Paul was the most down-to-earth and practical of the fathers, a man of the land for many years. He and Cody spent their days working the shared ranch. She saw a lot of her youngest husband in his father. Big mouth—gentle soul.
“I hate weeding,” he muttered. “Why’d you want the organic stuff anyway? Doesn’t SaraJean carry that crap?”
She slammed her glass down. “Organic is good. We have the space; why the hell shouldn’t we grow something other than freaking cows? You even did a herd of grass-fed steers last year—as hippy dippy as it gets. Didn’t you make a mint? Why are peas so crazy?”
Paul gulped his cracker and took a sip of milk, wide-eyed. He’d worked the ranch for decades. The question was perfectly valid. Tears slipped past her eyelashes. I’m such a shrew.
“Hey, hey, none of that. No tears. I don’t care about the peas—I promise.”
Poppy covered her face with her hands then his strong arms encircled her. She rested against his comforting shoulder.
“Oh girlie, what’s going on? You’ve been off your game the last two months. Ever since you came back from San Antonio you’ve been different. You know we’re here for you, right? Nothing has changed for us. You’re still our girl.”
She sniffed back tears, reaching for control that didn’t come as easily as the breakdown. “I know. Thanks.”
“Thomas and I will have a talk with your father if you want. We’ll make sure he understands the way he should treat his daughter.”
“No, please don’t. He wouldn’t understand, anyway. I’m just….” She pulled away, rubbing the backs of her hands over her face. Why was this so hard?
“Time to come clean,” Paul said, his eyes sparkling even as his lips turned down in a frown.
He’s trying to keep a straight face.
“How do you already know?” she wailed. “I didn’t even realize until two weeks ago—about three days after Cody planted the peas. I feel so stupid.”
Paul hugged her again. “Now, don’t do that. You’re just fine. So pregnancy has you a little emotional. You’re allowed. I don’t understand why the boys are bitching about the garden. They for sure don’t want you doing it.”
She sniffed. “I haven’t told them yet.”
He held her at arm’s length. “Come again?”
“I haven’t told them. I don’t know how! This was so not planned.”
“Come on, honey. Let’s sit down, and you can tell me all about it. Just a sec.” He strode to the doorway. “Thomas, got a minute?”
Poppy hated spewing her problems all over, but crunch time approached, and she’d hit a brick wall. She needed to tell Cody, Trevor, and Michael they would be fathers again, and she needed advice—or at least a pep talk.
Paul’s twin stepped in, his orange T-shirt and sweat pants much more casual than his lawyer attire. Thomas was also easing into retirement, allowing the sons to do more: Cody on the ranch, Michael in the law office as he worked toward taking the Bar exam. Even Trevor would make the occasional coffee run or document drop for the flourishing businesses.
“What’s up?” Thomas turned to her. “Oh no, what’s wrong?”
Paul pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. “Take a seat, girlie.”
Poppy sat, slouching low. Only a few weeks pregnant, already she wished she wore sweat pants instead of her ever-tightening jean shorts.
The men took opposite sides of the table. Though they were twins, time had given them differences. Gray in their blonde hair showed more for Paul, who grew his longer. His face held more laugh lines, where Thomas’ forehead was creased from hours of reading legal briefs. The lawyer enjoyed a slimmer physique and enjoyed working out, where his brother was softer. In Poppy’s seven years on Paraby Ranch, they’d made her feel loved every day. That reminder gave her confidence. They would help her with this.
“So, what’s the problem?” the always logical Thomas
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