The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2)

by Marilyn Grey

  "Oh." I smiled. "Why, of course!"

  We finished analyzing each thing, which was more fun than I ever thought it could be, when he turned to me and said, "I'm chuffed for you. It doesn't matter if people buy it or not, it's amazing and really well thought out."

  I clasped my hands and lowered my head. "Thank you."

  "I should probably get back to my hotel. Where did you park?"

  "Wait. Where's my apartment? I didn't even stay to find out."

  "Oh." He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket. "Donovan anticipated that. He gave me your key. Address is on the envelope."

  "Wow." I took the envelope and read the address. "He knows me too well."

  "He's a good friend."

  "He is." I peeked around him. "Looks stormy out. We should go."

  "Yeah, okay then."

  I wanted him to ask to come over, but he didn't seem to want to and I wasn't about to ask and give him the wrong impression. "So ... how long will you be here?"

  "I don't have any set plans."

  "Let's, um..." I nodded toward the door.

  "Right, well I'm parked in the back parking lot."

  "Right. Should I walk you there?"

  "Jane." He took my hand again.

  "Alistair."

  "I didn't get a hotel."

  "Oh, so you need some—"

  "Jane."

  "Mmm?"

  "I'm staying with you." He smiled. "If you don't mind."

  Chapter 39

  The apartment was on the second floor of a house, with the first and third floors occupied as well. A note in the envelope said rent was paid for the next five months, but after that I'd pay $750. The door opened to the living room and dining room. One big room separated by the back of the couch. The enormous kitchen had a window to the dining room, a huge bay window, and a long countertop. Zoe would love it. The hall led to two bedrooms, one half bath with a shower, and a master bath off the back room, complete with a jacuzzi tub. All wood floors, old with dings and scratches, and cream-covered walls that were in dire need of paint.

  "What do you think?" Alistair said.

  "I love it. The loft was more artsy, but this is nice in its own way."

  "That's a crackin' tub." He nodded down the hall as we walked back to the living room.

  "I know. I'm sure I'll use it a lot."

  "What would you like to do?" He sat on the couch and pat the spot next to him. "I'm knackered after that flight. Want to watch Batman?"

  "Really? I would love that. I'm ... what was it ... knackered? Too."

  "Knackered. You don't say that here?"

  I shook my head and bit back a laugh as I opened a window. "Would you like a cuppa too?"

  "That'd be nice, yeah. Why don't we go make us a brew, duck?"

  "I'll go make us a brew. You get comfortable here. Duck."

  I searched the kitchen for the tea kettle and found it in the oven. Odd. Had to remind myself that this was my place. Once I fired up the kettle, I leaned against the counter and noticed he turned the lights down and lit a candle. Rain tapped on the window as the vanilla scent warmed the room.

  Oh! What if I didn't have tea?

  I looked through all of the cabinets and the fridge, just in case, but didn't find much more than flour, rice, and a few cans of diced tomatoes.

  "Um, Alistair?"

  He didn't respond. I walked into the living room and started to say his name again, but he was sleeping. Dead asleep on the couch. A little disappointing, I must say, but hey, I didn't have tea anyway. I turned the stove off, changed into my pajamas, grabbed a blanket from my room, then held it as I watched him sleep.

  I thought of the night he accidentally called me on Skype. The time I watched him sleep before getting caught. That was before I knew his favorite color was orange and that he liked to drink tea right before bed because his mom gave him a taste of hers when he was a kid. It was before I knew that his parent's divorce actually did hurt him, even though he tells everyone else it didn't. Before I knew the way he stumbled over words when he was excited. Or the way he had some uncanny musical ability to play any instrument he put his hands on.

  It was before I knew him.

  And now that I knew him better ... he graduated from sexy to adorable. Instead of focusing on the rise and fall of his chest like last time, I focused on the slightest flutter of his eyelids and the way he tucked his hand under his pillow. His other hand draped over his chest and his breathing was slow, but heavy. He didn't snore like Don though.

  I unfolded the blanket and put it over him as gently as possible. Then I sat on the floor with my back against the couch and listened to him breathe. I leaned back and whispered to myself, "I don't think he'd mind."

  "No," my other side responded. "It would be weird if I just..."

  "He'd like it," I said.

  His fingers ran down the back of my head and lingered on my neck.

  "He'd like it if you came up here," he whispered. "You nutter."

  I waited. Then turned. "Hey."

  He touched my hair again, then moved over to make room for me. "Come here, duck."

  Suddenly ... my heart decided to beat fifty thousand times faster. So fast I wondered if he could hear it. Or see it. Or feel it.

  He pulled me toward his body and I slinked down beside him.

  "Cute pajamas." He wrapped his arm around me and pressed my body against his. Our legs touched. Our fingers locked. And I wondered if he'd kiss me.

  The anticipation, the fact that I didn't know if and when he would, created a major rush inside of me. Every touch of his skin against mine—his thumb rubbing my hand, his leg warm against mine, his heart under my ear. Every touch and sound intensified and sent electricity through me. I unlocked my hand from his and ran my fingers up and down his arm. His breathing increased in depth and speed. The rain picked up outside, loudly pelting the window. Moving my hand toward his neck, I watched his lips. Slightly open under closed eyes. His pulse throbbed in his neck as I ran my fingers up to his face, tracing his jaw down to his lips.

  What am I doing?

  I closed my eyes and felt his lips with the tips of my fingers, then opened my eyes as he took my hand into his and kissed each finger one at a time.

  Thunder rumbled in the background as adrenaline took over every inch of my body. I couldn't wait for him to kiss me.

  I propped myself up on his chest and looked down at his sweet smile. His eyes, barely open, stared up at me as my hair fell out of its braid and touched the side of his face. He took a strand of hair—eyes still on me—inhaled, then curled it around his hand.

  My breathing grew as rapid as my heart rate. I moved closer, then pressed my hand against the one he held above his head. Closer. Our eyes met and stayed there. Fixated on each other.

  Then his lips parted.

  I licked mine and stopped centimeters from his. Lightning flashed, casting a blue tint on his face as a gust of wind snuffed the candle.

  He titled his jaw upward and swallowed, then closed his eyes again.

  The electricity heightened. Sparks. Definitely lots of sparks. My lips touched his, lingered there on the softness, unmoved. Still as can be, we just breathed. Heavy. Into each other.

  "Alistair," I whispered against his lips.

  "Jane."

  And then it happened.

  It felt like every summer day and every winter night all at once, passionately filled with heat as chills coursed my body. He gently sucked in my bottom lip and opened his eyes as I opened mine, ever so briefly, then closed them as he brushed his fingers through my hair and pushed me a few inches away.

  We quietly read each other's eyes while his thumb traced the outline of my face.

  "So," he whispered. "That was worth waiting for."

  Thunder shrieked and the street lights went out. I jolted and fell off the couch, holding my erratic heart with shaky hands.

  "You okay down there?" He laughed.

  "Seriously scared me."
/>   "Come back up here." He touched my hair. "I'll calm you down."

  "No." I smiled as I climbed back to him. "I don't think calm is the right word."

  Chapter 40

  I woke up before Alistair and stood up as quietly as possible. He stayed asleep as I wrote a note telling him I'd be back in a little bit, but opened his eyes as soon as I came out of my room.

  "Good morning," he said.

  "Hey, I'm gonna run out and get some groceries so we can make breakfast."

  "Oh." He swung his legs off the couch and yawned. "I'll come."

  "You can stay if you want. I don't mind."

  "I can't stay more than a few days." He stood and pat his pockets while looking around, then grabbed his wallet off the couch. "I'd like to see you as much as I can while I'm here."

  I wanted to say, "Then what?" But I didn't. Then you're over there and I'm over here and we experience that unbearable feeling of emptiness as we fall asleep alone. Exactly like I feared. How could this work? I'd have to move to England or he'd have to move to America just to have a normal dating relationship, and then what if it didn't work after all that?

  "You're spaced out again," he said.

  "Sorry."

  We walked out to the car, drove to the grocery store and parked, when finally he broke the silence. "Do you regret last night?"

  "No. Not at all. It was perfect."

  "Best kiss you've ever had?" His voice didn't carry the same joy it always did.

  "Best kiss I'll ever have." Bet that surprised him.

  But he didn't show it. Maybe it was the sadness in my voice as I said it.

  We went inside the grocery store and bought a bunch of food, which he insisted on paying for to be "kind-personly," plus he said I could remember him for weeks whenever I ate.

  We finally got back home and attempted to make breakfast together, but we were both terrible at it.

  "The eggs aren't the worst," he said as we finally started to eat.

  "Pancakes taste like sponges. I need Zoe's recipe."

  He laughed. "Eat sponges often?"

  "Very."

  "Okay, listen." He took my hand. "I know you're not going to be able to turn your brain off and every time I kiss you perhaps you will put a wall up to make sure you don't get hurt, but I'd like to enjoy this time together without worrying about tomorrow."

  "It's hard for me, Alistair. And the fact that it's hard says how much I like you."

  "Jane, I'll never hurt you."

  "Don't say that. Even my mom and dad, of all people, hurt each other sometimes."

  "I'll never hurt you on purpose."

  "This just can't work. It's too good to work, like everything in my life."

  He sighed. "I thought you didn't give up easily, but maybe I was wrong."

  "I'm not giving up. I'm just afraid to start something I know I can't finish. Remember when we said that?"

  He nodded and took his hand away. "The difference is I intend to finish what we've started and I'll do anything to make sure it happens."

  "It's just not realistic."

  "Then be unrealistic. Who said you have to live by the world's standards?"

  I shoved the food around on my plate, then looked up at him. "Okay. I'll try to enjoy today without thinking about tomorrow."

  He smiled, but the air between us was cold. I wished more than anything that I could change myself. Why couldn't I have fun and fall in love like normal people?

  We threw out what we didn't eat, had a conversation about consumerism and wastefulness, then decided to go for a walk where we continued our conversation while holding hands and laughing. We even named the store, jokingly, Caped Crusader, but I didn't tell him I had a real name picked out. I chose it while I tried to fall asleep after our kiss. 1812. Just 1812. After the song that played the day we met. Had nothing to do with Batman, but that was fine. Room for growth.

  On our way back to my apartment Alistair noticed a woman trying to climb the steps to her house. He motioned for me to stop and approached her.

  "Good afternoon," he said, touching the rail. "Might you need some help?"

  "Oh, oh." Her hands shook as she reached for his arm. "Thank you, dear. You know I'm ninety-two years old in three days."

  "Is that right?" He helped her to the door and smiled back at me.

  "Yes, and you know what?" The keys trembled as she tried to stick them in the keyhole. "I lost my husband only a few months ago." She focused on the keys as he held his hand over hers to help her unlock the door. "Heart attack."

  "I'm very sorry to hear that. I'm sure he was a wonderful man."

  "Is, honey. He still is to me." Her face shook and a tear fell. "Thank you for helping me."

  And she disappeared.

  Alistair turned back to me and we kept walking.

  The lady looked great for ninety-two, but her spirit had obviously buried itself with her husband.

  I stayed quiet for a while after that. Then we walked up to the porch and I pulled out my keys, but he took my hand and pulled me toward him. I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn't. He cradled me in his arms, hard, like I'd disappear if he let go, then he pulled back and said, "I'm hungry."

  I laughed. "I bet you are."

  "Jane?" He said as I opened the door. "Thanks for being cautious."

  "Really? Why?"

  "Because it shows that you're careful about who you give your heart to. And if you give it to me one day I know it'll be that much more special."

  "Or I could keep it locked up forever and then it's not so admirable, is it?"

  "No." He grinned. "No, that's not admirable at all."

  "I don't want to."

  "I know." He shut the door behind him. "I know that."

  Time spent with Alistair was different than anyone else I'd ever been friends with, including Donovan. We could go from laughing hysterically, to making out, to having deep conversations about life, and think nothing of it. Everything happened so naturally, from the way we held hands to the way we listened to each other breathe.

  When we finished dinner and stood in front of the jacuzzi tub, talking about how bad we wanted to get in, I knew I was walking on dangerous grounds, but caution out the window, I decided to go for it.

  We made out, but hadn't crossed any crazy boundaries, so I wasn't ready to totally bare it all in the bath. I guess he wasn't either because he excused himself to change clothes in the bathroom while I changed in my room. I just put on a bathing suit. Yes, Batman. I know, I know, definitely dork-worthy, but that's me. At least it wasn't one of the bikinis with bat symbols on the boobs. I wasn't that weird.

  I knocked on the door.

  "Come in," he said.

  I entered and ... "Wow. Already got it ready. How did you get bubbles in here?"

  "Well, I snuck off in the grocery store while you were debating with yourself about which ice cream to get and found some bath things. We have vanilla-scented crystal stuff and bubbles too."

  "Crystal stuff, huh?" I smiled and tried to ignore the tattoos sprawled across his chest. I wanted to read them, but didn't want him to think I was staring at his bare ... nicely toned arms and chest. Then it hit me. "You have a Batman bathing suit too!"

  He laughed. "I like yours better though."

  "Two dorks destined for dorkdom." I stepped into the tub and clenched my fists at my sides. "Ah, it's so hot."

  "You'll get used to it."

  "I think it's too hot."

  He laughed and splashed me. "You never jump in, do you? I'll show you how this is done."

  "Oh, you go ahead and show me then." I slowly lowered myself under the bubbles. Seriously, it was too hot.

  "Ready?" His face lit up.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Wait." He turned the dimmer down. "That's better."

  A mischievous grin spread across his face as he knelt down beside the tub.

  "What are—"

  He popped up and jumped in, splashing me and the floor in the
process. After going completely under, he came out of the water and smiled as water clung to his eyelashes and dripped from his hair.

  "What on earth was that?" I didn't know whether to laugh or....

  "That's how you do it. Forget getting your feet wet. You just jump right on in."

  I peeked over the side, grabbed a towel, and dropped it on the puddle of water he created on the floor.

  "You are such a dork," I said. "Who leaps into a bathtub?"

  "Who talks to herself in the grocery store, out loud, about which ice cream flavor is better?" He flicked water at me.

  "Fair enough." I flicked back.

  "Let's play truth or dare," he said. "You Americans like that, right?"

  "What're we like five?"

  "Sorta."

  "Okay," I agreed.

  "Truth or dare?"

  "Dare."

  "How Jane of you."

  I wanted to move closer to him. Being all the way on the other side of the tub seemed so far, but at least our feet touched. I liked that.

  "I dare you to take a bite of the soap." He handed it to me.

  It slipped into the palm of my hand as I tried to read him to see if he was serious. He shrugged and motioned for me to go on as he put his arms along the sides of the tub and leaned back. Bubbles clung to him as the light cast shadows on the right side of his face. I wanted to feel his arms around me and his lips on mine. But I'd wait.

  "I'm waiting," he teased.

  I gave him an I'll-show-you-buddy look and bit into the soap, held it in my mouth for a few seconds, then spit it out. "Done. Your turn. Truth or dare?"

  "Hmmm..." He rubbed his neck. "Truth."

  "How Alistair of you," I said, trying to mimic his accent.

  "Not bad, little duck. Not bad."

  "Truth. Okay." I closed my eyes and thought. "How many girls have you kissed?"

  "Six."

  "That's it?"

  "Why? How many blokes have you kissed?"

  "This is your turn. What was the first one like?"

  "You tell me. You were there."

  I replayed his words to make sure I understood.

  "The others don't count," he said. "Anyway, your turn. Truth or dare?"

  "Dare."

  "You don't want to tell me anything?"