by Kiera Jayne
When he arrived, he was greeted by a few impatient customers waiting to be served their morning coffee or tea.
“Sorry about my lateness, folks! Last night messed me about—you know how it is. I’ll be with you in a few.” Grady ducked into the café and shoved the door shut. He didn’t need to hear their grumbling while he set things up for the day.
Layla opened the door to the tiny storage room, making sure to duck her head as she stepped through the ridiculously low doorframe. She paused in the middle of the room and looked around at the finished artwork that was scattered about. Scrunching her mouth up in frustration, she took in the vastly different images she had designed; fruit, a dog, trees, flowers and now this half-done landscape in her hand. All vastly different subjects, but with one thing in common—rainbows. Each and every one of them somehow incorporated rainbow colours.
They seemed to mock her with their cheerfulness—a feeling that had been elusive to Layla lately. After everything that had happened back home, running to the other side of the world hadn’t helped as much as she had hoped. Painting again after so long helped some, but she was still lonely, which was why she had volunteered to help out around the nursery school one day a week.
But Layla hadn’t been doing much that she would classify as fun. Instead, she mostly kept to herself since arriving in Upper Telwick, going out only when she needed to get some necessities. Otherwise, she spent her time painting by the fireplace or in the cottage garden, maybe reading a little, living in her own brain a lot.
Layla tended to play the Event over and over in her mind until she thought she might go crazy. It had left her life and everything she once worked for in tatters. Word spread quickly in Canberra and somehow, some tidbit of gossip ended up in the hands of some paps, and everyone knew what those jerks could be like. Layla couldn’t cope with it at all, so she had bolted and holed herself up here in this remote English village.
Layla set the landscape down beside the rainbow dog painting and made her way back down the staircase that hugged the white-painted wall between the kitchen and the living room. She peered out the picture window. It was about time she went out and explored this beautiful part of the world, starting with the town itself.
Layla grabbed the keys off the key hook by the door, threw a light cardigan over her striped, long-sleeved tee and stepped out of the cottage. She made her way down the uneven garden path, past the white rose bush, the foxgloves, and the queen’s lace bush, and stepped through the cottage’s small timber gate. She ran her hand across the top of the stone wall surrounding the cottage’s garden and made her way down the laneway towards the shops.
Layla took her time, taking in everything from the cobblestones under her boots to the stone buildings that were older than her entire country. She loved the way they didn't match, indicating the different eras each building was from, She thought of how beautiful the ivy that grew across some of the walls looked. Layla took a deep breath of the fresh country air and listened to the raging stream—which was still overflowing from last night’s rain—that ran behind the town’s single lane.
Upper Telwick truly was a beautiful place.
Deciding she should sit and take in the beauty, Layla made her way to Myra’s Munchies for some morning tea. She found a seat at an outdoor table that overlooked the old mill, complete with a water wheel, making sure there wasn’t any wet patch on the chair first.
“It really would help us out, Grady,” Sue Grantham said as Grady pinned a piece of paper to the message board that hung from the ancient stone wall, under the protection of the eves.
“You think I’d be good at it?” Grady asked as he wiped his hands on the crisp, white apron tied around his trim waist.
“As long as you can stay still, I think you could be, yes.”
“Right then. I guess I’ll think about it.” He moved towards the café’s doorway.
Layla watched Sue grab a hold of Grady’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.
“No thinking about it. Do it. Come on, it’ll be fun and you’ll make some easy money.” Sue’s eyes travelled over Grady’s body. “You’re perfect for it, you know.”
Grady averted his gaze for a moment, but then a slow smile crossed his face. “Alright, sign me up.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
Grady startled. “Tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
“How long does the class run?”
Sue flicked her hair out of her face. “Six weeks.”
“You don’t want to ease them up to me?”
“No, this is what the class is for—to draw a model.”
“But I need to prepare in some way first,” Grady protested.
Sue checked him out again. “You really don’t. See you tomorrow.”
Before he could protest further, Sue marched away, head held high and her long green skirt swishing around her legs.
Shaking his head, Grady turned to collect some soiled dishes from a nearby table and caught sight of Layla, who was peeking up from the small beverage menu in its plastic stand.
“Morning— uh . . . Layla, right?” Grady asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Yeah. Morning.” Layla turned her gaze down to the menu once again as she muttered, “How was your night?”
She felt Grady’s glare bore into her as he responded, “Wet.”
Layla finally lifted her soft green eyes and tried to keep her expression as neutral as she could, but amusement danced across her face. “But you found the B&B okay?”
Grady’s glare intensified. “Yes, I found it okay. It’s been in the same place my entire life.”
She bit down on her grin. “That’s good, then.”
“Right.” Grady spun the spare chair around and sat on it backwards, leaning his elbows on the high back. “No thanks to you, gorgeous.”
Layla frowned. “Did you just call me gorgeous?”
“I did. Gorgeous with a gaping hole where your heart should be.” Grady indicated Layla’s chest.
Layla scoffed, which just enticed that sexy smile of his to make an appearance. “You think I’m heartless?”
Grady held his forefinger and thumb a millimetre apart, measuring how much he thought so.
“Well, fine, if you’re going to be rude to me again, I’ll take my business elsewhere,” Layla snapped, getting to her feet.
“Hey, now just a minute!” Grady exclaimed, catching Layla by the elbow and pulling her back into her chair. “Don’t be like that, love. What can I get you?”
It was Layla’s turn to glare at him.
“Come on. What’s your poison?”
“Mocha. Extra chocolate,” Layla muttered.
“Coming right up.” Grady rose to his feet and spun the chair back to its original position.
While she waited for her order to be made, Layla stepped over to the billboard to inspect the piece of paper that had just been pinned up.
Art classes.
CHEAP! AFFORDABLE!
Learn how to paint beautiful portraits.
Be Creative. Most of all . . .
HAVE FUN!
Contact Sue on 070378-076492
An art class? This was exactly what Layla needed! What better way to get past the rainbows than to take a class to help her improve her skills? It would also help her take her mind off the Event.
Layla tore one of the tagged pieces of paper off the bottom with Sue’s phone number printed on it. She quickly pushed it into her pocket as Grady reappeared with her mocha. He set the plain white crockery mug down on the table and Layla sat back down.
“Enjoy, gorgeous.”
Layla swallowed when he winked at her and tried to ignore the way he made her feel all fluttery inside. The last thing she needed was to fall into the arms of a man. Especially one as rude and as . . . as stupidly attractive as Grady Bradbury. “Thank you.”
Grady nodded once and went back inside.
By the end of the day, Grady was exhausted. His whole body ached as
he climbed onto his motorcycle. He peeled away from the curb and rode out of town to the small stone bridge. Slowing the bike to a crawl, Grady cased his surroundings. He wasn't sure how bad the stream would be or if he would be able to get across. Myra hadn't been able to make it in all day. He certainly hoped he wouldn't have to spend another night at the B&B.
Grady’s gaze fell upon a woman who was sitting on the wall that led to the old bridge, that—like everything else around here—was made of old stone. Her legs dangled over the edge above the raging water, her long dark hair cascaded down her back, and a sketch pad and pencil were in her hands.
Grady parked his bike and took his helmet off. He approached Layla, and noticed she was drawing a brightly coloured representation of the river before them. He stood a few feet away from her and made a show of glancing down at the overflowing banks. “Is the river down, yet?”
Layla glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “Nope.” She pointed her pencil in the direction of the lower point in the road, which was still under a fair amount of water. “They think it might be like that for another day or two.”
“Well, that's just great.” Grady slumped against the wall. He glanced at Layla and she, at him. “That's a nice drawing. Are you an artist?”
“Not officially.”
“That's a shame. You're good.”
Layla barely glanced at him and instead, kept her pencil busy.
Grady scrunched his fingers into his hair as he considered her tense body language. She was still pissed at him, and who could blame her? He had been a right dickhead last night. “Hey, about last night last night . . . I’m sorry, love. That freak storm, well . . . it freaked me out. I had to make sure the family was safe, you know.”
Layla gave a small nod. “I get it. Apology accepted.”
“Great.”
“Good.”
An awkward silence stretched between them.
“Anyway, enjoy your drawing. I guess it's back to the Red Bear for me.” Grady wandered away from her.
Layla sighed. She knew she was being a tad rude to him. It wasn’t his fault he was cut off from his family. Maybe she needed to chill out some and try being nice to him instead. “Grady, wait!”
He pivoted back to her.
Layla leapt down from the rock wall and approached him. “You don't have to stay at the B&B. There's a spare room in the cottage that's not being used, and you're more than welcome to stay in there, if you’d like. Free of charge.”
Grady narrowed his dark eyes. “What did Hector say to you?”
Layla frowned. “Hector? Who's that?”
Grady caught himself before he made an arse out of himself again. “Never mind. Why would you do that? You barely know me.”
“Think of it as my way of apologising for turfing you out last night.”
“Not like I didn’t deserve, I guess,” Grady grumbled.
“Come on, Grady. I'll make spag bol and you can watch some television, if you like, and you can even ring and check on your family with the 1980s phone.”
Grady looked at her curiously. “Spag bol?”
“Spaghetti bolognese,” Layla clarified.
“Sounds good. Right, then. Hop on.” Grady gestured to his black and red Kawasaki.
Layla's face dropped. “On-on that thing? You want me to ride that?”
“Yeah, but not far. We’ll just be going back through the village.”
“Ah, that's okay, I'll just walk.”
Grady caught her by the wrist as she spun away from him. “Layla, don't be daft. It's a quick bike ride. I promise it's safe.”
“Don't you only have one helmet?”
Grady smirked and handed the helmet to her. When she looked at it askance, Grady grabbed it and pushed it over her head. It was kind of big on her, but it would do for now.
“Grab your stuff and let’s go.”
Layla reluctantly obeyed.
Layla snuck a glance at Grady as he wandered about the tiny living area with its tastefully understated floral wallpaper and inspected the clutter that had occurred due to Layla’s visit. The once neat room was never going to stay that way with clutter bug Layla around, especially with her paints, pencils, canvases, and sketch pads. She had made sure to lay a couple of drop sheets on the floor so she didn't soil her Aunty Flo’s nice cream carpet.
Grady ran his fingertips along the white mantel, pausing to study the photographs there. When he glanced her way, Layla gasped.
Damn. Caught perving.
If the half-smile he flashed her was any indicator, Grady knew right away.
Layla cleared her throat. “It shouldn't be long. The sauce is just simmering now.”
“It smells great.”
“Thank you.” She lowered the heat under the sauce and said, “So, you’re a motorbike guy. Why the zippy thing and not a Harley? Aren’t Harleys all the rage, or something?”
“I like sports bikes. They’re sleek and sexy. A bit like me.” Grady winked at Layla, making her blush.
With a cough, Layla turned away to set a basket of small bread rolls on the dinner table. Was he flirting with her when he had a family out there somewhere?
“These photographs . . . They're not of you,” Grady observed.
Layla went and leaned against the door jamb. “No, that's Aunty Flo’s lot. I'm not sure why they're there, actually. She hasn't lived here for years.”
“Why not?”
“She lives in Australia with my uncle. She kept the place because it’s been in her family for two hundred years, or something. It was passed down to her when her mother died.” Layla folded her arms loosely across her chest. “Maybe my cousin, Reid put them there. He works in Lancaster.”
“What brought you here, then?” Grady asked.
Layla hesitated.
Grady stepped towards her, a quizzical expression on his face.
“Just a holiday,” Layla responded.
“A holiday?”
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
Layla fiddled with the simple charm bracelet on her left wrist. “Three months.”
“Is this the first week you've been here?”
Layla peered up at him from under her eyelashes. “No, I've been here for almost three.”
Grady was confused. “Why haven't I seen you around before yesterday?”
Layla twisted her mouth up.
Grady scoffed. “Don't tell me you've hidden yourself away in here for three weeks?”
Layla went to stir the sauce. “Is that such a big deal?”
“You're on a holiday,” Grady responded as he followed her into the kitchen. “You came all the way from Australia to hide?”
“Look out!”
Grady stepped out of the way as Layla carried the boiling pot of pasta to the sink and strained it.
“I know there's not a whole lot to do around here, but you're on the other side of the world. Don't you want to see some of it?” Grady asked, exasperated.
“That's why I went for a walk today. It's why I was out by the river, drawing.” Layla dished out the meal and set the plates on the small table. She went to the fridge as Grady sat down and Layla poured them both some water. “Sorry I don't have anything else.”
“It's fine.” Grady ate some of the dish and nodded his approval. “Tasty.”
Layla muttered her thanks.
“You know, there's a lot more to this area than our one-street little village. Have you been to the castle out on the hill? Or out to the lakes or the abbey in the next town over?”
Layla watched him twist the long strands of pasta around his fork. “You’re into that sort of thing?”
“Aren't you?”
“Absolutely. But I guess I just figured . . . you, motorbike boy and everything . . . you sort of come across as a play hard kind of guy,” Layla admitted.
Grady narrowed his eyes. “I can't be both?”
Layla shrugged. “I can't go to those places, though. I don't have a car.
”
“You're going to spend three months stuck in this little cottage?” Grady couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“If it makes a difference, I am going to join that art class that's starting up. You know the one you put up on your billboard this morning?”
Grady nodded slowly. “Sue’s art class?”
“Yeah. It's a good idea, right?”
Grady cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure.”
Layla fluffed the pillow on the spare bed and made sure the bed was just so. She wasn't sure why she was fidgeting so much or why she was so on edge. Grady was a guest. Just a guest who couldn't get home to this Myra woman, who was probably the love of his life. He was probably missing her because he couldn't get home and snuggle with her.
“Oh, stop it, Layla,” she hissed to herself.
“Stop what?”
She spun around when she heard him behind her and was greeted with Grady's naked torso as he hung his T-shirt up on the door of the cheap pine armoire.
Holy shit, did he have to look so delicious?
“Nothing. Bed’s made,” she managed to squeak out.
“Thanks,” Grady replied.
“Did you get a hold of Myra?”
“Yeah, I did. It looks like I'm going to be on my own in the café for the day until the flood waters drop down.” He set his hands on his hips.
“Oh. Well, that's a shame.”
“I'll do alright. It shouldn't be as busy considering the situation and everything.” Grady started to undo his belt and jeans.
Layla’s cheeks grew bright red and she dashed for the door, where she paused. “Uh, if . . . you need anything else . . .”
