Chapter 5
Wrapped up like a burrito in her layers of blankets, Poppy lay ensconced in the bed for several long, luxurious seconds while she went through the process of waking up and working out where she was.
Once her brain had booted up and recalled the previous day’s events, her eyes jerked open.
Was all of that really real?!
Well, the velvety purple quilt was definitely real, as were the countless pillows and cushions strewn all around her. So was the gauzy white fabric that hung from the top of what appeared to be a four-poster bed.
She sat up, loath to leave her comfy cocoon, but wanting to know more about the accommodation she’d stumbled her way into last night. It felt like it was gorgeous, but she’d been so exhausted that she’d barely taken in anything she’d seen.
In any case, despite everything that had happened in the past few days, she felt completely refreshed, and ready to get out of the insanely comfortable bed and start her day. Poppy couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well.
I have to ask the owners what kind of mattress this is. I think at least seventy percent of my problems would be solved if I could sleep like this every night.
Then again, her home also didn’t have a four-poster bed with lacy curtains, or a porthole window above the bed, or a magically stocked fridge, or a handsome guy who’d misplaced his shirt, so the mattress probably wasn’t the only thing that had given her a good night’s sleep.
And the B however, she did think she’d regret it if she didn’t go out and explore the town at least a little bit.
And, of course, there was the other attraction in Girdwood Springs…
Poppy felt her face heating up as she was suddenly hit by the full memory of what had happened in the kitchen last night.
She was never usually that forward with men. Certainly she’d never taken a bottle of milk that an attractive stranger had been drinking from, and then chugged it in some sort of attempt to get an indirect kiss from him.
And it had been his milk! Her milk had presumably been in the fridge! She was a milk thief now! What kind of man would be impressed by that?!
“Gaaaahhh,” she groaned, taking an overly large bite of her cookie and almost choking.
Still, she thought, as she coughed and hacked, he didn’t seem completely put off by my antics?
Really, it was all his fault – him and his hot nerd vibe. The man had had ink on his fingers, for crying out loud! What was she supposed to do? How could she be expected to concentrate when his perfectly tousled hair was hanging down around those hypnotic, penetrating eyes?!
Maybe he’s in the kitchen right now, a little voice inside her head whispered. Maybe you could go and humiliate yourself some more.
Well, the second part of that was clearly terrible advice, and she chose to ignore it. But the first part…
Probably still a terrible idea, she told herself, even as she attempted to straighten out her bedhead. But fortune favors the brave.
If we’re going to justify our actions with clichés, how about better safe than sorry? the voice said with a sneer.
How about shut up? Poppy fired back.
Sure, this was probably going to backfire terribly. But she was done with playing things safe. She was only here for a few days, and then she would never see Max again. Maybe if she was lucky, he would be up for a little vacation fling.
The idea of anything she had with Max only being a fling sent a weird bolt of pain through her heart, and she stopped messing with her hair, surprised at herself. She’d never felt that way about anyone before, and certainly not about someone she barely knew.
But it was true. It hadn’t been a problem the few times in the past when she’d decided to have a fling, but the idea of just using Max for mutual short-term pleasure felt weirdly wrong.
Shaking her head at herself, she headed for the kitchen door. At the last moment, she realized that she was basically only wearing her robe and slippers – but, well, Max wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if he complained about people wandering around half-naked.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle, called out a hello, and pushed the door open –
To see a perfectly tidy, empty kitchen.
Deflating a little, she stood in the doorway for a moment, before wandering over to the fridge.
It was probably for the best, really. She was still feeling a little scrambled from all the excitement of yesterday. It would be best to see Max again on a full stomach and with a full set of clothes.
Laughing a little at herself, she started pulling food out of the fridge. There really was enough here to feed an army, or at least a regiment.
She definitely had to try one of the chicken drumsticks that Max had been making such orgasmic faces over, and she found herself, oddly, craving fresh vegetables – the arugula in her baguette last night had been amazing, which was a word that she would never have thought she would apply to salad greens.
She piled her plate up with chicken and salad and olives, popping a miniature croissant into the oven on a whim.
It was hardly a conventional breakfast, but she was done with being conventional.
This vacation was about doing what she wanted.
It was about rediscovering what she liked, after all those years of slaving away for someone who just stabbed her in the back the moment it was convenient.
The thought of her employment status sent a twinge of irritation and betrayal through her, but then the oven pinged and her attention was quickly drawn elsewhere, the annoyance dispersing like smoke.
Pulling her steaming-hot croissant open, she slathered it in plum anise jam and then added the plate to her antique wooden serving tray, which was already laden down with food and coffee.
She was going to eat a leisurely breakfast on the chaise longue and watch the drifting snow, and then she was going to get out there and enjoy her winter vacation.
***
This is pretty much the antithesis of a beach vacation… but I’m surprisingly okay with that.
Poppy strolled happily along the sidewalk, which, though obviously recently cleared, was already quickly disappearing under a layer of soft, fluffy snow.
For such a small, out-of-the-way place, Girdwood Springs was surprisingly busy. The town fairly bustled with life, with everyone decked out in colorful winter clothes, and charming little shops lined the streets.