At the high-pitched noise, almost squeal, we all whipped our heads up to see an attractive brunette maneuvering through the busy tables. At the delight on her face and laser focus on Roane, I stiffened as she drew to a halt at our table. She beamed at Roane, apparently not seeing either Caro or me. “I was hoping I’d see you here.”

She had delicate lines around her pretty blue eyes that made me think she was a little older than us, and while she was tall like me, unlike me she was all slender curves in her slim-cut T-shirt and yoga pants.

I turned to Roane, who seemed surprised to see her. “Poppy . . . what are you doing here?”

Poppy’s expression made it look like she wanted to eat him up. Irritation made my blood hot. “You mentioned this place so much, a friend and I decided to reserve a table.”

He mentioned this place to her?

Was Roane seeing someone this whole time he was making eyes at me?

No. No, Roane wouldn’t do that.

Not him.

He wasn’t like other men.

He couldn’t be.

It would . . . it would break my heart.

My overreaction to this woman was somewhat terrifying, and I sat stiff, unmoving, afraid it would all flood out of me if I did.

“Ah, I see.” Roane’s smile was polite, a mere pressing of his lips together with a slight curl.

It eased some of my concern.

When Roane liked you, he released the full force of that sexy smile on you.

She didn’t seem to notice his lackluster response, but she did finally become aware of Caro and me. A little frown puckered between her brows. “And who is this?” she asked, like she had a right to know.

Did she? that insidious voice whispered.

Roane gestured to Caro first. “My cousin, Caroline.” Then he turned his head to me and stared at me a few seconds too long, as if trying to figure out what to call me. Finally he decided: “And this is my friend Evie.” He looked back at Poppy. “Ladies, this is Poppy. She just moved to Morpeth a few months ago and frequents Craig’s pub.”

I knew from talking with Roane that Morpeth was one of the largest towns in Northumberland, and business took him there almost every week. I could only assume “Craig” was a friend.

And Poppy?

Well, it seemed Poppy was on hand to keep Roane company every time he visited.

Our eyes met, hers narrowing on me ever so slightly, before she turned to Roane. “Perhaps you have room for two more at your table.”

That forward little . . .

Caro shot me a pained look.

“Actually, we’re celebrating something”—Roane gestured between us—“so now’s probably not the best time.”

“Oh?” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked it, that flirtatious smile still hanging around. Like her. “What are you celebrating?”