The mug said, “Welcome to Bitter End…it’s not as bad here as you’d think” in bold red letters printed over an outline of the state of Tennessee where a star marked the location of the town of Bitter End. They’d designed it themselves and had it custom printed for her. It was one of Poppy’s favorite things on earth, along with her Rosie’s Cafe T-shirt.

Speaking of Rosie’s, Poppy drew in a big long sip of sweet hot cinnamon-dusted cappuccino she’d gotten at the cafe before she sat and set the mug down between the computer and the telephone on her desk. 

Her desk. At her first real job. That thought continued to send a thrill through her, even now. She had an actual job, that earned her a real paycheck. Not to mention she had what she considered to be a pretty impressive job title.

Pride swelled within her as her phone rang. She lifted the receiver and announced in her most professional voice, “Poppy Van Clief speaking.”

“That’s a very formal greeting for your mother.”

“Yes, I know. Sorry, Mom. I’m in work mode. I didn’t notice the caller ID.” 

“Mmm. Yes. How is that going?”

She rolled her eyes at how her mother kept treating her career like it was a passing phase. As if she would grow out of the desire to have a career. 

“How’s what going? You mean my job? It’s going great.”

“That’s good. So I’m working on our calendar…”

The Van Clief family calendar. It had dictated life, and most especially their summer activities, for as long as Poppy could remember. 

The calendar lived in multiple locations. In her mother’s datebook, which was the master version that all others stemmed from. There was also a copy with her father’s assistant and on the cork board in the kitchen at the house in Water Mill on Long Island, as well as in the kitchen in the Manhattan apartment. And finally, thanks to Poppy and her older brother Payne dragging the family into the digital age, there was also a Google shared calendar online.

“There are so many events scheduled, and since you chose to spend the summer in some godforsaken place in Tennessee, I wanted to make sure you had the list well in advance so you could plan your travel,” her mother continued.

“Mom. I just started working at my new job. I can’t leave for the summer.”

“I’m sure you can take a few weeks off.”

“No. I really can’t.”

“Not even for the Bridgehampton Polo match?” her mother asked.

“No.”

“The Southhampton Fine Art Fair?”

“No.”

“Hamptons Fashion Week?”

“No.”

“Surely you’re not missing the animal shelter benefit.”

That was the only one Poppy would feel bad about missing.

“I’ll send a check to make up for it.” A nice big one. 

Now that she earned a salary and was no longer relying on her allowance from her parents for living expenses, it would be even more satisfying making the donation.

Her mother let out a huff. “Fine. But you can’t miss the White Party.”

Au contraire. She could and she would. A bunch of celebrities posing for photos while wearing white. Been there, done that. It was not a priority for her at the moment. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. It can’t be helped.” 

“Seriously, Poppy. If you’re going to insist on working at a spa, you should work at Gurney’s in Montauk. At least then you’d be here on the island.”

She scowled as her mother made it sound as if her position consisted of scheduling pedicure appointments. “I don’t work at a spa. I’m the promotions and events manager for the entire hotel. The Wilder just happens to contain a spa.”

“You don’t have to work at all, you know. You’re eligible to withdraw from your trust fund. You’re over twenty-one. You’re old enough now. Besides, you should at least take the summer off. You just finished your Master’s Degree. It’s the perfect opportunity to take some time for yourself. Relax for the next few months.”

Relax? She wouldn’t exactly call summers spent in eastern Long Island relaxing. 

With the paparazzi around every corner, she didn’t dare go into town without looking perfect. Couldn’t go for a walk along the shore without first spending the hour it took to create the illusion of effortless beach hair and sun-kissed skin. She definitely couldn’t indulge in too much food even if Long Island was a culinary Mecca, since even one picture showing any belly bloat would no doubt be captioned by the tabloids with Van Clief heiress’s baby bump? 

And with one party after another, all photographed for publications ranging from Vanity Fair to the Sunday New York Times Leisure section to the local Hamptons’ Dan’s Paper, just shopping for new outfits to be shot in was a full-time job. 

A-list celebrity parties held at posh properties on the island had been part of her old life. She was starting fresh. A new life. Now wasn’t the time to take the summer off. It was the time to hit the ground running. To make a mark in the business world. To form a strong foundation for a career she could build a life on.

Her mother, who’d never worked a day in her life except if she counted planning fundraisers, would never understand that. 

The best Poppy could do was try and appease her. “I’ll try to make it home for a visit around the holidays. Okay?”

“For the fourth? Or do you mean Labor Day?” her mother asked.

Poppy’s chin dropped in defeat. “No, Mother. I meant the holidays. Like Thanksgiving. Or Christmas.” The big ones, when family was supposed to be together.

Although in the Hamptons, where life only took place in the span of time between Memorial Day and Labor Day, the holidays her mother had mentioned were the big ones.

“Oh. Fine then.” Marian Van Clief had passive aggression down pat.

Poppy sighed. She’d thought being Royce Van Clief’s daughter was hard, but her mother was no slouch in the demanding parent department either. 

“Sorry, Mom…” Motion in the open doorway caught Poppy’s attention and interrupted her apology, not that she’d wanted to apologize in the first place. 

She turned and spotted Ethan Wilder leaning against the doorframe like only he could.

It was as if the man could liquify his bones at will, making him an expert sloucher. He had cool and casual down to a practiced perfection as he leaned with nonchalance radiating off him in waves, just like his scent. 

What was that? Leather. Horse. Grass. The combination shouldn’t smell good but it did. Amazing, in fact. So amazing they should bottle it as the Wilder’s signature scent.

She reached for a pen and jotted down Sig Scent on a sticky note as an idea to be revisited later.

“Um, Mom. Something came up. I gotta go. Call you soon. Hi to Dad.” Poppy disconnected the call before her mother moved to another tangential topic and swiveled her leather desk chair to fully face the doorway. “Can I help you?”

Bones back and operational, Ethan pushed off the doorframe and sauntered across the room, where he leaned one cheek of his jean-clad ass on her desk. “Just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing since I was here to see big brother. So, how are you doing?”

She’d been better before the family playboy had darkened her door. 

Ethan Wilder was trouble. Danger with a capital D. The kind of guy a smart girl would steer clear of. 

Too rugged to be called pretty, even though he was so insanely good looking the term applied, he definitely got the female hormones pumping. And that was the last thing she could let happen.

She was not going to be that girl. The one who slept with one of the owners of the company she worked for. But even if he hadn’t been a Wilder, he was still a player. A heartache waiting to happen. 

Nope. She wasn’t going to be another notch in his big showy cowboy belt.

“I’m doing fine. Busy. Very busy.” She let that hint drop with what she hoped was a loud obvious thud.

He grinned. “Good girl. The Wilder needs someone like you in your position.”

She raised a freshly threaded eye brow, which she’d just had shaped downstairs at the spa using her employee discount. “Oh, really? And what do you know about my position?”

“Oww. She bites. I’m wounded.” He clutched one hand over his well-developed pectoral muscle beneath the chambray shirt.

Poppy cringed. 

Her comment had come out harsher than she’d intended. She’d all but called him stupid. And she of all people knew how that felt. She’d been underestimated her entire life. Even graduating top of her class couldn’t undo a lifetime of people assuming she was dumb because she was attractive. And here she was, doing the same to Ethan. 

Insulting her boss’s brother was almost as bad for her budding career as sleeping with him. She needed to fix this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“It’s okay, darlin’. I can take it. I like a little sass in a lady anyway.” He delivered that comment with a wink that caused a flutter low in her belly.

Dammit. She didn’t want to flutter. Not from any man at all, but she definitely did not want to flutter because of Ethan Wilder. 

She’d just ignore the feeling. Ignore any and all feelings she had of the feminine variety. She was concentrating on her career, not her love life. And not only because she had her priorities in order and intended to stick to them. But also because she would only allow herself one epically bad decision and she’d already used hers up on Emmett Wilder. 

That dirty rotten catfishing son of a—

“Don’t forget about dinner tonight,” Ethan said, interrupting her internal rant about the man who’d taken advantage of all three of them. 

Emmett’s betrayal of them all was the reason she and Eva and Olivia had met, become best friends and had come to Bitter End in search of revenge in the first place. 

They’d come looking for the black sheep of the Wilder family, Emmett, and instead had stumbled upon his three cousins, Ethan, Wyatt and Linc. 

Fate definitely had a hand in that since Olivia was currently living in Wilder manor, as they liked to call it, and sleeping in Wyatt Wilder’s bed.

But there was no time to spend actively hating Emmett right now. Ethan had reminded her of the one thing she’d forgotten to add to her massive to do list. 

She pressed her lips together and stifled a curse at his mention of dinner. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” he guessed.

“Yes.” Her gaze shot up to meet his deep blue one, framed beneath his dark brows. “Don’t tell Livvie. She’ll be all kinds of insulted. I’ve just been focused on work—”

He leaned closer, filling her nostrils with the scent of him again. Was that an undercurrent of pine? Or cedar? What was the difference between the two? 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Thankfully, he leaned back and got to his feet and off her desk. But not before he touched one finger to a faded bloom in the vase of fresh—now not so fresh—flowers she’d treated herself to for her desk last week. “Your flowers are dying.”

“Thanks for noticing.” She scowled. That only elicited a crooked smirk from him.

He wagged one finger at her, like she was a child. “Don’t be late. Six o’clock sharp. Olivia said she’s cooking something special.”

“I’ll be there,” she begrudgingly agreed as he took a step toward the door, but he didn’t quite make it there.

He glanced back over his shoulder in a perfect model pose that managed to show off all his best assets at the same time. His long legs and tight ass and his blue eyes framed by his dark hair. If she didn’t know he made a living managing the stock on the Wilder ranch she’d wonder if he’d learned that trick at a photo shoot. 

“Why don’t you pack an overnight bag? You know, in case you want to have some wine and don’t want to drive home. There’s plenty of bedrooms in the house. Or, you know, mine’s available.” His dimple showed as he grinned.

Dammit. He somehow managed to be so charming she couldn’t even be mad at him over the ridiculous offer. 

All she said was, “I think I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head, a slow sway that matched the equally lazy cadence of his words as he said, “I don’t know.” He grinned. “I don’t want to see that pretty little Jeep of yours hung up on a guard rail up on Roan Mountain like the RV you girls wrecked on your way into town. It would suck to have to get it repainted so soon.” 

Before she could protest that she hadn’t been the one driving the RV when they’d crashed, he was gone. Out of her office but not out of her mind.

How many hours until dinner and the time she’d be subjected to Ethan’s presence again? How ever many, it wasn’t long enough.