Chapter 12
JETT
“It’s probably not as good as you make,” I say as Poppy takes the first sip of her tea.
She’s all curled up in the corner of the couch. Her hair is messy from being in her toque all day. But she looks cute in her leggings and oversized sweatshirt, her wool socks pulled up on her slender calves.
“It’s great,” she answers.
I turn around to the basket on the other side of the living room and reach for a blanket to cover her up with. Then, I find my beer and switch on the gas fireplace before sitting down next to her.
I don’t say anything, because I can tell that Poppy is tired, and I’m very aware that this situation is bizarre.
Her, having to stay here, the fact that in public we’re supposed to act like a couple, but behind closed doors, she’s still just Poppy to me. She was like a pesky little sister a lot of the time. That’s how Hudson and the rest of my brothers saw her, anyways.
Poppy is sitting opposite me with her feet tucked up underneath her, the blanket covering her lap. She cups the mug I gave her in both hands, and I watch her bring it to her lips. Those soft, plush lips that I wanted so badly to press mine into earlier.
It would have been so easy to lean down and put my mouth on hers after my run today. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it being Poppy’s first kiss.
“What’s it like?” Poppy asks me, lowering her mug back down into her lap. “Going off those big jumps? Isn’t it terrifying?”
I weigh her words for a moment.
Mostly, I get a rush that feels like a high. Pure, unfiltered adrenaline. Everything in my field of vision is high definition, colours are more saturated. I’m more aware of everything around me and within me, even the blood coursing through my veins. But ever since last year…
“It is a bit terrifying,” I admit.
I’ve never said that I’m scared out loud before. I’ve always put on a cocky, arrogant persona, but truthfully? I don’t feel as invincible as I once did. I’m one trick closer to retirement every competition, every jump I take where my knee screams at me on landing.
“Ever since I hurt myself last year, I think that every jump could be my last. I came so close to never being able to ski again and I’m very aware that it could all be taken away with one bad choice on the hill. One bad landing could be the end of my career.”
I think about quitting more these days, but I refuse to do it until I win a World Cup.
My family has sacrificed too much to get me here to not go all the way.
I think about all the money my family invested into my training when I was starting out, how much time Grady spent driving me to and from the mountain every weekend, how much Hudson gave up so my family could support me.
“That seems like a reasonable fear to have,” Poppy says, and there’s a bit of relief that comes with having told her, getting it out in the open. “Geez, I would be terrified going down the hill. I think I would cry the whole way down.”
“You’ve never skied before?” I ask her, my eyebrows lifting in surprise.
Poppy’s eyes go wide. “Oh god, no. Do I look like someone who has participated in any sports at all?”
“C’mon, Poppy. You’ve lived in the Rockies your entire life and you’re telling me you’ve never been on a ski hill,” I say, aghast.
Skiing is almost like a way of life here. Most people have tried it at least recreationally. It’s one of the best parts about the winter in the mountains.
“What’s so unbelievable about that?” She laughs and sets her mug down on my coffee table so she can hold up an arm and flex a bicep. She pokes at it. “Look. Nothing. I don’t have an athletic muscle in my body.”
She’s cute.
My lips tug upward into a smile, and I huff a laugh. “Then we can forget about our relationship looking believable.”
Poppy cocks her head at me, her brows pinching together.
“I mean, I know we’re not exactly similar…” she starts.
“We’re complete opposites, Pops. That’s not a bad thing. But I do worry what people will think if my girlfriend, my wife, doesn’t even know how to ski.”
She sighs.
“You’re right.” The expression on her face almost looks defeated, as if this is the end of the line for us, as if she’s thinking that we’ll have to go back to square one. Back to the drawing board.
“We’ll just have to fix it,” I say, my smile twisting into a cheeky smirk.
Her face shifts from discouraged to absolutely horrified.
“No way,” she snaps, and then whatever fierceness was in her voice is gone, eyes cast downward. “If you’re so concerned about how we look as a couple, why didn’t you kiss me today?”
She plays with her hands in her lap, staring at them as if she’s never seen them before.
“Poppy…” I murmur. Something in my chest twinges, because even though I stand by my decision, it was so fucking hard not to. I shouldn’t have wanted to kiss Poppy the way I did today. “It would have been—”
“My first,” she finishes for me. “I’m aware. You don’t have to remind me.”
“I just didn’t want to—” I start, before Poppy cuts me off again.
“I am a consenting adult, you know. I knew we were going to have to kiss today, and I was fully on board. I signed up for this willingly.”
“If you’d let me finish—” I reach my foot across the couch and nudge her leg with it. “—that’s not why I didn’t kiss you.”
Poppy looks up at me now with a quizzical expression.
“None of this is normal, Poppy. You’re sacrificing so much already for the café, I won’t have you sacrifice your first kiss, too.”
“It’s fine, Jett. I was starting to think it might never happen for me, anyway,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.
“I don’t do anything normally, and I’m okay with that.
I’m quirky, and dating for me isn’t the same as it is for anyone else.
Trust me, I have no idea what I’m doing with any of it. This is the best I’m going to get.”
“Maybe you just need a coach,” I offer. “Consider me your dry run.”
“What, like, practice dating with you?”
“Exactly. We’re pretending to date anyway, we’re going to be married. We can turn our publicity stunts into lessons.”
She tilts her head back and forth, considering my proposal.
“You can practice with me.”
“And the kissing part of it all?”
“That’ll be the first order of business,” I say. “We will have to kiss, eventually. I know that. And you deserve to have a good one.”
Brooke was clear that our wedding had to be publicized. This is about fixing my reputation after all, and she made sure to emphasize that fact in several text messages scolding me for not sticking to the plan.
I’ve left them all unanswered. At least this way, I can ensure that Poppy’s first kiss isn’t a rushed and sweaty one in front of thousands of people.
Even I know that a first kiss is important. I may not believe in relationships, in letting yourself get attached to someone, but the rush when your lips meet theirs, the excitement and disbelief that it’s happening… it’s a once in a lifetime experience.
“We might not have another opportunity to practice until the wedding.”
“We’ll have plenty of opportunities,” I counter.
Her eyes flare, something sparking behind her dark irises.
“It may not give you butterflies. It may have to be with your fake fiancé. But mark my words, Poppy, I’ll be damned if you don’t have a first kiss to remember.”
Her gaze lingers on mine for a moment, making every inch of skin tingle where it lands. It’s unnerving that her eyes have the power to make me feel like this.
I get up from the couch to get rid of my empty beer bottle, but Poppy’s gaze is still on me, heating the back of my neck as I stride into the kitchen.
“So, when are you thinking?” She asks, and I don’t miss the shaky hint of nerves behind her question.
I rinse the bottle out, swishing the water before dumping it in the sink. Setting it down with a clink, I turn around and lean against the counter, crossing my arms.
My mouth slides into a grin. “Oh, no. You can’t know when it’s going to happen.”
Even from here, I can see the subtle pink shade starting to creep up her neck. I can’t decipher the feeling that flickers to life in my gut.
We’ve only agreed to practice dating, but I want to flirt with her like this is real.
“That’s part of the excitement.”
Poppy swallows thickly but doesn’t say anything. I clear my throat and move the subject along before I’ve wandered too far into dangerous territory. This is fake for a reason. I have the scandal to sort out, a World Cup to win, and any feelings would be a dangerous distraction.
The moment is interrupted by my phone ringing, and when I look at it, Brooke’s name is lighting up my screen. I hold it up to show Poppy before answering.
“What’s up, Brooke?” I answer, and without saying hello, she launches into the reason for her call. Brooke doesn’t beat around the bush, it’s one thing I like about her.
“You saw the article,” she says it as a statement, not as a question, and my heartbeat rises into my throat.
“No.”
“No, that’s right. You didn’t, because you haven’t answered any of my texts.”
Walked right into that one.
“What’s the article, Brooke?” I ask, even though she’s already started telling me before I can finish my sentence.
“It was just released, about your win today and the events after,” Brooke explains. My moment with Poppy, she means. “Jason called. Chase isn’t happy.”
Shit.
“What did he say?” I’m not fully understanding why he wouldn’t be happy about this. This was orchestrated for a reason; it was planned carefully. Sure, I went a bit rogue, but there’s no doubt Poppy and I looked like a couple in love.
“It’s not good. They obviously want to sponsor you, they believe in you. But they’re under a lot of pressure right now, and they got the impression you were parading another one of your floozies around. The plan backfired.”
“Are you calling me with a solution?” I ask. That’s the thing about Brooke, she almost always has a solution, and right now that’s all I care about. Poppy is staring at me from the opposite end of the couch, worry lining her face.
“We need to move the wedding up. It needs to happen ASAP.”
My stomach churns, all the doubts and questions about this plan threatening to make me nauseous. I thought we’d have more time, and now I’m wishing we did. Poppy will get thrown to the wolves, never having dated before, and now jumping right into this marriage with no easing in.
I glance over at her, my gaze snagging on the sweatshirt she’s wearing. It has the Thistle + Thorne logo on the front, a coffee cup with tendrils of steam that turn into branches with tiny leaves. It reminds me of why she’s doing this, what she stands to lose.
“What’s that going to do?” I ask, because right now, I can’t see how a few weeks difference is going to change anything with Nuclear, and because if I present the idea to Poppy, I want to know what we’re agreeing to.
“Jason has already primed Chase and told him that Poppy is different. That we have intel that she means more to you,” Brooke explains. “But we need to prove it. Jason said Chase is only going to believe it once there’s a ring on her finger.”
“Won’t he see right through the plan?”
Chase is not a stupid guy. Not by a long shot. If this is what he’s said needs to happen to get on board… it’ll be obvious to him that we’re faking this. And that could be disastrous for Poppy.
“You’d be surprised how money can cloud a person’s perception. We’ll do what we can to make this convincing, but you better hope you’ve earned your keep enough that he doesn’t care to scrutinize you.”
“So, when do we do this?”
“As soon as possible,” Brooke says. “Before any major qualifiers. So that any publicity that comes with the events shows you as being off the market. A happily married man.”
I finish my call with Brooke, and I stare at Poppy, unsure how to broach the subject with her.
“Everything ok?” Poppy asks, cupping her hands around her mug and sipping her tea.
“What do you think about getting married next week?”
“Next week?” Her eyes widen and she leans forward to set her mug down on the coffee table. “I thought we had more time.”
So did I. Not that it matters, we were going to get married, anyway. But now my opportunities to give Poppy a memorable first kiss are a lot more limited.
“Not anymore, apparently. So, how about it?”
Our gazes lock in on each other across the couch, her chocolate brown irises reflecting the glow coming from the fireplace. The question I’m about to ask forms on my tongue and it causes a smile to tug at my lips.
“Will you be my wife next week, Poppy?”
I know there are high stakes for Poppy here too, that she has something to gain from this marriage and everything to lose. Still, there’s a part of my heart that lights up when she looks at me and says, “I’d be your wife tomorrow, Jett.”
Poppy gives me a soft smile that does something funny to me. Her words settle within me and expand to fill a hole I didn’t know was there. I inhale a sharp breath through my nose, her gaze pinning me.
Marriage has never been on my radar, but after today, I think Poppy is exactly the kind of girl I could be married to.
“Come on, it’s late.” My voice returning to its normal cadence, not the flirtatious lilt I used moments ago. “I’ll show you your room.”
“Okay,” she says softly and follows me quietly in her socked feet down the hall.
I stop short at the door to the guest bedroom, opening it for her. “This is you.”
She wanders inside and glances around, I keep my feet firmly planted on the threshold.
“It’s nice. I didn’t think you’d be the type to decorate.” She gestures towards a vase on the nightstand with dried flowers spraying out the top.
“My designer did it,” I admit.
Poppy opens her mouth in an ahh shape.
“Do you need anything? There’s a toothbrush and extra toiletries in the ensuite. Help yourself to anything.”
I hesitate before leaving, my eyes locking with Poppy’s for a moment. She licks her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind on them. I could do it now. I could give her first kiss right here, right now. Before I have the time to overthink it.
But for some reason, this moment doesn’t feel quite right. I’ve never been a romantic guy, in fact I run from romance. So, the right moment isn’t a concept I’m overly familiar with, I just know this isn’t it.
It’ll be Poppy’s first real kiss. One that isn’t rushed, one that isn’t pressured. I want her to know what a toe-curling, fireworks-sparking, electrifying kiss is like.
Something in the back of my mind tells me this whole thing could get dangerous, and fast. It’s like that first whiff of snow before the storm rolls in.
Because I want Poppy’s first kiss to be perfect.