Intoxicating

by Heather Heyford

  Poppy knew Junie still missed the engineer who wasn’t ready to settle down.

  Without saying a word, Keval offered Junie his elbow and escorted her onto the dance floor.

  Mona was right, thought Poppy. Clarkston was special. It would always hold a place in her heart.

  * * *

  Heath rejoined Poppy at the same time as Sandy Houser. “Poppy! Kyle and I were so sad when we heard you’re leaving town. The café won’t be the same without you.”

  Poppy brightened at the compliment.

  She wants this so much, Heath thought. What was more, she deserved it. How could he stand in her way?

  “How soon are you leaving?”

  “I’m still waiting for all the pieces to fall into place, but assuming they do, right away.”

  “You have to promise me you’ll come back for my baby shower in February.”

  She flushed with pleasure. “I’ll move heaven and earth to be there.”

  Watching the Housers melt into the crowd, Poppy gushed, “I didn’t know Sandy cared. I thought was just the person who poured her coffee and brought her eggs.”

  “A lot of people care.” He tipped her chin. “You really have no clue, do you?”

  “I always tried to be extra nice to people, to make up for not seeming to be too smart. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I couldn’t fake it if I didn’t feel it inside.”

  He gave her a side hug. “Glad you came?”

  “You know what? I really am.”

  “Me too.”

  The fast song ended and a slow one began.

  Her eyes sparkled up at him. “Remember this one?”

  The theme song to their prom. How could he forget? And though they’d gone to that event as a group, not a couple, at the end of the night, Poppy had pulled him out onto the dance floor.

  Heath put his hand lightly on her waist, and she took his cue and turned into him. He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the jam-packed room, and savored the feel of Poppy’s body as he let the lyrics flow through him.

  First time we danced I knew I needed you so . . .

  After the other morning, he was afraid he might never hold Poppy again. But she was right: Yesterday was gone, and the future was unknown. All they had was now, and he was determined to make the most of it.

  At first, he was careful to keep his hands within the safe bounds of her back, waist, and shoulders. He didn’t want to blow it for the second time in three days.

  But when he felt her relax against him he got braver, cradling the sides of her rib cage, letting the tips of his thumbs graze the underswell of her breasts. He waited for her to freeze up. But when she closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder, it made him feel like a man, powerful and protective and wanted.

  And even then I knew I’d never let you go.

  She lifted her head and he drew back to read her face.

  At her lazy, seductive smile, her liquid blue eyes, he thought his heart might burst.

  The crowd faded away. He cupped the back of her head, stroking the long, silken strands, and breathed in the scent of her.

  You’re so intoxicating . . . I know I won’t stop waiting . . .

  Without her, he could never be whole.

  I’ll be anticipating . . . ’cause I love you so.

  As the final line was being sung, Heath probed Poppy’s eyes, hoping beyond hope that the song’s sentiment meant something to her, too. But at the same moment, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “I just wanted you to know, I made sure they made a meal for you two.”

  It was the caterer.

  “Is this your date?”

  “Er, yes. This is Poppy.”

  “Poppy? Liz. I met Heath when he and his dad dropped off the trees. Turns out Scott and I went to school together.”

  “It was nice of you to fit us in at the last minute.”

  “Glad I found you. They just started plating the chicken Vesuvio.”

  With fingers intertwined as tightly as their lives, he and Poppy wove through the crush of bodies to their table full of friends.

  Before dessert was served, Red whispered something in Poppy’s ear.

  “Be right back,” Poppy told Heath, setting her phone next to her plate.

  Heath followed Poppy with his eyes as she and Red walked away, gabbing.

  “What’s with women that they can’t pee alone?” asked Sam irreverently.

  Heath grinned. “Can’t stop talking that long.”

  “That reminds me. You ever give Poppy back her wine?”

  Heath swigged his beer and nodded.

  “And? Come on, man. Throw me a bone. I saw you two out there,” he said, indicating the dance floor with his chin.

  “Why do you care? What’s my love life to you?”

  “I thought we had a pact? I give you some pointers, then, once we get you squared away, we start working on me.”

  “Something tells me you don’t need my help.”

  “Ha! My reputation precedes me.”

  As if to prove his point, an attractive woman materialized on the other side of Sam, diverting his attention.

  At the same time, Keval appeared at Heath’s shoulder. “I have to go take care of business. There’re a couple of people who couldn’t make it, but they wanted to share a video message. If I’m not back when the server brings the baklava, will you make sure he doesn’t bypass me?”

  On the table, Poppy’s phone blinked. Congratulations. This is to notify you that you have earned certified sommelier status. For more details on your score, please click on the link.

  Heath’s eyes froze on the screen. He’d been suppressing thoughts of that test all night. But there was no escaping it now.

  Keval had seen the text too. His eyes grew round as quarters. “Poppy is going to shit rainbows.”

  Damn Keval’s sweet tooth. If not for that, he and Poppy might have had one more spin around the dance floor. One more blissful hour, before he lost her forever.

  Heath’s heart pounded . . . his thoughts raced. A secret wasn’t a secret if more than one person knew it. And if one of those people happened to be a social media maven—

  “Well? Are you going to tell her, or should I?” Keval prompted.

  There was no denying it now. This was it. Poppy was on her way out of town, out of his life. And just like Sam said, Heath had practically shown her the door.

  He’d been working on making this a reality, but that didn’t stop his world from falling apart now that it had.

  “Go,” he told Keval. “Take care of your business. I’ll show her as soon as she gets back, and then you two can figure out how to handle it from there.”

  This was too big to keep quiet for long. Within minutes of Poppy finding out, the story would be on the lips of every person at the reunion.

  But it wouldn’t stop at the border of Clarkston. Cory Anthony and Palette had a stake in Poppy’s results, too. Whatever else they were doing tonight, whatever ritzy venue they were dining at or far-flung party they were attending, Heath bet they were keeping one eye on their devices. It wouldn’t take much for Keval to get them to give Poppy her due, in public, on the reunion’s big screen.

  Soon, everyone in the room would be clamoring to get next to her . . . showering her with hugs and good wishes. For once in her life, she would be the belle of the ball—for her brains, not her beauty.

  Maybe she would finally find the happiness that eluded her.

  Resigned, Heath rose to look in the direction she’d gone off in just in time to spy her on her way back to him, glowing . . . exuberant . . . surrounded by longtime friends. He took a mental snapshot, preserving that sight forever in his mind. It was the last time she would be known as Poppy Springer, café waitress. After tonight, she would be Poppy Springer, Certified Sommelier and Face of Palette Cosmetics.

  As she glided toward the table, he opened his arms to her.

  She smiled quizzically. “What’s this about?” she
asked as her body met his.

  “Congratulations, baby,” he breathed into her hair. “You did it.”

  * * *

  It seemed as though the congratulations would go on forever. Twice, Demi had announced that the party was over, to no avail.

  Heath was standing against the wall watching Poppy accept yet more accolades when he spotted Demi badgering the headwaiter.

  When she caught Heath’s eye, she left the poor man standing there helplessly and marched over to him.

  “Look,” Demi said, pointing to her watch. “This event was officially over fifteen minutes ago, per our agreement with the restaurant. The waitstaff needs to clean this mess up and get it ready for tomorrow’s business. You need to help me get these people out of here. They won’t listen to me.”

  “I’m not part of your committee.”

  “But that’s your—friend over there who’s holding things up.”

  Heath followed Demi’s angry glare to the circle of admirers surrounding Poppy. Soon enough, she would be separated from them. It would be hard for her, even if it was her own doing.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  A possible solution came to mind, but it was way out of his wheelhouse. He hesitated.

  A couple of servers started going from table to table, putting out the torches. Time was running out.

  That firmed Heath’s resolve. He worked his way around the edge of the crowd, spreading the word.

  When he told Sam what the plan was, Sam whisked a torch out of a server’s hand and held it high. “After-party at Heath Sinclair’s!” he shouted.

  The cry went up around the room. “Party at Heath’s!”

  Poppy found Heath as she was coming back from the coat check.

  “Is it true? You’re offering up your house for an after-party?”

  He held her coat for her to slip into. “We’d better get going if we’re going to beat the horde.”

  “Hold on! My bag’s at the table.”

  She scurried back for it while Heath waited, thinking ahead. He had a lot to do to get ready.

  Someone stopped the music, midsong. By now the only people remaining were Demi and the waitstaff. Even Jess, Demi’s sidekick, had abandoned her for Heath’s house.

  Poppy caught up with Heath, only to pause again at the exit.

  “Forget something else?”

  Pressing her lips together, she turned and went back to where Demi was balling up a soiled tablecloth.

  “Do you want to come with us to the after-party, Demi?” he heard her ask.

  Demi’s expression ran the gamut of emotions, from bitter, to tempted, and finally, back to her true north.

  “No, thank you,” she spat.

  “Okay, then. The reunion was wonderful. You did a great job,” said Poppy.

  She turned and, giving Heath her arm and her winning smile, said, “Now, let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Poppy peered over Junie’s shoulder where Heath was mixing drinks at his kitchen island. A dozen bottles littered the counters, surrounded with lemon and lime halves and empty cracker boxes on their sides.

  “Did you hear what I said?” asked Junie over the speakers blasting one of Heath’s playlists.

  Poppy turned her attention back to the noisy living room. There were people everywhere, christening Heath’s furniture, congregating on both sides of the fireplace.

  “You asked when I was leaving. We’re scheduled to start training on Monday. There’ll be a soft opening a week later, followed by the real thing in early January.”

  “What about Christmas? It’s less than three weeks away.”

  “I’ll come home. We always have the Sinclairs over. Can’t miss that.”

  “Good. Heath’s really going to miss you, you know.”

  She swallowed a hard lump in her throat. “I’m going to go check and see if he needs any help.”

  Keval’s widespread arms blocked her path. In one hand a tall glass dangled perilously.

  “Mwah. Mwah.” He air kissed Poppy’s cheeks, then draped an arm around her shoulders. “Everyone is so proud of you, Poppykins. How exciting was that when Cory Anthony himself congratulated you right there on the screen at the reunion, in front of all those people?”

  “It was amazing. Thank you so much for making that happen.”

  He took a swig of his drink. “I owed you for live-streaming that disastrous first tasting. I never should have done that. Can you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” She smiled and ducked under his arm. “I was just on my way to see Heath.”

  “Get him to make you one of these,” he called after her, lifting his drink.

  She found Heath holding a blender in his hands—while it was running.

  Poppy picked up an egg from the open carton lying next to the blender. “What is that?” she yelled over the roar.

  “Gin fizz,” said Kyle Houser happily.

  “With eggs?”

  Heath lowered the blender, pressed stop, and peeled off the lid.

  “Egg whites, simple syrup, lemon, lime, and soda water.”

  “Do you have to hold it while it’s running? Seems a little—risky.”

  “Lifting it up while it’s blending stretches and folds the protein molecules of the albumin in the egg white, trapping air. That’s what gives it its foamy consistency.”

  He poured the frothy mixture into a glass for Kyle, reserving a little for her.

  “Here. Try some.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll stick with wine.”

  Kyle drifted back to the living room, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen until the next thirsty guest came back for a refill.

  “How are you doing?” Poppy asked as Heath rinsed out the blender under the tap.

  “Turns out parties aren’t half-bad when I have something to do. Especially when I get to throw in a little chemistry.”

  Of course. The role of bartender was made for Heath.

  “I know this isn’t easy. Getting the news at the reunion . . . inviting all these people over to your place so you could keep the party going, just for me. That was really big of you.”

  “You’ve always been there for me.”

  His crooked smile touched her soul.

  She stole a quick kiss. “We’ll talk before I leave. Okay?”

  He busied himself setting the blender back on its base.

  She cocked her head, searching his face as he wiped his hands on a dish towel.

  “Okay?” she repeated.

  Heath put his hands around her waist, pulled her close, and brought his mouth squarely down on hers.

  Celebrating her achievement . . . opening up his very private world to the masses . . . and now kissing her, not caring who might walk in? Maybe she wasn’t the only one who was changing.

  Much later, Heath locked the door behind the last departing guest and rambled over to where Poppy was stacking the dishwasher.

  “That can wait,” he said, removing a glass from her hand, leading her out of the kitchen. “Come to bed.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Heath felt the mattress sink.

  “Heath.”

  He opened one eye.

  Perched next to him with one leg tucked beneath her was a gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde.

  He smiled and reached out to pull her back down into the sheets.

  “I can’t.” She edged away. “I have a million and one things to do. Call the Realtor, talk to Cory and Palette, pack, sit down with my mom and Big Pop . . . they don’t even know yet, and they’re probably wringing their hands wondering what’s going on . . .”

  Know what? He blinked her into focus. In the harsh light of morning, last night’s party dress looked gaudy and out of place.

  He stretched to his full length and yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven,” she said hurriedly. “I let your dogs out and fed Vienna and did a quick once-over of the downstairs, but . . .”


  He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to piece together the details of last night. Happy as he was to be waking up to Poppy, something lurked around the edges of his consciousness. Something ominous.

  “I’m going to have to leave the rest of the mess to you.”

  “No. It’s okay. Do what you have to do.”

  She frowned. “Can you run me home? All I have are these.” She dangled a pair of high heels by their straps.

  “Oh. Right.”

  She rose and stood by his bed, waiting with barely disguised impatience.

  “Thanks for understanding,” she said as he put his feet on the floor.

  By the time he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, she was already waiting by the door with her coat on.

  “Got time for a cup of coffee?” he asked, trying to put off the inevitable. Still pretending that the world as they knew it wasn’t about to come crashing to an end.

  “I already had some.”

  In the car, she said, “I owe you. I’ll get some cash from the machine and run it over later.”

  He frowned. “For what?”

  “Last night. You went through a lot of booze.”

  “Poppy, I don’t want your money.”

  “You sure? I want to chip in.”

  He shook his head at the very idea.

  He was wide awake by the time he pulled into her driveway under gray skies.

  “See ya,” she said, jumping out almost before his car had stopped.

  As she scampered around the hood, he slid down his window. “Call me,” he reminded her as she slipped into her house.

  She waved distractedly, as if he were already a distant memory.

  When she shut the door to her house, he felt like he’d been shut out of her life.

  * * *

  After last night’s festivities, his house seemed even quieter than usual. It took until afternoon to clean up the mess. Then he ran a load of laundry, washed his car, bought a precooked chicken to share with his dad.