Ben’s lips thinned even more. His broad chest shuddered as he tried to keep it together.
Deep down a tickle of humour unfurled in Poppy’s stomach. It swirled its way through her belly, and started to grow until she couldn’t control it anymore. The next thing she knew her laughter was filling the room, and soon joined by Ben’s.
They collapsed into each other, arms wrapped round each other in mutual support as their shoulders heaved and their chests vibrated.
‘Damn it, I’m getting soft in my old age.’ Poppy sucked in a lungful of air. Then another. ‘I guess it’s one thing to say I don’t believe in love for me, but even I can’t deny it doesn’t exist for others. I mean, look at your parents. They still love each other, even after all these years.’
Ben pulled away, a trail where tears had been still damp on his face. ‘You should have seen them after you left and a couple of wines in. They were as bad as a couple of teenagers. I swear they’ve gotten more and more touchy feely the older they’ve got. I left early because if I didn’t I feared I’d witness something no child ever should.’
‘Stop. Stop now.’ Poppy threw her hands up. ‘Don’t say another word. I don’t need the images. My childhood scarred me enough as it is, I don’t need your parents buggering up my adulthood.’
Ben’s thumb and forefinger pinched together and mimicked zipping his lips.
‘Good, thank you. I appreciate it. But…’ Poppy leaned forward and unzipped his lips. ‘We can’t have you unable to eat, not when you’ve put together this feast. Here…’ She ran a cheese knife through the pungent blue and placed it on another hunk of bread. ‘Eat this and tell me if it’s as smelly tasting as it is aromatically challenged.’
Ben chewed, his eyes drawn to the ceiling in thought. ‘Creamy. Tangy. A hint of earthiness. Not nearly as smelly tasting as it is smelly. I think it’ll pass the Poppy test. I wouldn’t have bought it if it didn’t.’
‘Good. Thank you.’ Poppy spread a little blue on the bread and took a dainty bite.
‘Really? You’re not going all in? You don’t trust me?’ Ben helped himself to another slab.
Poppy shook her head. ‘It’s not a matter of trust, it’s a matter of taste. Sure, you think it’s fine for me, but I can’t trust a man who doesn’t understand the joy of unicorns.’
Ben topped up their glasses. ‘I don’t know. I’m coming around to the idea. That unicorn teacup sitting on my shelf looks rather fetching. A nice pink and golden addition. I’d say it’s the perfect contrast to my double-walled glasses. Also, just so you know, it’s not there anymore – and before you get all huffy, I haven’t taken it down and tossed it away. Someone came in just on closing while you were out the back and bought it. I’m almost unicorn-free once again, soon as I deal with that sugar bowl of yours…’
Poppy held her hand out. ‘Money please.’
‘Sure thing.’ Ben patted his pockets, then fished about in them. ‘So sorry. No money here. It went to my therapist. He’s helping me deal with the overload of glitter and pink and purple fluff that’s entered my life.’
‘You’re a nutter.’ Poppy took a sip of her champagne, letting the fizz bubble away on her tongue, as she soaked in the easy atmosphere, all the stress and strain between them a thing of the past.
‘That’s what my therapist said.’ Ben’s face stilled, his eyes wide. Solemn.
Shock mixed with guilt seized Poppy’s heart. ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you really were seeing someone… I’m so thoughtless. Ridiculous of me to assume you wouldn’t. I mean, everyone does these days, right? I really should too.’
‘Poppy.’ Ben took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m joking.’
A wave of hot embarrassment hit Poppy square in the cheeks. ‘Such a tosser.’ Poppy rolled her eyes.
‘Is that as insulting as you can get?’ Ben raised his brows in a silent dare.
‘Cockwomble.’
‘Weak. Try again.’
‘Knobhead.’ She reached out and tickled his waist.
‘I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with my appendage.’ Ben grinned as he moved out of her reach, revealing a hint of flat, tanned, stomach, and one half of a V-line that led to the place she was definitely, totally, completely, most absolutely not obsessed with.
Just a tiny bit curious about.
Get your head out of Ben’s pants, Poppy, she growled at herself. ‘So, now that we’ve dined, what’s next?’
‘Come back to mine?’ Ben began picking up the leftover food and putting it in the basket.
Poppy clamped down on the ‘yes’ that threatened to escape unchecked. She touched her lips, remembering the heat of Ben’s lips. Could she trust herself alone with him in his house?
‘Poppy?’ Ben was staring at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. ‘Just in case you were wondering… just in case it matters to you… Milly and I aren’t together. We never really were.’
‘Oh.’ Poppy allowed Ben to remove her hand from her lips, to hold her hand in his. ‘But you were going out. A lot.’
‘We were.’ Ben’s thumb stroked the top of her hand, sending pleasurable tickles dancing along her skin. ‘But it never went anywhere. Milly wanted it to, but aside from one awkward hand-hold while watching a movie, nothing happened because I couldn’t muster those kinds of feelings for her.’
‘Oh.’ Relief rushed through Poppy. The guilt that had engulfed her stomach since she’d kissed Ben disappeared. She hadn’t stepped on toes. She hadn’t gotten in the way of their relationship once again. ‘So… what was that you were saying about me going back to yours? And since when did you become the forward type?’ Poppy stuck her tongue out so Ben knew she was joking, that she didn’t really think he was inviting her back to his for romantic reasons, but that didn’t stop her heart from accelerating in a pitter-patter of anticipation, or a bunch of butterflies appearing low in her stomach.
‘What can I say?’ Ben shrugged on his backpack then grabbed the half-full champagne bottle. ‘Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do?’ Ben opened the door of the cabin. ‘Poppies first.’
Poppy stepped out into the dappled clearing, closed her eyes and breathed in the herbaceous, earthy air. Allowed the shush of the wind in the trees to settle the racing of her heart. Embraced the spots of sun that filtered down onto her bare skin.
‘You okay, Pops?’ Ben touched her elbow, bringing her back to the here and now.
‘I’m okay.’ She flashed a smile at him. And she was. She really, truly was.
She was where she was meant to be. She was with who she was meant to be.
And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t scare her.
Chapter 15
‘So, this is home.’ Ben stopped outside his house, an attack of nerves gluing his feet to the pavement. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had visitors before, or a girl round, but this was Poppy. Her opinion mattered more than anyone else’s. What if she hated his place? What if she thought it dull as dishwater? What if once she found out he wasn’t exactly as skint as he’d made out, and that if he’d been willing to take the risk he could’ve paid the entire rent for the shop, she got the pip with him and took off?
Poppy’s head was tipped as she took in the red-bricked Edwardian terraced house. ‘Please tell me you’re not renting the top floor. I ate so much I don’t think I can heave myself up the stairs.’
‘Er, not quite.’ Heat prickled the back of his neck. He hadn’t been joking when he’d suggested Poppy didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. Yes, she knew his likes and dislikes as well as he knew hers. But she’d missed twelve years of his life, and he’d achieved a lot in that time.
‘Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to invite me in? I don’t want to be left out here to freeze to death on my birthday.’ Poppy hugged herself and faked a shiver.
‘It’s summer, Poppy. A beautiful one at that. I think you’re in no danger of freezing to death.’
&nbs
p; ‘Thirsty then. It’s been a good ten minutes since I last had a sip of champagne.’ Poppy’s feet shifted from side to side in an impatient shuffle.
‘Fine, I’ll just get my keys.’ Ben pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. ‘My house is your house. Make yourself at home.’
Poppy stepped over the threshold, her head craned a little as she took in the simple entranceway, with its polished oak floors, partially covered by a plain, soft grey carpet runner. Ben joined her, placing his keys on the simple black banquet table, and hung his backpack on one of the wall hooks to the right of it.
‘Gosh, it’s very clean. Your landlord must be a tidy freak.’ Poppy ran her hand over the banquet, then lifted her finger to inspect it. ‘So, which floor’s yours? And I was serious when I said I hoped it wasn’t the top floor. Unless of course you want to carry me up?’ Poppy shot him a winning smile that should’ve eased his nerves but served only to stretch them further.
Poppy would find out sooner or later. Sooner had to be better than later. So now was the time to just put the truth out there. ‘Actually, Pops. This whole place is mine. I’m my own landlord. But not a tidy freak, like you said.’ Ben rushed on. ‘That was the cleaner. He came round this morning and went over the place. You see I wanted it to be nice for you. Not that I planned for you to come over. I mean, I didn’t. Part of me expected you to chuck me out of your flat this morning, but you didn’t, and well, the last part of your birthday surprise is here and I wanted you to enjoy it without seeing a stray sock or…’
Poppy’s index finger pressed upon his lips cutting him off. ‘Breathe, Ben. At the rate you’re talking you’ll lose all air and pass out. Now if I take my finger away do you promise to take in a great gulp of oxygen and let me just look around your pad?’
Ben nodded.
‘Good.’ Poppy turned away from him and pointed to the door to the right. I’m going in there first.’
‘Go ahead. It’s the sitting room.’ The muscle-aching tension in Ben’s shoulders faded as he followed Poppy into his second favourite spot in the house.
Two three-seater black vintage-style leather sofas stood at right angles to each other, with a matching high-backed chair and ottoman sitting opposite them. One wall was filled with a sixty-five-inch television, a soundbar placed discreetly below it. He’d spent hours in this room relaxing on the sofa with a good thriller on his e-reader or kicking back and binging on television shows.
Yet seeing it through Poppy’s eyes it looked cold. Austere. Nothing like her studio, with its cosy cushions and snuggly throws.
‘Okay, where to next?’ Poppy turned to face him, her eyebrows high, questioning. Like she was trying to figure something out but didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle.
‘How about the kitchen?’ Ben led the way down the hall, pointing out the toilet should she need it. He pushed open the door and stepped inside the stark monochromatic space. God, it was as bad as the sitting room.
‘You’re not one for colour, are you, Ben?’ Poppy pulled out one of the white dining chairs that he’d chosen because they matched the white high gloss dining table. ‘Are your wine glasses white as well?’ She lifted the bottle of champagne that she’d taken off his hands as they’d walked home.
‘No, they’re… well, clear.’ Ben opened a cupboard – painted high gloss white to keep the kitchen’s theme going – and pulled out two glasses. ‘There you go. One for me too. I think I’m going to need it the way this house critique is going. I’m rather glad there’s a second bottle in the fridge.’
‘Your stainless-steel fridge. Silver. Like that space age coffee machine you’ve got sitting over there. Nice to see you injected some personality into the place.’ The tip of Poppy’s tongue peeked out between her lips. A sure sign she was having him on.
‘So, you don’t hate the place then?’ Ben sat opposite Poppy and pulled his glass towards him.
Poppy ran her finger round the rim of the glass. ‘Not at all. It’s kind of what I expected.’
‘Only kind of?’ Ben set his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Well I didn’t expect it to be so big. Or so… expensive-looking. Those are fancy sofas you’ve got back there, Ben. And that television in the lounge did not look cheap.’ Poppy took a sip of her champagne then set it down again. Her fingers drummed the tabletop. ‘And this whole place is yours?’
‘Mine. All of it.’ Ben could see the pieces of the puzzle coming together. Things were about to go terribly wrong, or, well, not as wrong as he suspected, but there would be questions, and he’d have some explaining to do.
Poppy nudged back the chair, pushed herself up and moved to the kitchen window, which looked over the neatly manicured garden. ‘I suppose you have a gardener too? I can’t imagine you having the patience to tend to the lavender out there, or the roses. And that box hedging is clipped to perfection.’ She twisted round and leaned against the kitchen bench, her arms folded over her chest, one ankle hooked over the other. ‘What am I missing, Ben? You made out you couldn’t afford the bumped-up rent on the shop, yet you own a whole house. What gives?’
‘Is it hot in here?’ Ben flapped the neck of his polo shirt. ‘Shall we head outside? I’ll open that fresh bottle of champagne.’
‘Ben.’ Poppy’s tone stopped him mid-flight. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Ben sank back into his chair. ‘I have money. A decent amount. I’m not crazy rich, but I have enough to keep myself comfortable and to ensure the business has time to build without worrying about it going under.’
Poppy’s nostrils flared as a heavy whoosh of air filled the space between them. ‘And how did you get all this money? I know you were well paid, I’ve seen your car, but this is… well, this house is beyond impressive.’
‘I wasn’t just a solicitor, I was a partner at my practice. A rather successful one.’
A tiny vein in Poppy’s temple twitched. ‘So, if you have money, if you’re comfortable, then why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the outset? You could have opened Steep without me. Easily.’ Her head dipped towards her chest, rising and falling with emotion. The back of her hand swiped angrily at her cheek before disappearing under her arm once again.
Ben’s heart shrunk. A pang of guilt sent the chair backwards as he rushed to Poppy’s side. She knew the truth now. She could walk out if she wanted. Treat him from now on as a colleague, and nothing more. Or he could be honest, explain why he kept things from her, and see how the tea leaves fell.
***
Poppy shrunk away as Ben approached, cursing the bench between herself and the window. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. She needed to think. Needed to rage. Needed to run.
‘Poppy, don’t.’ Ben came to a halt a foot away from her, leaving room enough that she could duck to the left, make a break for the back door, and then what? Scramble over the neighbours’ fences until she got to the road?
‘I can see you’re checking out, Poppy. And I don’t blame you. You could slap me right now and I’d let you. I deserve it.’
Poppy shook her head, unable to speak. Afraid to in case the words unleashed a torrent of hurt upon them both.
‘Fine. If you’re not going to let me have it, then I’m going to explain things.’
Poppy ducked her head. Ben’s feet, bare from when he’d taken his flip-flops off at the door, flexed. His toes lifted then fell to the ground, like he was rooting himself to it.
‘The thing is, Poppy. I could afford to open the shop by myself, but at the same time there’s no way I would have. You know me, I’m not a risk taker. I needed to know if my shop failed I wouldn’t lose my house. Lose everything I’ve worked for. That’s why I had a budget, one I wasn’t budging from. It was my safety net. I’m not like you, Poppy. I can’t just throw myself headfirst into something. I have to have a plan. I have to be sure it will work, or that if it doesn’t I will still be comf
ortable. It’s what my father taught me to do, it’s how he taught me how to live. And, if I’d lost all the money I’d worked for by investing in Steep and having it fail, he’d have never looked at me the same. I couldn’t disappoint him, not when I knew I already would be.’ He fisted his hands and shoved them in his pockets. ‘When the landlord said the rent had doubled and you jumped in and bargained the rent down in exchange for taking on Joe and Sophie, how could I say no? You were so excited, so happy, and…’
‘And what?’ Poppy dragged her eyes up to meet Ben’s. ‘You saw it as a chance to take pity on poor old Poppy, the way you always have? Bringing me home for dinners. Sitting with me at school when no one else would because they’d been told to ignore the girl with the sweets in her lunch box instead of sandwiches and fruit, and the clothing that never quite fit right? Was that what it was? You didn’t want to hurt my feelings by saying no because you didn’t think I could handle it? I could handle it, Ben. I could handle hearing no. I would have made my shop happen with or without you. God, all this time I thought we were on an even footing, but once again you were just there for me out of the goodness of your heart.’
‘Stop it, Poppy. Now.’ The sharpness in Ben’s voice sliced the edge off her anger, and told her she’d overstepped. She’d gone too far, and was in danger of pushing Ben away. ‘You’re not a charity case. You never were. Not to me. You were my friend and I wanted to be with you. And it wasn’t like you came into this business with nothing. We’ve gone halves, fair and square the entire way. That business isn’t mine, it’s ours. And I don’t for a second think it would be as successful if I’d gone into it by myself.’
‘Bollocks.’ Poppy tightened her grip on herself. ‘You’d have been fine. More than fine. You knew how to run a business. You had all the practical stuff down. The ordering. Inventory. Stupid spread-bloody-sheets and fancy arse computer programs. You had it sorted.’
‘Which one of us is the people person, Poppy? Which one of us has a way of brightening up the room with a smile? Gets people chatting? Makes them want to stick around and browse? Has them feeling no pressure to buy, so that when they do they’re happy with their purchase? And comfortable enough that they’ll come back again?’ Ben angled his head, eyebrows raised high, daring her to deny her place in Sparkle & Steep.
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 17