British Bachelor: A Hero Club Novel

by K. K. Allen

  Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Let’s Connect!

  Acknowledgments

  Books by K.K. ALLEN

  About the Author

  DON’T MISS THIS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by K.K. Allen and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Editing and Proofreading: Red Adept Editing

  Cover Design: BookCoverKingdom

  (www.bookcoverkingdom.com)

  Photographer: CJC Photography

  Contact SayHello@KK-Allen.com with questions

  Dear Chelsea,

  I know what you must think of me now that my secret is out, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I bloody loved that you saw me as someone other than the bloke my entire country has deemed unworthy of love. Maybe I am, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting you as desperately as I do.

  Before you toss this letter in the rubbish bin, just hear me out.

  Soon, I’ll need to return home to face the critics—the harsh reminder of the man they all believe me to be, the Forever Bachelor—and you’ll continue to live out your dreams here while nannying the twins. Simon and Bridget are so very lucky to have you.

  All I ask is for one night with you, one night to remove the facade we’ve exhibited for the past two weeks to mask our true feelings.

  Because I want you, Chelsea Banks, more than I’ve wanted any woman in my entire life, and I dare to imagine that you might just want me too.

  Even if just for one night.

  Liam

  To anyone who shares my love with the Bachelor franchise.

  Yes, I took my obsession to the next level,

  and I had so much fun doing it!

  1

  Chelsea

  The bell above the door chimed as I pushed my way into the quaint Victorian building in Wayland Square, a historic area on the east side of Providence, Rhode Island. One look at the corner establishment with a hanging sign that read Spill the Tea could easily trick a person into thinking it was owned by an actual Brit. The truth was, my parents had just traveled to Europe one too many times.

  The locals didn’t mind who ran their favorite gossip joint. They came for the social hour, gathering at round tables while the mounted televisions around the room played delayed British news and drama shows. Guests loved their afternoon tea and the array of fancy finger foods offered, and my parents loved the guests right back.

  “Oh, it’s Chelsea,” greeted a bubbly brunette named Gwen. She sat at a round table by the window with a few other women, all frequent visitors to the small tearoom and all around my mother’s age. They loved to adopt English accents while they chatted, and with seemingly nothing better to do, they were also oddly curious about my personal life.

  Groaning internally, I forced a friendly smile while slowing my walk toward the front counter. Since my mom was helping a customer, it would be obvious if I avoided the woman like I wanted to.

  “Hi, Gwen. How’s the tea today?”

  She raised her cup, pinky out, and nodded her approval. “Absolutely delicious.” She looked past me to the door that had just closed behind me. “Where are those little rascals who usually accompany you?”

  Gwen was referencing the three kids I nannied for full-time—three-year-old twin girls and a twelve-year-old boy. Their parents worked at the hospital, Simon as a doctor and Bridget as a nurse. Two months ago they’d hired me to live in their pool house and watch the kids while they worked. Conveniently, their house was within walking distance from Spill the Tea, so we often strolled around the nearby park before stopping in for treats on our way back home.

  When I didn’t answer her quickly enough, Gwen’s face fell into exaggerated sympathy. “Oh no. You are still employed, aren’t you, dear?”

  I let out an awkward laugh. “Yup. Still employed. They’re just on a family holiday in Europe visiting their grandparents.” I decided to leave my response vague. I always felt like the woman was fishing for something to elaborate on.

  “Oh, that sounds splendid.” Gwen set her tea down and placed her hands in her lap. “I do hope you’re making the most of your days off.” She eyed my hot-pink leggings and fitted black tank top with a frown. “I’m sure, with a bit of sprucing up, a pretty girl like you could easily attract a nice young lad around town. Maybe work on getting a few rascals of your own soon.”

  I groaned inwardly, regretting my decision to allow the conversation as I walked in. There was no hope of this going anywhere good. Gwen was as old-fashioned as they came, and I was certain that, in her eyes, being single in my late twenties was some sort of sin. Not that she was the only one in the joint who would have loved to see me hitched by then. I threw a sharp accusing glance at my mother, who was still helping a guest from behind the counter.

  My mother had been talking about her future grandbabies since the day I’d graduated high school. It was like she’d had it all mapped out for me. I would go to college, meet a man, graduate, get married, then have a litter of babies. Nearly twelve years later, and my life hadn’t panned out that way at all. I just wished my mother wouldn’t be so open with her customers about my situation.

  “For sure.” I broadened my smile at Gwen to appease her after her rascal comment.

  “Well, good. I’d hate to see a pretty girl like you wind up alone.”

  I’d had my share of boyfriends over the years, but after my most recent breakup, I knew the last thing I needed was another man in my life. It was time to focus on me, on dreams, my journey, my happiness. I felt stronger than I had in years, and I wanted to enjoy that time until the right man came along. Unfortunately, my mom and her old-fashioned friends would never understand. A woman like Gwen wouldn’t want to hear that. She only wanted the juicy gossip, even if it was as fake as the jewelry she wore.

  It took all my energy to keep the smile on my face. “Oh, I’m not alone. I just stopped by to get my tea and scone fix before the big night.”

  Gwen’s eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands excitedly. “The big night, eh? Oh, do tell. Do you have a date? Is he as handsome as Dean?”

  I cringed at the mention of my ex-boyfriend.
I dropped him right along with college. He hadn’t understood my need to pursue my dreams of writing, and that was enough for me to let him go. “Well, actually—”

  Gwen cut me off, leaning forward as if no one else in the joint could hear her prodding questions and asking, “Is he the one?”

  “Well, I don’t know—”

  “C’mon, dear,” she jumped in again. “What does your gut tell you?”

  With every interruption, my frustration grew. Still, I maintained my calm. “It’s all too new to—”

  “Have you shagged him yet?”

  I heard my mom’s gasp clear across the room. “Gwen!” she scolded. “Hush and leave the poor girl be. Who Chelsea chooses to shag is none of your business.”

  Holy hell. My eyes darted around the tearoom to see every single eyeball staring back at me except for the man at the counter who was thumbing through a stack of cash. But just because he wasn’t gawking at me didn’t mean he hadn’t heard the entire exchange. Heat flooded my face as I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling, wishing I could crawl beneath the baseboards.

  “As a matter of fact.” Anger bubbled inside me as I faced Gwen with a syrupy smile. “We shag all the time. Morning, noon, and night. He’s got a giant willy too. Huge.” I held my hands apart and watched my audience’s eyes bulge from their heads.

  For the first time since I’d met Gwen, her poise faltered as she turned a shade that resembled the eggplant she was probably imagining. “That’s good, dear.” Gwen smiled weakly.

  I bit back a laugh. “It was nice seeing you ladies again. It’s always a pleasure.” I curtsied, hoping Gwen could read through the gesture to see the “fuck you” clearly written beneath my niceties. Then I turned toward the front counter of the tearoom, where my mom was staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

  The customer she’d been helping mumbled his quiet thanks, grabbed his hot tea from the counter, and turned toward the exit—toward me. One look at him and my steps slowed once more.

  Dark shades covered his eyes like he’d stepped out of a limo onto a red carpet. He wore a black-and-gray zip-up hoodie over a plain white T-shirt and faded black jeans with large tears at the knees. Ink covered both his arms, which were visible below his pushed-up sleeves.

  The man had a presence that made the entire room fade away, forcing my gaze to lock on him. And damn, I was transfixed.

  He was heartrendingly gorgeous with just enough scruffy beard covering the lower half of his face that I could still see the sharp angles of his jaw, which sent blood pumping furiously through my veins. His wavy light-brown hair was tossed around his head like he’d forgotten to shower. It was like he knew he didn’t even need to try.

  We were a few steps from crossing paths—so close I could breathe in his cool, crisp scent—when he looked at me. At least it felt like he looked at me. His shades were too dark to tell for sure, but the way the corner of his mouth tipped up with just a hint of a smile rattled my insides to my core.

  It was unfair. He could see me, but I couldn’t see him. My disappointment was short-lived since, in the next second, he was out of sight—nearly out of mind. If it weren’t for the husky words that slipped from his throat after crossing my path, I would have already been on my way toward forgetting about him completely.

  “That’s one lucky willy,” he said in a deep voice from behind me. “Happy shagging, love.”

  His arrogance swirled through the air, thickening quickly and steadily, while embarrassment flooded my body and goose bumps rose beneath my skin. I dared a look over my shoulder to watch the strange man exit the tearoom. He carried a nonchalance in his walk. His tone was unmistakably British—the real accent, not the fake one Gwen and her friends liked to attempt.

  I made a sound in the back of my throat to demonstrate the disgust I felt for the exchange I’d just had with Gwen. Then I turned toward my mom, who was eyeing me with a warning.

  “Big plans tonight, huh?”

  I let out a heavy sigh and shook my head while setting my elbows on the counter. “No, Mom.” I kept my voice quiet enough so only she could hear. “I just wanted to get Gwen off my back. I stopped by to pick up tea and scones so I can go back to the Hogues’ place—alone. I’m looking forward to a quiet night. No shagging, I promise.”

  Her lips twitched with a threatening smile, then she turned to grab my things she’d already prepared. “Well, in that case, enjoy it. But—”

  I cringed at the conversation I knew was about to follow. Here we go again.

  “Getting back out there isn’t an entirely bad idea, sweetheart. You’ve been single for quite a while.”

  With a pinch of my lips, I pushed my exasperation back down into my chest, where I would continue to let it brew. “Two months.” My words were quiet, measured. “That’s hardly a long time.”

  “But you were with Dean for two years. The clock’s ticking.” She tapped her wrist as if that would drive her point home.

  I reached over the counter and snatched the bag of scones and hot tea waiting for me. “You should be happy I got out of that relationship before it was too late.”

  She tilted her head with a squint. “You never did tell me what happened between you two.”

  Discomfort swarmed in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I’d dropped out of law school before fall semester classes had even started wasn’t something I’d told my parents yet. They suspected my heart had never been in my studies since I had been perfectly content staying on the slow track—acquiring credits while I worked full-time—but they maintained the belief that my life wouldn’t start until I had my business degree in hand. They were almost as bad as Dean when it came to my dreams of writing for a living.

  “We were wrong for each other, plain and simple. I’m happy. Please be happy for me.”

  “Of course, I’m always happy if you are. I’m just not convinced that’s the case. You’re almost thirty, Chelsea. I thought I’d have grandbabies by now.”

  “Are you serious? I still have plenty of time.”

  “But—”

  “Please.” I emphasized the word with a laugh. “Stop it. You’ll get your grandbabies one day. I just need to find the right willy first.” I winked and turned from the counter, ready to flee and never return. I was so relieved to see that Gwen and her friends had left.

  Once I made it to the door, I looked back with a final wave. “Oh, and tell Daddy I stopped by. Just—try to leave out the willy talk.”

  With that, I stepped onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the Hogues’ home. Alone.

  2

  Chelsea

  I took the long way back to Doctor Simon and Bridget Hogue’s home on Blackstone Boulevard, sipping my tea and strolling by the park to watch the sunset before finally entering their private subdivision, lined by well-lit streetlamps that stood out against the darkening sky. I approached the half-acre property where an English-style brick manor home sat and veered right toward the wrought iron gate that led to the back of the house.

  I punched the security code into the keypad and closed it behind me then followed the path toward the brightly lit private pool in the rear courtyard. For the past two months, I’d made a home of the small pool house, which was equipped like a small apartment with a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living area. Most of my time was spent in the Hogues’ main home with the kids, but during my off-hours, I was grateful for the small space I could call my own.

  After closing the door behind me, I quickly traded my yoga attire for a tank top and cotton shorts, then strolled to my vintage record player—my pride and joy—and started up my new vinyl record by The 1975 that had been on repeat since it had come in the mail. Once the music was set, I tore into my takeout bag and pulled out the fresh scones, faux clotted cream, and jam. I was in pure heaven.

  Entire days off at the Hogues’ manor was scarce. They were more than decent employers, always ensuring I took time off, but with their jobs at the hospital, it was rare for th
em to have a full day—let alone week—off together, which meant I was always starting or ending my shift at irregular hours. I planned to relish my week without responsibilities, with nothing but my muse churning inspiration in my mind.

  When my belly was completely satisfied, I reached for my blue notebook and lay stomach-down on the couch. I took up my black pen that bookmarked the page I had last scribbled some thoughts on and settled for a moment, rereading what I’d written that morning. They were largely character-development notes about a book I’d already written six drafts of but couldn’t drum up the courage to let out of my clutches. I just kept picking it apart, chapter by chapter, until the story had evolved in ways I’d never imagined.

  After making the decision to drop out of grad school to nanny full-time and write more often, not a single day had gone by in the past two months that I didn’t wonder if I’d made a horrible decision. I was giving up the safety of a great education and potentially a large-salaried job for what? An unexplored writing career? It felt crazy to think about, but I didn’t want to spend my time regretting not following my dreams. I wanted to spend my time bringing them to life.