30. Poppy
Poppy
L obster, quahogs, soft-shell clams, corn on the cob, and baby potatoes are piled high on trays across the table.
It’s a traditional New England feast—prepared by Hayden.
No personal chefs, no one serving us, just friends that feel like family.
That became the family he could carry on this tradition with.
My heart aches for the boys sitting up on the hill in a quiet empty house those first years, yet another reminder that I never knew Hayden.
Not really. And yet here he is, welcoming me, helping me, with no regard for the way I judged him.
We take our seats as a group at the long table.
At my left, Hayden reaches forward and selects a plump lobster from the spread, depositing it on my plate.
Manipulating its claws, he forms the shape of a heart and winks at me.
My heart is officially as melted as the butter in the dipping bowl before me.
On my right, Stevie leans over and whispers, “That is the cutest thing. What have you done to this man?”
“Who is doing the toast this year, boys?” Mr. Taylor asks from down the table.
“I did it last year,” Beckett announces triumphantly. “Hayden?”
With his easy, relaxed smile, Hayden rises from his seat beside me.
“I’ll make this fast. I just want to thank everyone for continuing this tradition year in and year out.
As some of you know, our mom, May, was nothing if not a hostess.
This clambake was one of her favorite events of them all.
She always said it was about the traditions that came from the heart.
And I am certain our mom would be happy to see everyone gathering to this day. ” He raises his glass. “To you all.”
Everyone follows suit, a round of praise and murmur of cheers circles through the group. Hayden returns to his seat and slings an arm across the back of my chair. In his laid-back fashion, his hand drifts down over my shoulder, fingers grazing me lazily.
Around us, people turn their attention to the food. But not Hayden, he seems to be studying me. Reaching for the serving utensils, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”
“Just glad you’re here.”
He says it so simply, as if it should be obvious. Then with a smile, he sits forward and begins filling his plate as well.
Across from us, Mrs. Silberman is telling Wren about an antique console table she got in yesterday. One that she thinks Wren will love for the inn. Beside them, Jamie and Tripp are deep in conversation, and it sounds nautical in nature.
No one seems surprised in the slightest by my presence here today.
They aren’t even batting an eye at the fact that I’m sitting with Hayden instead of at the farthest corner of the table from him.
It feels like I’m the last one in on a secret about myself.
And that’s fine. It’s a relief, really, not having to field questions and comments about our apparent truce.
“So, Poppy, how is the show going? We’ve seen the crew around town. They come into the café a good amount,” Vanessa asks from her spot beside Mrs. Silberman.
I stiffen at the mention of the show, unsure how something that was supposed to be exciting has become a tense obligation.
Stealing a glance at Hayden, who dropped his hand below the table to squeeze my knee, I feel steadier.
“It’s good,” I tell Vanessa, reaching under the table as well and taking his hand in mine.
“It isn’t what I expected, but there have been some fun surprises. ”
“Do you get much say in what is said and done? Or is it pretty scripted?”
“Well… we get to kind of do our thing—” I look at Hayden once again.
“Wait, we?” Vanessa asks, her eyes darting between us. I just assumed most people knew he was joining me on camera, considering the way news travels in our small town. Apparently not.
“I didn’t know you baked, Hayden.” Mrs. Silberman turns towards us.
“I don’t.” He laughs, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of my hand. “But Pop is an amazing teacher. That is, when I decide to listen.”
“Which is hardly ever.”
“But she hasn’t kicked me out of her kitchen yet.”
Millie, Tripp’s deputy, leans forward to join the conversation. “I can’t believe our little town is going to be famous,” she muses.
On the other side of Stevie, Beckett stiffens.
He looks wearily towards Hayden, a silent conversation passing between the brothers.
I can imagine what he’s thinking about, when Foxport was thrust into the spotlight before, and I wonder if Beckett knows that Tara is trying to put them through it again.
Either way, it’s just another reason why I’m not considering this angle.
“I think it’s wonderful that you get to do the show together.” Ruth smiles from down the table. Her tone is motherly—with that hint of knowing.
“One of those fun surprises,” I agree.
After a few more questions about how many episodes there will be and what we are making, everyone returns to their plates, the normalcy of the exchange reassuring me further. But before dropping his focus to his meal once again, Hayden lifts my hand and brushes a kiss along the back of it.
He’s achingly sweet, I’m not sure how I ever missed that detail about him. Or maybe I just never gave him the chance before. But Hayden doesn’t hold it against me, he seems to appreciate my stubborn heart.
I watch his lips move across my skin and feel a thrill run up my arm. Even after he releases my hand, I still feel him there. I feel that tender kiss all through dinner.
And when dinner comes to a close, and the crowd thins out, Hayden leans over until his lips just barely brush my ear and asks, “How about a swim?”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Hayden growls, rising up from the water to lean his arms on my float. The side of the striped ring dips from the weight and a rush of water hits my skin.
“Why is that?” I look to the side, taking in the way the water beads off his broad, tanned shoulders. His hair is slicked back, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye.
He looks so natural in the water, like this is actually where he belongs—not on land. Lifting my hand that’s dangling in the pool, I drag my fingers up his jawline. His perfectly chiseled jawline.
In a swift movement, he catches my wrist and flips my hand up so he can place a kiss in my palm. And just as my heart is fluttering from the gesture… he yanks.
I tumble off the raft into the water, slipping fully beneath the surface in my surprise.
Orienting myself, I rise and slam both hands against Hayden, not moving him in the slightest. Instead, he guides me backwards until I’m pressed against the edge of the pool and his arms have me trapped from either side.
He dips his head, so his lips are against my ear. “You’re going to be the death of me because I think you knew exactly what you were doing, putting this tiny little bikini on.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I blink innocently.
“Oh, you don’t, Poppy Seed?” There’s a challenge in Hayden’s voice, causing a stir low in my center. He wraps his arms around me, slipping a finger under the string at my neck.
“You’re going to have to tell me,” I whisper, my own hands coming around his waist beneath the surface.
“You, pretty girl, are my own personal siren, luring me in and leaving me helplessly at your mercy.”
I raise my chin until our lips nearly brush together. “Show me.”
“You know we have an audience, right?”
“I don’t care?—”
Smack .
A volleyball sails off the back of Hayden’s head.
“Romeo, we need a sixth,” Tripp calls from across the pool.
Apparently, while we’ve been busy whispering sweet nothings to one another, they’ve gotten a net set up across the water. Nash, Jamie, and Tripp stand on one side, Wes and Beckett on the other.
“Sounds like he’s referring to you,” I tease, giving him a shove towards the guys.
Just before Hayden swims away, I hear a mumble of profanity under his breath. Chuckling, I pull myself up and sit on the side of the pool.
Stevie drops into place beside me, her feet kicking back and forth below the water. “I’m glad you haven’t needed that scrunchie.”
“Me too.”
“Having fun?” Ivy asks me as she and Wren join us at the pool’s edge.
“What’s not fun about that?” I motion to the fit, shirtless men throwing their bodies through the water before us.
“And things with Hayden?”
I’m silent for a moment, continuing to watch the game.
Hayden lunges out of the water, the muscles in his back rippling as he spikes the ball down across the net.
As it soars towards Nash and Jamie, they dive for it at the same time.
They both miss, splashing under the water and the ball landing between them.
Wes lets out a whoop, turning to high five Beckett as Jamie comes back up with Nash in a headlock. Behind them, Tripp is already reaching for the ball to pass it back over to the opposing team.
And with no regard for the fact that he is supposed to be serving, Hayden casts a glance over his shoulder at me.
Pretty girl , he mouths as Beckett shoves him out of the way to send the ball across the net instead.
With a wink in my direction, Hayden turns back around and doesn’t miss a beat for the spike coming back over to him.
He sends it sailing over the net with ease.
“I like him,” I admit quietly. “A lot.” Then with a laugh, I add, “How the hell did that happen?”