Page 78 of Sweet Distraction

“Yeah, yeah,” he says and then messes his hair up further. Poppy erupts in another fit. “You try sleeping with a human blanket on your chest.” He glances at me and winks. “Not that I’m complaining one damn bit.”

Oh God. I bury my face in my hands. “Please stop talking.”

“Nope. I’m enjoying this too much.”

“What about it exactly are you enjoying?” I ask as I pull Poppy into my lap out of reflex for a good morning hug.

She hugs me back and then bends over to look at my shin, giving me a clear line of sight to Rocket and his half-cocked grin. “Seeing you a little mussed up. The hair is down. I now know you’re a good snuggler on top of being a great kisser. Guess there’s something to be said for that anticipation, huh?”

“Rocket. You can’t say that. Poppy can—”

“Hear me. I know. What’s the big deal? We both like you. Why hide it?”

I stare at him and his casualness, my jaw lax and mind stuttering over how easy this seems for him.

What happened to the emotionally constipated man from a month ago?

And then something happens before I can respond to him. He stands abruptly and reaches for Poppy’s hand. There are no words, no coaxing, no anything.

She takes it.

Just like that. No hesitation. No second-guessing. No wide-eyed uncertainty. Her small fingers wrap around his pointer finger.

“You hungry?” Rocket asks her. Her eyes grow wide, and she giggles before looking back at me to make sure it’s okay she goes with him.

I nod and then freeze in place, shin still smarting but heart swelling.

Because this? This is the first time he’s taken to her all on his own. To say it wrecks me is an understatement. To say it’s everything is an even bigger one.

I stay where I am and watch the two of them.

He’s barefoot, shirt wrinkled, and hair’s a mess. She’s wild curls, pink frills, and a wide grin. Poppy is still giggling as she twirls under their joined hands like it’s a game only she understands.

And then Rocket looks down at her with a soft, crooked smile.

His guard is down. His walls are gone. And I let myself stare. Let myself take it in. Because I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

He glances back at me.

“I don’t mind you looking,” he says, voice amused. “I don’t mind you touching, either.”

I choke on air and start coughing.

He winks. “Just next time, maybe give a guy some warning so I can ensure I’m at tip-top form.”

My face might never recover from this shade of red.

He makes a show of lifting Poppy up onto the counter before looking my way and saying a little quieter and a bit more seriously, “I like you, Willow Adams.”

I blink, and my breath burns in my chest as I lift my eyebrows in response.

“That’s kind of a new thing for me.”

The world tilts because he’s not joking. Not deflecting. Not putting on a show. I’ve gotten to know him well enough to know that he means it.

He turns to Poppy. “How about pancakes, Popstar? I have no fuc—freaking clue how to make them. They’ll probably taste like crap, but we’ll try.” He moves toward the cupboards and then turns back to look at her while I smile at the new nickname he’s given her. “Oh, and I know I’m not supposed to cuss. It’s a vice. I’ll work on not cussing if you work on talking to me, okay?” He holds out a hand to shake hers.

She looks at it, then takes it and shakes it with a definitive nod.