Poppy stepped into the kitchen, made her way into the office where she could hear Ben, but didn’t have to see him. Where she could hopefully distract herself from whatever weird, peculiar and utterly unsettling thoughts were tumbling around her mind, setting her stomach spinning like a dryer.
‘Now I know Poppy talked to you about her reaction to one of my tisanes, but I’m so sorry, there’ll be no kissing me tonight, as the tisanes are being kept for a future tasting. Although once you try this white tea, which I’ve sourced from Eastern Nepal, you may well feel impassioned.’
Poppy dropped into the chair, then slumped onto the desk, lay her head on her arm and listened to Ben’s sales patter. Quick bursts of laughter, then sounds of appreciation wafted their way through the walls. Ben may have been a touch nervous at the start of the evening, but he didn’t need saving. He never had. He just needed a pat on the bum to get him going. And she was his bum-patter.
Poppy let out a low moan and buried her mouth into her arm. Bum-patter? What was she thinking. And why had an image of Ben’s rear looking considerably rounded and toned, and filling out those casual shorts of his too nicely for words, popped up in her mind’s eye?
She squished her eyes shut and gave herself a shake. Get a grip, girl. This is Ben, your friend. Your friend, Ben. He’s no different to the guy you grew up with.
Maybe that was the problem.
Ben was still Ben. Still kind. Caring. Thoughtful. And now wrapped up in a very cool, very hot, package that was trying very hard to confuse and upend her feelings for him.
A round of applause snapped Poppy out of her thought-addled daze. Ben was finishing up, and since she’d introduced him, it would be weird if she weren’t there to thank him.
She bolted out of the room, slowed her steps as she approached the door that led to the shop and placed a warm smile on her face. One she prayed belied the fact that after all these years she still had feelings for her best friend.
Ben greeted her with those warm, brown eyes of his, made even more appealing by the happiness sparkling in them. His smile matched his eyes, and Poppy found herself being drawn into a side-hug. His arm felt warm and strong around her shoulder, his body hard against her softness. What else would be hard against her softness? Heat raced to her cheeks. And somewhere lower.
A firm squeeze of her shoulder brought her back to the room, where the crowd had gone silent. The room heavy with expectation.
Poppy picked up an empty teapot and waved it about. ‘Looks like you all enjoyed what was on offer. Ben, face me?’
Poppy brought her thumb and forefinger up to Ben’s chin, and inspected his cheeks, looking for signs of kisses from enamoured tea-lovers. No rogue lipstick stained his skin. All she could see was his new designer stubble, which he’d seemed to embrace since he’d started seeing Milly again. The bristles soft, yet spiky. Manly. More than that… they were sexy.
She turned back to the crowd. ‘Did you not love the tea as much as I said you would? I expected him to be half-ravaged. Does that mean I’m the only person here who when they discover what good tea is gets a little overly passionate?’ She winked as the crowd tittered.
She released Ben’s chin and sucked in a lungful of air, only to breathe in his lemon-fresh scent. The aroma grounded her. Same Ben smell. Of course he used the same soap he had used as a boy. Sure, the outside might be butterfly-in-the-belly sexy, but he was still that same kid she met in the hedge, who’d told her off for stealing fruit from neighbours’ trees, who’d ensured she’d done her homework every night so she wouldn’t get in trouble.
Feeling on steadier ground Poppy turned her attention to the crowd. ‘Thank you for coming. Thank you for supporting Steep. Now we won’t keep you, and if the strains of guitar I can hear floating down the road are anything to go by it sounds like the Muswell Hill Summer’s Night Festival is under way. So, go – enjoy your night. And we look forward to seeing you again soon.’
The crowd clapped once again, less exuberantly and for a shorter period, and in no time at all the shop was empty, and Ben still had her in a half-hug. And it didn’t feel like he was about to let her go.
Part of Poppy wished he wouldn’t. But most of Poppy knew better. ‘That went well from the sounds of it.’
Her words broke the spell that had seen them so companionably interlocked.
Ben removed his arm, and Poppy took a step back. Despite the distance, something shimmered between them.
Warmth, friendship, success at a job well done. That was what it was, Poppy attempted to convince herself. That was what it had to be. All it could be.
Ben deserved more. Ben deserved better. Ben deserved a Milly or someone like Milly. Not a Poppy who couldn’t love. Who’d never been taught how.
She folded her arms across her chest. A barrier. Not so much against Ben, who she knew would never overstep any boundaries, but against herself. In this moment, despite knowing better, she didn’t trust herself. Not when Ben was staring at her with open admiration. His lips kicked up in a smile that told her the event had been a raging success, and that he believed she had a great deal to do with that. It was an enticing combination, an alluring one.
But not one she was prepared to do anything about. Ben wasn’t a playmate. He was more than that. He was the kind of man who would want the whole package. Everything she had. More than she could ever give.
She picked up two empty glass teapots. Anything to occupy her hands, which wanted to clasp Ben’s cheeks, to bring him closer, so she could…
Kiss his moving lips. Bugger. Ben had been talking and she’d been fantasising. Not fantasising. Thinking. Imagining what not to do.
‘Earth to Poppy? You in there?’ Ben waved his hand in front of her eyes. ‘I was just saying thank you. You were amazing the way you took control at the start. Shook me out of my stupor. Put me in front of a couple of clients and I’m fine. In control. More than a handful of people and my heart starts going like a jackhammer and that causes my brain to stutter and, well, I’m glad you were there to steady me. So, again, thank you.’
Poppy shrugged. ‘It’s nothing really. Just a business partner helping a business partner.’ She took the teapots to the kitchen and began rinsing them out. Footfalls on floorboards told her she was being followed.
***
‘Don’t make out like what you did wasn’t a big deal, Poppy. It meant a lot to me. They could have all gotten bored and left. I was competing with that festival out there. They could’ve turned on their heels and headed out into the sun, ate some candyfloss, enjoyed a kebab. Instead, because of you, they stayed. And, because of you, I can afford to take us out for a celebration. What do you say?’
Ben took the teapot out of Poppy’s hand and set it on the counter. ‘Those can wait until tomorrow.’ He leaned against the bench, ducked his head a little and tried to catch Poppy’s eyes.
When she’d taken over his tasting he’d felt an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment that he was so terrible at hosting and anger that she’d jumped in without warning, but she’d worked her magic on the crowd. Making them laugh. Feel at ease. All the while reminding him that he knew what he was talking about. That they had a reason to stay and listen to him. She’d given him the strength that his father’s disapproval, still gnawing in the back of his mind, had threatened to take away.
And with every explanation of the tea people were tasting, with every eye-close and ‘mmm’ of appreciation, with each sale that he rung up, his belief in himself had grown – to the point that he didn’t care what his father thought. He was doing what he wanted to do, and he was going to be every bit as successful in business as he was as a solicitor. More so.
And he wanted to share that feeling with Poppy. To show her just how much he appreciated her.
‘Seriously, Pops, the dishes can wait until tomorrow morning. I’ll come in extra early and get them done. We’re due a celebration. We didn’t even properly toast the opening of our store. The most we’ve done is indulge in a lit
tle cheap red wine and eat some curry. Come on.’ He took Poppy’s hand and gave it a gentle shake. ‘We could head out. Have a drink or two. Maybe even three. I read there was a pop-up bar selling cocktails, and it’s such a nice night for it.’
‘Oh God, don’t say that word. Remember when we stole bits of booze from our parents’ cabinets and made our own cocktails…’
‘How could I forget? We curled up under a tree in Queen’s Wood and fell asleep. I swear I still have a crick in my neck from the root I used as a pillow.’ Ben angled his head to the left, then the right, a small click filled the air. ‘See? Still there. A permanent reminder of my second hangover. And my first and only very serious grounding.’
Poppy drummed her fingertips on the bench. ‘I’ve not had a cocktail since. Well, not one that has seven different spirits in it…’
‘Even a whiff of bourbon makes me feel ill.’ Ben shuddered. ‘But we were seventeen. We couldn’t even handle a sneaky shandy back then. Besides, we can both look after each other. If one looks like they’re about to take things too far the other has to drag them home. Come on, Poppy…’ Ben brought his hands into a steeple and gave her his best pleading look. ‘Let me say thanks. I’ll even buy you dinner. What do you say?’
The chirp of his text tone broke the silence.
‘That’ll be Milly.’ Poppy’s tone was flat, her face void of expression. ‘You should check it.’
Ben pulled out his phone and checked the message.
‘I hope tonight went well. Celebratory drink later? X’
‘See…’ Poppy tapped the edge of the phone. ‘She wants to celebrate with you. You should go. I don’t want to be seen to be getting in the way again.’ Poppy made to turn away.
‘Poppy, first of all, I can’t believe you just read that message over my shoulder. Second of all, Milly can wait. Tonight’s about us.’
Ben caught Poppy’s hand. The heat of her palm burned into his. The sensation felt electric, igniting his veins. Searing his blood. That little bit of his skin on hers enough to make him want to pull her to him, to wrap his arm around her waist, to hold her cheek ever so gently, and touch her lips with his own.
This was what he was missing with Milly. That spark. That tiny flicker of passion that, with a simple touch, could flare into an inferno. Never, not when they were young, nor now that they were older, did he feel like this about Milly. His heart singing for her. His body reaching.
Ben released her hand, then offered his arm. ‘Poppy, I don’t want to celebrate tonight’s success with Milly. I want to celebrate with you. And I want you to tell me how you had that crowd eating out of your hand so easily.’
Her eyes went to the crook he’d made. Her brow gnarled up, like she was having second thoughts. Then, so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined the hesitation, her forehead smoothed out and her arm was hooked through his.
‘Well, Ben. When I was overseas I was actually a bit of a big deal.’ They walked through the shop, Poppy scooping up her bag as they made their way to the front door. ‘I was, while I was in New Zealand, one of their biggest DJs on the radio. And, part of that job was to host live gigs. The station director said I was like a fish to water. They offered me crazy money to stay, but, you know…’
‘Another country, another experience. And you’re a big fat liar, Poppy Taylor.’ Ben opened the door and pulled Poppy into the barbecue-scented air. ‘That hand on your braid says it all.’
‘Damn it.’ Poppy yanked her hand from her braid. ‘I have spent half my life trying to stop doing that. I even did that rubber band round the wrist ping thing to try and get me to stop. Yet, the moment I’m around you all my bad habits come back to play. Ben, you’re a bad influence.’ She wagged her finger at him, then broke into a smile. ‘Truth be told, I was a party hostess for a company that sells plastic bowls and kitchen stuff. I did well. And they did beg me to stay.’
‘But… another country, another experience?’ Ben nodded at newly familiar faces, and faces he’d known since he was a child, as they threaded their way down the street towards the festival. Only a few weeks in and he already had a good handful of regulars. He suspected he’d have more after tonight’s tasting. And it would never have happened without Poppy. He didn’t just owe the success of his shop to her. He owed his happiness.
Poppy halted, dragging him to a stop. ‘Wow. Would you get a load of all that bunting? It’s rainbowlicious.’
He craned his neck to see what she was seeing. Sure enough, row after row of bunting in bright red, yellow, green, blue, pink, purple and orange fluttered in the evening breeze. Interspersed were strings of golden fairy lights, barely glowing in the mid-evening sun, but when sunset came they’d cover the festival-goers in a romantic golden glow.
Romantic golden glow? He wished. But he’d known Poppy long enough to know that she was about as interested in him like that as he was in allowing her to cover his tea shop in unicorn garb. And if anything were to change, as unlikely as that was, it would have to be on her terms.
A good time, not a long time. That’s what she’d want. Something as easy and disposable as the bunting above.
‘It’s a colourful sight all right. It’s like one of your unicorns farted all over the sky.’ The dry observation earned him an elbow to the ribcage. ‘You should probably be stocking this. It’d be great for kids’ parties. Maybe see if you can get glittered bunting.’
‘You’re right. What would I do without you?’ Poppy faced Ben, the edges of her lips turned up in a playful smile.
‘You’d pack your bags, head overseas and probably find yourself the star of some daytime soap. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.’ Ben ducked back as Poppy unlooped her arm from his and went to swat the backside of his head. ‘Soap star or some sort of cage fighter…’
Poppy put her fists up, fighting style, landed a soft punch to his arm then rolled her eyes at him. ‘As if. I wouldn’t want to ruin this face for television that you think I have.’ She stood on her tiptoes and took in the lay of the land. ‘I can see the cocktail stand. Come on.’
Poppy’s hand clutched his and he found himself dragged into the laughing, smiling, already slightly tipsy throng. Her fingers interlaced through his, probably only to ensure they wouldn’t be broken up by the push and pull of the crowd, but it felt so right.
And so wrong when she released her grip as they reached the stand.
‘Two mojitos, please.’ Poppy dove into her bag and pulled out her wallet.
‘Put your wallet away, Pops.’ Ben grabbed the offending item and dropped it back in her still-open bag. ‘My shout, remember?’
‘God, I’d hate to see you on a date. I bet you never let whoever you’re trying to seduce pay.’ Poppy zipped her bag shut and faced the barman, who was muddling the ingredients for the mojito.
‘A gentleman has no need to seduce. My fine manners and good looks do all the work for me.’ Ben paid the barman and handed Poppy her plastic cup filled to the brim with the aromatic concoction.
‘And that wonderful streak of humbleness too, no doubt.’ Poppy held her cup up and they thunked their glasses together, twin streams of clear liquid spilling over the top, onto their fingers.
Poppy brought her fingers to her mouth. ‘Mmmm. That’s good.’ Her eyes closed as she sucked off the liquid.
Such an innocent action. But Poppy licking her fingers was the most erotic thing Ben had ever seen. The sheer enjoyment, the way she revelled in the flavours, in the sensation.
God, he wanted to be her fingers. No, what he wanted was to take those fingers and do the job for her.
‘Ben.’ Poppy’s sharp tone shattered his reverie. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one sip in and already in la-la land.’
‘Just high on success, Poppy.’ Ben jerked his head to the left. ‘Look, food trucks. We should get some food in us if we’re going to have more of these.’
‘And we are so going to have more of these. Lots more. I saw a cider stall across the way. We should try
that out too.’ Poppy took a long sip of her mojito. ‘There, now I won’t be trying to get the ground drunk. This mojito is too good to waste.’
They walked shoulder-to-shoulder towards the area where the food stalls and trucks were set up, laughing at the juggling clowns who threatened to upend their drinks with wayward balls; ducking the sticky ovals of candyfloss that dotted the landscape; dinging the odd line of song along with the band that was playing a medley of hits from the Sixties.
If Ben could have imagined a perfect setting for a date, this would have been it. And the person he’d have wanted to have with him was right beside him.
Put your arm around her. See what she does. Dare you.
Ben nearly choked on his mojito. Where had that thought come from? He eyed his drink with suspicion. How much white rum was in here? Sure, he’d put his arm around Poppy before. Hell, he had earlier. And she hadn’t pulled away. But this voice wasn’t coming from a place of friendship. Or a place of gratefulness. It was coming from a place that was telling him if he didn’t at least try to make his feelings known to Poppy he could well one day live to regret it.
Go on. Do it. The voice needled. What have you got to lose?
What did he have to lose? His business? No, that he was sure would survive if making a move on Poppy caused her to up and leave. Yes, he’d be scrambling to make things work. To fill the space. To have enough customers coming in that he wouldn’t have to sink any more of his personal finances into it. But his business would be okay.
His heart however?
His mother had been truthful when she’d said he’d moped after Poppy had left. Every day had been a black hole without her. The only way he’d filled it was by buckling down at university, studying hard, finding happiness in how proud his parents were of his achievements. Eventually he’d believed he was over her.
Turns out you could believe something until the cows came home, but it didn’t make it true.
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 10
