Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
POPPY LOVE
Ella
“When life gives you lemons, make cupcakes.
Cupcakes are always a great idea.” – E
“ M mm!” I am really enjoying my creamy chocolate chip cookie when I notice Shaw watching me with an amused expression. My cheeks flush pink with embarrassment as I realize I am speaking with my mouth full.
What would Mom think if she were here witnessing my lack of manners? I smile, warmth spreading through me as I think of my mother. Arianna Parisi hates a lack of manners, but on the occasions we slip up, she never makes us feel bad or chastised. She would only smile as if her children’s lack of proper etiquette amused her. “Mm, sorry,” I mumble awkwardly, my words slightly muffled by the cookie. I swallow quickly, trying to regain my composure despite feeling embarrassed.
Shaw’s usual grumpy demeanor softens with a hint of amusement, and then he surprises me when he chuckles softly. “You really like those cookies, huh?” he remarks with a dry tone and a small smile on his full lips.
Will my heart ever stop fluttering every time the man gives me those little smiles? I hope not. It might not be a full-blown smile or a belly laugh, but I’m slowly getting there.
His eyes sometimes shine with warmth, and he no longer snaps at me or acts irritated by my presence. No. He’s trying… for me, and to my lucky stars, it only makes my foolish heart beat wilder.
“What makes you think that?” I ask, brushing the crumbs off my chin and dress, feeling sheepish.
Shaw’s expression says it all as he glances at me, raising an eyebrow in a skeptical “really?” His gaze sparkles with amusement. “That’s the third cookie in a row, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart… Thud. Thud. Thud. Now, now, settle down, silly heart. Don’t make me look foolish.
It’s no secret that I’m a girl who enjoys sweet things. If it has sugar, I will most likely eat it. So, when we pass by the cutest little bakery with all kinds of sugary treats in the window display, I beg my grumpy bodyguard to go inside and try them. Surprisingly, he agrees without protest.
Once inside, I get one chocolate cupcake and two chocolate chip cookies. I also end up eating Shaw’s. He truly doesn’t enjoy baked goods, and it’s kind of sad. Who doesn’t enjoy the sweetest things in life? A lunatic or a grump. A closeted cinnamon roll grump.
He’s been different. Something shifts between us after our time at the tulip field. He’s been more open to making my time with him as enjoyable as possible. What he doesn’t know is that no matter what we do, I’ll be happy as long as it’s together.
Nodding sheepishly, a shy smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Okay, they’re really good,” I admit. “Once I’m able to post about this perfect little town, I will blast my social media with posts about Milly’s Macaroons. She’s a genius baker.”
“That’s kind of you,” he mumbles, his brown eyes melting me.
I beam at him. “I love it here.”
Shaw doesn’t say anything. He just towers over me with wonder written all over his face. He does that a lot. He looks at me as if he’s never met anyone quite like me before, and the thought of that makes happy butterflies dance inside my belly.
I want to be someone he looks at for happiness and warmth. Somehow, I’ve managed to fool my heart into believing he already does, because although it’s obvious he doesn’t enjoy leaving the ranch unless absolutely necessary, he has done so multiple times for me.
It’s the little things outside of his comfort zone that make me believe I’m closer than I think to reaching his heart. I felt it yesterday while he watched me dance in the rain through his tulip fields, and I felt it this morning when I woke up and found him looking at me differently, even though it lasted less than a minute. I see the changes in him.
I also managed to guilt-trip my grumpy bodyguard with a tour of his charming little town by reminding him that aside from being at the ranch and my studies, there was nothing to do. I finished my argument with a signature pout. One that always got me what I wanted when I dealt with Dad or Uncle Benji. It seems Shaw Banning isn’t immune to it either.
I don’t do it often, but today I thought it was necessary. A day around town might brighten this grump’s day and even help me with my mission to bring down those ironclad walls of his. A mission I’m close to completing, might I add.
“Are you ready to go back to the ranch?” Shaw asks as my gaze falls over the charming buildings behind him, my eyes darting from one colorful structure to another. My attention is suddenly captivated by a small, vibrant building tucked away between a barbershop and a small supermarket.
The cozy-looking building stands out with its whimsical charm. Painted in vibrant hues of blue, yellow, and green, adorned with cheerful decorations that seem to shine brighter in the sunlight. Cute little white paw prints decorate the colorful walls.
Above the entrance, a cheerful sign beckons in bold, friendly letters: “Adopt Your Forever Furry Friend.”
A pet shelter… And when I think this day couldn’t get any better, it does.
I look back at Shaw. His grumpy yet somehow adorable expression, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the shelter’s entrance, simply says, “No.”
“Pleaseeeee.” I fix my eyes on him. “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” I plead, my eyes shining with determination. He hasn’t denied me anything today, so I hope he agrees to this too.
He sighs, looking serious. “Why do you want to go in?” he asks, his tone gruff.
With a sad smile, I reply, “Because pet shelter animals rarely get visitors or a chance to find a loving home. They’re not expensive breeds or brand new, so they get overlooked. It’s wrong because they deserve love too.” I take a breath and continue, “I thought it would be nice to spend some time with the furry babies.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, so I try again.
Looking away from Shaw, I gaze at the shelter’s entrance, a hint of sadness flickering across my face. “You know,” I begin, my voice tinged with melancholy, “I used to volunteer at a shelter back home and it was always the same. People come in looking for the cute, the flawless. But no one seems to notice the broken ones, the ones with scars and stories etched into their sweet little souls.” My words hang heavy in the air. When silence greets me, I turn to face Shaw again. His expression softens, and he seems to understand me at the moment.
You will save him… those words whispered to me long ago come to the forefront of my mind. Will I really? I wonder as I look up at his handsome face. Although he doesn’t seem so grumpy all the time, his eyes still seem sad and sometimes angry.
“Your soft heart will be your downfall, darling,” he whispers almost to himself.
My soft heart? I shrug. “It might.” He frowns at me. “The world needs more soft hearts, don’t you agree? It’s too harsh.” I whisper as I fix him with my gaze.
His brown eyes flash with something that seems a lot like anger before it quickly disappears. “The world is undeserving of it, Ellaiza.”
How does he make everything he says seem romantic? Or am I delusional? I honestly don’t know when it comes to him.
He then rips his gaze from mine, takes a quick look around us as if assessing the area before he gestures for me to walk ahead.
It’s happening again. For me, he’s trying to get out of his comfort zone. My heart melts at the sight of him opening the door of the pet shelter for me. “Just for a little while, okay?”
I nod once before stepping inside the shelter. Once inside, a chorus of eager barks, gentle purrs, and curious chirps fills the air.
My eyes widen in delight, and a bright smile spreads across my face as I take in the sight of all the cute animals. Dogs, cats, and birds of all colors and sizes. “Oh, look at them!” I sing; my voice and heart are filled with happiness. “They’re all so adorable!” My excitement seems infectious because even the silent grump at my side softens as he watches me with curious eyes.
There’s something about his soft side that makes my insides feel all gooey. Moody Shaw is hot, but soft Shaw? That one is a threat to my heart.
“We’re just here to visit, princess. Don’t get attached to any of them.” He hesitates for a moment before adding, “There’s no room for them at the ranch, and I have no use for them.”
Oh, we’ll see about that. Before he can say anything else, I flash him a mischievous grin and, without a word, strut off towards the animals with a winning smile on my face, totally ignoring his warning.
“I mean it, cupcake. Don’t get any ideas.” He grumbles at my back.
“Whatever you say, Shaw Bear,” I sing as I fall to my knees in front of a pocket-sized chihuahua.
Feeling his gaze, I turn and notice him watching me. He shakes his head with a mixture of exasperation and laughter. His top lip twitches.
Swoon. There is no denying the look on his face. The beautiful man is not as immune to my charm as he thinks he is.
I smile wider, knowing that little by little I am not only infiltrating his world but his heart.
Shaw
The pet shelter bustles with chaos—dogs barking joyfully and cats weaving between my legs. How the hell did I agree to this?
Amidst the commotion, Ella kneels on the floor, laughing as she plays with the animals. She’s entertaining a golden retriever with a squeaky toy and teasing a kitten with a feather wand. From here, I can see how much joy this moment brings her. Her smile is infectious, radiating throughout the room.
Meanwhile, I linger in the doorway, arms folded across my chest, watching her. I don’t care for pets. I didn’t lie when I said I had no use for these animals. I never liked them, except for my horses—they’re at least useful.
A stray dog tentatively approaches me, sniffing my boots and wagging its tail. “Oh, look, Shaw Bear. He likes you,” Ella coos from her spot on the floor, while she continues to entertain a black cat who seems extremely annoyed but keeps clawing at the feather wand in Ella’s hands. That cat, like me, is not immune to her charm.
Gently pushing the small pup at my feet away, it gives a soft whine of protest. Ella chuckles softly and rolls her eyes at me, clearly amused by my interaction with the whiny ball of fur. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this itty-bitty cutie pie?” she asks, lifting the clingy dog from the floor onto her lap.
“They’re annoying, clingy, and messy,” I murmur, as another dog passes by my feet, wagging its small tail.
“Oh, hush, Grumpy. They’re rays of sunshine and make amazing companions. You should adopt one of these cuties. I bet Peppermint, Geraldine, and Peanut are lonely.”
“Don’t.” I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms over my shoulders. I can smell her ulterior motives from a mile away.
“Whatever do you mean?” She feigns innocence.
“Stop. There’s no way I’m getting a damn dog.”
“Fine then. Don’t get a dog.” She lifts a scruffy cat that looks like a demonic minion to her face, waving its paw from side to side. “You could get a cat.”
“No.”
“What about a pretty little bird?” She pouts.
She looks adorable, but her attempts don’t faze me. There’s no chance in hell I’m agreeing to adopt any of these furry annoyances. When I remain stoic, she gives up and continues playing with the animals.
Ella’s laughter echoes through the shelter, and I find myself captivated by how she brings joy to everything around her. The animals gather around her, content just to be near her. Her sad eyes when she spoke about broken ones flash through my mind. If only she knew how broken I actually am.
Ella’s laughter pulls me back to the present. She now sits with three small dogs playing between her legs. The animals clearly adore her, just as she is enamored with them. I wonder if the public has any idea how sweet and kind she is. From what I gather online, she’s a carbon copy of her mother and sisters, like she pretends to be someone she’s not to maintain her family’s picture-perfect image.
Anger simmers in my gut as I think of how hard it must be for her to pretend just to make others happy. Is she happy? At least I know she is today. Among the tiny animals, she looks as happy as when she stuffs her face with chocolate cupcakes or dances in the rain.
Fuck. She looks this happy and filled with joy at the ranch too. When around me… I push away the thought, not wanting to dwell on what it means for my sanity. I, on the other hand, feel out of place amidst the chaos of meowing and barking. I’m used to silence and darkness, not colorful corners filled with rescued animals and a hopeful princess who wants to save them all. Yet, here I am, because the girl asked with doe-blue eyes that tug at my dusty heartstrings. When asked if we could enter the pet shelter, I couldn’t refuse. I want to see her smile at me again, just like she did when I took her for a ride through the tulip fields.
Her smiles make me feel things I shouldn’t, and I’m becoming addicted to that feeling. She has this effect on me—making me do things I never cared to do before her. I find myself agreeing to things that make me uncomfortable if it means seeing her happy. And being here makes her happy.
It’s adorable how Ellaiza Kenton, an heiress accustomed to the finest things in life, smiles because of the little things. It blows me away how rare she is.
The clingy dog from before suddenly bounds over, yapping excitedly. The pup bites my pant leg, trying to catch my attention. The tiny fur ball seems as stubborn as the beautiful creature currently watching me like a hawk with a small smile, waiting to see how I’ll react.
With a huff, I bend over and offer my palm, which the dog licks happily, looking smug.
While the dog tries to distract me, a man with dark hair and eyes in his early twenties approaches us with a warm smile. “Hi, I’m Randall. Are you folks looking to adopt?” he asks, focusing on Ella and ignoring me. An ugly feeling swirls in my stomach as Ella engages with the chatty stranger, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and friendliness. I can’t stop the twinge of jealousy creeping into my chest.
Why the hell is she smiling so big for him? And what kind of name is Randall?
I shift, annoyed, my gaze flickering between Ella and the man, a knot forming in my stomach as I realize how effortlessly she captivates others with her charm and warmth. I try to push aside the feeling, but a small seed of envy takes root in my dusty heart as I silently observe their interaction. How easy it is for the guy to converse with her while it’s so hard for me to get a word out.
The green-eyed monster in me is restless, but then she laughs with her whole chest. It’s a sweet sound that echoes through the room, and pink spreads across her cheeks. She’s blushing for him.
As I stand, lost in thought and wrestling with unwelcome jealousy, a sudden commotion breaks the tension. I’m tackled by a happy ball of white fur. Before I can react, the tiny creature nuzzles against me.
What the hell is this?
Ella’s laughter bubbles forth as she watches the small animal at our feet. “A baby goat!” she exclaims, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She gets up from the floor and walks over to help me untangle myself from the goat’s affectionate embrace.
A goat.
What the hell is a goat doing here? As if I had spoken out loud, Randall, the too-friendly man, looks down at the goat fondly. “This little one,” he begins, his voice tinged with both sadness and pride, “was brought to us severely hurt. It took a lot of care and effort, but we managed to nurse her back to health.” Ella’s smile drops at the revelation, her empathy for the tiny goat evident in her expression.
Kneeling in front of the baby goat, Ella’s eyes soften with compassion as she speaks softly. “Hey there, precious one,” she murmurs. “You’re such a fighter, aren’t you? You’ve been through so much, but look at you now, all strong and brave.” The baby goat nuzzles against her hand, its trust in her evident. “Does she have a name?” Ella asks Randall, not taking her eyes off the tiny goat.
“Poppy,” Randall shares with pride.
“Poppy!” Ella repeats, her voice soft with admiration as she showers the goat with kisses. “What a pretty name. It suits you.” I watch in silence as she interacts with Poppy.
Ella reaches out to stroke Poppy’s fur tenderly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I watch her share a moment of connection with the goat. I’m starting to think this girl is a damn fairytale princess with the way animals gravitate towards her. I’ve been around them most of my life, and some are still assholes to me. Maybe they sense her sweet heart and my barely beating one.
Ella scoops up Poppy, cradling her gently in her arms before planting a tender kiss on the baby goat’s snout. With an affectionate smile, she turns to me, her eyes wide and pleading, her lips forming the perfect pout.
Damn it. Not this again.
She wants the goat.
Shit.
I look at Randall, who’s smiling from ear to ear. Then I glance at Poppy, who seems to be pleading with me too. I open my mouth to say no, but the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t resist Ella’s puppy eyes. With a resigned sigh, I relent, knowing full well that arguing with Ella when she has that look is a battle I’m unlikely to win.
“Fine,” I grumble, with a hint of amusement as I watch Ella’s face light up with joy. “But you’re responsible for her, and she better not ruin my shit.”
Ella cuddles the goat with the biggest smile on her face, nodding. “Oh, you’re coming home with us, girl!”
We leave the shelter shortly after that, Ella cradling Poppy in her arms, talking nonstop, her words overflowing with excitement and gratitude. Despite my initial reluctance and gruff exterior, I always seem to melt around her, unable to resist.
I’m so screwed.
“Oh, Poppy! You’ll have the best time at Shaw’s magical ranch! You’ll see and you’ll have many friends! Peppermint, Geraldine, and Peanut will be your partners in crime. I’m sure of it!” She keeps talking to the goat as if the small animal understands every word, all the way back to the ranch.
I don’t end up with the clingy dog, the ugly cat, or the annoying birds. No. Instead, I leave the animal shelter with a damn goat.
A goat who already seems as dangerous, affectionate, and sweet as her new owner.