‘Grandmother on whose side?’ Poppy backed into him, so their bodies were fused together, the same way she had the night before when they’d briefly gone downstairs to make sandwiches before retiring back to the bedroom.
‘Mum’s side.’ He nuzzled her neck once more, then forced himself to pull away. To give her space to work. To be. He was all too aware that their relationship was fresh, new, and for Poppy, a more intimidating proposition to enter into than any new and unknown country.
‘If it were your dad’s side I’d believe it, but your mum’s nowhere near as strait-laced. I bet your grandmother would be fine with it.’ She picked up the knife and deftly sliced a couple of angular slabs, ready to be plated up. ‘There you go. Can’t bake to save my life but I sure can spread the sparkle.’
‘Yes, you can.’ Ben picked up the plate Poppy had placed the cake on. ‘Poppy. What is this plate?’
Poppy set the glitter down, a pretty blush hitting her cheeks as a cheeky smile brought a glint to her eyes. ‘It’s a plate. No more. No less.’
‘Poppy. I gave you an inch. Not a mile.’ Ben shook his head in mock-despair as he took in the golden unicorns surrounding the edge of the plate, their manes painted in pink and silver, flying in a make-believe wind. ‘This is too much.’
‘It’s just enough. Trust me. They’ll love it.’ Poppy nudged him towards the tea shop. ‘Go get ’em, unicorn boy.’
Ben glanced over her shoulder, catching her mid-smirk. ‘I’m not a unicorn boy.’
‘You will be. Once I’m done with you. Grab me when the guests start to arrive. I’ll be in the office doing more of that ever-present bloomin’ paperwork.’ She blew him a kiss and disappeared through the office door, her bum looking extra hot in a pair of candy-pink skinny jeans.
Ben stepped into the tea shop and stopped in his tracks. Bloody hell. Poppy hadn’t taken a mile. She’d taken all the miles. She had transformed his side of the shop into a dazzling den of glitz and garishness. No wonder she’d insisted he sit out the back in the office catching up on his own paperwork while she and Joe decorated for the baby shower that had been booked for that afternoon. If he’d known she was going to do this he’d have put a stop to it. A little glitter on the cake. A hint of unicorn on a plate. That he could live with, but this?
Silver, gold and pink bunting in the shape of unicorns hung from each corner of the room, joining in the middle where a piñata in the shape of a unicorn head hung. Clear balloons filled with blue and pink glitter and sequins were hung up in big bunches around the room. The tables had been arranged in a U-shape and were covered in holographic tablecloths that caught the light filtering in from outside. A smaller table had been placed in the middle of the ‘U’ – with enough room for a burgeoning belly to pass round, Ben noted – and on that the piles of party food he’d baked were arranged, except they looked different from how he remembered them. He crept forward, pushed aside a few plates to make way for the banana cake, put it down and tried to figure out what had changed.
The white-chocolate cake pops he’d created had little iced flower rosettes in pink and blue adorning the top, along with a liberal sprinkling of matching coloured glitter. The glitter was also atop the cupcakes he’d created, and instead of being separated into blue icing and pink icing – the mother having kept the baby’s gender a secret – they’d been mixed up, creating a far more fun vibe. Dotted throughout the table were vases of fresh flowers in shades of pink and blue, with white breaking up the colour. He recognised delphiniums and sweet peas from his mother’s garden, but the rest were a mystery.
A further table, set up by the front door, had a giant stuffed unicorn with a large purple ribbon around its neck taking pride of place. A present table. Something he’d not thought of. Not put on the list of must-dos. Along with the piñata. Or the glittering gold notebook that sat at the top end of the tables, along with a fluffy-unicorn-headed pen placed besides it, on which Poppy had written ‘All the Advice You’ll Ever Need – From People Who Aren’t Your Parents’ in elegant purple-penned script.
Ben leafed through the notebook, blank for now, waiting to be filled with pearls of wisdom. He set it back down, wandered over to the stuffed unicorn, and opened the small card attached to the ribbon.
‘May your life be full of magic, happiness and, most important of all, love. Best wishes, Ben & Poppy’.
Poppy really had thought of everything. And, once again, she’d saved him from making a misstep with his business.
‘You like it?’ Poppy lounged against the doorway, a smirk lurking about her lips. ‘Or am I going to have to put up with you telling my customers that unicorns are for the puerile and pathetic?’
Ben strode over to Poppy. Bugger keeping his distance. If he wanted to be close to Poppy, he was going to be. She needed to know how much he cared. She needed to feel it. To know it.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her off her feet and spun her round and round until her fists beat his chest and she begged him to put her down through breathless giggles.
‘What would I do without you?’ He dropped a kiss on her pert nose. One on each of her pink cheeks, then a long kiss, that tasted of tangy, sweet lemon icing. ‘You licked the icing bowl?’
‘How could I not? And what you’d do without me is have twice the space, twice the customers, and twice the profit.’
‘None of the joy though. None of your flare. None of your ability to take something dull and make it positively brilliant. Those are just some of the many things I love about you, Pops. This baby shower would have been a flop without you.’ Ben ran his hand down the length of her braid and gave it a tug. He leaned in to kiss her but found himself kissing air as she ducked under his arm and ran to the front door where a heavily pregnant woman, dressed in a royal blue maxi dress, was hovering.
‘Come in. Welcome. Can I take your bag?’ Poppy was the picture of politeness, but her smile was strained, and her cheeks devoid of colour. When she introduced the lady of the hour to Ben she didn’t meet his eyes.
What had he done? What had he said? He ran over the moment just gone and closed his eyes as his stomach turned to stone. Shit. He’d said the forbidden word. Crossed the line she’d set for all relationships. Crossed it? Bounded over it. Cleared it by a mile.
He could fix this. Laugh it off. Tell her it was off the cuff.
Yeah, he could sort it. But the question was… did he want to?
***
Poppy leaned against the back wall and surreptitiously watched Ben greet each guest through lowered eyelashes. He had the event running like clockwork, taking their presents and placing them on the table she’d set up, showing them to their seats, offering them tea menus and taking their order. The women were charmed by his easy demeanour.
The guests saw Ben the way she did. Kind, gentlemanly, funny. Except they didn’t get to hold him, hug him, kiss him… feel about him the way she had over the last three weeks. Three weeks of laughter, of teasing, of fun, of discovering Ben was everything teenage Poppy had thought he’d be, and more. The eighteen-year-old boy she’d run from all those years ago had aged into the kind of man any woman in the world would be lucky to have.
He was a keeper.
And, apparently, he loved her. Or at least, he loved aspects of her.
A shiver ripped down her spine. A rash of goose bumps spread over her arms. She folded her arms to stave off the cold, but she knew it was of no use. No amount of warmth could beat back this chill.
Sure, strictly he hadn’t said he loved her, he said he loved ‘things’ about her. Either way. He’d said the word he knew she never wanted to hear. Wasn’t ready to hear.
She chomped down on the inner corner of her cheek, but the sharp pain did nothing to ease her panicked, racing heart. She’d known this would end up happening, eventually. There was no way Ben would be okay with keeping things light and easy forever.
But now what? Should she pretend he hadn’t said he loved things about her? Keep things go
ing as they were? Or try and back off? Take things back to the way they were? Bury their relationship, pretend to forget it ever happened, and attempt to renew their friendship?
She sucked in her lower lip. She couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. Ben would only end up hurt, or worse, resenting her. Hating her for messing with him.
Why couldn’t she have just left well enough alone. If she’d just kept things simple. Stayed friends. Ignored her feelings. Pretended their chemistry didn’t exist. Then surely, given time, he’d have met someone else. Someone simple, with no hang ups, someone… suitable.
Poppy’s attention snapped towards the door as it flew open in a jingle of chimes, and giant helium balloons in the shapes of dummies, teddy bears, hearts and oversized baby feet bobbed through the entrance. ‘I’m late. So late. I can’t believe I’m late. Apologies, darlings. But I’m here. Ready to get things under way.’
Poppy knew that voice, and from the way Ben was smiling, he’d figured out who it was, too. Of course she’d turn up. The one person who was right for Ben. Who would fit into his world. Who always had. And who, more importantly, unlike Poppy, wasn’t afraid to try.
‘Milly, can I get those monstrosities for you? Where do you want me to put them? And please tell me you’re taking them home with you. They’re hardly my style.’ Ben shoved the balloons aside to find Milly behind them. Her hair pulled back in a tasteful chignon. Lips blazing red. The rest of her makeup simple, yet chic. He planted a kiss on her cheek, as he took the balloons off her hands.
Was it Poppy’s imagination or did that kiss linger? And what was up with her outfit? Where was the vampy Milly that had popped in and out of the shop during the time she’d been spending with Ben? This Milly was wearing a cream short-sleeved silk blouse, a burgundy pencil skirt, sensible black kitten heels, and… pearls. Of course she was wearing pearls.
As if sensing her appraising eyes, Milly shot a tight smile paired with an equally restrained nod in Poppy’s direction, then straightened up and clapped her hands three times. ‘Ladies, we’re here today to celebrate Josie’s impending arrival. The joyous bundle of adorability that I can’t wait to get my hands on and snuggle. And breathe in.’ She touched the expectant mother’s shoulder. ‘Lots. I promise I won’t steal him… or her… but you may have to prise the wee darling from my poor, clucky hands.’ Milly’s gaze moved to Ben who shook his head with a grin.
God, could she be any more obvious? Milly was in full-on gimme-babies-now mode, and from the looks of it she had Ben in mind as the future daddy. Except he wouldn’t be, couldn’t be, because Ben was with Poppy.
Nausea swirled and tumbled in Poppy’s stomach as she tried to sort out her feelings. How could she want to set Ben free, yet not want him to be with anyone else? Why did the idea of giving him up see bile burn its way up her gullet?
Because she felt something more for Ben? Felt the same?
No. She shunted the thought from her mind, from her heart. She wouldn’t allow herself to go down that path. If she did, and Ben rejected her… she’d never recover from the hurt, the pain.
Poppy placed a hand to her mouth and swallowed the bile back. What a mess she’d gotten herself into.
She turned her attention to Ben, hoping to catch his eye, see a smile, a wink, an acknowledgement that he hadn’t forgotten she was there, but his gaze was on Milly as he offered her a tea menu.
Poppy sidled into the kitchen and made her way to the office, catching her hip on the angular edge of the bench, barely registering the pain that zinged through her. She should have left well enough alone. Ought to have stuck to her rules. Don’t get too close. Keep them at a distance. Don’t give them a way in, an opportunity to hurt you. Be prepared to give it all up if things got complicated. And never, ever, no matter what, fall in love.
And that was the problem.
She’d broken all her rules.
Each and every one of them.
Especially that last one.
She sagged into the office chair and slumped onto the desk. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thumped her forehead repeatedly onto the hard wood, hoping to knock some sense into herself.
The problem wasn’t with Ben, it was with her. She couldn’t do relationships. Couldn’t deal with the ups and downs, the insecurities. The only sure way to keep your heart safe was to keep it locked up, and that’s what she was going to have to do… even if her heart screamed no at the thought.
Ben’s head popped through the door. ‘Poppy, could you give me a hand serving the tea please? Also, one of the guests is hoping to buy that unicorn costume for her husband. I don’t even want to know why. Or for what.’ Ben waggled his eyebrows suggestively, turned on his heel and took off back to the baby shower.
Funny. Cute. Sexy. Cheeky. Adorable. Handsome. Sweet. Intelligent. And far too good for her.
She dragged herself up and forced her feet to plod towards the sounds of laughter and happy chatter, mentally forming a list of things that had to be done.
Serve the tea.
Help clean up.
Make it clear to Ben things can’t go further.
Go home and try not to cry.
She swiped a lone tear from her cheek.
Scratch that.
Go home and try not to cry too much.
Chapter 18
‘Who knew fifteen adults could make such a mess?’ Ben ran the broom over the floor for what would hopefully be the final time, amazed to see he’d still managed to miss a scattering of crumbs. He looked over his shoulder to see Poppy intently working on straightening her soft toy selection. ‘Looks like they did a number on your stock too.’
‘Yeah. They did.’ Poppy moved onto the letter writing sets and pen selection that looked to have been pawed over by wild animals.
Ben raked his hand through his hair, grabbed a tuft and yanked it as he tried to keep his growing frustration from spilling over. Poppy had avoided giving him any answers that were more than one syllable for the greater part of the afternoon. Sure, she’d been polite to their guests. Serving tea when required. Tidying up the plates. Helping pack the presents into the mum-to-be’s car. She’d smiled and said ‘thank you’ as she made sales, took money, packed things in her rainbow and unicorn printed paper bags.
To anyone who didn’t know Poppy as he did, she was perfectly fine, pleasant without being overbearing, and accommodating to a fault – she’d even divvied up the boxed-up leftover treats for the party goers to take home, all without being asked. But Ben knew Poppy better than anyone, and he could see she was so far in her own head she was about to explode.
And there was only one thing that could cause her to go so far into herself… and that was fear. Of how close they’d become. Of what could happen next. Of being hurt. And it was all because of the innocent word he’d unleashed earlier.
He understood hearing that he loved things about her would upset Poppy. Scare her. But there was no way he was letting her use that fear as an excuse to back off from a chance of their having the kind of relationship he’d long believed they were destined to have. She may not like hearing the ‘l’ word, but if what was going on between them was going to continue, to grow, she was going to have to get used to it.
‘Right.’ Poppy straightened up and dusted her hands off on her dress. ‘That’s done. Home time.’ She shouldered her bag and made for the front door.
That was it? She was leaving? Just like that? No ‘goodbye’? No ‘what are you up to later?’ No… anything?
Pressure built in Ben’s chest, growing tighter, heavier with every step Poppy took towards the door. Was this how things were going to play out? Like the time they’d spent together, entwined in each other, part of one another, meant nothing?
Like hell it did.
Every brush of her hand, every lingering glance from those beautiful eyes, every cup of tea she made him without even asking, every kiss she dropped on his lips, all of it proved one thing… Poppy insisted she didn’t believe in love, but her actio
ns proved she could love. Wonderfully. Deeply. Sweetly.
He wasn’t letting Poppy run away from her feelings any longer. She’d dashed off without saying a word once. She wasn’t getting away with it twice.
‘Poppy, stop.’ He hated how shaky the words came out. How weak. How her hand was still on the doorknob, turning it, like she’d not heard him. He swallowed hard. Lifted his chin. ‘Poppy. We need to talk.’ Good. The words were firmer. Stronger. And her hand was no longer moving. But she wasn’t stepping away either.
‘What’s to talk about?’ Her tone was light, flippant. But an edgy undercurrent ran through her words. A warning. One he was going to ignore.
‘What’s to talk about? Really?’ He crossed the room to stand beside her, close enough he could see the twitch in her jaw, and the vein at her temple pulsing. Too close for her liking? Tough. He’d done enough sitting, waiting and hoping. Patience had gotten him nowhere. It was time for action. ‘Did I imagine the last few weeks? Hand-holding as we walked to work? Snuggling up together on the couch watching telly? Lots of really bloody amazing lovemaking? What about this morning? Feeding each other toast, chatting over tea, then… well, more of that amazing lovemaking. You were there. Or at least I thought you were, now I’m starting to think it was all some cruel, crazy dream. Will I go home tonight and not find crumbs in my bed because you can’t eat without making a mess?’
Poppy’s chin lifted. Her eyes focused on the steady stream of cars and people heading home after a day at work.
‘Is this what happens now? You ignore me? Put me right back in the friend zone you’ve kept me in for as long as I can remember?’ He curled his hands into fists and held them to his side, tried to stem the anger, the pain, the confusion, that had been packed away for years. ‘No, I lie. For twelve years you didn’t even have me in the friend zone. I may as well have been a ghost to you, for all you cared.’
Poppy’s lips parted, determination turning her eyes flinty.
‘Don’t even go there, Poppy. Don’t you dare go down the “I emailed you” route. You did. Sure. But it didn’t make up for the way you left. Without a word. Under the cover of darkness. I guess I should count myself lucky that I’m at least conscious to see you go this time.’ Self-loathing burned its way up the centre of his chest. ‘I don’t know why I still call you a friend. And part of me hates myself for hoping I could call you more.’
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 19
