Page 11 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

He stooped down to pet her behind her ears and then lifted her up into his arms. She was licking his neck, and he put his face down to cuddle her for a minute. He’d missed this sweet dog.

“I didn’t know you still had her,” he said as he set Pickle back inside the doorway.

The little dog just kept dancing around their legs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought maybe you left her with your mum.”

“No. Pickle goes where I go.”

“I remember. She looks good for her age,” he said. The dog had been four when they inherited her from Poppy’s gran, who’d died six months before their wedding.

“She does. She’s had a few health issues, but she’s doing good now. In fact, I should get her to bed so she settles down,” Poppy said.

“Yeah, right. My cue to leave.” Which he started to do.

“I’ll go to the wedding with you.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Poppy glowed in the warm light from her hallway, Pickle at her feet. He knew this wasn’t an easy decision for her. “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can to keep Dad from suing you or forcing you to let Lancaster-Spencer produce your tea.”

“I appreciate that,” she said almost formally.

God. How did this always happen? He had no mechanism for dealing with her when it wasn’t white-hot sex or cold, hard business. He could let his guard down around Pickle, cuddle her and let her kiss him. Admit to himself that he missed that sweet little dog, but he wasn’t able to do it with Poppy.

“Good night, then.” He walked away, and this time, she didn’t try to stop him.

Perhaps it was as it should be. Things had happened too fast the first time. It was only in looking back that he’d realized how little he’d actually known about Poppy. Their chemistry had blinded him to anything but how easy it was going to be to get the tea recipe, to finally earn the job his father didn’t think he was good enough for. He’d just assumed that she would still be there afterward.

The walk back to his lodging wasn’t long enough for the thinking he had to do, so he turned left once Poppy was safely inside her home. Step one on the long list of things he needed to do, clear the past with Poppy, had been achieved.

Having her at his side was just the beginning. He was changing the man he’d been. Brewing beer, taking advice instead of having to be the smartest man in the room and making sure everyone knew it. He’d been a blowhard. That hadn’t actually been a revelation. His father was one as well. Only George, who was more like Mum, seemed not to have inherited that Miller trait.

He had already run once today and wasn’t dressed for it in jeans and trainers, but his mind was starting to swirl. Poppy under him when he’d slid into her body the first time was on repeat in his head. Running until total exhaustion was the only thing that was going to keep him from going back to her place.

So he started following the track he’d taken earlier. The pace he set for himself was punishing, and when he got back to the Bootless Soldier Tavern, Wes and Sera were making out against the brick wall near the front.

Ali didn’t linger, just went to the door that led to the stairs and his lodging above.

That could have been him. Hell, thathadbeen him and Poppy, and in the past, they’d be at her place right now, making love on her bed. He got hard thinking about it.

He showered and took care of his erection, toweling off, he sat down in front of his laptop sending a quick update to George letting him know that their plan was a go.

They both wanted to get Dad out of power at the tea company. He was stuck in the past, and his attitude and practices were going to be the end of Lancaster-Spencer. He was classist and racist and still told jokes about women that weren’t acceptable.

He was also a bully, and it had taken years of therapy for Alistair to realize he was on the cusp of becoming one as well.

The Lancaster-Spencer motto wasone cup and you’re family. But the Millers had never felt like a family until this moment, when they were poised to take on Dad.

He and George working together, instead of being pitted against each other, to achieve something they’d both be proud to be associated with. Instead of a colonialist company that was stuck in its heritage and legacy. He wanted more.

He logged on to the Tea Society Discord and saw there were two members online. Poppy and Freddie. He scrolled the chat before he joined. They were very friendly... Almost flirty. Had Poppy friend-zoned him because there was someone else in her life?

What did it say about him that he was only just now considering the possibility that she had moved on? Of course she had. They were divorced. He’d hooked up, why shouldn’t she?

Which was all good when he was being rational, but the man he was trying to shed was still inside of him. Jealous.

Identify.

That was the first step. His therapist’s voice rang loud and clear in his head. It had to be to be heard over the din of anger and regret. He was jealous.

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