Page 71 of Special Delivery
‘That. And we’re not dating.’
James cocked his head. ‘True,’ he said slowly. ‘But that wasn’t my point. It’s more that you’re unlikely to be my patient again.’
Poppy swallowed, the tiniest speck of something like disappointment settling in her chest. So he’d dodged the mention of dating. Totally fine. She didn’t need any commitment. She already had a significant other: Maeve. If he didn’t want to talk about dating, neither did she. She was a modern woman who used contraception and had consequence-free sex that did not lead to childbirth. Hurrah!
She smiled, trying to channel her inner bravado outwards. ‘So if the old guy and the stripper can date, no-one will care we had sex on a random Thursday?’
James studied her, his eyes darkening. ‘Something like that,’ he said eventually.
Poppy willed herself not to overthink that almost unnoticeable shadow that had swept across his features.
‘I also made sure I was extremely professional around you when you were in my care,’ James continued. ‘And for another six months after that, just to be safe.’
‘Professional?!’ cried Poppy, remembering his refusal to smile in her presence. ‘Is that code for soulless?’
A tiny crease appeared between his brows. ‘I needed to keep my distance.’
‘You could have been friendly.’
‘But I couldn’t,’ he said intently. ‘I was scared of … I dunno … it’s like you got under my skin somehow. I’d spent my whole life thinking people are either good or bad, and then you accuse me of being a goody-two-shoes and suddenly nothing makes sense anymore.’ James sighed and rolled back to stare at the ceiling. ‘You’d think I’d be stoked to never see you again, but it didn’t work like that and I was so confused. Like, was I accidentally riling you up for my own warped enjoyment? I couldn’t understand it and I didn’t want to do anything irrational, so I forced myself to stick to the guidelines by the letter. I guess I did it to protect myself.’
Poppy felt her face flush. ‘I felt like you were always either ignoring me or laughing at me.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so vulnerable but she realised she didn’t care.
James twisted onto his side to face her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said gently. ‘I didn’t mean to come across that way. I wasneverlaughing at you. If anything, I was laughing at myself. Every thought in my brain felt so ridiculous around you. And the whole time—the car park, the supermarket, even with Mary’s stupid conversation starters—I was trying to do the right thing. Ilikedoing the right thing. It just came out all wrong.’
His expression was so earnest, Poppy felt her self-consciousness fizzle. She inched closer to smile against his skin. ‘It’s because you’re a robot,’ she whispered.
James’s hands suddenly grasped her waist. With one deft movement, he flipped her onto her back and shifted on top of her. ‘You wanna test that theory?’ There was a wicked glint in his eye, and her body was suddenly aflame again. Before she could remind herself to breathe, and verbalise thatyes she was one hundred per cent open to testing that theory—especially since they were already dressed for the occasion—James laughed and fell back beside her.
Poppy exhaled and laughed too, her mind racing. Their first impressions, their impulsiveness around each other, the whisper of something else darting around her consciousness:he’d researched this in advance?
‘Why are you single?’ she blurted.
James raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s complicated.’
Now it was Poppy’s turn to look sceptical. One second ago she hadn’t even meant to ask that question, but now, after that kind of response, she was ravenous for details. ‘That sounds like a cop-out.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe I don’t know how to talk about it.’
‘So try,’ Poppy urged, realising the fact he was single had been making her feel anxious for weeks. Surely he had to be hiding a problematic gaming addiction or some kind of perverted gambling habit? Maybe he was one of those deadbeats who watched cockfights on YouTube.
‘I was engaged, we were together for four years, we broke up last October, she took my dog. End of story.’
‘Oh gosh.’ Poppy exhaled. She had not been expecting that. Four years—and an engagement. That was baggage. (And she could say that becausetakes one to know one.)
‘I’m still not over it.’
‘Oh … okay,’ Poppy stammered. She hadn’t been expecting that either. Was this a blatant declaration she was a rebound? God, how embarrassing. And also, could he be less of a dick about it?
‘What?’ asked James, seeing her expression. ‘You asked.’
‘You’re so annoying.’
James shuffled closer to her. ‘I can’t help it around you, McKellar.’
Poppy rolled her eyes.
‘It’s something cerebral,’ James continued. ‘Or physical. Or both.’
