Still, she ended up grabbing a basket for her snow globe, and then the fridge magnets she’d picked up for her family, and then several jars of jam that were clearly made by the same person who’d made the jam at the B&B, and then a little crocheted trout for Geri – she probably would use it as a pillow or drop it in her water bowl before actually using it as a toy, but as long as she got some sort of enjoyment out of it, Poppy would be happy.
Okay! Enough!she told herself, as she examined a gorgeous knitted cardigan.You can always come back tomorrow if you want to, but for now, you have to show some restraint.
She wandered over to the end of the line, which was now snaking through the confines of the store.
Well, since I’m stuck here, I’m allowed to keep browsing from where I’m standing. But I absolutelycannotbuy anything else.
The line crept forward at an infinitesimal pace, and Poppy found herself… well,daydreaming, if she was honest, about Max.
He really did seem like the whole package. Not only was he hot as all get-out, but he’d been her knight in shining armor when she’d almost faceplanted the floor,andhe hadn’t even complained when she drank his milk.
His smile, fleeting though it had been, had somehow elevated him to another level again – she had a feeling that not many people got to see it very often, which was an absolute shame, but which also made her shiver a little at the idea that she had gotten to see a part of him that other people hadn’t.
And the fact that he was writing his mystery notes by hand wouldn’t leave her alone! She really was an analog person atheart, and there was just something about seeing him scribbling away that scratched an itch she hadn’t even realized was there.
An image came to her of the two of them curled up in front of the fireplace together in some little house they called their own, legs intertwined, him frowning slightly at his notebook as he tried to find just the right word, her happily engrossed in her book…
She jerked herself back to reality.
Stop planning a future with the poor guy! He has a whole other life somewhere out there. You’re both just passing through…andyou made an idiot of yourself in front of him last night.
But then, the opposing thought came out of nowhere:You’re in a gift shop. What’s an appropriate ‘sorry I was staring at your nipples’ present?
Well, she wouldn’t call itthat, of course. But maybe a little something to sayThank you for saving my face from the floorwould be nice? She could just leave it on the kitchen table for him with a note, no need to even bother him.
Still, she wasn’t sure it was quite the right thing to do. She had no idea what he liked – besides chicken drumsticks and salami sandwiches, anyway, both of which were available in abundance at the B&B.
Forget about it,she told herself.You’d just be making it weird.
At that moment, as if in a sign from the universe itself, the line moved forward a couple more steps – and her breath caught as she saw it.
That’s it. That’s the present for him.
It was a gorgeous fountain pen, its wooden body aswirl with deep, lustrous shades of brown.
A quick read of the description showed that it was made by a local craftsperson who used offcuts and fallen branches tomake their wares, only ever using wood that would go to waste anyway.
It was a little expensive, and certainly more than Poppy would have ever thought about spending on a near-stranger before. She hesitated – but then the line moved forward again.
Do or die. Now or never. No guts, no glory!
She snatched the pen up before she could think twice, putting it decisively into her basket.
The line moved forward once more, and she let out a long breath. Too late now to put it back on the shelf. She supposed that if she ended up chickening out, she could always keep it for herself or give it to someone else.
Either way, that definitely has to be my last big spend for the day… never mind that it’s not even lunchtime.
“Oh, comeon, lady!”
Poppy was jerked from her reverie by the sound of an angry voice. It was especially jarring within the warm, comforting atmosphere of the shop, and she looked around, confused.
“I’m sorry,” came an older woman’s voice, sounding harried. “I’m going as fast as I can.”
“You could’ve fooled me!” said the first voice – a middle-aged man, from the sound of it. “I’ve been waiting for at least an hour!”
Poppy was pretty sure he hadn’t been waitingthatlong, but that was neither here nor there – there was no excuse for the man’s tone in any case.
“Excuse me,” she said, squeezing between the line of people and the shelves. “Sorry, coming through. I’m not cutting in, don’t worry.”
