Chapter 8
Max walked down the sidewalk alongside Poppy, trying to find an appropriate balance between making conversation and keeping his mouth shut, lest he say something stupid.
Luckily for him, Poppy seemed content to keep the majority of the flow of conversation going, allowing him to just make a comment here and there.
There wasn’t a whole lot to talk about, anyway, now that they’d covered how picturesque Girdwood Springs was and the coldness of the weather; he was happy just wandering around quietly in her company, silently marveling at the fact that she wanted to spend the day with him.
He didn’t have a huge amount of experience with relationships, after all. Not that it was his first date or anything – assuming that this qualified as a date – but he’d always been a bit of a loner.
And it was kind of shocking that she wanted to spend time with him after his little performance at the bakery when the topic of Aubrey Z. had come up. That had not been his finest moment, and he knew that he would have to come clean about it if he wanted to spend more time with her.
Why did I try to tell her Aubrey Z. was some kind of snooty guy with a cravat? What was I thinking? Was I thinking at all?!
Poppy ran over to look into a shop window, exclaiming at the mohair scarves on display, and Max found himself enthralled all over again by her obvious happiness.
Would this be an appropriate time to tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? Probably not. There was such a thing as moving too fast, after all, and he didn’t want to creep her out.
She really was gorgeous, though, with her radiant smile and pink-tinged cheeks, and she seemed to understand that he wasn’t a big talker.
Her own tastes seemed to run fairly simple as well – just walking down the street on a snowy day and doing some window shopping was apparently enough to make her happy.
Still, they seemed to be getting to the end of the main drag, the shops petering out and being replaced by cottages and snow-filled yards. If they kept following the road, they’d end up walking back down the mountain.
Stopping in her tracks, Poppy turned to face him.
“You know, I think I’m all shopped out for the day,” she said. “Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
Lost in her hazel eyes, Max took a moment to register what she had said.
“What?” he said, before he caught himself. “Ah, crap. Sorry.”
Poppy’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I’ll forgive you for that, but only because you’re so damn hot. I asked if there was anything else you wanted to do? Anywhere you wanted to… go?”
There was a mild suggestiveness in her tone, but it was hard to read. As if she herself wasn’t sure if she was suggesting they go back somewhere more private or not.
Probably that would be taking things a little too quick for his liking, even though he was sorely tempted.
He really didn’t know what he was going to do after they both left Girdwood Springs.
He wanted nothing more than to spend more time with her, but he couldn’t exactly offer to follow her back to her hometown.
If this couldn’t become long-term, then he didn’t think he wanted to do something short-term. Because there was some weirdly possessive part of him, previously unknown, that knew that once he’d had her for even a short time, it would devastate him to let her go again.
He had to work out his feelings before he made any kind of move. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a fun day with Poppy, as a friend.
“I’d like to have a snowball fight,” he said suddenly, and watched with amusement as Poppy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’ve never actually had one – there wasn’t much snow where I grew up.”
At Poppy’s slightly dubious look, he steeled himself and added, “Though it would be a shame for such a beautiful face to get covered in snow.”
Her eyes widened even farther, if possible, happiness suffusing her features – but then they narrowed to slits. She pushed her sleeves up – though, given she was wearing a winter jacket, they fell right back down again – and pounded one fist into the palm of her other hand.
“Oh, you are on, mister,” she said, and before he could open his mouth to reply, she was off, running into a lightly wooded area off the side of the road. Before he could even blink, she had disappeared amongst the trees.
Well, I guess a snowball fight wasn’t too bad a suggestion after all, he thought, bemused, as he cautiously approached the trees. Apparently she has a competitive edge that –
The thought was cut off with a resounding thwack! and an explosion of snow that took his glasses clean off his face.
Yikes, he thought, his face stinging. Poppy is not playing around.
He picked up his glasses and slid them into his pocket – he needed to be able to see more clearly into the distance if he was going to get his revenge, anyway – and scooped up some snow, forming it into a ball. He didn’t have experience at this, but the concept seemed simple enough.
Straightening, he wound his arm back –
WHAM!
Another snowball, hurled even harder than the last one, hit him square on the nose.
Poppy’s slightly menacing laughter echoed from amongst the trees, and now it was Max’s turn to narrow his eyes. Clearly, this meant war.
He took a moment to think through his strategy a little. Poppy obviously knew more about this than he did, and had taken advantage of the tree cover. He was never going to get anywhere, out in the open like this.
Dashing toward the trees, he saw the next snowball arcing through the air just in time and brought up a defensive arm, the ball breaking up and showering harmlessly to the ground.
His heart was racing as he ducked behind a tree, before peering out cautiously. Sport had never been his thing – beyond sports he could play on his own, anyway – but he was starting to realize that Poppy wasn’t the only one here with a competitive streak.
He caught the tiniest glimpse of red, and, after a moment, realized that it was the edge of her beret peeking out from behind a bush.
A-ha! Got you.
He stepped out, bringing his arm back –
And promptly got creamed in the face by another snowball, coming from his right.
His head whipped around, just in time to see Poppy disappearing into the trees once more, her cackles fading into the gloom. Clearly the beret had been a decoy.
Max slid back behind the tree, cursing himself for falling for such an obvious trick and wondering what move he should make next. She had him at a definite disadvantage here, but he wasn’t willing to wave the white flag just yet.
He was just contemplating whether he should make a break for it or wait it out behind the tree when he heard the faintest crunching of snow coming from his left, the footsteps of someone moving lightly and quickly.
He spun around, just in time to see Poppy with her arm pulled back, ready to smash a snowball in his face from a few yards away.
Before he could properly comprehend the situation, he found himself pouncing forward without conscious thought, his own snowball poised and at the ready…
And shoved it straight down the back of her jacket.
Poppy’s shriek was ear-splitting, sending birds in the trees scattering in all directions with a mad flapping of wings.
“Dammit!” she cried, helpless laughter cutting in between an assortment of rather heated curses. “You play dirty, you bastard!”
“And you don’t, with those deceptive tactics?” he said with a smile. “My face still hurts!”
“Sorry,” she said, only half-apologetically, as she twisted about, trying to get the snow out.
“I used to be on the softball team when I was in school, so I guess I’ve had a bit of practice at throwing.
I haven’t had a snowball fight since I was a kid, though.
” She pulled her jacket off and then bent her arm behind her back, attempting to get the snow out from a different angle.
“It barely ever snows at all where I live now. Sometimes we get slush.”
She sounded sad about that, and Max couldn’t say he blamed her. Now that he’d been introduced to the joys of a snowy winter, he wasn’t sure that he could go back.
Although, he had to admit, a lot of those joys were just down to the fact that it was time spent with Poppy. The two of them could be in the middle of the Sahara, and he’d probably think it was the greatest thing ever.
“Would you mind…?” Poppy said, flapping her shirt about – her very tight-fitting shirt, Max couldn’t help but notice. “You’re the one who put it there, so you’re the one who should get it out.”
Her breath hitched a little on the words, and Max couldn’t say he blamed her – he was feeling a bit flustered himself. Was she inviting him to stick his hand up her shirt?
“Uh, if you’re sure…?” he said, and she nodded, biting her lip.
How could he refuse?
She pulled the shirt out, and he slid his hand up under the warm fabric, trying not to touch her skin too much. She let out a little gasp as he brushed her back, and he murmured an apology, before reaching higher.
There really wasn’t that much snow left at this point, and he was starting to doubt whether she really needed him to do this for her, but he dutifully brushed away the last little cold clumps. She shivered, and he didn’t think it was entirely from the cold.
“All done,” he said, his voice rough, and she lowered the shirt again.
She turned to face him, and he suddenly realized how close she was to him. Very, very close, in fact. And now, closer still, her lips parted slightly, breath coming fast.
He felt his own lips parting –
And then they were full of snow.
“You absolute monster!” he yelped – or he would have, if his mouth hadn’t been full of snow. It was more like yhh mmbslm msshtm, which was probably for the best, really.
“Now we’re even,” she laughed, dancing back out of his immediate range, while he spat and hacked the snow from his mouth.