A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  Claire drains her mug and sets it on the coffee table. “Let me decide for you. You’re going.”

  I bristle. “I don’t think you get to decide, actually.”

  “I don’t, but I think if you were willing to go out with some rando you gave your number to at Republic, you can go out with someone you genuinely like. Because if you can convince me you don’t like Jaz, I’ll eat my hat.”

  My irritation deflates as quickly as it rose. “You don’t have a hat.”

  “I’ll find one.” Claire stands up and stretches her arms above her head. “Go out with him. Have a great time. The end.”

  “Then what?” I can easily imagine the possibilities. Except for one thing. “What about Scarlett? She’ll kill me.”

  “She knows you’re going out tomorrow and I don’t see her standing here brandishing her weapon of choice.” Claire yawns. “And on that note, I’m going to bed. Have a great time and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Which leaves you wide open because I haven’t had any in so bloody long.”

  Me neither. And judging by the way I reacted to Jasper in the kitchen tonight, I’m what my mother would call primed – primed to be taken advantage of and make bad decisions. But what if they don’t feel like bad decisions? Remembering the heat of Jasper’s body next to mine, it’s nearly impossible for me to think of him as a bad decision.

  Gah.

  I cross the room and as I set my mug down on the kitchen counter with a little more force than necessary, the last of my tea splashes out. My mother nods in approval in my mind’s eye as I wipe it up and suddenly I feel on the verge of tears. This is the kind of thing I’d confide in Scarlett about and we’d discuss endlessly over fish tacos and margaritas. Instead, I’m keeping secrets and lying by omission.

  I slip my phone from the pocket of my robe. It’s a chicken-shit way out, but maybe I’ll feel better if I send her a WhatsApp. When I open the app and start typing, though, I have no idea what to say. Hey, I like your brother? Hey, apparently I have a date with Jasper tomorrow? About that.

  I stab at the buttons on my screen and, before I can second guess myself, press the FaceTime icon next to “Mom”. I’m reluctant to confide in her about this, especially knowing how much she loves Theo, but she’s something else – someone else – to focus on and that’s what I need right now.

  She answers on the second ring. “Bea? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  I nod and feel my eyes fill, so I blink rapidly as I say, “No, I’m good. I’m fine. I thought I’d call while I had a chance. I haven’t had much time lately.”

  “I know, you poor thing.” My mother smiles. Even at 9:00 p.m. her lipstick is flawless. “I’m sure they miss you at summer school. Maybe if you put your name in when you get back, you’ll be on the roster for next year. The hours really are the best you can get.”

  I let out a sigh. “I know, Mom. This is exhausting, but I’m happy. I feel like I’m learning a lot, actually.”

  “Well, good. But I thought you were working in a kitchen?” The line between her brows deepens as she says this.

  “I am, but I don’t know, it’s fun. I mean, tonight we had a huge wedding and it was crazy and way more work than I ever imagined it would be, but I helped with the catering and set up and…” I let my voice trail off. Judging by the look on my mother’s face, she’s confused. Bordering on bewildered. The line between her brows is practically a trench now.

  “You never seemed like you liked cooking, but you know what I always say. Eating is a necessity, but cooking is an art. And I’m certainly glad you’re enjoying it.” My mother does the thing where she holds her finger up like a thought just occurred to her. But I know her well enough to know it’s something she’s been dying to spit out. I just hope it’s not one of her sayings about finding joy in work or some shit. “Speaking of food, did I tell you I saw Theo the other day at Kroger? He was stocking up on vegetables. He says kale is the new superfood. Did you know that? He even gave me a suggestion about how to cook it and it’s not so bad. He also said he’s going to London and you two might meet up?”

  Oh. My. God. I can totally imagine Theo chatting up my mom in the produce section. I’ve been trying to forget him and the email I sent when I was feeling rejected and insecure. Judging by the fact I hadn’t heard from him again, I’d hoped he’d forgotten it too. Apparently not. “I don’t know, Mom. We’ll see.”

  “You should, you know. He’d have you back. I mean, he didn’t outright say, but you can tell. He misses you, Bea.” She lowers her voice. “I know you were the one who ended it, but London could be perfect for a fresh start. A change of scenery might be exactly what you both need.”

  “Mom.” I close my eyes and shake my head, torn between frustration and sheer exhaustion. Exhaustion wins. “I’ve got to go. It’s been a really long day and I only wanted to call to say hey. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  I don’t wait for her to reply before ending the call. Listening to my mom sing Theo’s praises after a long emotional day is exactly what I didn’t need. Thank God I didn’t bring up Jasper. For a minute I try to imagine Jasper and my mom hanging out, but I can’t do it. I can barely even imagine them having a conversation and I’m too tired to try.

  I shuffle to my room and flip on the light, where I have to clap my hands over my mouth to keep from crying out. Propped against my pillows are at least a dozen bouquets of daisies, each tied with a different color ribbon. A pink envelope lays nestled between them and when I open it, I pull out a plain white card that says:

  Beatrice – By now I’ve either caught you alone for a moment or lost my nerve in asking you to spend the day with me tomorrow. If your answer is or was no for any reason, I’ve brought you daisies in hopes you might reconsider. Did you know daisies are synonymous with new beginnings? They seem symbolic of Plan B, yes? I’ll come by in the morning at ten and hope you’re amenable. Wear trainers and bring a swimsuit.

  Best, Jasper

  I read the note in his slanting handwriting at least ten times. It’s Jasper to a T and I’m grinning like an idiot as I scoop the daisies up and put them in the vase waiting on my bedside table, compliments of Jasper, no doubt. I fall asleep smiling, clutching the card to my chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By the time Jasper knocks on the door of the cabin, I’ve changed my clothes at least four times and repacked my tote bag at least eight. I’m wearing capris and a T-shirt, but my tote holds everything from a swimsuit and cover up to a hooded sweatshirt. I yank the door open and seeing him in his familiar plaid shorts and rumpled blue button down reassures me, but it’s the three daisies in his hand that really do the trick.

  I bite my lip, but I can’t hide my smile. “Are you really so unsure I’m going to say yes?”

  “No, but I don’t want to assume. You know what they say.” Jasper hands me the flowers and my fingers graze his, but he lets go pretty quickly and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So does that mean you’re good to go?”

  “I am.” I reach for my tote and swing it over my shoulder, laying the daisies on top. “Since I don’t actually know what we’re doing, I’ve got way too much stuff.”

  “Better to be over prepared.” Jasper winds an arm around my shoulders as we walk down the path back towards the castle. After last night’s rain, everything is clean and clear, the morning sun reflecting off the remaining puddles.

  “So does this mean you’re still not going to tell me?” I let the fingers of my hand clutching the shoulder strap of my tote mesh with Jasper’s. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Trust me?” The way Jasper asks this is so hopeful, my heart physically aches.

  “Okay.” I squeeze his fingers. “Thank you for all the flowers, by the way. I loved them.”

  “I’m glad. I might have snuck in a few extra flowers with the bridal order, but it was for a good cause.” Jasper grins.

  I frown. Hannah placed that order. I remember her talking about it. “S
o, wait. Did everyone know we were going out today except for me?”

  Jasper steers me towards a black BMW in the car park. “Technically, they were all complicit, I suppose. Although Mum and Scarlett think I’m taking you out for a jolly and that’s all there is to it.”

  Jasper reaches out to open the door for me and I look up from the leather bucket seat, saying, “And that’s not all there is to it?”

  He grins before shutting the door. “Not even close.”

  As Jasper walks around to the driver’s side and slides into the seat next to me, I shove my hands under my thighs and dig my fingernails gently into my skin. I want to ask what he means almost as much as I don’t want to know. I’d say I don’t know where this reticence is coming from, but all of the moments from last night are too fresh. Too real for me to lie. Even to myself.

  I dig my fingernails into my skin a little harder as an old Beatles song comes on the radio. “Let It Be,” indeed. Maybe I need to make this my mantra for today. It’s either that or “Hard Day’s Night.” No brainer.

  I wait until we’ve left the castle grounds before I trust myself to speak. “So, whose car is this?”

  “Will’s.” Jasper turns onto the main road. “Did you eat breakfast?”

  I shake my head. Between my wardrobe dilemma and straightening my hair, the hour I left myself to get ready flew past.

  “Okay. Bacon butty okay with you? There’s a farm shop up the road that’s probably the best around.”

  “Why do you have so many words for sandwich? Butty, bap, roll, sarnie, barm? I mean, they’re all meat, two pieces of bread, right?”

  Jasper laughs and says, “Well, most people say butty to refer to bacon and, occasionally, sausage, but we also have a chip butty. I think the general rule is you’ll never find anything green or healthy in a butty. I’ve never heard anyone ask for a turkey butty for example. I just don’t think it’s done.”

  “Oh, God. I’d totally ask for a turkey butty. I can see it now. I’m already the odd man out around here.” I feel a giggle rise in my throat. This conversation isn’t even that funny, but there’s more to my laughter than humor. “I heard some guy the other day call me ‘the American you’ve got working here.’ And one of the wedding guests was completely put out when I told him he’d find the bathrooms inside the main building.”

  “Well, I know how it offends your southern sensibilities to say ‘toilet’.” Jasper smiles and signals to turn, pulling into a gravel parking lot in front of a small brick building no bigger than my mom’s two-car garage. But unlike my mom’s garage, this place has gleaming windows, flowerboxes filled with yellow and pink flowers, and a yellow lab running to the car, tail wagging.

  Jasper eases the car into park and when he slides out the door, the dog jumps at him, putting both paws on his chest. Jasper laughs and scratches the dog’s chest as he pushes it down, but the dog is determined to be friendly, circling around Jasper’s legs while his hands work through its fur. He glances at me through the windshield and I shake my head. There’s no way in hell I’m getting out and getting accosted by that dog.

  Jasper comes around to my side of the car. Of course the dog follows. I press the button to lower my window a few inches and say, “Can you, um, do something about that?”

  Jasper glances to me, to the dog, and back again, and I press my back against the seat. Theo used to tease me about my fear of dogs, telling me I gave off fear pheromones that made dogs nervous. Never mind how nervous the dogs made me. If Jasper even…

  He turns to the dog and says, “Come on, Poppy. Let’s get you out of here.”

  Hearing her name, the dog jumps again and runs more circles around Jasper’s legs. But she follows him as he pulls the door to the farm shop and when he emerges two minutes later, he’s very much alone. My knees wobble with relief, so when he opens my car door and extends his hands to help me out, I take both of them, stumbling as he pulls me up from the low seat. And when I finally stand, we’re chest-to-chest in the empty parking lot.

  Jasper’s arms snake around my waist. “Dogs and you? No?”

  I shake my head. “Our old neighbor had a really mean German Shepherd named Battle, of all things. It used to come at me whenever I’d get my bike out, so I learned to appreciate a healthy distance between big dogs and me. Thank you for putting her inside.”

  When I told Theo about Battle, he’d laughed and told me I just hadn’t met the right dog yet – and then proceeded to try to “help” me overcome my fear with his version of exposure therapy, introducing me to his friends’ dogs with alarming frequency. It wasn’t until I broke down in tears at a Memorial Day picnic after a collie jumped in my lap he took me seriously.

  I look at up at Jasper. “I know it’s stupid. I’m twenty-four years old and revert to a terrified five-year-old when a big dog is around. It’s a problem.”

  Jasper shrugs. “It’s not a problem for me. If you want to meet Poppy, we can, but otherwise Nat’s put her away. She’s a great pup, but a little enthusiastic.”

  I think I love you.

  The words float into my head as relief floods my chest and I bury my face in Jasper’s shirt so he can’t see my expression. Which feels frozen this side of panic. I didn’t mean…I mean, of course, I didn’t mean it that way.

  I force a laugh and turn away, pulling Jasper towards the little shop. “I’m going to pass on Poppy, but I’m still up for bacon.”

  My voice sounds strange, but if Jasper notices he doesn’t let on. He follows me, orders bacon butties from Nat, who’s about fifteen and looks so quintessentially English to me with her pale skin and wavy strawberry blonde hair, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, I have to ask if I can take her picture. She finally agrees to one with Jasper, if she can then take one of the two of us, and we spend a good ten minutes laughing and discussing the merits of brown sauce versus ketchup on a bacon sandwich before Jasper and I take our paper-wrapped breakfast to the car.

  Again, he opens my door and holds it open, waiting until I’ve buckled myself in before closing the door gently and coming around the car. When he gets in, I say, “I’m trying to remember if I knew you were such a gentleman. I don’t think I did.”

  “Part of my driver’s education was my dad drilling into my head to always open the car door for a woman.” Jasper grins. “He opens my mother’s door first every time.”

  “That’s sweet. I guess when we were in Atlanta we didn’t actually drive anywhere except the airport, did we?” The minute I say it, the air in the car ignites. Jasper stops unwrapping his sandwich. I leave mine untouched on my lap. Neither one of us move, except to meet each other’s eyes.

  “I don’t remember much about the actual drive to the airport,” Jasper says, his voice low.

  “I don’t either.” I swallow, even though my tongue has turned to sandpaper in my mouth.

  “Do you know what I remember best about that afternoon?” Jasper asks.

  “What?” Both of us remain frozen.

  “How you kissed me afterwards.” Jasper’s voice goes softer still. “Like I was water in a desert and you would never get enough.”

  Whoa.

  Jasper’s words spark a firework in my heart. I feel a heat between my legs like he actually touched me and I can’t help it. I squirm but make myself hold his gaze as I say, “I couldn’t get enough.”

  Jasper raises an eyebrow at me. “Past tense?”

  I shake my head and I’m not sure who moves first, but before I can speak, we’re kissing. Teeth and tongues collide. Jasper’s fingers twist in my hair. My nails scrape at his chest. Our passion is so aggressive, it’s almost violent and my mouth feels bruised when I pull away, resting my forehead against Jasper’s.

  Both of us are panting, but he’s the first one to speak. “I have a grand plan for today I’m tempted to abandon in favor of you, me, and a bed. But I actually want to take you to this place I have in mind, so I’m going to practice amazing self-restraint and kiss you one more time bef
ore I put this car back on the road.”

  Unlike before when Jasper put the brakes on, this doesn’t feel like avoidance. Especially when his second kiss, though gentler, is even more intense than the first. By the time he pulls away, I’m so turned on it’s all I can do not to reach between my legs right there to take the edge off.

  I don’t even realize I’ve said that out loud until Jasper takes my hand and places it between my thighs. His voice is rough when he says, “Do it.”

  He starts the car and shifts into gear, the tires spinning on the gravel. From the set of his jaw he looks almost angry. But then I look down at the tent in his shorts and I realize he’s as turned on as I am. Which makes me feel bold in a way I haven’t felt since pre-Theo. Theo, who made me feel so weird the one time I suggested we take turns getting off while the other watched, I never dared bring it up again.

  But the hunger in Jasper’s expression spurs me on and he actually groans as I unzip my pants and widen my legs. I freeze with fingers inside the elastic of my panties as Jasper takes a sharp corner and puts a hand on my arm. “Hold that thought. I need to pull over.”

  That pushes me another two degrees towards the edge. But I leave my hand still until Jasper puts the car into park on the side of a one-lane country road. Aside from sheep in the field, there’s nothing around. No buildings, no people, no other cars. He keeps the windows up, takes his seatbelt off and says, “I need to watch you come.”

  Talk about a tipping point. “Need?” I manage to squeak out.

  “Need.” The way Jasper says it leaves no doubt he means exactly that.

  I let my fingers slip the rest of the way down until they hit my wet center. Oh my God. My reaction is immediate. I can’t even start off slow. My fingers move quickly and I feel the familiar tension building in my core – like someone pulling an invisible string tighter and tighter until it snaps and I’m falling, chasing the threads until they disappear.

  I watch Jasper watch me the whole time. Watch as his blue eyes get darker and darker, his lips part, his teeth bite his bottom lip. Hard.