by Amy Andrews
Poppy’s mouth twitched. ‘You been writing a new song?’
‘Uh-huh,’ he confirmed, removing a pick from his pocket and tuning up. ‘It’s called “Poppy”.’
Poppy smiled but she also got that guarded look he’d got used to when she suspected he was going to get serious.
He smiled back, knowing this was a sure thing, and started.
The melody was slow and dark, sweet Southern-style riffs wrapped in a bluesy rhythm. ‘Poppy,’ he started singing, stretching her name out to match the melody and trying to inject into the word all the things she wouldn’t let him say. He’d let the music do the job instead, just like he always had. ‘Ohhh, Poppy.’ The tune had been written to match the cadence and perfection of her name. ‘Ohhh, my Poppy,’ he crooned.
He knew it was good. The tune had come to him on the flight from Australia, and it had been almost torture to try to keep it in his head until he got his guitar back in his hands and could play it in privacy.
It was an ode to her. His beautiful girlfriend. It didn’t need any more words, only the notes he’d composed.
By the time he finished the final ‘my Poppy’ and played the last few notes, she was entranced, her head on the side, eyes glistening and face flushed.
‘That was beautiful,’ she said, reaching up to trace the line of his cheek and stroke the small scar that made a punctuation mark over one eyebrow. ‘And you know what I want now?’
Quentin put Jerry Hall down, hoping what she wanted was to kiss him really hard and lay back down on this blanket with him.
‘I want to go for a swim,’ she said, standing up and stepping out of her summer dress in one quick move, before yanking down her underwear and waltzing over to the pool.
Quentin felt relieved that everyone had retired for the night as he watched her move, her slender body outlined by moonlight, the back of her neck a sultry line dissolving into her fragile back, the delicate curve of her right breast tantalising him as she turned to beckon him to follow.
He had never moved so fast in his life.
Chapter Ten
No matter how exhausted Julia was at this moment – and she was, which meant Poppy had to be utterly shattered – she knew that the sight of glass domes nestled into thick snow and fringed by towering, white-capped pines would stay with her forever.
Suddenly the drive to Rome, then the delayed flight to Helsinki, and the even more delayed flight to Ivalo, followed by another car trip to the Kakslauttanen Arctic Resort, faded away to nothing. In the future, when she thought back to this time – when she could eventually bear to think about this time again – it wouldn’t be about the delays or about the hours it took to get here, or fretting about how tiring it was for Poppy.
It would be about standing in the twilight hush on the edge of this amazing wilderness, the cold air burning her lungs, feeling utterly primal.
‘Oh … it’s so beautiful,’ Poppy whispered.
Ten’s hand slid onto her shoulder. ‘It is,’ he whispered back.
It was precisely the kind of place people whispered lest they disturb the reverence of it all – like a cathedral. And, like a cathedral, it was a place to feel small and insignificant in the presence of a greater power. And that power was nature. It ruled supreme here, looming large all around them, mocking human attempts to contain it.
Julia breathed out and it misted in the cold air. ‘Oh look, dragon breath,’ Poppy said with a smile.
Julia could see Ten quirk his eyebrow above Poppy’s head and she could tell he was dying to make some crack to do with dragons. And her. But he simply smiled and she found herself smiling back, grudgingly admiring his restraint. They hadn’t really talked since she’d impulsively – stupidly – egged him in Tuscany. She had been very careful since Poppy had laid down her cards where Ten was concerned. Julia had promised her best friend she’d make an effort, and she fully intended to.
For Poppy.
And that probably needed to start with an apology. Sure, she’d apologised to Poppy, but it had been two days since the egging and she hadn’t yet uttered the words to him. And she really did need to do that.
Because whether she liked it or not, Ten was here for the duration and this whole thing wasn’t about her and her feelings.
It was about Poppy.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Julia asked.
They’d come from an Italy enjoying an extended Indian summer to Lapland, which was having an early start to winter and had received a foot of snow over the last few days.
Poppy nodded. ‘I could do with a nap though, before dinner.’
‘Of course,’ Julia murmured, glancing at Ten as a cold hand clutched her heart. How much had the weather-related delays on their journey today taken out of Poppy’s reserves? She had precious few as it was.
‘Let’s go find our digs,’ Ten said as the night fell rapidly around them.
They easily located their home for the next three nights, walking into the glorious warmth of their glass-domed igloo, which was constructed from a special thermal glass to insulate the interior and keep it warm and cosy. They gasped in awe as all three of them cast their eyes to the night sky. Poppy flopped on the nearest bed and pointed.
‘Look at those stars.’
Julia looked. They were utterly magnificent. A billion pricks of light, gleaming down as if especially for them. As if they were the only people on earth. And it wasn’t even fully dark yet. She went to join Poppy on the bed, to lie with her and take in the display, but Ten was climbing in beside her and a hot needle of jealousy slid into her chest. Poppy threaded her hand through his and Julia felt superfluous.
Worse than that, it hurt.
And what kind of a friend did that make her? Poppy was dying and Ten made her happy. What kind of a friend was she to be jealous of that?
‘Think I’ll go grab a drink—’ or three ‘—at the bar,’ she said, turning away to throw her overnight bag on her bed, unzipping it and fussing aimlessly in it for no good reason. ‘Do you want me to wake you at seven-thirty?’
‘I’ll wake her.’
Julia gritted her teeth. Of course he would. She turned and forced a smile on her face. Ten’s big hand lay flat on Poppy’s belly. When they’d talked about seeing the northern lights as teenagers, there’d been no big male hands involved.
‘Okay, I’ll see you then,’ she said.
But Poppy’s eyes were already drifting closed and Ten barely acknowledged her as he gazed out of the glass ceiling.
Julia sighed. She hoped they had a well-stocked bar.
* * *
‘I think you would make very sexy dog-sled handler. Not enough woman on the dog sleds.’
Julia gave an internal groan. She really didn’t want company. But the second she’d peeled off her fleecy parka in deference to the toasty-warm bar, sat down and ordered a martini, she’d had a procession of men all trying their luck. Most of them had taken the hint immediately.
Not so dog-sled man.
Julia had always found an accent, Russian in particular, incredibly attractive, but there was no way she was joining him and his Siberian huskies for a one-on-one lesson tonight or any other night.
‘I think I’m a little …’ she looked down at the guy, who was a good head shorter than her and good deal slighter ‘… hefty for a bunch of poor dogs to be dragging around.’
His gaze dropped to the cleavage of her snug-fitting shirt. ‘Dog-sled work needs a strong woman.’
He stared at her breasts. Julia didn’t think he was measuring them for what they might be able to bench press. ‘I’m not great with the cold.’
He grinned big and she noticed he was missing one of his front teeth. ‘We have vays,’ he wiggled his eyebrows, ‘of keeping warm.’
Oh crap. Julia just bet he did. He looked like he’d volunteer to un-freeze her nipples with his tongue any chance he got.
‘Hello.’ Ten’s voice said from behind. Julia stiffened as his hand slid onto her shoulder. ‘Here
you are, darl, I woke up and you were gone.’
Dog-sled man’s face dropped. He looked from Ten to Julia then back to Ten, who towered over him. ‘You no tell me you had a man.’
Julia figured she had two options. She could shrug off Ten’s hand and deny it, an option the bitchy part of her was voting for. Or she could take the life raft Ten was offering and be rid of dog-sled man and the next guy and the next guy. A busty redhead alone at a bar seemed to be an open invitation to proposition in deepest, darkest Lapland.
‘You no ask me,’ Julia replied.
He eyed her suspiciously, threw back his vodka and vacated the chair. Ten laughed, low and quiet, as the other man walked away. ‘Well played.’
‘What can I say?’ Julia muttered. ‘You had me at hello.’ He chuckled as she waved the barman over. ‘Poppy still sleeping?’
‘Yes.’
‘Another martini,’ she requested as the bartender approached.
‘Let me guess. Shaken, not stirred?’ Ten asked.
Julia looked at him. ‘Dirty.’
He grinned. ‘Make that two,’ he said to the barman.
They watched in silence as their drinks were made in front of them, which suited Julia just fine. She was trying to find the right words for the apology she knew she had to give but it stuck in her craw. Sure, she’d behaved like a spoiled brat, but Ten counted as extreme provocation as far as she was concerned.
‘So …’ Ten said as he took a sip of his martini and still somehow managed to appear blokey. ‘Are we going to need a bigger igloo, Jules?’
Julia sighed, ignoring his irritating nickname for her. He was right – they had to share digs here, and it was churlish of her to keep baiting him, provocation or not. ‘No, look, I’m sorry. Okay? I apologise unreservedly for smashing the egg in your face, and also for not apologising for it sooner. It was … impetuous and childish.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
Julia blinked. She’d expected him to make her squirm for a lot longer. ‘Okay … just like that?’
‘Sure.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Jules. I like you.’
Now that she hadn’t expected. ‘You do? Why on earth do you like me?’
‘Because of the way you love Poppy.’
His words were soft but they struck her hard in the chest and Julia felt absurdly like bursting into tears. She did love Poppy. She couldn’t have loved her more had they been sisters. And this entire awful situation was killing her.
‘But I love her, too, Jules. And I know you think I can’t commit and I lack grit, but you’re wrong. I’m still here, and, as I told you that day at the hospital, I’m not going anywhere.’
‘You love her?’ It came out as not much more than a squeak. Crap. It was worse than she thought.
‘Of course.’
‘Have you told her that?’ Poppy hadn’t said anything to Julia about the L-word and that was something she knew her best friend would have confided in her. They’d been telling each other their L-word stories forever.
Ten stared into his martini, his face grim. ‘She doesn’t want to hear it. She thinks she’s protecting me from the inevitable fallout if I don’t say it.’
Julia nodded. Sounded like Poppy. All logical and mathematical. The way she’d been her whole life because it was easier to live with Scarlett’s choices if she attached a logical rather than an emotional reason to them.
‘Don’t take it personally. She’s built a wall of logic around herself over the years to protect her from the illogic that is Scarlett.’
‘Yeah. I figured.’ He fiddled with the stem of his glass. ‘What happened with them?’
Julia shook her head. ‘Oh no.’ Just because he’d rescued her from being press-ganged into a dog-sled team and they were drinking dirty martinis together, did not mean she was going to talk out of school. ‘Sorry. It’s not up to me to say.’ Poppy would talk about it when she was ready. Or maybe she never would. Whatever. It wasn’t Julia’s story to tell. Still, she felt sorry for Ten, who’d always come across as being so damn sure of himself but suddenly didn’t seem anything of the sort. Actually, he appeared rather diminished. ‘Look, it wasn’t any one issue or event, okay?’
He looked like he was going to push more but he took a slug of his martini instead. He stuck out his hand. ‘Let’s call a truce.’
Julia looked down at his extended hand then back up at him. Truce? She could do that for Poppy.
Was she ever going to really like Ten in the way he’d professed to like her? She doubted it. In fact, she was pretty damn sure she’d go right back to hating him the very first groupie he screwed after Poppy was in the ground.
He’d be out there quickly, she guessed, drowning his sorrows in heavy metal and easy women. Women who screamed at him from the mosh pit every time he played and would be more than willing to help him with his grief.
And for damn sure, she’d be watching him. See how much he liked her after she cock-blocked him at every move.
But for now he was right, he wasn’t going anywhere whether she liked it or not, so she could give a truce a red-hot whirl.
For Poppy.
‘Okay.’ She slid her hand into his. ‘Truce.’
He narrowed his eyes at her easy capitulation as they shook. ‘I mean it, Jules. I’d like us to be friends.’
Julia was prepared to play nice for Poppy’s sake, to put aside her less-than-charitable feelings and her tendency towards anger, mistrust and sarcasm, and try really hard to get along with Ten. Which wouldn’t be too difficult, she acknowledged grudgingly. He was a funny, friendly guy who, had they met in different circumstances, she might actually have got along with. But she thought friendship might be pushing the realms of plausibility.
‘Well, let’s just take it one step at a time,’ she hedged, slipping her hand out of his.
‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Fine. But I am going to win you over, you’ll see. I have it on good authority that I’m charming.’
Julia snorted into her drink. ‘Oh yes, from your mother?’
‘My father. Although I do believe his actual words were charming wastrel.’
Sounded like her father and Ten’s father would get on like a house on fire. ‘Poor Ten,’ she mocked playfully.
He grinned at her then threw down the last of his drink. ‘I’ll go wake Poppy. Grab us a table.’
And he was gone before the sarcastic side of her could snap to attention and mutter Aye, aye, Sir.
This truce was not going to be easy …
* * *
They dined on traditional Lapland fare of moose, reindeer and lingonberries, and listened to Poppy chat excitedly about the northern lights. There was no iron-clad promise they’d see them in the three nights and the weather forecast was for more snow, which would virtually guarantee that they wouldn’t, but Poppy refused to be deterred. Julia had no idea where she got her positivity from, considering the deep shit she was in. This was what people called making the most of a bad situation, she supposed. But it just made Julia want to curl up into a ball and rock.
It was so freaking unfair.
Ten scraped up the last remaining morsel from his fourth course and burped as he pushed it aside. ‘As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.’
‘Ha!’ Poppy said, sliding her hand into his. ‘Vivien Leigh, Gone With the Wind.’
Julia rolled her eyes. Knowing what she knew about him, Ten would be hungry again in no time. He would have died of starvation within two hours of the civil war starting. Where he put all the stuff he crammed into his mouth Julia had no idea. If Julia ate like that her curves would be more soft edges than the dangerous variety.
Poppy yawned and that familiar cold hand squeezed a bit harder. It wasn’t quite nine pm and Poppy had not long woken from her nap. Plus she was a night owl. The cold hand crept up higher to Julia’s throat. She glanced at Ten, whose brow was creased in concern.
‘You want to head back, babe?’ he asked.
; Poppy nodded. ‘Yep. I’m beat.’
‘Let’s go,’ Julia said, pushing her chair back as she stood. ‘We’re probably missing aurora borealis anyway.’
Unfortunately, the stars were nowhere to be seen and it was snowing lightly when they stepped outside. Julia wanted to shake her fist at the sky and bellow at the elements, but Poppy’s smile and her soft, delighted ‘Oh’ at the gently falling flakes calmed her down.
‘Don’t see this back home,’ she said.
‘Nope,’ Julia agreed. It never snowed in Brisbane. And it was a stunningly beautiful sight as it floated silently around them.
‘I want to make a snow angel tomorrow,’ Poppy said.
‘Sure thing,’ Julia said as she swallowed against the firm grip of the cold hand. Where they came from, sand angels were the only option. But right now, she didn’t want to think about angels at all.
They hurried into the igloo and shut out the cold behind them, shrugging out of their heavy coats as the warmth enveloped them. Ten pulled back the covers and Poppy collapsed onto the bed immediately, in her jeans, fleecy jumper and beanie. Julia followed suit, kicking out of her warm boots as Ten removed Poppy’s.
He switched off the lights inside their cocoon and they lay and watched fat white flakes drift down towards them. They swirled in the cold night air, fell gracefully onto the glass then slid off.
‘No northern lights tonight,’ Poppy sighed.
Julia glanced over but Poppy’s eyes were already fluttering shut. She sounded accepting and the hand around Julia’s heart clamped tighter. ‘Two more nights, Pop,’ she said.
Part of Julia wanted to stay for as long as it took. The advice from tourist organisations was to stay for two weeks in the area to be sure. But Poppy didn’t have two weeks to spare. Not if they were going to fit in the Dalai Lama and Paris. And maybe India.
How much time had Dr Dick bought her?