29. Hayden
Hayden
S he had promised she would be here. And as much as my heart hoped it to be true, my brain was thoroughly convinced she wouldn’t be ready for this.
Guests filtered in one after another, but no Poppy.
I told myself there was still a chance if her friends weren’t here yet either, certain she’d be coming with them.
“It’s early,” Beckett reminds me as we make our way back to the pit. When Nash and Jamie catch up to us, he doesn’t say anything else. But he’s right. There’s time. This doesn’t mean she’s changed her mind.
Getting to work starting the fire, I keep the front walk in the corner of my eye. I’ve done this enough times that I can move through the steps on autopilot. Which is exactly what happens as I repeat Beck’s words like a lifeline. It’s early .
And then Poppy is there on the walkway.
A real siren of the sea come to life, in a dress that makes me want to drop to my knees and worship her.
Being in Poppy’s presence, I understand the men in the folklore.
It takes every ounce of self-control to remain in place, simply watching her drift into the party.
I want to run to her, my pulse quickening when her eyes find me across the lawn in no time.
Mine .
The word pushes itself to the front of my mind, and I take a step toward her until Mrs. Taylor beats me to it. I watch them hug. And then she’s saying something and it is causing my siren to move quickly away from me, headed for my house.
I follow. Of course I follow.
“Weren’t going to say hi to me at my own party, Poppy Seed?” I ask huskily, stepping into the kitchen.
Spinning to face me, she whispers, “You looked busy.” Her eyelashes bat innocently at me.
It’s like a personal challenge, the sudden need coming over me to wipe the innocent look from her eyes and replace it with fiery passion.
I want her walking back out to that party on my arm, dazed and sated. Looking every bit of mine.
“When are you going to understand that I will never be too busy for you,” I murmur, gently brushing the back of my knuckles along her jaw.
Her sharp inhale is confirmation that she’s feeling the electricity in the air as much as I am.
That’s how it is any time I’m near her though, charged.
“You show up looking fucking gorgeous in that dress and you expect me to keep my hands off you today?”
“And if people see us together, like this?” she challenges, all the while her own hands snake their way up my chest and wrap around my neck.
“I’d be thrilled. But it’s up to you, Poppy,” I reply. “Tell me what you want from me today.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
My hands shoot to her waist, yanking her flush against my body and holding her tight. Tilting forward, I catch her bottom lip and give a teasing suck. “Just in here? Or out at the party too?” I murmur into her mouth.
“I don’t think I’m capable of pulling away from you once we’re outside. If that’s what you’re asking,” she replies with a sigh.
“So, if I put my hand here”—I slip my palm across the small of her back—“around everyone… you would be okay with that?”
“Yes,” she moans as I pull her into a real kiss this time.
My mouth is greedy to consume her after her admission.
And I’m only spurred further by the way she makes her way inside my button-down, pressing her hands directly to my skin.
The last time she was at my house, her hands were on my bare chest too.
This time, she doesn’t withdraw them. This time she’s grasping for more of me.
And I’m willing to give her anything. I have been, for longer than she would ever believe.
I drag my mouth down to her neck, stopping when I find the sensitive spot that causes her body to shiver against me. “Tell me, baby, do you still despise me?”
“Shut up. You know the answer to that,” she replies, throwing her head back and sighing.
I lift my mouth to whisper in her ear. “Tell me.”
“God, you’re demanding. No, Hayden. It seems that I don’t despise you.”
Taking her head in my hand, I turn her face to meet my mouth once again. I kiss her hard, desperate. Like a man who was just told that I was the love of her life. Because for Poppy, this was as big of a deal for her to say.
I want to take her upstairs. Send everyone home and spend the day wrapped up with her.
But no, there is a whole party happening outside, just through the patio doors.
Glass patio doors. And I’m well on my way to being indecent in this kitchen with her.
Leaning back, I look into her eyes—dazed, same as mine are I assume.
“People are going to start noticing that we are both missing,” she murmurs, coming to the same realization that I am. “You are the host after all.”
“If we go outside, will you stay with me?”
“There’s a good chance. But don’t expect me to follow you around all night like a damn puppy.”
A gruff laugh escapes me. “I’ll happily be the one to follow you around like a damn puppy.”
I press a kiss to her forehead with a smile. I won’t be able to stop smiling all day, more than likely. “Ready?”
She nods, catching her bottom lip in her teeth. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Stepping back out, the sun is blinding momentarily. And when my eyes adjust, Stevie is standing before us. “There you are. Were you looking for a scrunchie?”
I look over to Poppy, who flashes a knowing smile to her friend. “No, I don’t need one.”
“The thing for your hair?” I ask. “It looks pretty this way.” Reaching over, I twirl a strand of her strawberry blonde locks between my fingers.
“I like this,” Stevie says casually, waving her hand between us.
“Me too.” I grin. I’m glad Stevie was the one that caught us walking out together. She’s a soft place for Poppy to land, quietly supportive.
Behind her, Beckett comes strolling over.
“The regatta is about to start,” he informs us.
I have a feeling he’ll be a step away from her at most all night.
Holding up the bottle he’s carrying, he tilts it towards Stevie.
“I found these at a little corner store in Boston. They’re the ones you like, right? ”
Her face lights up as he turns the label to face her. “ They are . I can’t believe you found them!”
Beckett shrugs nonchalantly, opening it and handing it to her, like this was just a coincidence he stumbled upon them. But I know my brother better than that. He probably spent hours researching before traveling across town to a tucked away corner of Boston, desperate to hunt them down.
Stevie takes a long drink before holding it out to Poppy. “You need to try this. It’s an orange blossom honey beer.”
A soft hum of approval escapes Poppy’s lips as she sips the beer. And somehow, that simple sound has me planning ways to make her hum for me later.
“Fitzy just started the race,” Tripp calls across the lawn. I look over, seeing everyone making their way to the cliff’s edge. The regatta moves up the coast of Pearl Beach, past the harbor, and out around Manchester Point, putting the finish right in front of us.
“Grab a drink on our way?” I ask, my hand gently cupping Poppy’s elbow. She nods to me, and we split off from everyone heading down the lawn.
Crossing the patio, I lean around the waterfall edge of the bar and pull out one of the special beers she just tried. “This? I guarantee you that Beck stocked up with more than Stevie will ever drink.”
Poppy laughs. “I believe that. Yeah, I’ll take one.”
I pass her the drink and grab myself a seltzer.
Testing the waters, I press my hand to the small of her back as we walk to meet the others.
Poppy hesitates for a second, then leans towards me and settles into my embrace.
I run my thumb up an exposed portion of her spine, eliciting a shiver just as I hoped.
Her eyes dart to the side, a spark igniting in them as they connect with mine.
“No change of heart with me doing this?” I ask, sliding my thumb up and down.
“I don’t scare easy, Baywatch,” she scoffs, a small smile on her lips.
We reach the edge of the group, and I keep my arm around her as we watch the small dots in the distance growing nearer.
It’s the perfect day for the race, mild in temperature and sunny, with a steady breeze around ten knots.
I steal a glance at Poppy as she watches the competitors in the distance.
She seems relaxed and comfortable here, and it settles a tightness in my shoulders I didn’t realize had been there.
“Who do you know that’s racing?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Hmm?” I blink back, having been distracted by the way her hair curled around her in the breeze.
“What racer do you root for?”
“Oh, no one in particular. Jamie talked about joining next year, but I’m not even sure who is sailing out there right now.”
Poppy tilts her head at me. “What makes you do the clambake for it every year then?”
A sad smile slips onto my face. “My dad used to compete. Mom started the clambake as a way to celebrate him.”
“Oh,” she breathes. “That sounds like a sweet tradition.”
“Yeah.” I lean in to say in her ear, “It turned out to be a more important tradition than we thought. The first few years after we lost them, Beck and I would be miserable through race week. Then one day, we decided it would help to bring the tradition back. And it did, so we just continued.”
“This is a nice way to honor their memories,” Poppy whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder.
We remain like this, my arm holding her close to my side and her head nestled against me, looking out at the sea together.
I’ve all but forgotten the other guests surrounding us.
It’s just her, warming the numb corners of my heart.
Poppy chose me today. She chose to be here, to let me in despite how it would disrupt her perfectly planned life. It’s still hard to believe.
Billowing sails guide the yachts forward as they cross the finish triumphantly. I wonder if it isn’t time to get Dad’s back out there. Maybe I’ll join Jamie next year, after all, less likely things have happened.