Page 57 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

She punched his shoulder lightly. “That was only part of the reason. You were the other.”

She wore a pair of denim shorts that brushed the tops of her thighs and a blousy top with fluttery sleeves. It had a V-neck, and he tried very hard not to notice the swell of her breasts as she bent over to pull a weed or a leaf from one of her plants. She was barefoot, her hair hung around her shoulders, and the heat of the day reminded him of the two of them on top of the Glastonbury Tor.

The same magic that she’d woven around him that night was back, seducing him with the vibrant scents of summer and woman. He closed his eyes, reaching for his self-control, thinking if he couldn’t see her body, he’d cool down, but it just heightened his other senses. Unable to breathe without inhaling vanilla, rose and bergamot—everything that was Poppy.

“Well, you won, so um...I ordered the supplies we need to make the kombucha. I got enough for both of us,” she said, walking out of the greenhouse.

It was slightly cooler outside but still hot. Or maybe the heat was coming from inside him just from being around her.

To clear his mind, he’d taken a run this morning before the sun came up, and he would run again later tonight. But even if he wore through his shoes, he was pretty sure nothing could cool him down or distract him from wanting her back in his bed.

All those pictures he had in his head of the life he wanted with Poppy felt within his grasp. He just had to keep being her friend and keep it in his pants. He could never reveal that he ached to touch her again.

Even a brief brush of their fingers as she handed him some leaves to smell as a potential flavoring for the kombucha sent a tingle straight to the tip of his dick.

“Thanks for that,” he said, realizing he’d never responded to her last statement. It felt as if he were wading through a pool of lust and need. His head was muffled, and he was trying to keep it together, but damn.

Just damn.

“No problem. Least I could do since you offered to bring the champagne yeast,” she said. “I also ordered two growlers and airlocks. You said we’d start with sweet tea, which is so generic. Black, white, green, oolong?”

“Any,” he said, laughing at the frustration in her tone. “It’s really down to what you like. The base is going to influence the direction of the kombucha. I used black tea because I had a bunch from Lancaster-Spencer.”

“Okay. Well, I brewed all four bases, and I wasn’t sure on the sugar. I mean, sweet tea in the American South is very sugary—”

He laughed, and she stopped talking. She was so cute like this. The tea blender in her element, wanting to make sure everything was perfect.

“What?”

“You’re cute,” he said, tempting fate and Poppy’s resolve by leaning over and kissing her gently on the lips. He pulled back before he lost all sense. “I’ll use the black again. You should try that magic courage blend for yours.”

“You think?” she asked. She rubbed her finger against her lower lip and then shook her head. “I will. Okay, so we put the tea and SCOBY into a large jar and seal it up?”

“Yeah,” he said, moving to the bench where she’d set out jars in different sizes, all with lids. He noticed that there were two of each size. She’d spent a lot of time setting this up, and here he was, being all horny. He shoved his lust into a large chest in his mind and locked it. Poppy wanted them to be friends. God, he craved that too. So he needed to be that guy.

“I think this size will work for what we’re doing,” he said, indicating one of the jars.

They both assembled their ingredients and then sealed their jars. He took a photo of Poppy holding her jar, and she did the same for him. Then they posed together.

“That’s it,” he said. “Now we wait.”

“Six to ten days, right?” she asked.

“We can check on them and see how they’re doing in a few days,” he said.

“I will.” She turned to a pad of paper and made a few notes. “Do you keep track of your recipes?”

“I do. I keep them on my phone. Want to see the recipe I used last time?”

“Did it come out good?”

“I gave the growler to George because I was coming here,” he said. “It should be ready any day now.”

“Let me know what he says. I’d love to see your recipe from the first time,” she said. “Want to show me over dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I invited Liberty and Sera and their guys for a cookout.”

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