Page 59 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

Talking about summer and tourists and really nothing, they drank the ale that Ali brewed and ate the sausages and burgers he’d grilled. Poppy started to feel like this was what she needed. Not white-hot sex alone, though she was ready to take this more physically with Ali now. But this quiet intimacy that came from being part of a tight friend group.

Laughing and talking and living.

That had been missing from their lives in London. He’d been busy, she’d been scared, and they’d had no real friends. Just acquaintances that had really only cared about their own status and Ali’s position in society. She had been looking for a sign from the universe, some big neon arrow that would say that Ali was reformed for good and that she could trust him with her heart, but...

Her heartbeat always sped up when he walked into a room. Her eyes always sought him when she knew he was near.

There was no letting herself fall for him again. It was going to happen. She just had to be careful not to make him into something he wasn’t.

He fit in so well with her friend group, but she had to be careful that he also fit in with her.

Somewhere between the greenhouse and grilling, he’d decided to stop letting her set all the terms for this new relationship they were developing. Or rather to stop being passive in what was going on between them. He’d never been a man to keep his passion locked up in a box. For Poppy, he’d been willing to try, but this summer was the first in a lifetime of expectation. He was creating his own destiny.

Not touching or kissing her didn’t feel right, and he wasn’t going to do it anymore. As soon as her friends left, he intended to talk to her about it. But for now, he was enjoying an impromptu D&D game that Merle and Liberty were leading them in.

“Remember, guys, if you stay within thirty feet of me, I can use my bonus action to heal anyone in my radius,” Liberty said.

“How the mighty have fallen, witch. I don’t throw the wordnerdout often, but I think you’re becoming one,” Merle said.

“Nerd?” she repeated pointedly.

“When did you start talking about radiuses?” Merle shot back.

“I thought we wanted all of our friends to survive this encounter.”

“What’s the radius?” Alistair asked. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Six squares. Also, if you get hurt, I’m a very strong healer, and I’ve been rolling well tonight,” Liberty said.

Alistair laughed, enjoying the interplay between all of the couples. Unlike that first night at the tavern, they’d all sort of accepted him tonight, and he felt some genuine bonds developing. Of course, Liberty had specifically cornered him and warned him that if he fucked with Poppy, she’d come for him. But otherwise, they were nice and fun.

Alistair looked down at the page where he was tracking his health. “I’m down to three if you want to heal me.”

Liberty looked over at him. “I’ll heal Puddgurr.”

Everyone else had a character they’d been playing for a while, so Merle had helped him create Puddgurr. He was a barbarian, which suited Alistair, as the character could rage and destroy things in the name of saving the day. It had been a long time since he’d felt the kind of rage that his character used as a strength. Honestly, he’d never felt like rage was an asset, but in this type of fictional fight, it did come in handy.

Liberty healed him and looked very pleased with herself.

Poppy threw her arm around his shoulder, pressing against his side. That haze that he fell into whenever she touched him was back. Everyone else was muted, and the focus of the summer evening was on her as twilight fell and fireflies danced around the yard.

The scent of her was tinged with Pimm’s, which she’d declared they needed after the beer ran out. He’d helped her use the gin-based drink to make a cocktail with fruit and herbs picked from her garden before they’d added fizzy lemonade to make a batch big enough for the group. It was funny that she admitted she’d never made it for her friends before this. It was quintessentially British summer.

“Why haven’t we had Pimm’s before? I love it,” Sera said. “Who knew a gin-based liquor, fruit, cucumbers and mint could be so yummy?”

“The British,” Poppy said with a laugh. “I just hadn’t thought about it in a while.”

“I’m glad you did,” Liberty said. “I could do without the cucumbers, but it’s not bad.”

“Liberty doesn’t like cucumbers,” Poppy said in an exaggerated aside to Ali.

“I figured that out,” he said, turning to face her.

She sighed, touching his hair with a soft hand. “Please don’t be fake.”

Her words drove an ice pick into his heart. He’d hurt her before, and this entreaty that she would never have made if her guard had been up told him just how much. “I’m not.”

“You feel real,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.

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