Not that his feelings mattered. Poppy had made it clear she didn’t do relationships. Didn’t believe in love. If she caught the merest hint of how he felt she’d be gone. And this time he didn’t think she would return. And he didn’t think he could handle sinking into the black hole of Poppylessness again. He didn’t believe his business would pull him out of it, no matter how well it did.
Still, he hadn’t done as well as he had by not trying.
Ben took a deep breath. Another. He exhaled slowly, and as he did he brought his arm up and draped it over Poppy’s shoulders as casually as he could. ‘Poppy, look over there.’ He pointed out a food cart on the other side of the street. ‘New York hot dogs. I’ve always wanted to try one.’
‘Bet they’re nothing like what you get in New York. But, I guess if you’ve never had one before, then there’s only one way to find out. Don’t judge me if I find it lacking and spit it out.’ Poppy screwed up her face in preparation for hating the potentially putrid food but allowed Ben to steer her in its direction.
Hope surged in Ben’s heart, taming its rapid rhythm. She hadn’t shrugged him off. She hadn’t given him a ‘what the heck are you up to’ glare. In fact, he’d go so far as to say she looked happy.
Something warm touched his waist. The warmth spreading around his back. He glanced down. It was a hand. Attached to an arm. That belonged to Poppy.
Was this really happening? This wasn’t companionable arm-in-arm walking, like they’d often done. This was a couple walk. Intimate. In sync. The kind of walk which led to languorous kisses, and who knew what else…
‘Two dogs, please. With the lot.’ Poppy turned to Ben. ‘You good with that?’
Ben nodded, too focused on the fullness of her lips, and the idea of kissing those lips, to talk.
‘Good, then pay the man.’ Poppy jerked her head towards the vendor who was waiting patiently for his money.
Ben disengaged himself unwillingly from Poppy to fish his wallet out of his back pocket. He’d been brave enough to put his arm around her once. But to do it twice? She’d know something was up.
‘Here you go.’ Poppy passed him a hot dog dripping in mustard, sauerkraut and some oniony tomato-sauce type concoction. ‘There’s a table over there, let’s nab it before anyone else does.’
Without waiting for his agreement, she took off into the crowd, made a beeline for the table and dropped into one of the seats surrounding it.
Grinning up at Ben as he joined her, she set her drink down, and promptly sunk her teeth into the hot dog. Like the mojito before she closed her eyes and quietly moaned as she chewed. Did she moan like that when she was taking part in other things she enjoyed? Or was it just food and drink that set her off?
Ben took a bite of his hot dog, his eyes closing just as Poppy’s had done as the flavours hit his palette. A tantalising mix of sour, spice and salt exploded in his mouth, and he had to stop himself from moaning as Poppy had done.
He swallowed and opened his eyes to find Poppy halfway through her dog. ‘So, does it meet up to your exacting expectations?’
Poppy nodded vigorously, her mouth too full of food to get a word out. She raised her hand and gave him the thumbs up, then grabbed her mojito and took a swig, washing the food down. ‘Better than I remember. I could do another.’
Ben jumped up to satisfy her request, but was stopped by Poppy’s hand on his, pulling him back into his seat. ‘No. I can get it. Or maybe I won’t. I probably shouldn’t ruin my appetite for some of the other goodies I may discover tonight.’ Her lips quirked to one side and her cheekbones lifted high.
Was that a double entendre? Was Poppy suggesting that he might be a treat? His underwear suddenly felt like it had shrunk a size, and he was glad to have worn his more casual dress shorts that had extra room in the crotch area.
‘I mean, there’s candyfloss. And dumplings.’ Poppy’s lips flattened out as her brows drew together.
The flame that had kicked up in Ben’s heart and in his nether region sputtered out. Poppy must’ve realised what she’d said came across as an invitation. And in bringing the conversation back to food she’d taken that possibility off the table.
‘You’ve always loved candyfloss.’ Ben took another bite of his hot dog. What had started out as an amazing mouthful now felt dry, stodgy, and he had to work extra hard to chew it enough to be able to swallow it. He set the hot dog down on a paper napkin and inspected it. It looked the same, proving what he suspected. It wasn’t the hot dog, it was disappointment that had killed his hunger.
‘Yeah, well. It’s pink, fluffy, and the sight of it makes you happy. What’s not to like?’
‘It rots your teeth.’ Ben tore off a piece of bun and threw it to an expectant sparrow. ‘But then, why am I surprised? Pink and fluffy? Sounds pretty much like half of your shop.’
Poppy finished off her hot dog and wiped her hands on a napkin. ‘Yeah, well, I’m a sucker for all things happy-making. If it brings a little extra joy into the world then I’m all for it.’
‘Like love. That brings joy into the world.’ Ben picked up his hot dog and forced himself to take another bite. He knew this was rocky territory, but he was never going to get anywhere with Poppy if he couldn’t show her that love wasn’t the load of bollocks she believed it to be.
‘Are we really going to discuss this again?’ Poppy drained her mojito in one long gulp and set her cup down with an irritable thump. ‘You know I don’t believe in love. Not the romantic kind. Friendship love, yes. Love of cute furry animals, yes. But flowers and jewellery, long walks on the beach kind of love?’ Poppy picked up the discarded napkin and began to rip little tears around the edges. ‘As far as I can see, love is a waste of time. People say they love each other, but then go on to treat each other with disdain. To go out of their way to hurt the one they’re supposed to love. I mean, look at you and your dad. Look at how he’s behaving. Ignoring you. Not supporting you. That’s not how you treat someone you love.’
Ooph. Poppy wasn’t holding back, which meant he was getting to her. ‘Dad’s behaviour doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. It shows how much he loves me. He cares enough to be angry, to be hurt. And he’ll come around. He can’t hold this grudge forever. He won’t.’ At least Ben hoped that was the case.
‘Then that’s another reason to avoid love. I can’t be bothered with the drama of having someone angry at me. Of treating me terribly. Who needs that kind of pain?’ Poppy pursed her lips and looked into the distance. Her eyes glittered, but with one hard and fast blink any wetness was gone.
Who needs that kind of pain? Not Poppy, apparently. And Ben had a feeling that was because she’d experienced it enough to shun that which had caused it. Love. And in shunning love she believed she was safe from feeling pain ever again.
Ben held down a sigh. He was going about this all wrong. Trying to talk logically to Poppy was never going to win her round to the idea that love existed. That it was every bit as wonderful as the unicorns she loved, and comforting, steadying and ‘there’ as a good cup of tea. The only way Poppy was going to believe in love was if she felt it at her core. If it infused her soul. And if she believed in her heart the person who loved her was never going to hurt her, was never going to make her feel anything less than the brilliant person she was.
‘I don’t get it, Pops. I just don’t. I can’t understand how someone who created a whole shop designed to bring people happiness could refuse to acknowledge love. Refuse to believe in it. Surely you’ve felt it? Surely you’ve been in love?’ Ben picked up his nearly empty cup and finished off his drink, his eyes not leaving Poppy, who had gone still, like someone had hit pause.
‘Once.’
The word came out a whisper, so quiet Ben wondered if he’d misheard her.
‘Once, I loved someone.’ Poppy crossed her legs. Folded her arms over her chest. To keep the memory in? Or to keep him out? ‘But I could see where things were going. Knew if things continued it would never come to anything. W
e were in different places. And very different people. I would have ruined things for him.’ Poppy averted her gaze. Looked unseeingly into the crowds. ‘That’s why I can’t believe in love, because it has the power to rip away all that is good. It has the power to make you hate yourself.’
Ben’s gut twisted. With jealousy. With sadness. With defeat.
Poppy had loved once. When she was overseas. And it had gone wrong. Her eyes, glittering in the late evening sun, and her hands firmly fixed to her side – not stroking her braid – told him she was telling the truth. For all her bravado she still carried the scars of that love.
‘Oh.’ Ben was at a loss for words. What did you say to someone whose experience of love was so painful it was easier to avoid it? To pretend it didn’t exist? ‘I’m sorry, Poppy. I didn’t know…’
Poppy blinked rapidly, and when her eyes met his they were clear, and as hard as the stone they reminded him of. ‘No. You didn’t know. There was no reason for you to. What I don’t get, Ben, is why you’re so adamant that romantic, soulmate, life partner, kind of love is the be all and end all? You haven’t had a long-term relationship – well, apart from Milly when we were young. But then those feelings you have when you’re that young, it’s not love really, is it?’ Poppy continued feathering the napkin, her eyes not meeting his. Like she was afraid of what she’d see in them if she looked up.
‘I know love, Poppy. I know it well. And I’ve known it for a long time.’ Ben let the words hang. She could take from them what she wanted. Or she could ignore them. Or manipulate them to keep herself safe. Either way, in his own way, he’d told her the truth. He knew love, because he’d once loved her. He’d tried to love Milly when they were younger, but he’d never got past liking her. But Poppy? He’d loved her the moment her braided head had popped through their joint hedge and she’d introduced herself and informed Ben that he was to be her new best friend, then took him by the hand and showed him how to make mud pies.
Music filled the air as a new band took the stage. The vibrancy of saxophone and trumpet, playing along with the rat-a-tat-tat of a drum and the tinkle of a piano.
Poppy scooted her chair back and held her hand out to Ben. ‘Enough of this talk. You know you’re wasting your time trying to convince me to give love a shot. Now, come. Dance with me. I adore a good bit of swing.’
Unable to resist her brilliant smile, or the lure of her hand, Ben allowed Poppy to pull him out of his seat and found himself dragged towards the main stage. The infectious drum beat matched the rhythm of his heart. The brass melody skipped over the rapid rhythms, pulsing and pushing the dancers onto the floor.
Before he knew it, he was being swung round and round, back and forth. He went to tell Poppy he was having a great time, but she shook her head. And she was right. Words would ruin the magic. Break the spell the music was creating. For with every touch of their hands, every step they took, every twirl and swirl that saw their bodies brush against each other, a headiness grew between them, their eyes not once leaving each other as the band switched up the tempo then brought it down again. It was like they were one – able to anticipate the others next move before it was taken.
Without warning, the music slowed into the kind of song where you’d take your lover and bring them to you. Hand to hand. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. Lip to lip.
Ben paused for a semi-second, unsure what to do, but Poppy made the decision for him and closed the gap.
‘I never knew you could move like that.’ Poppy’s words, light and breathy, tickled his ear, sending a rippling shiver over his skin.
‘I didn’t know I could move like that.’ Ben’s heart danced against his ribcage as Poppy laid her head on his shoulder. Her body melted into his. ‘Worn out?’ he teased. Then kicked himself. Way to get the woman you have feelings for to stop being all melty against your body. He waited for her to stiffen, to break away.
‘No. Just comfy. Relaxed.’
They swayed in silence to the tender lilt, surrounded by couples who mirrored their closeness. Their happiness. But Ben was willing to bet money that none of them were dancing on air like he was.
The song finished to rapturous applause, with the band thanking the crowd and wishing them a good evening. And just like that, the festival was finished.
And, Ben realised with a sinking heart, so was their night.
Chapter 10
What are you doing?
Poppy ignored the hissing voice in the back of her head. The one that had been wailing on her ever since she took Ben’s hand and dragged him up to the dancefloor.
This is a bad idea.
If you do what you’re thinking of doing you’ll screw your business.
One more dance and he’s going to think you’re interested.
Quit those lingering looks. They won’t lead anywhere good.
And yet she hadn’t been able to help herself.
Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the mojito. Maybe it was the way Ben’s hair was slightly mussed and his newly discovered stubble erased his earnestness and gave him a devil-may-care edge.
Or maybe it was because Ben kept staring at her like he didn’t want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, in the whole wide world.
Now here they were. So close. Still swaying to the music that had stopped playing at least half a minute ago. Neither one willing, or able, to break their hold on each other. It was as if their souls had intertwined and refused to untangle after so many years apart.
‘People are going to stare if we keep dancing to imaginary music,’ Ben murmured. Yet he didn’t back away. Didn’t allow distance to separate them.
‘They can stare. I like our imaginary music,’ Poppy whispered back, unable to speak any louder, her throat so full of emotion it threatened to choke her.
Ben pulled back, just enough that she could see his chestnut eyes glint with good humour. ‘Do you think we’d hear our imaginary music if we were sitting down? We could companionably sway together on a seat. It’s just… my feet would appreciate it.’
Poppy laughed. ‘Now you mention it, same. My feet are screaming at me to lie down.’ Heat rushed to her chest and travelled up to her cheeks. Did that sound like an invitation? Would Ben think she was suggesting instead of sitting together they should lie down together?
She glanced up to see Ben’s eyes swimming with unshed tears. She felt a vibration through her chest and looked down to see his chest heaving with silent laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ She stepped back, breaking the hold they had on each other.
‘You are.’ Ben’s laughter rumbled freely. ‘The look on your face just now. It was like you thought you’d extended an invitation to me to come back to yours for a mutual lie down.’
Poppy forced a laugh out. High-pitched and wobbly, it sounded beyond fake. Though hopefully Ben was laughing too hard to notice.
‘Well, of course I wasn’t suggesting that. I mean, that would be ridiculous. It was fine for us to have mutual lie downs in the same bed when we were six, but now? Well… you’re dating Milly, and that would be weird, and even if you weren’t dating Milly the two of us having a mutual lie down would be…’ Poppy trailed off, at a loss for words. The word ‘inappropriate’ refused to come forth. Even though that’s what the little voice in her head kept telling her spending a night with Ben would be.
‘Poppy? Your feet still sore?’ Ben hooked his arm, and Poppy threaded hers through it.
‘Yes. Turns out laughter can’t ease pain.’ Or embarrassment.
‘Then come on.’ Ben gave her a gentle tug and they weaved their way through the thinning throngs.
‘Where are you taking me?’ Poppy asked, although she had a feeling she knew where, the landmarks being ones she passed twice a day on her way to and from work.
‘I’m taking you home to bed.’ Ben flashed her a cheeky grin. When had Ben become such a flirt? With her?
Tonight the barrier between them had evaporated into almost thin air. Tension vibrated
between them, tension that could either bring them together or keep them apart.
Don’t screw this up. He means too much to you.
Common sense dowsed the curiosity, the desire, that had her heart beating as fast as the band’s snare drum. No, she wouldn’t be overstepping the boundary their long-running friendship had established. She loved Ben too much as a friend to cross the line. She didn’t want to see their relationship turned upside down, again.
Years ago – the night she’d left Muswell Hill – she and Ben had arrived home from a night out to celebrate the end of school. The beginning of the rest of their lives. Hers was wishy washy at best. With no place at a university, she had vague plans to find a job in London, to move out of home and into a flat as soon as she had enough money saved – whereas Ben’s life was all mapped out. University, career, marriage to someone appropriate. As he’d swayed backwards and forwards on the pavement outside their homes, holding onto her forearms to keep himself up, he’d confessed how he envied her ability to be who she wanted, to do what she wanted. He’d told her he wished he was brave like her, that he’d love to be able to throw caution to the wind and just see what happened, without fear of repercussions, of disappointing those he loved. She’d tried to make him see that all that freedom meant nothing when she wasn’t even sure who she was, or what she should be, but he didn’t listen, Ben had had too many beers in him to be able to.
She’d gone to walk him to his door, to see him inside safely, but Ben had stopped her. Placed his hands on either side of her cheeks, then slurringly told her he loved her. That he’d give it all up to be with her. That she was what he wanted. Not a career. Not a mapped-out life. Not a Milly.
‘I want you.’
Poppy touched her stomach as she remembered how the beer inside had begun to swirl, mixing with the shock of Ben’s confession, causing her to feel off-balance. Tempting her to blow up his planned-out life. But then his front door had opened. His father had wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulders and propelled him inside, shaking his head as he did so.
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 11
