Poppy's Passions by Stephanie Beck Page B

numbers weren't so bad, he told her, and women and kids had soft spots for the little fur balls. She suspected the big man did too.
    Trevor's work was entirely different from his brothers. He split his time between LA and Morris, promising the LA time was being cut to bare essentials since she was in their lives. The first time she stepped into his home office, she'd stepped right back out. Trevor forbade her from cleaning or moving anything in the giant cesspit, claiming he would clean after the game was released. It was part of his creative process, continuity he called it.
    She figured that meant the dirty napkins, clothes, soda bottles, and Lord only knew what else, had been accumulating for seven months while he'd been programming. The fact wild animals hadn't started bedding down in the filth amazed her. She played a few of his games when she'd joined him for the day, but she couldn't stand his office so her tutorial into the world of gaming was cut short.
    Waking up to nausea she couldn't fight outside the bathroom, she felt better by mid-morning and was biding her time until Michael returned. They were going for dinner and a movie in Missoula when he finished with a robbery meeting at the police station, but until then she didn't have much to do.
    To occupy herself, she texted her sisters to let them know she wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving. Home. San Antonio didn't feel like home anymore, but she'd learned things could change from amazing to horrible at the drop of a hat, so she wasn't burning any bridges.
    Her phone powered up in the kitchen, her kitchen, as she thought of the space, similar to Mary's, only in blue tones instead of brick red. Poppy loved the fully equipped room and enjoyed cooking, most often with Cody, who was actually a very good baker. Trevor and Michael weren't useless in the kitchen, but other than doing some chopping, she knew they preferred to eat.
    A new text and voicemail waited when her phone powered on, both from her father. Her previously content stomach began turning. In the past weeks, she'd been able to put him and his reaction to her new situation out of her mind. The time away left her more in love with each brother and in return she felt loved, really loved and accepted for the first time in her life.
    She didn't bring her family up often and usually dodged questions about them, because she didn't want any taint on her trip. Nothing seemed to last in her life, especially good things, so she was squeezing every drop of pleasure from her experiences with the Parabys in case something occurred to rip it all away.
    "Poppy, Steven and his wife will be joining us for Thanksgiving. The menu is turkey and roast beef. They prefer sweet potatoes as a side, along with the usual ones you make. I'll expect you the night before. Sadie will air your room for you.” As abruptly as the message started, it stopped.
    He hung up. Nothing in regards to their last meeting, no question of her health after the miscarriage. He didn't even know about the shooting, because she refused to call any of her family and none of them had called since Steven's defection. Her father had been as curt as usual, definitely no affectionate terms. Paul, Thomas and Duane always called her sweet names, held her chair out, and did the things gentlemen who cared seemed to do naturally. The thought never crossed her father's mind to treat her with that kind of consideration.
    Thomas noticed her struggling in the snow after filling the bird feeders one day and hurried out to help. Deciding the snow was too deep and she was too tired, he'd carried her back in the house despite her protest. Then the older man laughed off her thanks and made the best hot chocolate she'd ever had because he was worried she was cold.
    Her father had steered her toward a career she hated out of preference. His mother had been a nurse, and in his mind it was the only respectable career for a woman. There'd never been a question what Poppy's career