Page 1 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

One

Alistair Miller stood in the archway that led from the bookshop into the tearoom of WiCKed Sisters in Birch Lake, Maine. Leaning casually against it, watching Poppy Kitchener. She moved with an effortless grace that he’d noticed the first time he saw her, before they got married, before he’d fucked everything up. Because she’d been insistent they handle everything through their solicitors, it had been nine years, two months and six days since he’d last seen her.

They spoke via email six months ago, when he’d asked to join the Secret Tea Society Discord, Tea Society, for short, which she ran. He’d heard about it via a mutual friend who was into brewing kombucha. He’d joined mostly as a way out of his isolation and to connect with other tea makers...but he’d be lying if a part of him hadn’t wanted to reconnect with Poppy. She was his first love, after all.

The Secret Tea Society had grown in popularity, along with Poppy and WiCKed Sisters. The Discord group was mainly comprised of independent tea makers who were innovative and a far cry from his family’s centuries-old traditional company and views.

In the online group, her profile photo was just a teacup with primroses on it. The cup wasn’t anything like the woman he had thought he knew. She was strong and pretty, of course, but also bold, quirky and not afraid to speak her mind.

He thought he was prepared to see her again. With her lush curly hair that she still dyed blond because it suited her coloring. A fair English rose with thick brown eyebrows, a heart-shaped face and a mouth that was always ready with a zinger when he got out of line.

The words she’d said to him when she left him for good still echoed in his mind whenever he let them in. There was no guard against being reminded of the worst parts of himself. Losing his wife in the name of a family business he felt trapped by had been a living nightmare. He shoved his hand through his thick hair, trying to shake off the negative thoughts.

He clocked the moment she noticed him. She’d matured into her face, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her body stiffened, the smile she’d been wearing disappeared from her face, and she turned to the tall guy behind her to say something. It took him a moment to recognize the gangly man as Merle, her cousin. The same dude who’d texted him back in the autumn, when he’d first joined the online tea society, to tell him not to mess with Poppy.

Like I’d to listen to her nerdy cousin.As soon as the unkind thought entered his mind, he shook his head. Putting others down whenever he felt cornered—that was old Ali behavior. New Ali was more understanding and didn’t have to put up defenses every time he was insecure.

There was no doubt he was insecure at this moment.

Poppy Kitchener.

Of all the people who had been a guiding force in his attempt at transforming from a grade A douchebag into a semi-decent human, she was the catalyst.

She wiped her hands on a towel and came around the long counter, walking straight toward him. Her stride was long limbed. Even though she wasn’t tall, she carried herself like an Amazon when she got her back up. Obviously seeing him wasn’t a treat.

He should straighten to his full height and greet her with that polite smile that he’d learned at his mother’s knee and had been using for his entire life. But that polite, entitled boy had been burned out of him with rage, loss, and a hard look at himself. But he didn’t want to look desperate either.

His purpose was clear, yet seeing her distracted him. Poppy had always been a problem. She’d never been the woman he expected her to be. That was still true today. There was no way the co-owner of the highly successful WiCKed Sisters brand was going to agree to pretend to still be married to him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on his end goal. Surprising her hadn’t been his best idea, but time was running out. “I’m here to see you.”

“Why?”

Why indeed? He was pretty sure he could lead with,I’ve been trying to make up for being a total bag of dicks to you and everyone else in my early twenties. “Gemma’s wedding is this weekend. You never gave me a definitive answer about going. I thought maybe an in-person invite would convince you to go with me.”

“I didn’t RSVP, sors.”

“I did for both of us.”

“Wait...are you really still on about us being married?”

He didn’t like her tone. Or the fact that she was totally right about the situation. If he’d just come clean with his parents, then he wouldn’t be here. Poppy, more than anyone, understood how impossible it was to have a genuine conversation with his parents.

“Oh my days, you’re out of your head,” she said, walking away from him. She muttered under her breath as she collected the teacups and plates left on the tables as she went by.

Ali grabbed some dirty dishes as well, intent on following her into the backroom where she’d disappeared—but Merle immediately blocked his path to Poppy.

“Out of the way, mate.” The more time she had to think, the more likely she’d get ticked at him and stop talking to him again. All that work in the Tea Society would be for nothing.

“No. She’s not your wife and doesn’t want to pretend to be. Y’all are divorced. Let that sink in and go back to London.”

“I live in Kent now, Merle. This doesn’t concern you.” The longer that he stood there with Merle, the more tension built in him. The logical part of his brain tried to raise objections, but the spike in his blood pressure drowned that out. Merle somehow became an amalgam of every person who’d blocked him throughout his life. All he knew was Merle better move or he was going to deck the guy—

“Fuck.” He couldn’t start a fight with Merle. Putting the dishes on the counter, he said, “Tell her I need to talk to her about tea. It’s not just the wedding. It’s business. I’ll sit over there and wait.”

He was so tense it was hard for him to get the words out. But he wasn’t going to punch Poppy’s cousin. The old piece of him, the man who let anger rule him was...straining to get out. It was harder than he wanted to admit to keep that fucking monster under control.

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