Page 25 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

“We were hung over...or at least I was. You said they were a hangover remedy.”

“I did. Little did I realize that it was going to take more than sausage meat wrapped in pastry to cure the effects of pitchers of Aperol spritz and Jäger bombs.”

He remembered that night. He’d never really before entertained the thought of going to Greggs, the High Street staple and chain restaurant. His normal morning-after was hair of the dog—downing a pint and then an ice-cold shower. Poppy had been outraged when he made those suggestions. Her hair had been tousled from the night before, and she’d tried to tame it into the messiest bun he’d ever seen.

She’d been so cute when she grabbed her debit card and his hand and pulled him down to High Street to queue up in front of Greggs as the doors opened. She’d even turned to him when she first stepped inside, putting her hand on the middle of his chest to steady herself, and told him to take a deep breath.

“Eventually, we did start feeling better,” he said.

“Yeah. Remember, you asked me if I was going to eat the entire roll or just pick at it like a squirrel.”

He’d been humoring her, but her hangover cure had gone a long way to making him feel better that morning. Or maybe it had simply been the woman with the too-big-for-her-face dark sunglasses who put her head on his lap as they sat on a park bench to eat their breakfast. She’d kept feeding herself tiny bites of the sausage rolls and telling him that her head was going to explode.

Laughing, he shook his head. “You said that your stomach could only deal with the tiniest bit at a time.”

“You thought you were immune to it, and then yacked.” Shaking her head, she smiled over at him.

He’d forgotten about that. It was too much food when his body had been expecting alcohol. He’d been ticked, but then Poppy had sat up and patted his back, given him water to rinse out his mouth... It sounded stupid, but she’d just been kind to him. Taken care of him.

And he’d never really experienced that before. He’d been shipped off to boarding school at the age of ten, been drunk with his mates and hungover numerous times, but usually he took care of himself. He had to.

“I know I said that you shouldn’t have bought into the whole love-at-first-sight thing, but there was something special between us. I was too focused on doing what Dad wanted to see it.”

She stopped eating her sausage roll, putting it down on a napkin. “I guess if I’d been in on the plan, maybe I would have viewed everything differently.”

“Yeah? I doubt it. What woman wants to be told she’s the means to an end?”

“What man does?” she countered.

What did she mean by that? Was she using him this time? If so, kudos to her. He deserved it, and if that was what she needed, he was here for it. “Are you using me, Pop?”

“What do you think?” she asked, picking up her water bottle and taking a long sip.

Leaning back in the leather armchair after he finished his food, he studied her. There had always been something too nice about Poppy, yet she wasn’t a pushover. Even when they’d gone in to face his father and sign the contract, she’d fought and gotten concessions from the old man.

Concessions for the two of them.

She’d viewed them as a couple, whereas he’d still been thinking solely of himself.

“I bet you’re thinking about it. Using me the way I used you and making me realize what a big fuckup that was.”

“I have,” she said.

Would she go through with it? It was hard to imagine the Poppy he’d known doing that. But the way she was watching him at this moment sent a bit of a chill down his spine.

It would suck if he’d made her hardened like him. If she was willing to do and say anything just to get what she wanted. The ends justifying the means.

“I’m not planning on anything evil, Ali. I’m hoping we can become friends, or at least friendly.”

Yeah. That had been his hope too. “That’s partially why I’m sticking around the Tea Society. It’s nice to have something other than Lancaster-Spencer to talk about.”

“It definitely is. You mentioned your hard kombucha and beer brewing. Can I see your setup?”

Just like that, she’d moved them away from the past and the issues he still wanted to hash out, but he let her.

The land surrounding Alistair’s house was all rolling fields. There was a large outbuilding, and then two smaller ones on either side of it. Someone had painted Ali’s Brewing on the doors to the largest building. The two smaller ones reminded her of her shed at home, where she dried tea leaves and stored the different elements she used in her blends.

“Ali’s Brewing?”

---