A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  Jasper and I head to the cabin for the blankets, staying an arm’s length apart. The minute I follow him inside, though, Jasper shuts the door and threads his fingers through mine. “You’re freezing,” he says, drawing me closer and putting an arm around my shoulder.

  I am, but my body flushes with heat from the inside like someone turned on a radiator in my stomach. I’ve been sitting next to Jasper for most of the evening, not touching. Our interactions have been easy, casual enough for me to begin to doubt the intensity of our kiss earlier. Now, however, my pulse jumps and I realize the intensity has been simmering, but it’s definitely there.

  I try to keep my voice light. “I thought ninety degrees, minimum, was mandatory for Fourth of July.”

  “Obviously you have high expectations of the great British summer.” Jasper smiles and I wish it was brighter in the cabin so I could see him more clearly. “We’re lucky if we hit eighty here in July. Or ever, really.”

  “That must be why you Brits haven’t embraced the Fourth of July. Lack of appropriate weather.”

  Jasper laughs and I feel the vibration of his laughter in his chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason, but you keep telling yourself that.”

  “Hey, I’ve got it on good authority this is one of at least four similar celebrations going on in England today at this very minute.” This is actually true. Claire told me earlier about the celebrations at the American Clubs in London and Manchester, as well as an American-themed bar she knows that does “killer ribs” for the holiday.

  Jasper draws me closer and I feel his warm breath on my skin as he speaks. “But we’re the only ones who have you, so where’s the real celebration happening?”

  “I don’t know. I heard--”

  I don’t get to say what I heard because Jasper yanks me to him so we’re chest to chest. And even though there are two thick sweatshirts between us, I swear I feel his heart pounding in time with mine. “That wasn’t actually a question. The real celebration is happening here.”

  “Of course.” I look up and somehow my lips find a sliver of Jasper’s collarbone, and they’re on his skin before I can stop and think.

  He inhales sharply and steps back like I bit him. I open my mouth, but he’s already shaking his head. “All I’ve thought about today is kissing you senseless, but we need to get back or everyone will notice.”

  Whoa. Jasper’s pushed me away twice today, and legit reason or not…I cross my arms and swallow. I’m glad for the dark because it hides the way my face flames. “Yeah. No, you’re right. We should get the blankets and head back.”

  “Bea.” His voice is firm and he lifts my chin. I keep my eyes on his nose. “Don’t.”

  Now I do let my eyes meet his. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t talk yourself into believing I wouldn’t rather stay here with you. I would.” He pauses. “Probably more than you know.”

  “But?” It’s the type of statement practically begging for a but.

  He shakes his head. “Let’s talk tonight.”

  Right. Tonight. We’re supposed to have our so-called date, which felt full of promise this afternoon when Jasper suggested it. Now, though, it feels full of uncertainty, which makes me want to avoid it altogether. “Jasper, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this and it’s cold. Maybe we should forget it.”

  “Meet me up in the attic then,” he says.

  The attic you mentioned would be great for an afternoon tryst? Because that would be a good idea? “I don’t think…”

  “Please.” Jasper’s face looks so earnest it’s almost painful. “Give me a chance to explain.”

  I want to ask, ‘Explain what?’ but he won’t tell me now and I know it. So I nod. Against my better judgment, I’ll at least meet him and hear him out.

  And lie to Scarlett in the process. Which bothers me even more than it would have, especially when she pouts like only she can. “Come on. You haven’t been out at all,” Scarlett whines as she paces around the living room of the cabin. “If you hate it, we can come back in an hour.”

  This is her go-to line when she’s trying to drag me someplace in Atlanta and it almost always works. Tonight, though, I hold firm. “We’re going out tomorrow. I’m really not feeling it tonight.”

  Claire opens the bathroom door and shouts out, “Leave her alone. If she doesn’t want to come, don’t guilt her into it.”

  Scarlett sticks her tongue out at Claire. “You, bugger off. No one asked you.”

  No one did, but I have a feeling Claire’s speaking up on my behalf because she suspects I’m meeting Jasper, which makes me feel worse because my best friend has no idea.

  “You’ve roped me into your schemes more times than I can count, so I get to offer my opinion whether you want it or not,” Claire says. She spritzes her perfume and comes out to stand beside me. Gone are her hoodie and beat-up sneakers. Now Claire wears a soft blue sweater fitted enough to show off her figure, a pair of dark jeans, and silvery flip flops. Just like the first night we met, her make-up is caked on, although the light is more forgiving this time. She looks like she’s trying, but not too hard, and is in stark contrast to Scarlett in her paint-splattered shirt, who looks like she’s not trying at all.

  “Fine.” Scarlett sticks her tongue out at me this time. “You don’t want to come, don’t come. I’m giving your number to every guy I see. For a good time call.”

  “Well, that would be great, except I don’t have a UK number.” I laugh. “But feel free to give them yours.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll get them to WhatsApp you then.” Scarlett grins and turns to Claire. “Let’s go. My dad said he’d take us down there and we can either get Will to bring us back or call a cab, yeah?”

  I watch them gather their things, wave them out the door, and then proceed to alternate pacing the cabin with getting ready until I hear Paul’s car rumble down the gravel driveway. I glance in the bathroom mirror one more time. My hair is in the same ponytail it’s been in all day, and I’ve brushed some sheer powder over my face and cleaned my teeth, so I feel and look more presentable. But that doesn’t mean I feel more ready.

  In fact, as I walk up the path to the castle, I alternate between wanting to run up to the attic, and wanting to go back to the cabin, lock the door, and crawl into bed. I stop in the middle of the path, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths, focusing on the exhale. It’s times like this I wish I were a real yoga fanatic. Then I’d know more about how to calm myself on the spot instead of relying solely on the breathing technique. Which only works when my heart’s not beating triple time.

  But at least it’s enough to get me in the front door and up the back stairs leading to the attic rooms. I know where they are because Scarlett showed me the attic one day when we were supposed to be cleaning out the turret rooms. From the main hallway in both turrets are doors concealing stairs leading up to the attic, which is a weird combination of bedrooms and storage space. Scarlett says the attic would have been where servants slept, but her parents made a few extra bedrooms up here in case of overflow or if she and Jasper had friends to stay for any period of time. It’s mostly forgotten about now, but Scarlett remembers some pretty epic sleepovers up here when she was in high school.

  The best part, according to Scarlett, is even though the stairs creak, they’re so far removed from the actual living space you could race a horse up and down them and no one would hear. The same cannot be said for all of the attic rooms, however, which she knows from experience. The corner room is the quietest and it’s no surprise that’s the room where the light shines from across the wooden floorboards.

  I stop in the hallway, my breathing shallow. What am I even doing here, besides asking for trouble? When Jasper mentioned a date this afternoon, I’d envisioned flirtation, laughter, and more than a little kissing, setting the stage for dates number two, three, and four, where eventually we’d sleep together. Now, on the threshold of date number on
e, I realize what an idiot I am. Jasper didn’t get the script of my happy little fantasy and kissing him today has veered from hot to weird. Not exactly encouraging.

  “Bea?” Jasper calls. “I know you’re out there.”

  I take a deep breath and drag my feet forward to propel myself through the door. Where I stop dead in my tracks. Jasper’s right. This room would be perfect for a tryst – afternoon or otherwise. It’s almost totally white – from the duvet to the desk to the white-washed floorboards. There are a few light gray pillows on the bed, which is the only color in the room. A small lamp makes a circle of light on the white side table and illuminates Jasper so I see more of his shadow than I do of him.

  I take another step forward so I can see his face more clearly. He peers at me, leaning slightly forward. His glasses are on the desk so I have no idea how well he can see me. He reaches out a hand, but quickly withdraws it back to his lap, patting the space beside him on the bed.

  I take two more steps, perch on the edge of the bed, and force my voice to come out even and flat as I say, “Hey.”

  Jasper picks up an empty wine glass from the desk. “I can’t remember if you drink red or white, so I brought both.”

  “I drink red, but I’ve probably had enough for tonight.” Gah. I sound prim and uptight, as opposed to the cool and unaffected I’m going for.

  “Okay, fair enough.”

  I wait for Jasper to say something. He’s the one who suggested this. But when he doesn’t, I let out a sigh and say, “So.”

  Jasper’s words tumble out, like he’s been waiting for some kind of go signal. “I’m being a bloody idiot and I’m sorry. And not only today, but in general. I didn’t want to be here with you this summer and I’m handling it badly.”

  “Wow. Are you excluding this very minute from your assessment or not?” I ask.

  “Jesus. No. I mean yes.” Jasper picks his glasses up from the desk and pushes them up on his nose. “This is exactly what I mean about why I didn’t want to be here.”

  What the actual fuck?

  “I don’t think I can help you with that.” I stand up, crossing my arms across my chest. “But I don’t want to bother you, so…”

  “Bea, sit down.” Jasper sounds exasperated. “Let me explain. Then if you want to walk out, at least it will be for the right reasons.”

  “Besides you being an arsehole, you mean?” I force a smile and say, “You know, when you said date earlier, this isn’t really what I envisioned.”

  “I know.” Another heavy sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”

  This time when I smile, it’s a little more genuine. “No, but maybe you should go ahead.”

  Jasper shakes his head. “I was thinking it would help.”

  I perch on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you explain to me why you need liquid courage to have this conversation and I’ll be on my way?”

  Jasper scoots forward until he’s on the edge of the bed and our knees are inches apart. When he looks at me half of his face remains in the shadows and I wonder if it’s deliberate. “Liquid courage. I like that phrase, but I thought maybe you’d like some. Not me.”

  I straighten. “Why?”

  “Because before we talk about what’s happening between us this summer, we need to talk about what happened last time we saw each other.” I open my mouth to ask why and Jasper answers before I get the word out. “I can’t do that again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Have the most incredible weekend of my life and never again speak to the girl I have it with until she shows up with my sister to spend the summer at my house.” Jasper’s voice is low and even. Like he didn’t just send my heart on a collision course with my stomach.

  “Um.” I swallow. “I…”

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve thought about this a lot and I have to be honest.” Jasper’s voice drops. “Last time really did my head in.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Technically, I understand Jasper’s words fine. It’s the implication I’m struggling with. “I mean, you came back to England and we both knew that was always going to happen, so I don’t understand…”

  “Look at me, Bea.” This time Jasper’s voice is pained and he doesn’t speak until I actually turn my head and meet his eyes. “The weekend we had? That’s so far outside the scope of things that normally happen to me, it would be laughable if it weren’t so sad.”

  “You weren’t some virgin I deliberately deflowered.” I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite take. “I mean, that weekend was pretty far out of the scope of things that normally happen to me, too. But we were both consenting adults.”

  “Of course we were.” Jasper says this with more disdain than if I’d accused him of actually being a virgin. “But that’s not the point.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “So what is the point? I mean, I never heard from you…”

  “I never heard from you either.” Jasper’s reply is quick, then he lets out a sigh. “And I get it. I do. But that weekend took me a long time to get over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you, but let’s be frank. You’re my sister’s best friend and that’s not something I take lightly.” Jasper sighs again. “I get if you want a distraction for the summer, but in the interest of self-preservation, I don’t think I can be it.”

  I drop my head to my hands. My thoughts are spinning faster than a Tilt-a-Whirl at Six Flags and my emotions seem to have jumped on the ride as well. When I speak, though, only one emotion comes through. Loud and clear. “So in the interest of self-preservation, you’ve decided then what I’m all about and what I want? Without asking me how or if I’ve thought about you since that weekend?”

  “I never heard from you.”

  “It works both ways. I never heard from you either.”

  “You got engaged.” Jasper’s voice goes up.

  My voice rises, too. “I got engaged almost a year and a half after we were together. Was I not supposed to go on with my life?”

  “No. I mean, of course you were.” Jasper springs up and shoves his hands in his pockets, pacing from the desk to the wall and back again. “God, I’m making this worse.”

  If Jasper wasn’t pacing, I would be. “I don’t understand. As I recall, you kissed me this afternoon. Not the other way around.”

  “To see if I could, no strings attached. Let the pieces fall where they may, as it were.” Jasper waves his arm like he’s conducting an orchestra.

  “And?” I ask the question, even knowing what he’s going to say. I need to buy myself time to figure out how to react.

  “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said?” Jasper stops pacing and stands right in front of me, peering down in a way that makes me want to scoot back. Way back. “All afternoon, I was a moon to your star. Wherever you were, I was painfully aware of your orbit. Painfully being the key word.”

  I stay still, making myself hold Jasper’s gaze. Then I stand up slowly so he has to move back or risk touching me. God forbid. When I speak, my voice is soft but only because I don’t want it to shake. “I’ve been listening, Jasper. And you know what I’ve heard? I’ve heard you assuming a hell of a lot, but not asking me a single thing about what I thought happened between us two years ago. Or this afternoon, for that matter. Do you really think so little of me or of yourself that it hasn’t occurred to you I liked you too?” I hold my first two fingers of my right hand up. “Let me answer. I did like you. A lot. Until about five minutes ago when you decided you had a right to become judge and jury on something I never knew. And now I’m just sort of sad.”

  I take a careful step around Jasper, making sure not to touch him. His ‘I’m sorry’ follows me out of the room, but I don’t stop. I half expect to hear his footsteps on the stairs behind me, but when I exit the stairwell, he’s nowhere in sight and I make my way back to the cabin alone, arms hugging my chest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In A
tlanta, I’ve been known to get from my apartment to a bar in six minutes, including getting-ready time. At Castle Calder, simply getting ready is a two-hour affair, between Scarlett changing her clothes six times, Claire straightening her hair, and my three attempts at applying black eyeliner. By the time we pay for the cab and stand on the sidewalk in front of the Wickington Arms, Scarlett, Claire, and I have been on the verge of going out for three hours already.

  “So, this is downtown Windermere,” Scarlett says. “And I use the term downtown loosely.”

  “It’s cute.” I’m not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Windermere could be any lakeside town with its restaurants, tourist shops, and ice cream stands. The pub we stand in front of looks like a converted store front and the only thing obviously British is the sign, proclaiming happy hour pints for two pounds. A crowd of guys standing around a nearby table smoking have English accents, but two of them wear Gap hoodies. The Princess of Wales down the street from my Atlanta apartment feels more British than this.

  “Don’t worry. We’re not going here,” Claire says. “The place we’re starting is around the corner, but the street is pedestrians only.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a two-pound pint?” I smile, as much for my own benefit as theirs. As if I can shake off this gray cloud that’s been hanging above me since my conversation with Jasper last night. I’m not sad, dammit, no matter what I said to him. But I’m disappointed. In spite of myself.

  Jasper was either avoiding me or legit had things to do, because I haven’t seen him all day. Which, regardless of the reason, didn’t really help his case. If he likes me as much as he says he does, I would have thought he’d try harder. Not that I should care. I shouldn’t. Absolutely one hundred percent should not. I’ve told myself the same thing all day, but I’m not doing much better at convincing myself than I was last night when I left Jasper in the attic room.