13. Poppy
Poppy
P eering at my reflection in the display glass, I scrunch my hair and release.
My loose, lived in tresses tumble back down around my face in a way that I finally like.
I managed to style my beach waves to look effortless, but nothing about today has been effortless.
There’s a new dress clinging to my body, and while I hesitated to spend money that I don’t really have, I do feel more confident now that it’s on.
The pale blue fabric is adorned with a vintage floral print, and the pleated tiers that fall from the waist dance with every move I make. Adjusting the wide strap on my shoulder, I smile at the reflection. Like my hair, my goal for this dress is to look put together, yet breezy.
I want to appear as if this opportunity isn’t going to make or break all my dreams.
Smearing on my favorite peony pink lipstick, I purse my lips. From the outside, I’ve achieved a breezy appearance. On the inside, I’m shaking like a leaf.
We’re scheduled to start shooting in half an hour, and I need to use this time to manage my nerves. For me, the best way to do that is to feel prepared.
I unfold the checklist from my purse and walk along the prep table, ensuring that everything I’ll need is out. Rolling pin, tart pan, measuring cups, I continue down the list until I confirm that each item is accounted for.
Next, I run through the script Tara sent over. She had described the talking points as suggestions. But given that any question is fair game, they feel more like a pop quiz for which I’m about to fail.
“ Wow ,” a familiar voice breathes.
Hayden stands in the doorway, his eyes wide.
“You’re early,” I reply, frantically checking to see if anything on my outfit is out of place. He won’t stop staring, so I run my hands over my dress again. What did I miss?
Crossing behind the front counter, he comes to a stop before me and tilts his head down until I meet his eyes. “You look amazing,” he assures me softly. His words settle my frantic hands but manage to increase my racing heart.
I take a deep breath and let my attention skate over his off-white, linen button-up, and the top two buttons that are undone.
It gives him that patented “refined yet relaxed” look that screams Hayden Thompson.
It’s the exact look I strived to attain—yet seems commonplace for him.
Surveying his creased, twill pants next, I reply, “And you look like you just stepped off a J. Crew set.”
“Are you saying I look handsome enough to be a model?” He grins, taking another step towards me.
“Save it for your close up,” I snort, dropping my attention back to the script.
“You didn’t deny it.”
I ignore him, flipping to the next page of questions. Was she hoping to ask all of these today? And why are so many focused on the fireman in the room?
“Poppy.” He interrupts my train of thought. “Will you tell me what about this is making you nervous right now?”
“Why are you so sure I’m nervous?” I snap.
“Because you pick at your lip when you’re nervous,” he tells me, reaching for my hand and pulling it down from where I am doing just that.
I didn’t even notice I was doing it. But I do notice that he’s gentle as he keeps my hand in his.
“How do you know that?” My voice is just above a whisper.
“Because you have a habit of stealing my focus whenever you’re around. I also know that your eyes get a little wild—in a cute way—when you’re working out a new idea. Which is currently happening. Are you getting in your head about what to say today?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Instead, my brain is entranced by the way he’s dragging his thumb back and forth across the back of my hand.
I’m not sure what has gotten into him these past few days. And I’m even less sure why it is causing me to grip his hand tighter—as if Hayden is my lifeline.
“My lovely stars,” Tara greets us as she bursts through the door. Her eyes quickly settle on our intertwined hands. “Look at you two, so cute .”
I snatch my hand from Hayden, not wishing to have her playing up an angle that doesn’t exist.
“Good to see you again, Tara. You remember Hayden,” I offer hurriedly.
“It’s nice to meet you… formally.” He smiles at Tara, but it’s not the carefree smile I’m accustomed to seeing from him.
He casts me a sideways glance. There’s a question in his eyes. If I’m not mistaken, Hayden seems hurt.
“We are so very happy you are joining us. This is going to be just delicious .” I bristle at the way she drags out the word delicious, as if Hayden is the one on the menu.
Tara doesn’t notice, adjusting the decorative silk scarf around her neck.
Between that and her white and navy striped sweater, it is clear that she decided to embrace the New Englander aesthetic during her time here, looking nothing like the executive I first met.
“And here come the others now.” She motions towards the door as three people step into the bakery.
“Poppy, you remember Hannah, my assistant. And Trevor, our technical director on camera. And this is Neil, I know you didn’t get to meet him at the audition. He’ll be our sound and lighting guy.”
I shake hands with the newcomer, Neil. “It’s good to meet you,” I say, thinking there’s a trace of a smile on his face but having a difficult time being certain with all his burly auburn facial hair.
“You too,” he says gruffly.
“It’s great to see you again, Poppy,” Trevor offers with a bright smile. “You look great. ”
Still at my side, Hayden takes a step closer until his arm brushes against mine. “We haven’t met, Trev,” he says in a clipped tone.
“And you’ll have time to chat later. But he needs to set up and I need my stars over here with me. We’ll walk through the plan for today,” Tara calls from where she is pulling folders from her alligator handbag.
A fresh wave of nausea turns over in my stomach. This is it; I’m going to be on an internationally streamed baking show. I can’t even hear Tara walking through things, not with my heart thudding like a kick drum in my chest.
“Are you ready to take your places?” she’s asking. But I don’t remember her telling me where our places are.
Reaching up to my lip, I tug the edge with my thumb nail and index finger, stealing a glance at Hayden.
I watch him study my face for a brief moment before the corner of his lip slides upward in a smirk. “She’ll probably stand just a few feet off the mark. She’s not big on being told what to do.”
“That’s only with you,” I reply evenly. My temperature is rising rapidly because I have a feeling that he just read me like an open book.
Everything slows as I shoot him my typical Hayden glare . And my stomach feels more settled when he pulls me over to a spot behind the prep table, telling me condescendingly, “This is where you stand.”
Fueled by my indignation for him, I no longer have the capacity to remain nervous. But I have a feeling he knew this would be the case—and that feels important.
“Ooh, save it for when we’re rolling,” Tara tells us with glee. She takes a seat on a fold out canvas chair in the archway between the storefront and the kitchen and picks up her headset.
“There’s no shortage of this,” I say, flitting my hand between us.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Tara replies with a wink before turning to Trevor and telling him, “on your cue.”
He counts down on his fingers from three and points at us as the light on his camera glows red. Ready or not, it’s showtime. I lift my chin and smile for the camera.
“Hello! I’m Poppy, and with me is Hayden. We’re pleased to welcome you to Foxport, Massachusetts, the home of Seaside Bakehouse.”
“Poppy here owns the bakehouse,” Hayden jumps in. “And you get to join us as she teaches me to make some of her favorite recipes for a coastal summer menu.”
He turns to me and flashes his patent roguish grin. “Isn’t that right, Poppy Seed ?”
My lip curls as I meet his gaze. Here we go.