So she’d gone home. Found her mother at the kitchen table, tipsy after another one of her parties. Not only tipsy, but willing to talk to her daughter, for once. And talk her mother did. The wine loosening her tongue, letting words – and the truth – fly across the table. Words that led to Poppy taking flight.
Poppy drove that memory away. The tendrils of it alone threatened to swamp her, to drown the confidence she’d built, the sense of self she’d worked hard to attain while travelling the world, finding out who she was, where she belonged, and who she belonged with.
‘Here we are. Home.’
The clarity in Ben’s voice dragged Poppy from her reverie.
‘Poppy.’ He touched her forearm, concern shining in his eyes. ‘We’re home.’
We’re home.
It sounded so right. Like her home should be his home. His home ought to be hers.
‘Good. I must be more tired than I realised. Asleep on my feet.’ She fished around in her bag for her keys, and scooped them up, but shaking fingers saw them fall to the ground. ‘Whoops. Clumsy old me. I guess that mojito was stronger than I realised.’
She bent down to grab them, and promptly knocked her head against something hard.
Ben let out a groan.
‘Oh, shit. Ben. Sorry.’ Poppy snatched the keys and stood up to find Ben rubbing his forehead.
‘I know I’ve said you’re hard headed in the past, Pops, but tonight you proved it. What’s that skull of yours made of? Steel?’ Ben’s eyes squinted in pain, as he gave his head a small shake. ‘I might have to start wearing a helmet round you from now on.’
‘Is it that bad? Let me look.’ Poppy reached up and removed Ben’s fisted hand and inspected the damage. ‘You’ve got a small egg forming, but I think you’ll survive. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning so I know you’re still alive.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ He waved her concern away. ‘If I could handle our old yearly ritual of stargazing in the snow, then I can handle a bump on the head.’ Ben’s lips lifted at the corners, the lines of pain crossing his forehead smoothed out. ‘Speaking of morning. It’s time you tucked yourself up. A local mothers’ group has booked a couple of tables, and you know how their kids love to frolic on your side of the shop. Joe might want to get that horrible unicorn onesie of his ready.’
Poppy faked a shudder. ‘Children running amuck. Terrible. Can’t have that. They’ll beg their mothers to buy something and I’ll make money. Or their mothers will say no and I’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up. I know! I’ll create a box of unicorn toys that you can keep on your side of the shop for kids to play with free of charge. It’ll be their gateway drug to all things unicorn and you’ll be left with the tidying up.’
Ben leaned forward, his nose inches from hers. His eyes sparkled under the streetlight that bathed the front of the terraced homes in a golden light. Tawny flecks were scattered through amongst the decadent chestnut colour. How had she never noticed them before?
‘Not. Going. To. Happen. Miss Taylor.’ Ben grinned. ‘You may have convinced me a smattering of red edible glitter on Jammy Dodgers is a cute twist on the classic, but I will not have any more of your unicorn garb on my side of the shop. Try it and I’ll have a T-shirt printed saying “only dreamers love unicorns”.’
Poppy clapped her hands together. Ben was onto something. ‘That’s a brilliant idea! What a gorgeous slogan. They’d be snapped up. I could do them in different shades and styles. I can imagine some cool hipster dude wearing one.’
Ben slapped his hand to his forehead, then groaned as his palm landed smack bang on his bump. ‘Ow. Instant karma.’
‘Poor Ben.’ Poppy held up her hand for a high five. ‘Or should I say, Brilliant Ben. When I make my fortune from those T-shirts I’ll be sure to send you a whole bunch for free.’ She jiggled her hand, reminding him he had to hold up his end of the high five.
An unwilling huff escaped Ben’s lips. Then his hand met hers. His fingers closed over the back of her hand, locking their palms in place, sending delectable zaps of pleasure straight to her heart, which then spilled through her body, warming it, fighting off the slight chill in the air. ‘Only you could take my attempt at giving you grief and spin it into something wonderful.’
Poppy attempted a casual shrug, and half-wondered if Ben could feel the way her pulse had picked up through the skin of her palm. Could he hear her heart beating as rapidly as the tempo of the music had earlier?
‘Thanks for a wonderful night, Poppy. And thank you again for being there for me. Making the tea tasting something special.’
Poppy attempted to swallow and discovered you couldn’t swallow if your mouth was bone dry. ‘Anything, for a friend.’
Ben released her hand. ‘Right, for a friend.’
They stood staring at each other, Ben’s face unreadable. Poppy willed herself to take the two steps into the house, but her feet wouldn’t budge.
‘Right, well I’ll be off.’ Ben turned to leave.
‘’Kay. Bye.’ Poppy whispered and went to unlock the front door. The thumping in her heart slowed. She paused, searching for the relief that should have enveloped her with Ben and his sexy new stubble, lush yet firm lips, and kind but intense eyes, now well on his way home. There was none. Just a hollowness in her heart.
A firm hand clasped her arm and she went to scream thinking she was about to be mugged, but before she could she found herself twisted around to face Ben, his arm encircled her waist, brought her to him with no hesitation, as his lips descended upon hers. Fast. Furious. Like he was afraid if he didn’t kiss her then and there then he never would.
His hand found the nape of her neck, his fingers curling around it, his thumb stroking her soft skin, over and over, sending lightning bolts down her spine. No tantalising tingles. No delectable heart-warming zaps. Pure, raw, electricity.
She went to lean into the kiss, but Ben broke away before she could. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. His eyes bore into hers. Daring her to say what had happened between them was something that shouldn’t happen again. That it hadn’t been good. Good? Try unforgettable.
Poppy inched closer and placed her hands on either side of his cheeks and brought him to her. Their lips met, touched, feather-light, as she breathed in his clean lemony scent. Relished the prickly hair that pierced her fingertips. The kiss intensified as Ben wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands dropping lower, cupping her bum, bringing her to him, melding her to him, as their mouths opened to each other, their tongues twisting and pushing, tasting and exploring.
The energy between them was so great Poppy could see stars despite her closed eyes.
This was what she’d hoped for all those years ago, but refused to believe she was worthy of having. This was what she’d dreamed of. And it was a thousand, million, trillion times better than any teenage fantasy she’d ever concocted.
She blindly reached for the key in the lock. If their kiss escalated things were about to get X-rated, and she didn’t need to wake up with her face plastered on the local social media page, blasted as an inappropriate strumpet hell-bent on destroying the innocence of local children.
‘Poppy. Stop,’ Ben murmured into her mouth, kissing her one more time before pulling back. But not away. His arms were still wrapped around her, keeping her in place. Keeping them together. ‘I hate to do this, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got work tomorrow, and my business partner’s nose gets all bent out of shape if I’m late.’
‘Well we couldn’t have that. I hear she’s got a very cute nose, and I wouldn’t want to be the reason it becomes disfigured.’ She rolled her eyes and grinned. Hoped it would hide the disappointment that sat heavy in her stomach, dowsing the heat, the tension that had built during their kiss.
‘We should do this again, sometime?’ Ben raised an eyebrow. Daring her to say no? As if she would. She wanted more of what had been on offer. She wanted the lot.
‘Definitely.’ She turned the key and stepped inside
. ‘See you at work. And don’t be late.’
Ben doffed an imaginary cap, then turned and sauntered off down the street.
Shaking her head, a grin stretching her cheeks, Poppy stepped inside, shut the door, then leaned against it. She’d kissed Ben. Ben had kissed her. And it had been hot.
Who knew behind that conscientious, do-everything-by-the-rules exterior there was a passionate, forceful, hot-as-hell man who had made her knees all but disappear with a kiss?
Okay. Two kisses. Technically probably about eight, or ten, if you were to be picky about it.
Poppy touched her lips, still tingling. Still hot. Still wanting more.
This is a very bad idea.
The little voice was back. Clearer than ever. And right as always.
Kissing Ben may have felt amazing. Kissing Ben may have felt right. But was a moment with a man who would want the world – something she could not give – worth putting everything they’d worked for on the line? Their business? The rebuilding of their friendship?
Poppy crossed her arms as a shiver skittered through her. She wasn’t a teenager anymore, she was a mature, responsible adult. And that meant doing the mature, responsible adult thing and shutting the situation down.
The sooner the better, for everyone.
Chapter 11
Ben smoothed his hair, flicked his tongue around his teeth, checking for loose debris from that morning’s Marmite on toast, then glanced down to make sure his shirt was buttoned up correctly.
All was in place, as always… which was a surprise. He’d been as hyper as a kid on Christmas Eve since Poppy had returned his kiss. Not just returned it but built on it, her touch, curious at first, growing bolder as the kiss had gone on. Lingering, discovering, relishing.
Part of him was kicking himself for breaking it off, for not exploring what might have come next had he followed her upstairs. But he knew holding off was for the best. He wasn’t after one night, he wanted all the nights. The only thing getting in the way of that was Poppy and her loveless beliefs. But he could find a way around that. He’d take a battering ram to that particular wall if he had to.
The door flew open setting the chime’s off and Poppy burst into the shop.
‘Hey, how are you?’ Ben took a step towards Poppy, then paused as she hurried behind the counter, and dumped her furry unicorn backpack so its head slumped to the side like it had had one too many sparkly drinks the night before.
Opening her laptop, Poppy stared intently at the screen. ‘No deliveries I take it? I’m waiting for an order, and I needed it yesterday. The rate things are selling my shelves are going to be bare.’ She twisted round and began rearranging the bath and shower section, spreading out unicorn-shaped bath bombs and rainbow soaps.
This scene wasn’t playing out how he thought it would. In the plan he’d conjured last night as he tossed and turned while waiting for sleep to come, they were going to have some friendly banter. Go about their day exchanging flirtatious smiles. He’d suggest dinner. She’d agree. And a romantic evening would see them enjoying another one, or seven, or more, of those everything-he’d-ever-imagined-and-more kisses.
Instead, despite her friendly greeting, Poppy was radiating Miss Business. And she was twitchier than usual. Like she didn’t want him in her space. Like she… regretted the night before.
Shit.
A rock appeared in Ben’s stomach, one he was sure was the shape of his heart, because that area of his chest felt numb. Empty. He’d read the situation wrong. Poppy’s hand-holding, her comfortableness with his closeness, her dragging him up to dance, those hadn’t been signs she was interested in him like that. It was Poppy being Poppy. Fun and flirtatious, but never serious.
As for that unforgettable, sexy, all-in kiss? He’d been stupid to think it meant something. Poppy was impulsive. Impetuous. An adventurer. She’d been caught up in the moment, revelling in the adrenaline of a new experience. Prepared to take it further until the cold light of day made her reassess her rashness.
She twisted round, their eyes met, locked. Silence stretched between them, to the point the room positively itched with awkwardness. Since he’d been the cause of it, the one to start it, he’d have to be the one to scratch it out.
‘Poppy.’ Her name came out crackly and croaky. He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘Poppy, look, about last night…’
Poppy glanced over her shoulder, yet her eyes didn’t meet his. Instead they focused on the tins of tea lined up on shelves behind him. ‘Oh. It’s… um. Yeah. Look. I’m sorry. I was out of line. Tipsy. Should have controlled myself. Should have engaged my brain.’ Poppy returned to her rearranging. ‘And you’re dating Milly so I should have known better…’
So that was it? She felt guilty? Thought she was treading on Milly’s toes? ‘No, Poppy. Milly and I aren’t ser—’
‘It’s good that you’re dating her. She’s perfect for you. Can you imagine you and I going out? Being a couple? We’d kill each other. Besides, you’re already in your dad’s bad books, if you and I became “us”, well, you’d be there permanently, and I can’t let that happen. I won’t be the one to make your life harder.’ Poppy’s flattened lips and straight, stern nose told him she’d made her decision, and that was that. She was taking the blame and she didn’t want to hear another word about it. Well, he wasn’t going to let her carry that blame. It took two people to kiss, and neither of them had a reason to feel bad or awkward about it.
Ben’s mobile broke the strained silence with a chirp as a text came through. He scanned the message and inwardly groaned.
‘Ben, we talked about you and Poppy coming over for dinner. Your father is free tonight. We’ll see you at seven.’
Talk about bad timing. The way Poppy was behaving there was no way she’d want to spend the evening at his parents’ with him. He glanced over at Poppy whose face was all but buried in her laptop, so he could only see the top of her forehead. His fingers tingled with the temptation to lie to his mother, to say Poppy was busy.
He began to type a message, then deleted it. A white lie was still a lie, and the chances of him being caught out were high. All it would take would be for his mother to tell Poppy she’d missed her at dinner and then the two most important women in the world to him would both know they’d been lied to. He was just going to have to mention it to Poppy.
His mobile chirped again.
‘And don’t try to get out of it. It’s time your father and yourself had a good chat. Poppy will make the perfect buffer. See you tonight x’
Ben’s gut tightened. His mother had a point. He couldn’t avoid his father forever. Not that he wanted to. He loved his father and had done everything he could his whole life to make him proud. He just needed to show him that quitting law wasn’t a mistake. That he could be just as successful in the business of tea as he had been in the business of law. His father was too proud to take the first step to reconciliation, so he would have to be the one to do it. But first he had to make things right, normal, with Poppy, and maybe this invitation was the way to do it.
‘So…’ He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed. ‘How about dinner?’
Poppy’s head snapped up, her skin paling before his eyes.
Oh, God. He’d said that wrong. ‘I mean, Mum has invited you for dinner tonight. With me.’
Poppy picked up a pen and began to twirl it between her fingers, its glitter-encrusted casing catching the sunshine beaming into the shop, creating a sprinkling of light that skittered around the floor with every twist and turn. ‘Oh, that’s kind of her, but I should probably work late. Get ahead of things.’
Poppy startled as her mobile let off a series of drum beats.
‘What is that noise?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘My text message alert. I never hear a single beep.’ She turned her attention to her phone, her brows drawing together. ‘Looks like I’m coming to dinner. I’ve been given the “no is not an answer” command from your mum.’
S
he made it sound like dinner with them, with him, was a death sentence.
‘Look, if you really don’t want to that’s fine. I can say you’ve come down sick or something.’ Ben’s gut twisted. One kiss and his relationship with Poppy, his friendship, was buggered. What had he been thinking?
‘Ben, shit, I’m sorry. Me not wanting to go to dinner has nothing to do with you.’ Poppy left the safety of her counter and made her way to stand in front of Ben. ‘You’re going to think I’m an idiot.’ Poppy’s face flushed bright red. ‘More so than you probably already think I am.’
Ben automatically went to reach for Poppy, to soothe her, to give her strength, but stopped himself. Poppy was embarrassed enough about last night, and by her behaviour this morning it was obvious she needed to keep her distance, and his hands on hers wouldn’t help with that. ‘I don’t think you’re an idiot, Poppy. I’ve never thought that. Frustrating? Sometimes. Complicated? Just a bit. A little crazy? Oh yes, absolutely.’
The heat faded from Poppy’s face as her indignation grew. ‘I’m going to believe that you’re joking about most of it. I can accept “complicated” though.’
‘“Complicated”? Really? I’d have thought you’d be more okay with the “crazy”.’ Ben grinned as Poppy lightly punched him on the arm. Welcome back, solid ground. ‘So, what’s stopping you from coming to dinner?’
Poppy paused, her chest rose and fell, and her shoulders sagged like the weight of the world had landed upon them. ‘My mother still doesn’t know I’m home, and I was hoping to keep it that way for as long as possible.’
Ben knew Poppy and her mother weren’t tight, but he had no idea things were this bad. ‘She hasn’t seen you? You haven’t been to visit? Or called?’
Poppy shook her head, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
‘Oh, Poppy.’ His heart went out to her. Complicated to the core. On the surface everyone saw smiley, happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care Poppy. Inside though, she was a mess of insecurity, indecision, and a whole lot of hurt. If he could take her into his arms and whisper those feelings away with truthful words – telling her she was loved, she was worthy, she was as brilliant as the shiniest star in the universe – he would. But she wouldn’t have believed him. Poppy had to come to that conclusion herself. But that wouldn’t stop him from helping her get there. ‘Well, if we’re going to smuggle you into my parents’ house we’re going to need a game plan. And a cup of tea. Also, a slice of ginger loaf, freshly baked this morning.’
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 12
