‘Anyone can chat, Ben. It’s not that hard.’ Poppy bit down on her lower lip, hoping the dull pain would fire up the fury that Ben had slowly but surely put out with his argument. ‘You should have been a courtroom lawyer. You’re good at arguing your point.’
‘I get stage fright. You saw that when I held the tasting. You stepped in, made me comfortable, and gave me the courage to go on.’ Ben looked past Poppy, his gaze settling on the garden beyond, as an aura of calm, or if not calm, then resignation surrounded him. His eyes met hers once again. ‘Anyway, it was more than my keeping the budget under control that had me go into business with you, it was because I wanted you in my life.’
Poppy’s breath caught in her throat. What was Ben saying? She’d have been in his life whether they’d had a business together or not. ‘Ben, you didn’t have to let me hog half the shop in order for me to be in your life. Of course I’d be part of your life. It doesn’t matter where I am, where I live, what I’m doing, that’s a given. Why do you think I kept emailing you all these years? Why do you think you were the first person I told about coming home to Muswell Hill? You’re my friend, Ben. Always.’
‘I’m not talking about that. Why can’t I just make things clear to you? Why is it always so hard?’ Ben took a small step forward, closing the gap. He took her hands, still tucked safely under her armpits, and released them, one by one, so he was holding them, and brought them up between them.
A barrier? Or a connection? Poppy wondered. And what was he trying to make clear to her?
‘I don’t want you as a friend Poppy. I mean, I do. But I want you as more than a friend. And I didn’t want to risk you running away in the middle of the night again. By going halves in the shop – despite how nervous I was doing that – I made sure you had a reason to stay, because I didn’t know that I would be good enough a reason, because I wasn’t the last time.’ Ben’s chin ducked down, his gaze fixed on the floor. His cheeks flushed, like he was embarrassed, like he couldn’t believe he’d just been so honest about his thoughts, his feelings.
Poppy blinked hard, once, twice, three times. Had the world gone a little hazy? She glanced over at the gas cooktop. It wasn’t on, was it? The knobs looked to be in the right position, so no. Not on. No gas leak then. So why was everything feeling so off-centre? Off-balance? This wasn’t the way her life went. She wasn’t the wanted one. The one people wanted to have around. The one people cared for.
Except Ben did want her to stick around, and he’d taken a risk by joining businesses with her to do it. And he didn’t do it out of friendship… which meant, just maybe, that he did it out of lo—Nope. She wasn’t saying the word. Admitting the word. It was too big. Too scary. Too. Permanent.
Ben released one hand to smooth a stray hair back from her face. He tucked it behind her ear, his fingertips grazing the soft skin, lingering on her lobe, sending a heady tornado of desire spiralling low in her stomach.
‘I’m sorry, Poppy. I shouldn’t have said anything. Should have kept my mouth shut.’
Poppy caught the bereft look in his eyes, the warmth that had been there, doused. Because he didn’t believe she felt the same.
‘Don’t you say that, Ben. Never keep your mouth shut. That beautiful, wonderful, and sexy as all get out mouth needs to keep talking. Who else pulls me up and sorts me out like you do? Who else cares enough about me to force me into loving having a birthday. And I have, you know? Loved today. Every moment of it. Because of you. And I’m sorry for before, it’s hard for me to believe that someone wants me, wants me around. It’s instinct for me to push back, push away. It makes it easier to leave, should I need to.’
‘But you don’t need to. I won’t let you.’ Ben’s eyes darkened. Glinted in the sunlight. ‘Also, I need to clarify something. Did you just call my mouth sexy? Sexy as all get out?’
‘Ben,’ Poppy interrupted.
‘No, don’t “Ben” me. I want to make sure I didn’t mishear that.’
‘Ben.’
‘Because if I did I’m taking myself to the ear spec—’
‘Ben, stop talking.’ Before he could say another word, Poppy pressed her lips to his. Sealed his silence with a kiss.
Her lips brushed against his. Slow, soft. Marking him, as she inhaled his clean, fresh scent. Uncomplicated, good, decent, yet strong and firm. Pure Ben.
His arms encircled her waist, pulled her closer, fusing their bodies together as Ben took her kiss and intensified it, his lips hard against her softness. His hand snaked up her back, tugging at the hair tie keeping her braid together, loosening it, then untwisting, pulling, until her hair was free. Untethered. Like the beat of her heart. Wild. Uncontrolled.
She opened her mouth and their tongues met, twisting, tasting. The pace slower than their kiss two nights ago, but no less potent.
Poppy found the hem of Ben’s polo and edged her hands under it, laid her palms flat on his stomach, relishing its flatness, its tautness, as she caressed the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Pushing Ben back she made to lift the top. ‘May I?’
Ben nodded, holding his arms up as she whipped the top off and tossed it on the ground.
‘That’ll give the cleaner something to tidy,’ she murmured as firm hands gripped her hips, lifted her up onto the bench.
Lips, hot and wet, kissed down one side of her neck, nibbling the edges of her collarbone, before taking her mouth once more.
Heaven. This was heaven. Or what heaven would feel like. Her eyes flew open as a croaky, yet almost girlish, giggle pierced the air.
‘Ben.’ She pushed him away as heat flamed on her cheeks. She placed her hands on his bare chest, loving that she could do that. That it wasn’t awkward. That his chest was hers for the touching. ‘I hate to throw a wet tea towel on this, but there’s a pair of eyes attached to a curly blond head peering over the wall.’
Ben swore under his breath. ‘That’ll be the Whittaker boy. Good kid. Just turned twelve. We’re probably sending his hormones into overdrive.’
‘Well, we can’t have that.’ Poppy slid off the bench, hooked her finger into Ben’s shorts and dragged him out of the kitchen and into the hall. ‘And we can’t have his parents complaining that we’ve set a bad example. More importantly, though, we can’t have the boy putting a halt to what I think is about to become one unforgettable way to spend an afternoon.’
Ben’s eyes lit up as he caught wind of what she was suggesting. ‘You know, I know a very comfortable spot… private too.’ He caught her hand, pulling her to him for another kiss. With a nibble on her lower lip he released her but kept his hand in hers. ‘I don’t believe I’ve shown you the second floor.’
Poppy laughed as Ben invited her to ascend his stairs with a dramatic flourish and a roguish wink. ‘You know, I think I could get used to liking my birthdays.’
Chapter 16
Ben pulled up the sheet that had been kicked to the end of the bed, tucked it around his waist, and went to tuck the rest around Poppy.
‘Really?’ She grinned, letting the sheet fall between them. ‘You’ve just seen everything you could possibly want to see. I’m hardly about to get all prudish on it.’
‘Are you saying I’m prudish? Would a prudish person do this?’ Ben flapped the sheet up and down, with a wink.
‘Idiot.’ Poppy leant over and kissed him, long, lingering. Soft and sweet. ‘And keep going, I don’t recall asking you to stop the impromptu peepshow.’
‘Sorry.’ Ben twisted his finger round a length of her hair. ‘Got distracted.’ He bunched the pillow under his head and took in the sight before him.
A goddess. That’s how Poppy looked. Reclining on his bed, her arm tucked under her head, propping her up a little. A lust-lazy smile stretching her lips wide. Her eyes dozy, yet dancing. And that hair, long, glossy, luxurious, spread about her. ‘You know, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you with your hair out.’
‘No? Really?’ Poppy picked up a length and inspected its ends. ‘Are you sure?’
>
‘Totally sure. The day we met, you had it in a braid. You wouldn’t let Mum take it out during sleepovers. You were adamant about that. You went to school with it up in a braid every day. Sometimes you twisted it up into a low bun on really hot days, or when we went for a swim. But you never wore it out.’
‘You paid way too much attention to my hair.’ Poppy’s hand reached for his waist.
He wriggled closer.
‘Thank you. I didn’t want to strain my neck every time I wanted to kiss you. This bed is huge. All your old girlfriends must have loved it.’ Poppy’s brow creased as her lips turned down.
Disquiet stirred low in Ben’s gut. Was Poppy already regretting what had happened?
‘Pops, you’re not freaking out on me, are you?’ Ben itched to reach out, to touch her, to stroke away whatever had caused her to frown, but kept his distance. Too much, too fast, could destroy the tenuous, silk-fine thread of whatever it was that was happening between them.
Poppy shook her head. ‘No. Just… processing. I mean, it’s not every single day that you make lo—that you jump into the sack with your best friend. I guess I don’t want to screw it up.’
‘It? As in…’ Ben probed.
‘As in. Our friendship. Our business partnership. As in… whatever this is.’ She waved her hand airily between them. ‘It’s new. It’s…’
‘A little scary?’ Ben took her hand and kissed each knuckle.
‘A lot scary. But not in a bad way, you know?’ Poppy snuggled closer to Ben. Her soft curves pressed against him, stirring that which was hidden by the sheet.
He cupped her cheek and brought her to him, wanting to feel her soft, lush lips on his, then paused as a rumble filled the room.
‘Pretend its thunder,’ Poppy whispered as she found his lips.
A gurgle followed the rumble.
‘Poppy, your stomach is crying out for food.’ Ben hovered over Poppy, daring her to deny it.
‘It’s no—’ Another gurgling grumble stopped her denial in its tracks. ‘Okay, maybe just a little bit.’
‘Well, I can’t have the birthday girl starving to death.’ Ben scooped up his underwear that had been tossed carelessly onto the floor and pulled them on. ‘Also, I did say I had the rest of your present here, and now seems like the perfect time to get it. I’ll be back in a bit.’
***
Poppy pushed herself up into a sitting position and pulled the sheet around her. She’d been comfortable enough lying in the nude while Ben was in bed with her, but without him it seemed… strange. Like when he was with her in the room she felt like she belonged, but with him gone the starkness of the room made her feel like a stranger. An intruder.
She took in the space, tried to make sense of it.
Ben’s humongous bed was dressed in white linen, in direct contrast to the black headboard, and matching bedside tables. The walls were free from art or photos. And the wooden floors could have done with a big rug to keep feet from freezing when getting out of bed in the colder months. There was no personality here. No hint of the Ben she knew. The funny Ben. The kind Ben. The sexy Ben who had branded every part of her body with kisses. Who’d made love to her with such tenderness, yet had been firm, strong, commanding and demanding when it was time. Who knew almost instinctively what she needed, what she wanted.
It was like the room was waiting for someone to come and give it a lease of life. Like Ben was waiting for that person…
Could that person be her?
She sucked in her bottom lip and gnawed on the soft flesh, as self-doubt threatened to strangle the cautious joy and hope she held in her heart.
Was she the kind of woman Ben wanted? Someone fun and funny, he’d said. With fire in their belly, and a good heart.
On paper she read as his ideal woman, but would it be enough? Was she enough? The self-doubt she’d spent her life fighting began to unfurl. Would the humour and happiness she showed the world only take her so far before he realised she wasn’t anything special? The way her mother had figured out all those years ago.
Poppy pushed the thoughts away. She wasn’t going to allow her past to pop her bliss bubble. There was only one thing for it. She swung her legs out of bed and padded over to Ben’s wardrobe. Pulling it open she smiled as she noted the perfectly coordinated clothing. Shirts were lined up, followed by pants hooked over hangers, then a row of T-shirts. She picked a navy-blue shirt and shrugged it on, buttoning it up as she padded down the stairs.
‘Hey.’ She hung about the kitchen door, suddenly feeling shy.
Ben glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hey back. What are you doing hanging around by the door, come in and give me a hand. Love the shirt. It looks better on you than me.’
‘You’ve excellent taste, Ben Evans.’ Poppy sidled up to him and watched as he removed a pot of yellow batter from the stove then began to beat in eggs bit by bit. ‘What’s that?’
‘Éclair mix. I remembered how much you enjoyed them and thought I’d whip us up a batch for…’ He checked the time on the microwave. ‘For dinner.’
‘Perfect. And will they be filled with cream, with chocolate icing on top?’ Poppy snuggled into Ben’s back and wrapped her arms around his waist, held him tight, never wanting to let him go again.
‘You know it. I’ve also sent texts to Joe and Sophie to let them know we’ll be late tomorrow.’ He began spooning dollops of the mixture onto a tray covered in baking paper. ‘And don’t worry, I made sure to say that we were having a big night out so that they don’t come to the conclusion that we’re spending the night together.’
‘Which we’re so going to.’ Poppy kissed the nape of Ben’s neck, pulled back and laughed as the fine hairs stood to attention.
‘Yes, which we’re going to. But they don’t need to know that.’ Ben shuffled them back, then placed the éclairs in the oven. ‘Now, you go get the yoghurt from the fridge. First course is coming up.’
‘First course?’ Poppy opened the fridge door, located the yoghurt and turned around to find Ben had placed two dessert bowls on the table.
‘Mum’s cheesecake. She made sure I took it home with me last night and told me to wish you a happy birthday. On behalf of her and Dad.’
Poppy sat down next to Ben, pulled the bowl closer, picked up the spoon and dug into the silken pudding. ‘I bet your dad has no idea it’s my birthday.’ She took a mouthful of the dessert, and let the savoury sweetness coat her tongue. ‘So good. Every bit as good as I remember.’
‘It really is.’ Ben mumbled, his mouth full. ‘And you’re right. Dad would have no idea that it’s your birthday. Probably doesn’t know mine either.’
‘Can we not talk about your dad while I’m kind of in the nude?’ Poppy nudged Ben as she scooped up another spoonful of the dessert. ‘It’s putting me off my dessert.’
‘Agreed.’ He dropped a creamy kiss on her exposed shoulder, then licked it up, sending a delicious shiver down her spine, through her body. He set the bowl down and turned to her, his eyes heavy with intent. ‘Oh, one more thing, birthday girl.’
‘One more thing?’ Poppy looked around the room. What else could he give her?
‘You thought your surprise birthday had finished?’ Ben turned around, grabbed something from under a tea towel, the presented her with an upturned fisted hand. ‘Open it.’
Poppy took Ben’s hand and gently prised open each finger, one by one, until his palm revealed a shining silver unicorn charm, the horn plated in gold. ‘Oh. Oh, wow. Ben. It’s beautiful. Beyond beautiful. It’s so… elegant.’
‘I know. Who knew? I was beginning to think unicorns only came fluffy or covered in holographic material or different shades of glitter.’ Ben oophed as she elbowed him lightly in the waist. ‘Teasing. Mostly.’ He grinned. ‘You can touch it, Pops. It won’t bite.’
‘No one’s ever given me anything like this before.’ She glanced at the charms adorning her bracelet. Each a reminder of the places she’d been. She didn’t want Ben’s charm o
n there. That bracelet was for the past, and she didn’t want Ben to be part of that. Didn’t want to jinx their future.
‘Do you want me to put it on your wrist for you?’ Ben reached for her, a wrinkle of hurt etching his brow as she shook her head and moved her wrist away.
‘No. Not yet. I think I want to keep it separate. For now,’ she added quickly. ‘I don’t want to share it with my other charms just yet.’ She picked up the charm and turned it over in her fingers, admiring the fine craftsmanship. Poppy pressed a kiss on Ben’s cheek. ‘Thank you for the gift, Ben. I love it.’
‘I thought you would. It had Poppy written all over it.’ Ben sniffed the air. ‘Éclairs are ready. I’ll pull them out, then get started on the chocolate ganache. Don’t suppose you can whip some cream?’
‘’Course I can. As long as you like your cream buttery.’ Poppy’s heart warmed as Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, mouthing ‘I’ll do it.’
She clutched the charm tighter as happiness beat away her fear.
She had Ben.
Her business.
She had finally found her place in the world.
Nothing could go wrong. She wouldn’t let it.
Chapter 17
‘You good, Pops?’ Ben wrapped his arms around Poppy’s waist and watched her dust the lemon-iced banana cake he’d made earlier with golden glitter. ‘I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. More glitter. On my grandmother’s very serious banana cake recipe, no less. She’ll be turning in her grave.’ Ben pulled her braid to the side, kissed along the soft line of her neck, and allowed himself a moment to breathe in her apricot scent. His heart danced a happy rhythm against his chest, as it had done every morning, every night, every hour in the weeks since he and Poppy had begun seeing each other.
The Little Unicorn Gift Shop Page 18