CHAPTER 33
‘I am feeling very mutton-dressed-as-lamb,’ Poppy announced, tugging at her neckline. She was wearing a periwinkle-blue dress with a cowl neck and mid-length hem—borrowed from Dani, of course. (Her own wardrobe was almost exclusively milk-stained lycra.)
‘Hon, you look smoking,’ replied Dani, pulling her heel out of the mud as they wove through the car park to the racetrack entrance. ‘You’re just not used to getting your girls out.’
Poppy looked down at her chest. Breastfeeding had enlarged her boobs to basketball proportions and now they’d shrunk back to limp windsocks. She also had a sneaking suspicion they were now different sizes but she’d avoided measuring for fear of confirming the worst. So yes, it was fair to say the girls had been hidden for the last seven months—the Thursday afternoon interlude notwithstanding.
‘I can’t believe you convinced me not to bring a coat,’ whined Poppy.
‘It’ll be warm in the tent,’ insisted Dani, who knew nothing about Orange’s climate. ‘Besides, that colour makes your eyes look like laser beams, Pops. I’ve always said you need to harness that laser power more. Your eyes were so wasted with Patrick and his one-dimensional ideas of hotness. I am still not over the fact he chose Gisele Bündchen as his hall pass. Like, could he be any more clichéd? He was definitely no Tom Brady.’
‘Definitely not the GOAT,’ Poppy confirmed.
‘But in some ways, very similar to a goat,’ mused Dani.
‘For example, his voice,’ said Poppy.
‘And … penis size?’ proffered Dani.
They cackled like two witches. Poppy’s heart felt so nourished after having spent the whole morning with Dani, with no small children to interrupt their frenetically zigzagging conversations, which had so far involved lots of cathartic bitching about Patrick. According to Dani, he was still living in the same apartment and had the same job, just partying more than usual. The thought made Poppy’s head hurt. He was always drinking and staying out late even when they were together. How was he finding the energy to do more?
The only topic they’d relished more than Patrick was James. How good was he in bed? (Amazing, obviously.) Was he messed up about his ex? (Well, apparently.) Was he likely to break Poppy’s heart? (Of course not, because Poppy’s heart had nothing to do with their recent bedroom shenanigans. That had been an animal instinct thing.)
Dear old reliable Dani—ever the assertive and confident decision-maker with the voice projection to prove it—had taken a black-and-white view of the whole situation. They should either never have sex again or Have The Chat.
‘I can’t demand we’re official after one random hook-up!’ Poppy had argued while sitting at her kitchen bench that morning. ‘That would be so cringe !’ There were rules about this stuff. Even she knew that.
‘Pops, the guy sounds like a heartbreaker. He’s already disappeared on you once—who’s to say that won’t happen again? Labelling things might protect you.’
Dani munched on her croissant and passed a jam-slathered crust to Maeve in the highchair. ‘And you should probably have the chat before he touches your boob and milk squirts on him. How are you going to deal with those kinds of shitshows if you don’t know where you stand? Although, no judgement from me if you’ve already told him your boobs are off limits. Mine were a no-man’s-land for like ten months after Nella was born.’
‘Really?’ Poppy pulled the sticky crust away from Maeve and passed her a teething rusk. ‘My nips are like leathery Tarzan’s feet these days. Zero sensory capacity. He could touch my boobs all he liked and I’d hardly notice.’ (She would definitely notice.)
Dani snorted. ‘I’m just saying—’
‘Okay, I get it,’ Poppy relented. ‘We need to cool off.’
Dani was probably right. What would have happened if they’d moved from the kitchen bench to the bedroom all those months ago? Would he have stayed the night? Would she have wanted him to? The thought of him waking to her unclipping her maternity bra at 3 am was so blergh. Maeve let out a yelp and Poppy grudgingly passed back the jammy croissant.
‘I’m not trying to pressure you into making a decision, Pops. I just want you to be careful.’
‘I know, Dan.’ She sighed and moved the jam jar out of Maeve’s eyeline. ‘That’s why I’ll blame you if I’m celibate for the rest of my life.’
‘Hon, I’ll buy you a new vibrator. You’ll thank me in the long run.’
An hour later as Dani sang a Miley Cyrus medley in the shower and Maeve slept off her raspberry jam high, Poppy heard a quiet knock at the front door. She opened it to find James standing there, looking offensively handsome in his chinos and navy blazer.
‘I was trying not to wake Maeve,’ he said, pointing at the doorbell he’d chosen not to ring.
Poppy smiled. He was a good egg.
‘I thought you and Dani might want these for the races,’ he said, pulling two paper wristbands from his blazer pocket. ‘Gets you free entry everywhere. A friend had some spare so I grabbed them for you.’
‘Thanks,’ said Poppy, careful not to brush his fingertips as she took them from him. Just seeing him was numbing her brain to almost-paralysis. She needed to Not Think About His Naked Body. God, that was hard when he was looking so delicious in those slim-fit chinos, and his lips were so warm and firm … good god, she needed to simmer down. Boundaries!
She swallowed and ploughed ahead. ‘We’re friends, right?’
‘Of course,’ said James, his eyes narrowing as though trying to X-ray her. ‘I don’t drop off free wristbands to my enemies.’
‘I mean, we’re going to keep being friends, aren’t we? Even though we’ve … well, you know. I’m just trying to say …’ She paused, trying to find words that conveyed how reluctantly she was making this decision. ‘I really want to keep being friends,’ she said in a rush, ‘but I can’t escalate anything right now.’
The faintest trace of something flitted across his face and was gone just as quickly. ‘Poppy, I love hanging out with you—’
‘Oh, thank god,’ she interrupted. ‘I love hanging out too, and I didn’t want anything to jeopardise that. Not that the other day wasn’t great—it was amazing. I mean, you know that, you were there, you heard me. Oh sorry, that sounded inappropriate, but yeah, I needed to know that we’re on the same page. The friends page. Obviously.’
James’s brow was slightly creased and his always-about-to-smile lips were definitely not smiling. ‘If you say so,’ he said slowly, his eyes still X-raying hers. ‘But I reserve the right to tease you about your horrible taste in TV.’
Poppy smiled. ‘I’d expect nothing less,’ she said, her anxiety fading. Phew. That had been okay. Thank god he was so nice.
Now, walking into the races, she couldn’t wait to see him, which was completely normal for two friends who’d happened to have great sex one time, right? She was so excited for Dani to meet him and she desperately wanted them to hit it off.
They arrived at the gate and flashed their wristbands to the friendly volunteers then meandered to their tent. Inside, Bunnings trestle tables groaned under the huge quantity of food. Underneath the tables were tubs full of ice and alcohol. There was enough for a small army. Dani let out a happy sigh. ‘All you can eat and drink, hey? I think I’m going to like it here.’
‘Poppy, hey!’ called April, waving to them. She was dressed in a multicoloured jumpsuit. ‘I’m so stoked you’re here.’ She gave Poppy a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘And you must be Dani,’ she said, bringing Dani in for a hug too.
‘A fellow hugger!’ exclaimed Dani, wrapping her arms around April. ‘We’re going to get on swimmingly! I love your jumpsuit.’
‘Very breastfeeding-friendly,’ April boasted. ‘Not that anyone’s getting near my boobs today unless it’s for free drinks. Today it’s MILFs Gone Wild, am I right?’
‘Yes!’ shrieked Dani. ‘I’m so glad you’ve found some good influences here, Pops. I feel much more comfortable about your rural relocation now.’
The three women wandered deeper into the tent to find an open bottle of champagne. Everyone around them—lots of mothers’ group connections—was dressed up, fascinators dusted off, heels sinking into the turf. It was just as cold in the tent as out of it, so Poppy committed to heating herself via champagne—a risky manoeuvre, admittedly, but Dani and April were doing the same.
Together they formed a stronghold around the canapé table and slipped from one hilarious story to the next. In April, Dani had found a soul sister. Poppy watched them, mesmerised. If you overlooked the fact Dani was a five-eleven Filipina and April was a tiny redhead, they were basically the same person.
‘Fashions on the Field,’ said Dani, yanking the cork from their next bottle of champagne. ‘Discuss.’
‘Horrible,’ said April.
‘Tasteless,’ agreed Poppy.
‘Gendered, archaic, possibly single-handedly propping up the fast-fashion industry, but also ,’ said April, ‘if you think about it deeply , like as a casual observer casually observing dudes in hair gel and chicks with spray tans, Fashions on the Field is unequivocally the best .’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said Dani.
‘The white-tie-black-shirt-with-fedora look?’ said April. ‘Genius.’
Dani: ‘And with white-framed sunnies? Chef’s kiss.’
‘Coincidentally,’ said April, ‘my grandma wears white Oakleys.’
Dani: ‘Does she look rad?’
April: ‘No, she looks like a speed dealer.’
Poppy choked on her mini quiche and they all convulsed into giggles. Listening to these women shit-talk was like Christmas. Poppy hadn’t laughed so hard in forever.
The five horse races occurred between 2.20 pm and 4.47 pm apparently. Poppy spied one briefly from a distance, registering the thundering of hooves and a slice of colourful satin as the horses sped past a roaring crowd, and promptly turned back to her conversation. Everyone knew the races weren’t actually for the races.
As dusk fell after the final presentation and Dani and April went to source another bottle, Poppy swiped another mini quiche from the table (possibly her thirtieth of the day—they were buttery bombs of eggy-bacony deliciousness, and thank goodness, because she needed to soak up a lot of champagne). She was mid-chew when she felt a long arm loop around her shoulders.
‘Hey, you,’ said James thickly. His body was warm despite the chill and he smelled of aftershave and beer—not an unpleasant combination.
Wobbly on her heels, Poppy readjusted into his embrace. ‘Hey, yourself.’ She swallowed the last bite of quiche. ‘How’s your testosterone-fuelled afternoon been?’
‘Superb. We got it catered by KFC and one bloke’s dad is a horse whisperer so we’ve been making money on the punts all day. I’m fifty-seven dollars up.’
Poppy raised an eyebrow.
‘I only bet in increments of two dollars,’ he explained. ‘Low risk, low reward. I’ll never be Warren Buffett but I’ll never be broke either. Some women would find that a turn-on.’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Poppy tried to shove him but she was trapped under his heavy forearm. ‘How many drinks have you had?’
‘A few.’ He grinned sheepishly and leaned in to whisper in her ear. ‘I missed you.’
Poppy felt her insides vaporise to dust. He missed her . Her self-control around this man was laughable.
‘Who is this?’ demanded Dani, reappearing at Poppy’s side. She pointed an accusatory finger. ‘Are you James?’
James blinked. ‘My reputation precedes me.’ He moved his arm from Poppy’s shoulders and held it out to shake Dani’s hand.
Dani ignored it. ‘Aha! You are just what I imagined.’ She turned to Poppy. ‘I can see what you mean.’
‘What do you mean? What does she mean?’ He looked at Poppy quizzically.
Please make Dani shut up , she prayed. Please make her shut up . She had described James in so many ways to her best friend, this was a real game of Russian roulette they were playing. Selfish douche with a pole up his arse? Yep, she’d called him that. Outrageously hot and possibly the best sex she’d ever had? Cringe, yep, she’d said that too.
Dani cleared her throat. ‘She said you were’— please pleasepleasepleaseplease —‘tall.’
Poppy almost fainted with relief. Thank god for beautiful, precious, clever, clever Dani.
‘You must be Dani,’ he said, smiling. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’
Dani looked at him, her eyes blazing with something Poppy couldn’t quite place. Her best friend could be terrifying when she wanted to. ‘Pleasure’s all mine,’ she said curtly. ‘I hear you’re still obsessed with your ex.’
James choked on his beer and Poppy felt the wind rush out of her. There was the Dani sucker punch.
‘Where did you hear that?’ asked James, his eyes darting between the two women.
Dani looked pointedly at Poppy.
‘You did say that you weren’t over her,’ Poppy said.
James turned his whole body towards Poppy. ‘When?’ He looked properly confused.
‘You said you broke up, she took the dog and you were still not over it.’
Dani nodded and crossed her arms.
To Poppy’s surprise, James began to laugh. It started small, a crinkle of his lips, but next thing she knew he was doubled over shaking and wiping tears from his eyes.
‘What?’ demanded Poppy. This was not just bewildering; this was embarrassing. Why was he laughing?!
James draped his arm around Poppy and rested his head against hers. ‘I hate to disappoint you ladies,’ he wheezed, ‘but I am one hundred per cent over my ex. When I said I wasn’t over it, I meant I wasn’t over the dog.’ His face suddenly became serious and he straightened up. ‘She took my dog and I was devastated; I still am. We got him when he was a puppy but I felt so guilty about calling off the engagement that I let her have him. I miss him so much. That’s why I got Eileen.’ He turned to Dani, looking genuinely apologetic. ‘Sorry—I know that story’s not as juicy.’
Poppy could sense the same antennae pricking up in her best friend’s brain. He broke off the engagement? He wasn’t on the rebound? Oh, they would have so much to discuss tonight!
‘April’s gone to the ladies,’ announced Dani. ‘I’m gonna go too. You wanna come, Pops?’
Poppy looked between Dani and James and considered her bladder and the new information muddling through the quagmire of her brain. ‘I’m okay, thanks, Dan,’ she said.
Dani fixed her eyes on James and readjusted her clutch under her arm. ‘Don’t go anywhere, James,’ she commanded. ‘We can get to know each other later.’
As she stalked off, James let out a low whistle. ‘What the hell have you told her about me?’
Poppy grimaced. ‘In summary, everything. From the car park incident to now.’
‘I see,’ said James, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘So she hates me?’
‘She did at one point. In solidarity.’
‘Did you try to change her mind? Did you at least tell her about my DIY skills?’
Poppy laughed. ‘She was unimpressed you didn’t finish the job.’
James’s eyes glinted and a grin crept over his face. ‘But I finished the most important job. Twice.’ He watched her intently as her cheeks flushed at the memory; it seemed to embolden him. He slid his arm down to her waist and pulled her towards him. ‘You look amazing,’ he murmured into her neck.
Poppy was suddenly struggling to breathe. She could feel a hardness in his trousers. ‘We decided we’d be friends, remember?’
‘Circumstances have changed.’ James’s voice was low and gravelly.
‘What circumstances?’
‘That dress, for starters.’ His thumb was tracing circles on her lower back and Poppy hoped he couldn’t feel her shiver. What was she thinking, wearing silk?! Save for a few nanoparticles of fabric, she was basically naked under his touch.
He was massaging her waist, edging her closer to him with every flex of his fingertips. She was forgetting to breathe, her nipples were hardening and he was smiling like he knew the power he had over her. She didn’t know if she wanted to sink deeper into this dream or yank herself out of it.
Think, breathe, think, breathe, think, breathe . Oh god, that was too much to remember right now. She tried to focus her thoughts.
‘Should we go for a walk?’ he breathed.
Poppy felt a bolt of heat rocket up her spine. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting?! She was not a horny teenager; she was almost middle-aged! They couldn’t do something like that, not here, not in a public place. Could they? This was really teetering on the edge of that friend zone.
Think, think, think . ‘No,’ she whispered back, surprised she had the strength. She pulled away from him fractionally, steadying herself. ‘Dani doesn’t know anyone else. I should wait for her here.’
Poppy jerked her eyes away and took a gulp of champagne to wash out the impure thoughts flooding her central cortex. Friends , they had decided to be friends . It was proving very difficult to remember this.
‘She knows April,’ James reminded her.
He moved his mouth to her neck, his lips drifting towards her earlobe. They were basically already making out. Poppy remembered vaguely she should be embarrassed by the PDA but she couldn’t make her brain work. At least if they went for a walk she could extricate herself from this blatant public-groping situation.
‘Okay,’ she heard herself say. She needed a bucket of cold water poured over her, stat. This was Orange, for Christ’s sake. Friends of her parents would be here. She needed to pull it together. She wrenched herself away from James and took a deep breath. ‘Where are we going?’
James reached for her but she dodged him and picked up another mini quiche. She racked her brain for somewhere non-sexual they could go. ‘Let’s go to the stables,’ she suggested.
‘Aren’t you sick of horses yet?’ asked James. He picked up three mini quiches and wolfed one down.
‘Ha!’ laughed Poppy. ‘I haven’t even seen a horse today. I have perceived a horse in the distance. But could I tell you what colour said horse was? No. Could I confirm if it had four legs? No.’
‘Then we’re going to the stables,’ James said. ‘You can’t go to the races without seeing a horse. It’s unAustralian.’
He led her out of the tent, through the throngs of racegoers and around a brick pavilion. The sky was a swirl of lilac fading into blue as they stepped over crushed beer cans and plastic cups, and came to the quiet of the stables. The air smelled of wet hay and horses, and the din of the crowd was muffled. The horses were majestically quiet. They were tall and muscular, their manes gleaming in the fading evening light. A hilarious thought occurred to Poppy.
‘What?’ James asked, noticing her smile.
‘Your spirit animal is definitely a horse.’
‘Why is that?’
‘They’re tall. Great hair. Very …’
‘Muscly?’
Poppy climbed up onto one of the fences to peer over. ‘I was going to say hungry. You eat weirdly fast.’
James came up behind her. ‘I’ve had a lifetime of practice. How’s the view up there?’
‘Excellent.’ She sat on the top railing and turned towards him. ‘Quite the novelty being taller than you. Are you feeling emasculated?’
He came over and put his hands on the railing on either side of her, only inches from her butt. ‘I’m feeling turned on, if you must know.’
Poppy felt a shiver reverberate down from her navel. She slid off the railing so she was standing centimetres from his chest. She steadied her breath and grinned. ‘Lucky I’m so short then, since we’re such good friends .’ She ducked under his arm and walked into the stables pavilion, feeling his gaze on her back. He chuckled and followed.
‘Where are you taking me, McKellar?’
‘No idea,’ said Poppy, wandering deeper into the building where the lighting was definitely not friend-zone-y. Most of the pens were empty, the chaff bags hanging untouched from the railings. She reached the end of the corridor and turned around to find James standing in front of her. The light was perilously dim, heightening her senses. There was a fizzing in her abdomen she was trying to ignore.
‘Hi,’ said Poppy, rooted to the ground.
‘Hi,’ he responded.
‘Hi,’ she said again. Goddamn that malfunctioning brain of hers.
‘Hi,’ he said, playing along. He was making her squirm on purpose, she could tell. His eyes were slightly crinkled and his lower lip had shifted to the left; he was clearly enjoying this.
‘Should we go?’ asked Poppy.
He smiled. ‘No.’
‘No?’ Poppy squeaked. There was a war going on inside her. Her brain was screaming: Remind him we’re friends! Her traitorous body was telling her mind to shut the eff up. This guy could melt her resolve like butter.
‘I was thinking,’ began James, closing the space between them, ‘that the best thing about being friends with someone is that you can change your mind.’
‘About what?’ whispered Poppy, her adrenal glands on the verge of combusting.
‘This dress, for example. I used to love it, but now I think I’d rather get rid of it.’ He pressed himself against her and his hand found the slit in her dress.
A tiny moan escaped Poppy and she arched against him as his hand slid up her thigh. Body was triumphing over brain.
Their stomachs met and goosebumps rippled across her skin, a heavy want was gathering behind her ribs and belly button and all the places they were touching. James’s other hand skimmed over the silk to hold her waist and he shifted her against the wall. Poppy levered against it to push back into him. This was probably not a good idea, but hell, she’d come this far.
Her breath hitched and she heard his do the same. Her heart was drumming in her chest as his hands manoeuvred the silk of her dress higher and higher until he could feel the lace of her underwear.
‘Fuck being friends,’ he whispered as he ran his hands over her thighs.
Poppy tried to argue but all that came out was a breathless whimper. She wound her hands into the fabric of his shirt, tugging it free from his waistband. James’s lips parted hers with the lightest of touches and his tongue slid over hers. His hands skimmed up and down her torso, gliding from breast to thigh and back, and her body yielded under his touch, desperate for more. She pressed herself against him and his hands rose to her jaw, angling her mouth to his as he kissed her deeper. His fingertips were warm and strong, and they were somehow everywhere.
Poppy tugged the blazer off his shoulders letting it fall onto the dusty floor. She slid her hands up his back, feeling the resistance of his muscles. She caught the hem of his shirt and prised it up. He finished the job, pulling it over his head to reveal his broad shoulders. One hand gripped her waist and the other moved up to the lace of her underwear. His fingers lingered on her outer thigh, suggesting everything but forcing nothing.
James’s inky gaze narrowed in on her, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he moved both hands to her zipper, and carefully undid it. The fabric bunched uselessly at her waist. They were half-naked in a dusty hay-strewn stable and nothing in the world had ever felt sexier.
Ravenously, Poppy lunged at his belt.
‘Are you sure?’ whispered James, his hands skimming her back, searching for her bra hook.
Poppy arched into him, guiding his hands there. ‘You’re asking that now?!’ They were already at criminal levels of public indecency.
He laughed. ‘I failed on the friends thing.’ He pulled away slightly as he moved her bra strap down her arm, his dark eyes following with an almost giddy sheen.
In the distance, a bell sounded and a voice carried over a PA system. ‘First bus leaves in ten minutes.’
Poppy’s stomach dropped. ‘Shit!’ she cried, jerking away from him. ‘Fuck, I’m supposed to be on that bus. With Dani. Fuck, I’d forgotten all about her. What time is it?’
James still had his hands around her back, her bra was half off. ‘Do you really need to go?’ he asked.
Poppy face-palmed herself. ‘Yes,’ she groaned. ‘I’m such a shit friend. How long have we been here?’
James squinted at his watch through the dark. ‘Not that long. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t haven’t dragged you here.’
‘Not your fault,’ muttered Poppy, suddenly furious with herself. She scrambled to put her dress back on properly. ‘I’d better run.’
‘Blame it on me,’ said James, picking up his shirt and shaking off the dust.
‘Thanks, but I might pretend I was knocked unconscious by a horse or something.’
‘Hey,’ said James, catching her hand before she could run off. He planted a strong kiss on her lips. ‘I meant what I said. Fuck being friends.’
Poppy turned towards the door. ‘We’ll chat later,’ she called. She hitched up her dress and began jogging away as quickly as her chunky heels would allow.