British Bachelor: A Hero Club Novel

by K. K. Allen

  I’d only started to make some additional book notes when I grew heavy with exhaustion. My pen fell from my hand, and my eyes drifted closed. Darkness settled over me while The 1975 lulled me into deep relaxation. The calm didn’t last long.

  My entire body startled awake at the sound of rock music blaring right outside my door. What the hell? I jerked to a sitting position, my heart thundering in my chest while I looked around. My head was still thick with fog from my sleepy state. My muscles ached from the awkward position I’d drifted off in. After a few seconds, I realized the music was coming from the Hogues’ patio speakers.

  How can that be? The Hogues were long gone, and no one else was supposed to be here.

  I shook away the fog in my brain and eased myself into a sitting position as a giant splash came from the pool right outside my window.

  What the hell?

  My heart jolted into my throat, and I shot forward onto my feet and into action. I snatched my phone off the coffee table and pulled up my employer’s phone number. When I got to the front window that looked out at the pool, I slowly pulled down the wooden blind and peeked through it. All I could see was water splashing as a figure I couldn’t make out swam across it.

  My hands shook as I pushed the button to call Simon Hogue.

  It might have been my safest bet to call 911, but it wasn’t like someone was breaking into the pool house. They were just… swimming.

  I released the blind and threw my back against the wall, rationalizing all the possibilities while the phone rang and rang. Perhaps Simon and Bridget had cut their vacation short. Maybe they’d given a neighbor permission to use the pool.

  Neither of those options seemed likely. The Hogues would have informed me if they’d given someone permission to enter, and they certainly would have warned me that they were cutting their trip short.

  I swallowed at the other possibility, the one I desperately didn’t want to believe. What if it was a complete stranger? Someone who had decided to take a late-night dip in a random pool, thinking that no one was home. The last thought brought a shiver up my spine.

  When Simon’s phone sent me to voicemail, I let out a frustrated groan. What options did I have? I could confront whoever was out there or flicker the lights to let them know someone was here. No, I couldn’t do any of that. I would have to call 911. Before I could begin to dial the emergency number, my phone’s screen lit up in my hands, and it started to vibrate, alerting me of a call coming through.

  Pulling in a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to steady my nerves. I was being ridiculous. “Hey, Simon,” I rushed. “There’s—”

  “Hiya, Chelsea,” Simon started before I could even finish my sentence, seemingly unfazed by my panic. “How are you getting on? Good, I hope.”

  My eyes turned to the front window still masked by blinds. “Let’s just say I’m glad you called. I know it’s late where you are, but—” I swallowed, willing my nerves to settle so Simon could understand me. “You wouldn’t happen to know who’s swimming laps in your pool at this hour, would you?”

  Simon’s light chuckle sent a shot of relief through my veins. “That’s just Liam, my late best friend’s little brother.”

  Relief rushed through me the moment Simon identified the late-night swimmer by name.

  Simon continued on. “There was—uh—a bit of an emergency back home. He had to get away quite abruptly and asked to stay at our place. We were just heading to bed, and I saw his message that he arrived unexpectedly early. I was hoping to warn you before you—”

  “Called the cops?” I finished with a roll of my eyes. I was glad my employer couldn’t see me, but a little warning would have been nice. “I’m glad you called me back. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Simon’s laughter boomed through the line. “We’ll be home next week, as planned. Liam will stay in the basement guest room of the main house, so he shouldn’t be a bother. He’ll surely keep to himself, but if you need anything, feel free to ring.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, annoyance replacing my relief. I’d chosen not to say anything to Simon about the rude way I had been woken up by his friend, but this Liam guy wasn’t going to get off the hook that easily.

  I opened the door and stepped out onto the patio to find Liam swimming laps across the water. He reached the opposite end, flipped around, kicked off the wall, and swam toward me. I stepped around the patio table and chairs to walk toward the edge of the pool. I waited for him to come up for air—to introduce myself and to kindly ask that he turn down the volume. Simon had mentioned this Liam guy was someone’s little brother—but when my eyes registered the body that swam past the underwater pool lights, I realized I wasn’t dealing with anyone little at all. Simon’s friend’s little brother, Liam, was very much a man.

  Liam hadn’t seen me, but I saw enough to know he was tall, lean, and sculpted. He cut through the water like an experienced swimmer, only popping his head up to sip the air before twisting back below the surface.

  A knot twisted in my chest when my eyes skimmed the man’s taut muscles as he pushed against the water with one fluid stroke then another. Every ridge and line of his back, arms, shoulders, and calves perfectly defined his strength. He swam another two laps, keeping his pace and taking sips of air so effortlessly I questioned if he had gills for lungs.

  The man was an athlete, a beast underwater, and for the second time that day, I found myself transfixed by a stranger.

  I stepped back slowly, suddenly anxious about interrupting his intense workout, but on my next step backward, I failed to remember the round table and chairs I’d skirted around to get to the pool. The back of my leg hit a chair, making it scrape across the travertine. When I reached back to catch my fall, I could find nothing to grip.

  I landed hard on my ass, my palms slamming into the surface behind me. I howled at the pain that shot up my wrist. Of course, that caught Liam’s attention. His head popped out from the water, and he swam toward the edge. He shot out of the pool so fast, I didn’t even have time to react.

  “Who’s there?” he boomed like I was the one who’d just intruded on his peaceful night.

  My defenses were on alert. I pushed my shoulders back as the pain in my wrist faded, and my chin tilted up as I prepared to let him have it. But then my eyes caught on the man’s face, now illuminated in the dim orange patio lighting. It only took a second to realize we’d met before.

  He was shirtless, dripping wet, with tattoos fully covering both arms, and his eyes were free of the dark shades that had hid them earlier—but I knew he was the same arrogant man who had passed me at Spill the Tea.

  “Well, hello again, love.” Liam flashed me a beaming smile, a wicked gleam in his beautiful green eyes. “Heading out for that proper shag I hope.”

  Shit.

  3

  Liam

  The poor love sat there, her emotions completely unmasked. Everything she felt was written across her beautiful face—confusion, intrigue, disappointment, more confusion, fear, anger.

  It was the anger that gave me pause, that made me stare deeper, hoping the transparency she wore went beyond her glowing fair skin and silver-moon eyes. I wanted to know where that anger came from because I knew I couldn’t take all the credit. She didn’t even know me. Yet.

  Perhaps I should have gone with a different greeting—one that didn’t have to do with shagging some man with a giant knob—so I tried for something different to spark conversation. “You must be the nanny.”

  “And you must be the early arrival.”

  I bit down on my smile and reached out my hand to help her up, but she didn’t take it. Instead, her eyes widened as they scrolled past my hands to my arms and traced the ink canvas.

  I was intrigued by her reaction to me, both at the tearoom and again here. She gazed at me like I was half-man, half-alien, and a very strange part of me deep in my black heart felt a thrill from it. To have someone assess me like I was an actual st
ranger and not the public failure I’d become was refreshing, to say the least.

  I didn’t wait any longer for her to accept my help getting up. Instead, I wrapped my palm around her hand and lifted her until she was standing.

  She was average height with a heart-shaped face and plump light-pink lips. Her copper hair was wavy, just hitting the top of her shoulders, and from that close up, I spotted a cluster of freckles on her cheeks.

  I’d picked up on how gorgeous she was the first time I’d laid eyes on her in Spill the Tea, but it had been the spitfire conversation she’d been having with that Gwen woman that had caught my attention first.

  “Chelsea, is it?” I remembered her name from earlier in the day, even though Simon had mentioned it too. I hadn’t remembered much of what he’d told me about the live-in nanny other than that she was staying in their pool house and that I should leave her be. My mind snorted at the irony. I’d only been in America for a day, and I was already breaking rules. “I’m Liam.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are now,” she said as she pulled her hand out from mine. “Simon called. Good thing because I was about to call the cops.”

  The irritation in her tone answered my earlier question about where her anger was coming from. That was it. I’d frightened her. “Apologies. I didn’t know anyone else was home.”

  “Well, I am.” She folded her arms and tilted her head at me with a glare. “I’m here most of the time, so if you could keep the music down at night, that would be great.”

  I opened my mouth to point out that it was only eight o’clock, hardly late, but that seemed to be missing her point. She was clearly perturbed that I was there in the first place. “I promise to keep the noise down.”

  As much as I wanted to say more—or to make some sort of deal about giving her what she wanted if she gave me what I wanted—I thought better of it. It was best for me to keep my mouth shut. The last thing I needed in my life was tension with this woman who I didn’t even know. Enough strangers were angry at me back home.

  After I had accepted the role on a reality television show cleverly titled British Bachelor, I had expected the aftermath to play out very differently than it had. During the entire promotional period and even during the first two months of the show airing, I was a god to the media. Even though I knew how the show would end, and that it would be disappointing at best, I had never expected the fallout to be so damaging. Clearly, I’d been in denial.

  I’d fucked up, which wouldn’t surprise most people who knew me, but this time I’d fucked up on a reality TV show that happened to have record-breaking ratings and an insane amount of buzz. According to executives, the show was going to resurrect me from “ex-Olympic athlete fame” to “influencer-level famous.” While I could care less about using my brand to sell products for other companies, it was a start.

  My mission had been simple. I would date a bunch of women, choose one at the end, and live a long and happy life shagging said woman. At thirty-three years old, I had no problem signing on to that plan—until it had come time to choose from my top three women. I’d never felt so trapped in my life, and I’d had no bloody clue how to handle it.

  In the end, I’d walked away from all of them. I’d also walked away from a one-point-five-million-pound contract. Since I hadn’t shown up to the show’s finale, which consisted of a live interview between all the contestants and myself, I hadn’t earned a single penny.

  I could have coped with the financial disappointment. What I couldn’t cope with was how explosive the media had become, which fed into the rabid fan base of the show, creating a shitstorm afterward.

  My first reaction had been to flee. Simon’s manor in Providence, Rhode Island, had seemed like the perfect destination. No one would know me there. Not yet, anyway. Things would change when the show’s repeats started to play on American television, but I planned to be long gone before that time.

  For the moment, all I wanted was some peace during my perfect little getaway so I could contemplate how to dig myself out of the hole I’d made. It was the only place I could think to go where I wouldn’t be followed, photographed, or screamed at, and I intended to keep it that way. Which meant, other than Simon and Bridget, no one could know about my stint on reality television, including the nanny.

  “Well, thank you.” Chelsea stepped back, tension seeming to dissipate from her body. Her shoulders relaxed, and her narrowed eyes softened. Then she cleared her throat. “So, Liam. What brings you to Providence?”

  “Holiday.” The word came quickly, so quickly it sounded false even to me.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Without the Hogues here?”

  I shrugged. “They will be.”

  “So you plan to stay awhile, then?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a month.”

  That gave her pause. She shifted her stance, and I could almost guess the next question that would pop from her mouth.

  “That’s a long vacation. What is it you do for work?”

  “I’m between contracts at the moment.” I’d thought about all of the one-off questions a stranger might ask me, but I hadn’t expected them all at once. My plan was to be vague, charming, polite, and never give anyone reason to look me up on a search engine and find out the cold truth.

  “What is your line of work?”

  “I’m in the entertainment industry, but the details are all quite confidential.” Time to change the subject. My first thought was to invite her for a swim, but then I remembered something. “I should be getting back to my swim. I don’t want to keep you from your activities. You’re off to a good shagging, is that right?”

  Chelsea laughed lightly, and I detected discomfort there. I purposely kept my eyes on her skin, eagerly waiting for it to redden. I was rewarded with a deep-pink blush from her neck to her cheeks.

  “Gwen finds too much pleasure in my personal life,” Chelsea said. “She crossed the line today. I thought if I gave her something to talk about, she’d quit prying.”

  I bent my brows together. “So, I’m to believe you are not shagging a man with a giant willy?”

  The smile she gave me next felt brighter than the pool’s glow behind me. “I am not, indeed, shagging a man with a giant willy. Not tonight, anyway.”

  “That’s unfortunate for you, I suppose.”

  Her eyes settled on mine, no longer narrowing in anger and no longer bent in confusion. She was looking at me like a woman who might just be flirting. While I knew I’d started it, I knew it was poor judgment to let it continue.

  I slapped my palms to my sides. “Well, lovely chat. I’ve got to get back to my lengths.” I laughed at the strange look she gave me. “Or I should say laps.”

  She took a step back toward the pool house. “I hope you enjoy your stay. If you have trouble finding anything, just knock or use the intercom system. I know my way around the manor pretty well, so…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze slipped back down my body.

  Her wandering eyes made me want to show her exactly what heaven was made of. But the second my thoughts started to go there, down their naturally dark and dirty path, I stopped myself. This trip wasn’t about wetting my knob, though I could have gone for a good shag after months of celibacy. I had a plan, and I would stick to it.

  I’d given myself some hard rules to follow before calling Simon and jumping on that plane for America. Number one, no social media. I had deactivated all my accounts in an effort to go completely silent. Number two, no sex. Not until I’d cleaned up my mess back home. Number three, I would give myself one month. I couldn’t hide out forever. In one month’s time, I would go home and face the music. If the public still wanted to shame and hate me for doing what I felt was right, then so be it. I would at least face their wrath with a clear head and a full heart.

  But as Chelsea and I parted—her closing the pool house door behind her and me heading toward the remote that controlled the surround sound before diving back into the pool—I knew I
was in trouble. Maybe more trouble than I’d left back home.

  It was only day one, and my self-imposed rules were already hard to follow. I couldn’t think about all the hard endeavors to come.

  4

  Chelsea

  It was noon when I grabbed the Hogues’ mail then crossed the rear courtyard terrace to enter the back entrance of their main house. The double French doors led directly into the dining room and open kitchen. I set the mail down on the square granite island and found a large jug from the cabinets. After filling it to the brim with water, I started my daily rounds of watering the indoor plants. It was the only time I had reason to enter the main home, and I was strangely aware of the fact that there was a man in the house with me today. If I was quick and quiet, I could probably make it out before he saw me.

  Last night had been awkward. I couldn’t imagine how much more awkward things would have been if Simon hadn’t called me back when he did. The cops would have arrived. The neighbors would have freaked out. The Hogues would have had to call to clear up the entire mess. And Liam would have been caught in the middle of it all, making for a shitty holiday for him.

  A little more notice from the Hogues would have been great, but in retrospect, everything was fine. I just needed to do what I came to do and retire to my pool house to work on my book.

  My book. That was where my focus should be. I’d finally worked up the nerve to contact a list of editors I’d been keeping. One of them had immediate availability, which I quickly learned was rare. My plan was to take one more pass at my manuscript then send it out before I could lose my nerve.

  I didn’t need any more reason to dwell on quitting school, not when my love for the written word rose above anything any professor could ever teach me. Creativity didn’t come from acquiring a degree or having anyone approve my art. It came from living, from breathing, and expressing.