by H. M. Ward
The bed at the castle was way more comfortable than mine.
Just when I think he's not going to respond, my phone buzzes.
You think that one was comfortable? You should try mine ;)
Nice try. Good night, Ollie.
Sweet dreams, American Girl.
I fall asleep with a smile on my face, although I'm not sure if it's from the visual of Oliver in bed or the majority of the events over the last two days. The night at Thornbury Castle was magical, and Oliver makes me feel content, happy even. I have to figure out a way to thank him.
CHAPTER 25
Saturday, Oliver invites me to go to Kensington Gardens with him and Barkley. I gladly agree. It's still warm enough that a light jacket is sufficient, so I slip into my black hoodie and head out.
When I get to the Gardens, Oliver and Barkley are waiting for me just outside the gate so we can walk in together. This time, he keeps the dog on his leash and holds it in such a way that he can't get away.
"I guess you learned your lesson, huh?" He looks at me quizzically, not understanding what I'm trying to say. I bump his shoulder with mine and say, "If you let your dog get away from you, girls like me end up following you around."
Now he grins, leaning over to say, "Maybe that was my intention the entire time." Pulling back, he winks at me.
We continue walking down one of the paths until Oliver suddenly veers off to one side, following Barkley into the grass and pulling a tennis ball from his pocket. Reaching down, he unclips the leash and throws the ball across the field.
Barkley takes off after the ball immediately, leaving us to stand side-by-side and watch him bound through the grass. It's still fairly early, and this section of the park isn't very populated, so there's plenty of space for Barkley to run around and get rid of some of his excess energy. A few other pet owners are doing the same further down the field.
Barkley bounds back to us, dropping the dripping wet ball at my feet. It’s coated in thick, shiny slobber. “Oh Barkley, man, you have a drooling problem.” I pet his head and pick up the ball in my hand, and toss it. “Like father, like son.”
“Snap, that was quick wit. Here, have a piece of cheese.”
“You’re not serious?” I look over at him and he pulls out a little baggie and hands it to me. “Oh, my God! You’re keeping cheese in your pants?”
“For you, I’d keep anything in my pants.” I try not to laugh when Oliver’s gaze meets mine. He shoves the bag in my hands. “Just say thank you, Oliver.”
I roll my eyes. “I can’t eat this. I have doggie slobber on my hands.”
“That’s why? I thought you were going to protest because it was in my pocket. If that’s the case, allow me.” He takes the bag back and opens it, removing a bite-sized chunk of cheese. “Allow me?”
I open my mouth, half expecting him to shove it up my nose. I have a stupid smile on my face and I’m sure I look ridiculous. Barkley’s back with his ball. I pick it up and toss it again.
Oliver continues to throw the ball for Barkley until he tires, finally lying down on the grass and gnawing a bone that Oliver pulls from his other pocket. Then, Oliver leads me over to a tree and sits against the trunk. He takes my hand to pull me down so I'm sitting between his legs, resting my back against his chest. We stay like this in companionable silence with the dog on the ground beside us, watching people go by for a while—at least until my stomach starts to growl.
Embarrassed, I sit straight up, hoping Oliver didn't hear it. Of course he did, so he stands, pulling me up as well and clips the leash back on Barkley.
He takes my hand, walking back to the park entrance. We head for a little shop with pastries and cocoa. I’m becoming a chocolate addict.
Oliver quickly unwinds the leash, handing it over to me so he can go inside.
"Um, why don't I go in and get it?" I panic just a little, afraid Barkley will get loose and I'll be responsible for Oliver losing his dog. It’s like holding a horse on a leash.
Shaking his head, Oliver smiles at me. "You'll be fine. Barkley likes you, and he knows when I come here he usually gets something. He's not going to jeopardize that."
Then, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, he disappears into the store. Barkley's eyes stay trained on Oliver until the door shuts beside him and I tense, waiting for him to pull me down the street.
Instead, Barkley sits beside me, calmly waiting for his master to return. I feel Barkley’s eyes on me. I look down at him.
“What up, dude? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? I bet we could get you a saddle, then me and you could run amuck through the park, maybe ride the carousel? Eat a few birds. Birds don’t like me very much.” The dog nods, as if he has the same problem. “I feel for you, man.”
We're both watching the door when Oliver comes back outside carrying a tray with two large drinks and a bag. We take a seat at one of the small outdoor tables and Oliver pulls our breakfast out. He hands me one Danish, unwrapping the other two for himself.
When Oliver gets up to toss the garbage, I sneak Barkley a piece of my pastry. He practically swallows my hand, causing me to squeal. I’m covered in slobber and laughing when Oliver returns.
“Put her there, chum!” I grin at him while extending my hand.
Oliver laughs and shakes his head. “No, thanks. I have enough doggie drool on me as it is. Washroom is inside, love. I’ll wait for you.”
“Ah, you foiled my plan!” I tease, pushing up from the table to wash up. “Your dog is a bottomless pit, by the way. And he thinks birds are flying rats, too. Just saying.”
Oliver chuckles as I disappear inside. I wash and hurry back. We take what's left of our cocoa and walk along Kensington High Street looking in some of the shops as Oliver walks me back home.
When we stop in front of my place, I don't want to leave him. Oliver is easy to talk to and nonjudgmental. Our relationship is natural and I don't have to force myself to spend time with him.
Oliver walks me up to the front door of the building, bending to kiss my cheek before he says, "Goodbye, American Girl. I'll see you later this week."
“Bye, British Dude. Check you later.” I make a clicking sound with my tongue and head inside with a dopey grin on my face.
Just before I shut the door, I hear someone call my name. I spin around, shocked to see Oliver coming toward me, his breathing heavier and it's clear he ran up the stairs.
"Oliver?"
"Sorry, I couldn't leave yet." I look at him in confusion as he stops in front of me, taking deep breaths until it's easier to talk. "There's something I need to ask you." Possibilities fly through my head, but none of them prepare me for his next words.
Oliver looks up and down the street and finally back to me. He rushes out his question, "Will you go on a date with me next Saturday evening?" I start to speak, but he cuts me off. "I mean, a real date, not a friends-hanging-out thing." He looks nervous, and I realize he thinks that I'm going to turn him down. Actually, I want to say no, I’m not ready to date anyone, but he’s been so kind to me. And he’s hot. Add in the accent and it’s hard to reject him.
I press my lips together and ask, "What did you have in mind?"
"A surprise." It almost sounds like a question, but he clears his throat. “It’ll be swicked. I promise.”
I smile. “Nice use of American lingo, dude, and you used it the right way, too. I'm impressed.”
"Is that a yes?" He pushes his hair out of his eyes and smirks at me.
I sigh, trying to downplay how excited I am. "I guess so." On the inside, I'm jumping up and down. That’s news to me. I didn’t think I’d say yes or be excited. What’s happening to me? I try to wipe the dorky smile from my face. "What should I wear?"
"Wear whatever you want. We aren't going anywhere fancy." He leans down to kiss my cheek once more before telling Barkley to heel and walking away.
My jaw drops open in disbelief. "That's all you're going to give me? Not too fancy? That doesn't narrow it down at
all, Ollie." He laughs but continues down the street, not giving me anything else.
He raises an arm and waves at me without turning around, but I know he’s smiling. I’m surprised he’s not skipping down the street.
When I walk into the apartment, I lean against the door and sigh. He's got me all tied up in knots. I'm just glad Emily is at work and didn't hear any of that. She'd never let me live it down.
CHAPTER 26
By the time Saturday morning rolls around, I'm a big ball of nerves. All I can think about is Oliver and how tonight may change things. My feelings for him aren't so friendly anymore—they’re more than that—which scares me.
We spend a lot of time together, and I like Oliver. I like him in a way I haven't liked anyone in a long time. It has my stomach in a constant free fall and a smile on my lips all day.
It's been five years since I last went on an official date, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Desperate, I search for Emily and find her sitting on the sofa.
“Help,” I say so quietly that she shouldn’t hear me, but she does. I stand there with my shoulders slumped and wet hair, wearing only my robe. “I have no idea what to wear.”
She squeals and jumps up. “Are you serious? I’d love to get you out of those horrible hoodies. I have the perfect outfit.” She rushes off to her room and I hear digging through her closet, talking to herself. “This is epic!”
Emily has three outfit choices for me. The outfit that catches my eye is a pair of tailored black trousers and an off-the-shoulder shimmery silver top. By the time I'm dressed, Oliver arrives and my nerves flare up again.
Taking a deep breath, I go out to meet him. He's talking to Emily about something business related when I walk up to them. He stops mid-sentence and when he looks at me his lips part. His eyes travel from my eyes all the way down to my feet and back up again. Shyness tugs at me in a way that reminds me of better times.
Oliver’s wearing tan khakis with a dark blue sweater that makes his eyes look like gems. When my gaze meets his, my stomach dips.
He's smiling warmly at me. Taking my hand, he pulls me into him and kisses my cheek lightly. "You look beautiful, Kayla." My insides twist at the promise in his voice.
“So do you.”
A funny smirk pulls at his lips. “I’m beautiful? Maybe I should change.”
Smiling, I bump his shoulder and look up at him. “You know what I mean. You look doable. Is that better?”
“I was going for swicked, but that works.”
I laugh. “Ass.”
“Darling.”
“Jerk.”
He leans in close, just a breath from my lips. I suck in quickly and the grin falls off my face. “Goddess divine.”
Emily is grinning at us when we go to leave. She leans forward to whisper, "I put protection in your purse." Turning my head quickly to stare wide-eyed back at her, unable to say a word.
She winks before waving us off. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
Oh God. My face flames, while Oliver laughs and leads me out of the flat and down to his car.
I can't believe she just said that. On second thought, yeah, I can. It's exactly the type of thing Emily would say.
Once we're safely inside, I ask him, "So, where are we going?"
I'm excited and nervous as hell, not sure which emotion is going to win out tonight, and practically bouncing in my seat. It's been so long since I've felt this way about anything in my life. The feelings coursing through me are foreign, exciting, and at the same time really hard to fathom. This date is will be either really great idea or really bad one—but I'm not sure which one.
He smiles indulgently at me. "We'll be there shortly. So, this is a date, right?”
I nod and hesitate to answer, not sure what I’m inviting. “Yes.”
Oliver reaches over and pulls me to his side, putting his arm around my shoulders and hugging me to him.
“This feels better, wouldn’t you say?”
“I might.” I grin up at him and then lower my lashes and look at my hands.
“Feel free to tell me to back off. No pressure, okay?”
“Thank you.” I inhale deeply, some of my worries relieved by his words. I believe him.
A few moments later, we arrive at a large black building, the words, "Honky Tonky," written in gold letters across the window. He helps me out of the car and smiles at my wide-eyed expression.
"What is this?" I want to laugh, it’s so silly.
"It's a honky tonk, obviously.” He leans into me and adds, “Otherwise known as an American pub. I thought you might like to experience home through London's eyes."
“Is it owned by Americans?”
He laughs and shakes his head while rising up on the balls of his feet. The nervous tick is endearing. His lips twitch and he looks back at the building. His face scrunches up.
“Was this a bad idea?”
“No! It’s just the last thing I expected. I’m all for it.”
“Excellent.”
“Have you been here before?"
"Nope. I wanted to do something special, and when I asked where to take my American Girl, I was told this was the place to go. It’s a splash of home through a very colorful lens. Don’t be too insulted when they call you Yank."
I laugh. “It took me forever to figure out what that meant when I first got here. Apparently my accent is a bit butch.”
He pulls me to him and lifts a hand to my cheek. Slipping his hand across my face, he whispers, “Nothing about you is lacking.”
I nearly giggle. This is going to be awesome.
CHAPTER 27
The space is narrow and lengthy, with an oversized bench along one wall. Tiny tables placed in front of it. There's also a bar that stretches the length of the place with rectangular stools. Knotted cables dangle from the ceiling with bare light bulbs hanging down over the bar to provide just enough light to feel cozy.
The walls are exposed brick, giving the place a rustic feel. Oliver checks in with the hostess, who guides us to one of the tables closest to the window facing the street. Looking at the menu, I can barely contain my excitement—there are nachos, burgers, hot dogs, pulled pork and so many things I've missed from home. I think this place is going to be my new fave. I can't decide what to get and my previous plan to eat like a bird is gone. Screw that. A happy girl is a fed girl.
Oliver delights in my exclamations and my indecision, watching me with the corners of his mouth tipped up and his eyes bright.
“I can't believe you did this for me! It's amazing!”
He takes my hand and can’t stop looking at me with those heated eyes. “It astounds me.”
“What does?”
“That you could sincerely be so elated over something like this. I think you’re more excited about the pulled pork than you were the castle.”
I laugh and squeeze his hand. “If they served this at the castle, I’d live there. Dude, no joke.”
“Did you call me, ‘dude’?”
We both try to hide our smiles, which makes our lips torque into weird smiles. Oliver looks so sweet. He stands out in this place. There’s nothing laid back about him, but he’s here—for me.
I can’t stop smiling.
Oliver’s gaze returns to the menu. He even looks at me with wide eyes and says, "This selection has no bread—it’s two fried chicken breasts with bacon, secret sauce, cheese, and fried pickles. Do Americans fry everything?"
“Yeah, it’s a thing. Fried butter, fried Twinkies, fried cake, fried ice cream, fried everything.”
He makes a face. “You eat fried butter?”
“Not me, but it’s sold at fairs in the South. I think they fry whatever road kill they find.” His eyes widen. “I’m kidding.”
"Good, because I’m thinking I should have asked what I was eating on my last trip."
“Only ask if you have to spit out a bit of asphalt. Otherwise, you’ll offend your host and that’s not nice.”
He watc
hes me for a moment, trying to figure out if I’m kidding. I said it so deadpan that he’s not sure.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to do that.” He smiles at me and then looks away. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“So am I.” More dorky grins and shy eyes. I feel like I’m in high school again. The urge to run through the place darts through me, but I remain in my seat. That’s second date kinda stuff.
We continue to talk, telling each other about our days. Oliver looks over at the bar. “Maybe I should go get the food?”
The waitress appears behind him with a tray full of food. “No hun, we bring it to you here. It’s American style.”
Oliver nods and the woman places the food in front of us. She leaves and Oliver is grinning even bigger, showing his teeth. He’s like a sexy Mr. Potato Head.
“What?” I lift my drink to my lips.
“She called me ‘hun.’ She thinks I’m sexy.” I nearly spew all over him. “That’s very sexy, too. I know you’re just trying to get me out of this sweater. I hear you’re all about second base.”
I manage to put the glass down, and then dab the soda off my face. “You’re such a dork! She wasn’t hitting on you. Hun, sweetie, doll—they’re all used instead of ‘sir.’ I can ask her if she wants you, though. That might be fun.”
Oliver glances at the waitress and then back at me.
“Better not. I wouldn’t want her to toss us out. I’d never live that down.” He looks up at me from under his lashes, and the look he gives me is so sweet.
My sandwich is pretty good. I take another bite and look up to see something weird. Oliver ordered ribs, and when I see him cutting the meat off them to eat it with a fork, I can't help but smile at him.
"What are you doing?"
He looks up, startled since he was concentrating so hard on his food. "What do you mean?"
"You're cutting the meat off the bone."
Oliver looks down at his plate, before nodding, confused. "Uh huh. Your point?" he asks, raising an eyebrow imperiously at me.
"It's ribs. You’re in a Yankee establishment—they’re finger food.”
