Page 13 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

“It would be better to ask, ‘what do I need to know for this trip to England?’” Liberty suggested.

Poppy knew that she’d been too specific, but a girl could dream. “Okay, that. It’s just I don’t want to be stupid again with him. You know?”

“You couldn’t be,” Sera said. “Because you’re not stupid.”

“Thanks,” Poppy said. But she knew that she could be really dumb where he was concerned.

Last night had been a near mistake until Pickle appeared. Poppy had been on the verge of taking his hand and leading him into her house. She’d missed him in her bed last night. And this morning...she woke up feeling not as great as she thought she would.

“You should draw it yourself,” Liberty said as she handed over the deck. “Don’t say what you landed on out loud. Just think about what you need an answer to in your head.”

Poppy took the deck, shuffling it herself and then spreading the cards out on the table as she’d seen Liberty do. Closing her eyes, she asked what Liberty had suggested: What did she need to be successful in England?

She moved her hands over the cards until she felt pulled to one, and drew it.

The Magician.

She took a deep breath as Liberty rocked back in her chair. “Tap into your full potential. Don’t hold anything back. So stop censoring yourself.”

But could she trust herself to do that?

Four

Poppy sat down to write a blog for the Tea Society. They’d started a Substack, and members had been taking turns blogging about tea and brewing. Alistair was up after her. Not that he mattered, but after last night, he was on her mind.

Pickle was at her feet as she sat at her laptop trying to figure out where to start. There was a knock on her door, and she hurried to answer it.

Speak of the devil.“Hey, I need your passport number so I can confirm your flight and check you in,” Alistair said. His phone in one hand, he looked at her expectantly.

He wore a pair of shorts that she suspected were perfectly respectable but seemed really short, showing off his long runner’s legs, and a moisture-wicking T-shirt that clung to his muscles.

What had he said?

Pickle greeted him like a long-lost friend again. The dog was a traitor. She’d had a long talk with Pickle last night, reminding her that Alistair was her ex and he wasn’t going to be around long.

Poppy turned around with disgust as Pickle rolled over so Alistair could pet her belly. “I’ll grab my passport. If you want water, there’s some in the fridge.”

“Thanks.”

His voice followed her down the hall as she went into her bedroom. She opened the lockbox her mum had insisted she buy to keep all of her important documents in. About every three months, when they video chatted, Mum would insist on seeing that she still had her passport, resident visa and birth certificate secured. As if Poppy wasn’t almost thirty. But that was her mum.

Glancing at the photo of her and Mum tucked into the side of her mirror made her smile. Everyone said she was Mum’s mini-me, but while that was true as far as looks went, they were such different people. Mum wouldn’t have fallen for Alistair. Hell, she hadn’t liked him. But she’d been pretty cool when Poppy had left him, even though she’d said he was too slick.

“Poppy?”

“Coming,” she said.

He leaned against her breakfast bar, alone; Pickle had presumably gone back to her bed. Alistair still had his phone in one hand and one of the hand-thrown pottery tumblers she’d made last year in the other. It was a reminder of when she’d been trying to find something to work her aggression out on as Alistair stalled on signing the divorce papers.

Funny that he was using her IDGAF tumbler.

“Here it is,” she said, handing him her passport. She went back to the table, where she had her laptop open. Glancing down to see she had written half a sentence, and it sounded like she was trying too hard.

“Thanks. I booked a car to take us to the airport in Bangor. You still like to get to the airport early?”

“Yes. You still going to be a bitch about it?” she asked.

“Of course not. We have access to the lounge so we will be able to chill before the flight. Do you have any meal preferences?”

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