Chapter 9
Poppy drummed her fingers against the kitchen table, tapping out a little tune and looking everywhere but at the hunky dreamboat sitting across from her.
Walking back through the snow with Max had been like something out of a fairy tale, even with their random encounter with the weird guy they’d run into…
but now, sitting at the table, the silence was less romantic and more awkward.
Without the action of walking, all that nervous energy had to go somewhere.
I can’t believe I kissed him.
Her mouth twitched into a smile before she could stop herself, and she coughed, covering her face until she had it under control. More or less.
I can’t believe he kissed me back, she thought dreamily. The hottest guy in the history of existence, and he kissed me back – and now I’m sitting here like a statue instead of taking advantage of the situation.
It felt like it would be rude, somehow, to crawl across the table, plonk herself on his lap, and kiss him silly until the chair fell backward and he ended up sprawled across the floor, his hair messed up and his glasses all ahoo. He was too proper for that kind of thing.
But then, she thought, heat rising, wouldn’t that make it all the more fun?
Probably it would. But still, maybe it would be worth her while to try a little romance first. She wasn’t all that used to it, only ever having dated men who weren’t interested in that kind of thing… but she thought that maybe Max would at least appreciate the attempt.
Steeling herself, she reached down into her purse, hesitating for a moment before making herself pull out the little gift-wrapped box that had been taunting her for the past few hours.
Okay. Either he’ll love it, or it’ll go down like a lead balloon. But I don’t want to die wondering.
She cleared her throat, and Max looked up, pulled from whatever contemplation he’d been lost within.
“I got you this,” she said as she thrust the box across the table, the words coming out in such a rush that she wasn’t sure he’d be able to understand.
“What?” he said, staring down at the box without taking it. “What for?”
It wasn’t quite the reaction she’d been hoping for, but to be honest, it was pretty much the reaction she’d expected.
Determined, she pressed on.
“Because you saved me from a head injury,” she said. “In the kitchen, when you caught me.”
Max shook his head. “You really didn’t need to –”
“And because it reminded me of you, and I wanted you to have it,” Poppy continued, her voice firm. “Because I like you, dammit, and are you going to take it already, or am I still going to be sitting here and holding it out to you tomorrow?”
“Ah. Okay. Sorry,” Max murmured, taking the gift and turning it over in his hands, examining it. Sadie at the gift shop had wrapped it in plain brown paper and tied a bow around it with string, but somehow the simplicity of it just seemed to work.
It probably helps that Sadie wraps presents like a pro, whereas my attempts look like a toddler did them, Poppy thought, fighting the urge to bite her nails as Max continued to inspect the wrapping for what seemed like a truly unreasonable amount of time.
At last, he slid the string off the gift, before carefully peeling the tape back.
Normally Poppy would’ve been impressed by the amount of care he was taking, but she was at serious risk of exploding from anticipation here. Couldn’t he be a bit more… well, rugged about it? Maybe tear the paper off with his teeth, or something?!
Perhaps there’s something to be said for caveman types, after all.
She heaved an internal sigh of relief once the paper was finally, finally gone… only to be hit with a wave of frustration as she realized that he still had to get past the gift box, which bore no indication of what was inside.
Have I just been emotionally cockblocked by a gift box?! she thought in despair. Come on!!
But maybe Max had realized her state of turmoil, because he opened the box at a non-glacial pace, his eyes widening as he looked inside.
“What do you think?” Poppy couldn’t help but ask, desperately trying not to look like she was fidgeting too much.
“It’s beautiful,” said Max, as he held the pen with an almost reverent air, turning it over to admire the deep swirls of wood. “I love it.”
Poppy tried not to be too obvious with her relief, but she was pretty sure she let out an audible phew. Still, Max seemed to be too entranced by the pen to notice, and Poppy’s heart sang at the sight of him enjoying something she had given him.
She watched as he unscrewed the pen and inserted the cartridge, before putting it back together again. He looked around the room, and Poppy quickly realized what he was looking for.
“Here,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out the notebook that Sadie had given her. “Courtesy of the fine people of Gunter’s Gulch.”
“Are you sure?” Max asked, but apparently the look she was giving him was enough to convince him not to argue. He flicked open the book and began to write, clearly experienced in the use of pens like this, the ink flowing smoothly.
It certainly doesn’t hurt that he has really nice handwriting, she thought dreamily as she watched – what little she’d seen last night had been hurried scrawl, whereas this was some pretty fancy cursive.
Maybe the whole ‘nineteenth-century poet’ thing really wasn’t all that far off.
Maybe he fell through a time portal, and has had to adapt to modern life.
A mental image of Max in an old-timey suit and cravat, wire-rimmed glasses perched upon his nose, popped into her head without warning, and Poppy had to resist the urge to fan herself. She wasn’t sure what he had against cravats, but she definitely wouldn’t object to seeing him in one!
And then out of one, the voice in her head added helpfully.
She leaned forward, intending only to get a better view of his handwriting – but suddenly he hunched forward a little and curled his arm around, clearly not wanting her to see what was on the page.
Surely he couldn’t have written anything too secret in the past ten seconds? His actions were having the opposite effect of what was surely intended – instead of putting her off, he was making her curious.
“What does it say?” she teased. “Is it Max luvs Poppy 4 eva? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“It’s not that,” he muttered, the slightest hint of pink adorably tingeing his cheeks.
“Then what is it? The more you try and hide it, the worse I’m going to assume it is. I’m imagining all sorts of things right now.”
To be honest, she couldn’t imagine what might have Max so embarrassed that he felt the need to hide it from her. Despite how close she felt to him, she really didn’t know him all that well yet. She was pretty sure that he wouldn’t have written anything too terrible, though.
With a pained sigh, Max uncovered the notebook and turned it around to face her.
Poppy leaned forward, feeling the anticipation coursing through her veins. What was it that had Max so agitated? What could he possibly be so desperate to hide?
Looking at the page, she frowned.
… Lavender sugar?
That was it? That was what he wanted to hide so badly?!
To be fair, it was a pretty weird thing to write.
It looked lovely, though, with its perfectly looping L, and she took a moment to admire it.
Maybe Max could get a job working on period dramas if he got sick of his current job, providing the handwriting whenever the brooding hero was writing his angst-ridden letter to his lady love.
Wait, she thought. Just what is it that Max does for a living again? I never did get to find out.
Before she could ask, Max spoke, sounding wretched enough that it was actually almost a little funny. Poppy didn’t think anyone needed to sound even remotely wretched for writing the words Lavender sugar.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got the lavender cinnamon donut at the bakery yesterday, and I guess it was still on my mind. I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“You did make it a little weird,” she laughed. “But in a good way! So I forgive you. Was the donut good?”
“Very,” said Max, his face relaxing into a smile. “You should get one while you’re here.”
“I just might,” she mused, looking back at the notebook. Up the top of the page, she could see that he’d also written Exquisite chicken drumstick.
She shook her head, laughing quietly.
You’re a strange one, Max, she thought. You’re lucky that I like strange.
“I meant it, you know,” she said suddenly, her confidence surging unexpectedly. “When I said I liked you.”
Max looked a little startled, but then he smiled once more – a little bashfully, which set her heart fluttering.
He’s too charming! I need to ravish him already!
“I like you, too,” he said. “I mean, not just as a friend. Which I’m hoping is what you also meant.”
Okay, she thought. We’re finally getting down to business. I’ve never been so nervous about making a move in my life!
“That is what I meant,” she said. “I’d really like to, ah, get to know you better, if you get my drift.”
She cringed internally, but Max just nodded, his expression serious, as if she’d said something deeply profound.
“Me, too,” he agreed. “But not just as a one-off thing.”
Her stomach fluttered in anticipation. Did that mean that he wanted something more long-term as well? She hardly dared to hope.
It wasn’t at all like her, to move this fast on getting serious…
or, really, to get serious at all. Normally she would just be looking for a fling in this kind of situation, especially given the crappy week she’d just had.
A little fun, a little boost to her self-esteem after the crushing blow of losing her job.
But there was something about Max that just felt right. She couldn’t have described it if she’d tried, beyond saying that it was like he was a missing puzzle piece that was made just for her, and she’d never even realized that it had been missing until now.
She wanted to make sure that she didn’t throw it away. No matter the obstacles that would make things difficult, she was determined to make it work.
“So, you want to…”
Go steady, she almost said, before reminding herself that she wasn’t a thirteen-year-old.
“… Try to do it long-distance?” she finished instead. “Would that work, do you think?”
Max reached across the table, taking her hand in his, and Poppy almost sighed in happiness at the wonderful warmth of his touch.
“I’m happy to try it if you are,” he said. “I actually move around a lot, so it would be easy for me to come visit fairly often, if I wouldn’t be imposing.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing!” she blurted out, before reining herself in. She’d been about to invite him to move in with her, but that would be taking things way too fast. She hadn’t even known the guy for twenty-four hours!
Still, the thought was awfully tempting. Waking up every morning to Max’s face… well, she’d probably stay unemployed forever, if she had to choose between snuggling up to Max or trudging off to work every day. She honestly didn’t know how she’d be able to peel herself away from him.
Geri would probably be pretty annoyed if Max moved straight in, anyway. She ruled the roost, and visitors were allowed under her roof only under sufferance.
“Oh,” Poppy said, a thought occurring to her. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
“Cats?” Max blinked. “No, no allergies. How many do you have?”
“Just the one, but dealing with her sometimes feels like dealing with ten cats at once.”
Max laughed. “Isn’t that just all cats?”
Poppy laughed back. “Maybe so. Still, she’s the jealous type. You might have to earn her love.”
Max bowed his head solemnly. “I shall do my utmost.”
His face became more genuinely serious, and he ran his thumb along the back of her hand, sending a delicious shiver down her spine.
“I really do want to get to know you better, Poppy,” he said. “Although I already feel like I’ve known you forever.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, happiness coursing throughout her body and warming her from the inside out. “I can’t explain it, but I feel like…”
You’re the one, she wanted to say.
Instead, she squeezed his hand – and he seemed to get the message, because he leaned across the table, brushing her lips ever so gently with his own.
Poppy sighed with pleasure, closing her eyes briefly at his touch. She would never get sick of this – she thought she could kiss him all day, and never get bored.
Still, there was something she wanted even more than this…
Pulling back regretfully, she opened her eyes, looking at his gorgeous face.
“Should we…?” she asked coyly, angling her head toward the door leading back to her room. As much as she wanted to take him right here on the table, she didn’t really think that it would be fair on whichever poor guest next wanted to use the kitchen.
Max’s eyes widened, and he seemed about to say yes, when he visibly stopped himself. He hesitated a moment, seeming to be finding the right words, before he spoke.
“There’s one thing I want to let you know first,” he said, his voice way too serious for a guy who was basically being offered a supremely horny woman on a platter.
“Is it so important that it can’t wait?” she asked, trying to keep the impatience from her voice. She needed Max, and she needed him now. Trying to make her have a conversation and use her words was just plain cruel.
He paused, before nodding. “I think so, yes.”
“Too much hesitation. It can’t be that important,” Poppy declared, the slightest hint of worry worming its way into her mind. Was he having second thoughts? “Unless it’s a literal matter of life and death, I don’t want to know about it right now.”
Max opened his mouth, again seeming to hesitate as he thought about what to say.
You really do overthink things too much, Poppy wanted to say. Instead, what she said was, “Boom! Too slow. You’re coming with me.”
She stood up, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him to his feet, in the full knowledge that he could easily stop her if he wanted to.
But apparently he didn’t want to, because he let her drag him across the kitchen and through her apartment door.
As she fumbled the door closed behind her, she suddenly found herself pinned against the wall by Max’s tall, muscular body, impossibly warm, impossibly close. His thigh brushed up between her legs, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Two can play at this game,” he murmured, and there was a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t thought him capable of.
“Oh, yeah?” she breathed. “Prove it.”
He leaned in closer until his mouth brushed her neck, his voice low, teasing, dangerous. “Don’t say things you might regret later,” he whispered.
Poppy shuddered under his touch, deliriously happy. “I could never regret it,” she breathed. “Never.”
She pulled him down with her onto the rug, and then all other thoughts fled her mind.