22. Hayden
Hayden
I received clear instructions to meet Poppy at the bakery for our next lesson. She had added something in there, too, about how she tried to return the mixer, and the company had a strict no return policy. She decided we might as well get our use out of it if it’s staying.
Dodging the other people out walking the wharf, I approach her shop earlier than planned. She’s still open, and her sky blue front door is propped open with a potted plant today. The bright green leaves look good—welcoming—with the white siding and blue door.
Before stepping inside and getting her attention, I lean on the rail of the wharf and watch her through the window.
She’s focusing intensely on piping tiny little flowers on a cake out front.
Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and today she has no apron covering light denim shorts and a tank top that looks as if it has a tiny pattern all over it.
I could watch her focus on something she loves all day, it would never get old.
But as if she senses that she’s being watched, her head snaps up, her eyes settling on me. Busted. I push off the rail and cross the wharf, stepping in through the propped open door.
“Were you just watching me work?” She folds her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes.
“I was.”
“Why?”
I come around behind the counter and close the distance between us. Looking into those magnificent, scowling eyes, I smile down at her. “Because it’s the most beautiful sight in the world,” I reply with unwavering certainty.
The scowl on her face softens, her lips parting as a quiet sigh escapes her. I could kiss her right now. I think she’d let me, because I think she might even want me to. And the idea of Poppy wanting me is enough to send my heart soaring.
Slipping a finger under her chin, I tilt it towards me and lean down until there are only inches between us. She doesn’t pull away, instead she loops her hands around the back of my neck, holding me to her.
“Hayden,” she whispers.
“Yes, Pop?”
My heart is thundering in my chest with anticipation, and every inch of me feels like a live wire. This is it.
“There are customers coming in.”
Surprised, I lift my head just as a family steps inside. The children immediately run over to the display case before us, clearly unbothered by the fact that they’re interrupting something. Poppy recovers quicker than I do, turning to face the group and smiling broadly.
“Welcome to Seaside Bakehouse. Is there anything I can get you? Or are you just browsing for the moment?”
“I know what I want,” the little boy shouts to his parents.
“I don’t yet,” the young girl snips back at him.
“How about I give you all a moment?”
“Thank you,” the woman replies warmly.
“We need a moment too. We have a conversation to finish,” I lean over and murmur. “I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” Poppy asks quietly.
“I can volunteer everything. Myself, my time, anything else you might need. No money. Then you will have more time and flexibility to do what you need to for your revenue to increase.”
“ Hayden .” She gently rests her hand over my heart, sending heat radiating through my chest. I’m usually the one reaching for her, and it’s a thrill to have her catch me by surprise with physical contact. “That’s kind of you, but you already have two jobs. You can’t try to be here too.”
“I’ve never thought of you as charity, not for one second,” I whisper.
“The fact that you are going on this show with me is already more than enough. Small Town Table is here because you agreed to do this, and I get the money to keep the bakery from them. So, you already fixed things. And I probably owe you another hundred thank yous for it.”
“If you’re not careful, it’s going to start feeling normal—saying nice things to me like that.”
A small smirk dances on her lips. “Don’t hold your breath, Baywatch.”
“There she is.” I tug on her ponytail and grin back. “But seriously, I want to help you in any way you’ll accept. Not because I think you need me, that has never been the reason. But because I like seeing you happy.”
Poppy’s expression is all soft eyes and parted lips, and her body leans closer to mine with my words. I catch her waist in my hand and drag my fingers across the tiny little flowers on her top.
“You’ll think about it?” I ask hopefully. “Let me know if there’s anything you’re okay with me doing?”
“I will,” she agrees carefully.
I can see that mind of hers working in overtime and I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking. But I’ve already gotten further than I expected I would in this conversation. There’s no benefit in pushing it further.
“I know now,” the little girl announces as she skips over to the counter. With the family ready for her, I drop my hand from Poppy’s waist and take a step back. There’s something intoxicating about simply being in her presence. I’m back to being able to watch her work all day and being a happy man.
I know she doesn’t need me, but we haven’t talked about the fact that I think I might need her.