She didn’t give him the chance to argue, she strode away and into the kitchen. A smile played over his lips. He could get used to her bossy concern. She’d always been caring and giving toward her friends. She’d helped others hundreds of times without asking for anything in return. Many kids had taken advantage of her kindness while mocking her behind her back. But when they’d asked, again, for help, she’d been there for them. Her heart was enormous and way too soft.
Shame over the actions of his teenaged self pressed down on him, exacerbating his exhaustion. He had to make it up to her somehow. Elbows on the table, forehead in his heads, he pondered exactly how he was going to manage to make amends. Aside from winning this competition. He rested his head on one hand and closed his eyes, just for a second.
“Hey. Darius. Wake up.”
Poppy was gently shaking his shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking up at her. “I drifted off.”
“Eat. Then I’ll run you home. You can’t work like this.”
“I can, and I will. I feel much better now,” he lied. “That looks delicious.” In front of him was an enormous triangular biscuit overflowing with bacon, sausage, egg and cheese. Beside it was a heaping pile of fries. The savory scents wove around him making him realize that he’d forgotten to eat last night, even though he’d sent Poppy dinner. “Thanks for breakfast, it smells amazing.”
“I’d stay and chat, but Julianna is running late, she had an appointment at her daughter’s school. I’ve got customers to deal with. Take your time eating. I’ll run you home when she gets here.”
With a flip of her immaculate apron, she was gone. He barely blinked and she was behind the counter, helping an elderly woman choose treats. Her voice drifted over him like a soothing balm as she recommended cookies. Lemon oatmeal, gingersnaps, shortbread. Suddenly he wanted cookies as well as breakfast. His sweet tooth had led him to take cooking classes in high school, which led to his love of the kitchen. His mother was an adequate cook, but she was often lost in her art. Homemade baking had never happened. Not even at Christmas.
He’d been a bit of a hooligan as a kid, but he’d never missed a shift pumping gas. A good chunk of the money he’d earned went to this bakery. Poppy’s grandmother had always added an extra treat to his orders, as if she could see beyond his motorcycle and bad boy reputation. Oh man, the money he’d spent repairing that bike, and on his classic Dodge Charger. He still had them both, safely stored in a garage he’d rented from a retiree.
He dug into the food. The fries were crisp and lightly seasoned. The biscuit melted in his mouth. Delicious. The sausage patty was obviously homemade. Fresh with a hint of spices. His trained taste buds quickly identified celery salt, onion, basil, and a few other flavors. Delicious.
“How was it?” Poppy asked when she came by with the coffee pot to refill the mugs of a gathering of seniors in the booths lining the windows.
“Fabulous. I’ll take a bit more of that coffee, if you’re offering.” He winked at her.
A smile turned the corners of her mouth up, higher than her usual happy expression. Then she frowned as if remembering their past. “Anything you want. Drink up, and I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t argue. Yet.
Coffee and food finished, he felt marginally better. Still tired, but functional. He gathered his dishes and carried them to the grey bin he’d noticed behind the counter yesterday. After a quick hello to Julianna, who had just arrived, he made his way into the kitchen.
“Hey, you’re finished.” Poppy greeted him with a smile. “I’ll get my coat. It’s freezing out there.”
“Actually, I feel a lot better. How about if we practice for a while? If I get too tired, I’ll call it an early day. Does that work for you?”
She studied him up and down, the tiniest of frowns pulling her brows together. He wanted to kiss that frown away.Back off, boy.
“Are you sure? You still look terrible. Why are you so tired?” Her voice was heavy with concern and a bit of censure that brought a smile to his face. She invigorated him, just by being with her.
“Yesterday was one of those mixed blessing days. Busy as hell all night, which is great, except we were short staffed. Then, just as we were serving the last of the meals, the kitchen plumbing exploded. What a mess!” He couldn’t even describe it.
“That’s awful.” She patted his forearm comfortingly, her hand warm even through the thin cotton of his button-down shirt.
“Took ages to clean up after the plumber left. Disinfecting everything took an eternity. I only caught a few hours sleep. But now that I’m fed and fueled up on coffee, I’m ready and raring to go.” He held up a hand to stop the objection he saw in her eyes. “I might need a nap later, but right now, I’m good. Let’s do this thing.”
“Promise you’ll tell me when you’ve had enough and need to rest?” She stood, hands on her hips, expectant expression on her face until the oven timer dinged.
“What’s on the menu today?” He asked as she bustled around pulling more tarts from the oven.
“Cherry and blueberry tarts.”
“Is that one type or two? They’d be delicious together.”
She frowned at him. “Well, it was two, but now I’m going to have to try your combination. Why didn’t I think of that?”
It was a rhetorical question so he didn’t bother to answer. “Are there sample tarts?” he asked eagerly. His belly was full, but he’d fit in a tart or two, even if it meant an extra half hour on the treadmill.
“You’re going to eat me out of house and home, aren’t you?” She put two full sized tarts on a plate. “Thanks for supper last night. It was delicious. I can’t wait to come to Mythos for supper one night.”
“It’ll be my treat when you do.” He hoisted the plate she handed him. “Payment for this deliciousness.” Her cheeks pinkened. She was adorable. Cute, caring, sexy, wholesome. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d fall for her. Again.
