Wild Poppy

by Victoria Johns

The thought hit me like a hammer.

  I wanted that.

  For the first time since I’d faked my own death, I wanted something.

  Maybe I’d feel differently in the morning, in the cold light of day. In fact, I hoped I did, because if I didn’t, I was in a whole world of trouble.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mac

  Fuck.

  I was warm. Like, baking hot, and the pressure on my chest was heavier than normal, immense even. “Bullet, for fuck’s sake.”

  The damn dog didn’t budge or bark.

  “Boy, come on, you’re killing me. Let me breathe.” Without a bark, he shifted immediately, and I probably would have stayed asleep if it hadn’t been for a swipe of hair flashing across my face and that familiar smell.

  “Sorry. Shit,” she croaked out sleepily.

  Penny.

  I forced an eyeball open after sleeping like the dead, and I prayed that it was all the traveling, the concentration and the sea air, but I knew I was kidding myself. It was all down to her. I tried hard to think about how to handle this and had no idea. “S’alright, honestly.”

  “Except you thought I was the dog.”

  I looked at her, trying to gauge how offended she was. “What can I say? Bullet gets close when I snooze, or he used to, until this pretty American girl dognapped him.”

  She snorted. “Dognapped? The pooch came willingly.”

  Penny smiled. Crisis averted. “Did you sleep okay?”

  Shyly, she looked at me. “I did, the best, actually.”

  What the fuck was that? No arguing, no bitching and no back biting to cover up that she’d fucked up and strayed across to my side of the bed and broken the rules. She even looked fucking pleased. I felt the hope in me wonder if she maybe wanted me or was at least interested.

  No. No chance.

  I was getting ahead of myself. Maybe the lead in the yellow paint of the sunshine room had fuddled up her mind.

  “Breakfast in thirty!” came a voice from the other side of the door. We both looked at each other and ignored it, but Aggie wasn’t one for being blanked. “Mac, honey, did you—”

  “We’ll be there!” I shouted back. “Have to answer her otherwise she’ll bust the door down in an effort to save my soul.”

  She did a cute little piggy snort. “Is that even possible?”

  Her joke was pretty close to the money; there was no saving me. I had no idea how to answer her and decided evasion was the best way to go. “You want the first shower?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  We moved at the same time and it felt awkward, charged even, and we both did that crappy apologize at the same time thing, too.

  We headed down to breakfast before Aggie sent a search party out for us. Penny’s stomach wasn’t the only one growling, Aggie’s croissants smelled insanely good. It was quite comical, really. We both went for the door handle at the same time, we both went for the salt and pepper shaker on the table together, and then did the same with the ketchup. Each time, we pulled our hands away like the other person had scorched us.

  Fuck me.

  I was a teenager again. Well, I would be if I’d ever been on a proper date with a girl as a teenager. Was this what first date nerves felt like? Or when you fancied a girl at school but weren’t sure whether to go for it?

  “What’s the plan today?” Aggie asked as she topped up our coffee cups.

  “Heading over to Inverness via Fort George.”

  “Oooo.” Aggie’s eyebrows rose. “A history lesson.”

  “And maybe some dolphin spotting, too.”

  “Really?” Penny joined in the conversation, seemingly excited by the prospect.

  “We can hope.”

  When we came to leave, Aggie looked sad. She was sentimental and missed her hometown, but we both knew it was safer for her here. She’d got out at just the right time, when she was about to give it all up for her kids. A moment of clarity came to her when it mattered, though, and she realized that wouldn’t have helped anyway. Her kids wouldn’t have changed the path they were on and the only one who would have lost out would definitely have been her. The hardest decision she’d ever made was giving up on them to save herself.

  “There’s a bag full of fresh bakes in the kitchen. Run and grab it would you, love?” She looked at Penny.

  “Of course. Thank you for having us.”

  Aggie waited until Penny was out of ear shot and then looked at me, and I mean really looked at me. “How are you coping?”

  “Keeping on moving.”

  “Something tells me you might have found a reason to stand still for a bit.”

  I didn’t reply or let on that I’d already stood still for longer than I’d anticipated.

  “I know you won’t listen to an old crow like me, but the way you are with her means that all the decisions you made were the right ones, because fate put you on the path you’re on.” Aggie knew exactly what I’d done and that when I couldn’t escape from the pressure of guilt inside my head, I got on my bike and headed in one of two directions. Down south to remind myself of my demons or up north to remind myself that change was possible.

  Aggie was proof of that possibility.

  I looked to the kitchen, not wanting to get caught talking about her. “She’s… troubled.” I didn’t know any other way to explain her.

  “Isn’t everyone?”

  “From where we come from, yeah. But—”

  “But nothing. Whatever that girl soothes in you, you do the same for her. Don’t be an idiot and push it away.”

  “Aggie…” I sighed, and she geared up for a fight, one I knew I’d never win.

  “You listen to me, son. I can see what you’re planning, and it would be a fool’s plan to run. Try to see it differently, just this once, for me.” I went to answer, but she knew I was going to argue so she shut me down instead. “Now, give this old biddy a hug and get on your way.”

  Penny appeared as I was hugging Aggie. Kenny, Aggie’s live-in manfriend, had done a sterling job of keeping Penny out of the way, as I imagine he was directed.

  Aggie watched us until we pulled out onto the road, and I could still see her in the side mirror as I got farther away. I knew she’d stay there watching until we were out of sight. I looked in my mirror again and this time saw Penny looking at me instead. I so desperately wanted to maintain her eyeline, but that would have been a crazy dangerous move. Instead, I wished I could read her thoughts or at least understand the emotions in her eyes. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before we got to Fort George.

  “So, what is this place?”

  “It’s a fortress, and the views are epic.” I paid the entrance fee for both of us and passed on the audio tour. I came here often and wandered around. Anything she wanted to know, I could tell her, either that or I’d make it up, just to tease her.

  “It was built in the 1700s and to this day has never been attacked.” Penny stayed quiet and looked around, her eyes scanning the walls keenly. A soldier passed us and the sound of his shiny boots clomping on the stone ground made her jump and flatten her back against a wall.

  All of a sudden, I was beginning to rethink whether this had been a good idea. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s still an MOD garrison. Home of the Black Watch. 3rd Battalion of the royal regiment of this fine motherland.”

  Penny nodded abruptly but her eyes never left the soldier. Thank fuck he wasn’t carrying a weapon. We walked around the old buildings looking at the pictures and portraits on the walls, and leaned over the glass cabinets, marveling at the medals and trinkets that had been saved, preserved and displayed.

  But my bigger mistake was letting her wander down the stairs to the cells and dungeons. It was dark, damp and worst of all, there was a prison block. I couldn’t just drag her out of there. I had no feasible reason, because I wasn’t supposed to know anything. It fucking killed me to know I was going to have to let her ride this through and play ignorant. Around the next corner, there were shackles on th
e walls and a selection of canes and other things that were acceptable to use on prisoners back in the 1700s. Penny’s face paled and she started to walk backwards, her eyes wide like a rabbit in the headlights.

  I was a total fucking idiot.

  “Pen?” She ignored me and kept shuffling in reverse. When she pulled her hands free of her pockets, they were shaking. “You need some air?”

  Her head jolted in my direction and she nodded, her eyes still on the shackles.

  I rushed towards her and was surprised when she let me take her by the hand and drag her back up the stairs. By the time we hit the outside she was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. I had no idea what to do, so I pulled her up one of the grassy mounds to where the cannons were, and sat down. “Come here. Look over there and breathe.” Penny came willingly and when she hit my body, she felt safe enough to look in the direction of the sea on the other side of the wall. Only when she was sat on my lap and shrouded in my frame did I feel she was shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t believe how reckless I’d been. “Let it go.”

  “I… I…”

  “In and out. Slow, deep breaths.” Penny did as instructed, but still, it took time. “Wanna talk?”

  I waited, hoping that something positive might come out of this, but her eyes were fixed on the distance. Even the hair whipping up around her face didn’t disturb her. “There’s a part of me that I thought I was done with.” I waited again, watching the clouds roll in rhythm with the sea’s waves. “Maybe not, though. Maybe I’ve just pushed it down and tried to lock it away.”

  I smoothed the hair out of her face and looked into her eyes. “If there’s one thing I know, it doesn’t matter who’s listening as long as someone is. Because of that, you’ll never truly be alone.”

  Her mouth opened and closed, fish style. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “I… I’m not ready.”

  “I’ll be here when you are.”

  Penny exhaled, definitely relieved that I wasn’t going to push her, so much so that she pushed her face into my neck, and fuck if I didn’t adore the feel of it. Her lips were there, millimeters from my skin. Her breathing rasped against it and everything about it was bewitching.

  Penny fit me.

  We fit together.

  And the thought of letting her get up was a painful prospect.

  I was prepared to stay there as long as possible, dig into the earth and bunker down to become part of the historic fort, but she had other ideas. “I need alcohol.”

  “Like, immediately?” I asked, surprised.

  “Like, I wanna hit a bar and get snockered.”

  I wasn’t sure that was the best idea. “Babe, you’ve just been through something deep. Not sure that booze is gonna be of help.”

  “I am.” Penny leapt up, and like every time she left me, I felt her loss immediately. But when she reached for my hand to try to help me up from the ground, that lost connection was restored instantly. The best thing, though, was that she kept that connection between us all the way back to the bike. It was natural, it was magnificent, and I began to wish that the bike had been miles away.

  “How about we check into a place and go for a few beers?”

  Penny smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

  On the bike, I took the coast road, the wind blowing sideways and battering us all the way to Inverness. I picked a simple hotel with a pub on the doorstep, knowing it would be better to drink somewhere the room was close in case I needed to get her out of there quickly. When we rode passed Culloden, it gave me an idea, providing she was fit and not hungover tomorrow.

  “One room, two nights, please,” I asked the receptionist, not even bothering to enquire about a twin bedroom. We’d survived last night and we weren’t fucking going backwards. Penny didn’t argue, so I carried on. In the room, we got on with it, operating within our self-made rules like it was natural, but with one slight difference. This time she didn’t close the bathroom door when she changed. Whatever she’d relived at Fort George was still consuming the rational part of her and it had her distracted, but she was working hard to beat it and not give it ultimate control.

  “The pub’s just next door.”

  “I’m ready.” She smiled when she came out of the bathroom, but I wasn’t sure whether it was forced and fake. I did know she’d do anything about now as a diversion from what was going on in her head.

  We walked the short distance next door and stood at the bar. “What do you fancy, a large glass of red?”

  “No. I want the Scottish experience. What do you suggest?”

  The barman became very interested in us at that point. “Gotta be a whisky.”

  “We’ll have two Speyside and a jug of water, please.”

  He seemed to be on board with my starting point. “Take a seat. I’ll keep you rolling.”

  Penny found a table by an open fire and, dare I say it, it was kind of romantic, almost like a first date. The barman delivered our first taste test and smiled at Penny, but she didn’t spot it. She was busy looking at the glass. It was one of the things I’d noticed about her on this trip—she had no idea just how magnetizing she was; she never did.

  “Okay, it’s an acquired taste and should be savored and not thrown back like soda.”

  “But it in all the movies they just knock it straight back.”

  “That’s because they’re uncultured Yanks and are either necking cold tea or apple juice, not the real thing.”

  She attempted a fake look of horror. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be an uncultured Yank now, would I?”

  “You literally just need to add a drop of water and let it mingle.” I put the glass up to my lips and took a pleasant mouthful of my country’s amber nectar. “And enjoy.”

  Penny did what I did, following exactly, and she had me hooked around her little finger with rapt attention.

  She was beautiful.

  I waited for her to finish her first real taste and could tell she wasn’t a huge fan. “It tastes smoky.”

  “Let it touch your taste buds, woman,” I growled, feeling the effects of watching her closely.

  “Oh, believe me, they feel groped, not touched.”

  “Hey, man,” I shouted in the direction of the bar. “Can we have a couple of Lagavulin’s? And best bring some ice.” A few minutes later he appeared with the next selection. This time I dropped an ice cube in and let it swirl and melt just a tiny bit before going first. Penny watched me intently, and I liked that, really fucking liked that. Loved it even, loved being the entire focus of her attention.

  After she took her sip, the tell-tale sign of displeasure crossed her face and I failed to hide my smile. “Don’t look so pleased because I’ve proved your point.”

  “What point?”

  “That I am, in fact, an uncultured Yank. It’s tastes like the ground. Muddy.”

  “It’s not for everyone.” I knocked mine back.

  “Hey! You said we don’t do that.” I winked at her and she giggled, and then her face took on this fake sulk. “But I live here. This is my home now. They’ll kick me out if I don’t like the national drink.”

  “Barman,” I called, but he didn’t appear. I just heard, “On it!” from somewhere at the other end of the bar. After we’d tried another two types of whisky, we decided this definitely wasn’t for her. I thoroughly enjoyed them, while she was pretty much powering through the experience. Before I could ask for something else, the barman appeared with a game changer.

  Buckfast tonic wine.

  “Now that does look like mud.” She smelled it and didn’t seem impressed.

  “This one has some history.” Penny rolled her eyes. “It was made by the Benedictine monks in the late 1800s and is now wildly abused by the youth of Scotland. The motto is ‘Buckfast gets you fucked fast.’ It used to be a medicine. Now it’s a wine.”

  She smelled it again and then took a sip. The “Urgh” that she emitted was comical. “Oh no, that is all kinds of wr
ong. I get the medicine bit. Why does it feel like I’m eating it? And you know what else is not good? Its color—nothing enjoyable is that color brown.”

  “What about chocolate ice cream?” I challenged.

  “Well—”

  “And chocolate brownie?”

  “Okay, but—” she tried again, but I was having way too much fun.

  “Or just chocolate in general?”

  “Will you be quiet? I’ll agree, nothing that isn’t chocolate should be that color.” I went to counter her again and she gave me a look that told me I was a dead man if I did.

  The barman appeared pretty much straight away; he knew how the Buckfast was going to go. “This one may be more to your liking.” He put down a glass of vodka and ice, and a can of Irn Bru.

  “Oh, I’ve seen this in the grocery store.” She actually looked excited.

  “This is made here in Scotland,” the barman started, and I wanted to beat him to death for trying to take her attention away from me, and as I knew where he was heading with his words, I finished them and stole his thunder.

  “From girders. Thanks, pal.” I made sure he knew he was no longer needed.

  “From what now?” she asked, and looked at me utterly puzzled, but I was just glad he’d fucked off. If she’d taken that much interest in him, I would have tried to take him out.

  “Girders.” I put on a fake English accent and slowed the word down, but it still didn’t help. “Big steel planks that go in fucking walls.”

  “Ahh!” She popped the can open and added it to the vodka, which I was sure she hadn’t realized was vodka. Her face looked different, showing enjoyment after just one sip. “Now that’s a drink that beats that boggy brown stuff any day.”

  I picked up the lone glass of Buckfast, stuck my pinky out and took a measured sip. “Uncultured Yank.”

  Three hours later, I had to support her back to the hotel room. If she’d been one of those depressive drinkers, I’d have cut her off well before now. But she wasn’t, far from it; in fact she went the other way, like she was loving life. She was funny, definitely more enticing, and more beautiful than I’d ever seen her before. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She was fucking stunning when she was being a snarky bitch. This behavior, though, could seal the deal for me. Not that I wanted to take advantage of a drunk girl; that was creepy, and I’d seen that more than enough times growing up. No, tipsy girls were fun, carefree and best of all, honest when they talked.