British Bachelor: A Hero Club Novel

by K. K. Allen

  My lips twitched with amusement. “I was pretty wound up, so I worked out a little, then I slept like a baby.”

  If she had turned to look at me, she would have seen the sly smile on my face, a tell that my workout consisted of one hand and thoughts of the bombshell in the driver’s seat. But she didn’t turn, so my secret was mine to keep.

  She drove us to the same area we’d parked the other day for lunch, then we crossed the street to the entrance to Waterplace Park. We walked along the river and then across it, finally settling under a tree where she pulled out a blanket and laid it down for us to sit on.

  “Another beautiful day in Providence. We never luck out with weather like this back home.”

  “Really?”

  “Not for this many days in a row. Have you ever been? To London?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never left this area.” Then she smiled at me sheepishly. “Sad, I know, but I’ve never had a reason to go.”

  “You don’t need a reason to travel other than to want to experience life. C’mon, Chelsea. You’re a writer. You can’t possibly tell me you’re not curious about the places you write about.”

  She laughed. “Sure, but there’s this thing called the internet. I can look up pretty much anything, and that’s just as good.”

  I could feel my eyes bulging in my head. “I can’t believe I just heard that. You’re honestly telling me that you’re not learning anything more right now by sitting under this tree than you would watching a streaming video site?”

  Chelsea shrugged, and her smile faded. “Sometimes that’s as good as it’s going to get, and some of us have to be okay with that. My parents traveled plenty, but they never once took me on vacation. I paid for college on my own, which meant I didn’t have a single dime to spare.”

  “Wait a second. Your parents didn’t help you with college?”

  She shook her head, seeming confused by my surprise. “My parents are comfortable and happy, but they don’t make a lot of money. Besides, a lot of my peers had to pay their own way. That’s what loans are for.”

  “But you dropped out of school?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and grinned. “I’ve got time.”

  Smiling, she shook her head and started to tell me the short version of her college story. “I got a late start at school. After high school, I didn’t have any desire to go to college, so I took up odd jobs just to afford a small room in a house I shared with three other girls. After a couple of years, I felt unsettled and kind of guilty for not going to school like my parents had always encouraged me to, so I got my associate degree at a community college then moved on to a four-year college to get my bachelor’s in communications. When I still hadn’t decided what to do with my degree, I continued on to get my master’s in business. I took up nannying full-time to pay for what I could, so it was taking me forever to earn my credits. Eventually, I realized that I would rather nanny than go to school. Thirty credits shy of graduating.”

  She laughed, but I couldn’t find the humor in what she was telling me. I always wished I had pursued higher education in something, everything. And there she was with nearly three college degrees she’d paid for and earned on her own. No matter what she wound up doing, she would always have her education.

  She sighed. “Anyway, two months ago, I dropped out.”

  “To write?”

  She nodded, holding her notebook tighter to her chest.

  “Can I read something?”

  She looked down at my sketchbook. “Only if I can look at what you’ve drawn.”

  I grinned, ready to accept her challenge with a little twist of my own. “I have a better idea.” Then I stood, dusted off my khaki shorts, and pointed to the tree across from her on the other side of the trail. “I’m going to sit over there and sketch. You’ll be here writing. When we’re done, we’ll show each other what we worked on.”

  For a second, she just looked at me like she didn’t know whether I was bluffing or not. Maybe she was scared to actually go through with it and show me something she pulled from that beautiful brain of hers and put onto paper. Eventually she nodded and mumbled something like “Okay.”

  My tree was not nearly as comfortable as the one she’d chosen. Hers seemed perfect for lounging, while mine had roots growing all over the place above ground. Eventually, I nestled into a spot, which I made a home of for the next few hours as we worked in silence. Every now and then, I would look up and catch her staring off into space. She was beautiful in those quiet moments, and with each glance, I grew more eager to look at what she was scribbling in that tiny blue notebook. Every so often, she would catch my sneaky glances with one of her own, and her cheeks would blush in response.

  I must have checked the time over a dozen different instances, hoping for the excuse to break for lunch so we could meet up again. She was the one to make the first move. After shoving her blue notebook in her bag and standing up, she walked halfway toward me, and I met her in the middle. I offered her my sketchbook so she could look at what I’d drawn.

  She shook her head. “I need a drink first. Lunch?”

  I chuckled and gestured for her to lead the way. This time she chose the restaurant, which was fine by me. Chelsea took me to a small deli with outside seating where she ordered us a bottle of white wine to share. I happily obliged, getting the sense that Chelsea’s nerves were getting the better of her at the idea of me reading her work. After she downed her first glass, she handed her notebook to me.

  “Let’s get this over with. Me first.”

  Her notebook had a silky bookmark running through its pages, so I turned to the page marked and started reading. The description of the male sounded a lot like me, the way she described his hair, his body, and his British accent. I laughed as I realized she had written about the night she’d found me swimming in the Hogues’ pool with the music too loud, and now it was me blushing profusely at the way she described the water dripping down my torso, over peaks and valleys of terrain that had her pulse quickening.

  I read the pages a few times before finally handing the notebook back to her and popping a smile on the side of my mouth. “Your words are lovely—quite poetic, in fact. Is your book about me?”

  She let out a laugh. “Are you offended? I was struggling to find inspiration for my male hero, and you happened to come along at the right time.”

  “I’m no woman’s hero, love. But I’m flattered, not offended.”

  She shrugged. “It’s fiction. Don’t get too cocky about it.”

  Then we both smiled, and I could feel us sharing a mutual moment.

  “Okay,” she finally said, reaching out to me. “Hand it over. I showed you mine. Now you show me yours.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, my resolve to stay friendly with this girl dissolving faster than sugar in water. She was a little temptress, and she didn’t even know it. I slid my sketchbook over to her, my heart suddenly ricocheting in my chest. Nerves weren’t something I felt often. I’d been drawing my entire life. It wasn’t something I hid or felt shy about, but with Chelsea as my subject, I couldn’t help feeling nervous about whether she would like my work or not.

  The moment Chelsea opened the sketchbook and her eyes fell on what I’d been working on beneath the tree, her eyes widened then zoomed into the image like lasers. It was almost exactly the way she’d looked at my tattoos last night except, this time, her eyes started to redden and water.

  “Is this for me?”

  It wasn’t hard to guess her question. The sketch centered around a typewriter with a section of paper coming out from the top. A shaded heart marked the center of the paper.

  “It is, but it’s only my first attempt. If you don’t like it—”

  “I love it,” she jumped in, her eyes moving from mine back down to the sketch. “I love it so much.” Then her eyes gleamed as they met mine again. “I learned how to write on a typewriter.”

  “I didn’t
know that.”

  She shook her head. “I know, but this—resonates. I love it, Liam, a lot.”

  “And the shaded heart represents what you write. Romance in all its forms is what you told me—messy, real, all its shades.”

  She smiled even bigger and nodded. “Liam, this is—” She met my eyes one last time. “Perfect.”

  “Then let’s get it put on you.”

  Chelsea let out a laugh. “What? Now?”

  I laughed, too, loving her reaction because somewhere in there was excitement over the thrilling thought of inking up her body. “Well, after lunch. Let’s eat, then I want to take you somewhere.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, waited a few seconds, then nodded. “Okay.”

  12

  Chelsea

  After lunch, Liam used the GPS on his phone to navigate us south a few blocks and around the corner to a tattoo shop, where I immediately halted in my tracks.

  He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Trust me, Chelsea.”

  That was all I needed to hear to unclench my body and follow him into the building. The AC blasted my nerves like a hit of adrenaline, and I sighed, releasing my built-up tension.

  Is this really about to happen? I’ve gone my entire adult life without committing to branding my body. Am I really going to let it happen now? Just because a cute Brit decided to draw me something that actually feels perfect? It could just be the crush I have on him, or the fact that I had two glasses of wine at lunch.

  Liam didn’t let go of my hand when the door to the shop shut behind us or even when he stepped forward to talk to the burly bearded man with ink covering every inch of his body.

  “Hiya, my friend here is looking into getting her first tattoo. I wondered if you’d perhaps be able to do a temporary on her. She could wear it around and see if it’s something she wants to keep.”

  The burly man looked me over beneath bent brows like he was assessing my naked skin, wondering if I was worth his time. “Sure, whatever,” he finally said with a shrug. “If you want to choose a design, I can make a temp.”

  Liam set his sketchbook on the table and pointed at the drawing he’d made for me. “Actually, can you do something custom?”

  The man shrugged. “Sure, whatever.” Then he slid Liam a piece of paper. “Draw it on this transfer, and we’ll be good to go.”

  Liam let go of my hand to take the sheet from the man and we sat on a couch in the back corner of the room. As he drew the sketch again, I couldn’t help but watch the way he bent his brows together and bit his bottom lip in concentration. It was almost as sexy as the art he’d made just for me.

  A chill rushed through me. I’d been thinking about getting a tattoo for years, but I hadn’t once stepped inside a tattoo parlor, let alone come close to committing to the type of ink I would want permanently placed on my body. It was crazy to think Liam would be the artist of something that I would keep forever. Was it too much? Was I overthinking? I was certain the answer was yes to both questions, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

  He finished with a little smile and a glance up at me. “It’s just a temp, Chelsea. Relax. No commitments. Not yet anyway.” He winked, and I swore a flock of butterflies took flight in my chest.

  Why did he have to be so adorably—British? He was supposed to be the annoyingly arrogant houseguest that I wouldn’t even remember once he left. And now… I swallowed and let out a laugh. “I’m excited, I promise. I’ve just never come this close to getting a tattoo before.”

  “Well, now you can be certain that you want one permanently first.” With that, he stood and held out his hand, which I took without blinking. It felt natural, my hand in his, and when I got up to meet him, my hand fell to his chest. “Wait. I don’t know where I want to put it.”

  Liam moved the hair over my shoulder and touched my back between my shoulder blades. “How about here?”

  Chills swept over my body, and I almost burst out my agreement before thinking about it. “I don’t know. Then I’ll never be able to see it.”

  He swept my hair again, this time moving it back over my shoulders, and pointed to a spot above my chest without touching it. “Maybe here?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t like that.”

  “Here?” He swept his fingers over the top of my arm, and I shook my head again.

  Liam took the sketch and held it over my waist. “What if you put it here? Just below your bikini line?”

  I swallowed and looked down at where he was placing the transfer, then I nodded slowly at the idea of that one. “Yes. Maybe there.”

  He smiled and pulled me toward the burly dude with the long beard and museum of tattoos covering his body. “Let’s see how it looks on her bikini line.” Then he turned to me. “Left side?”

  I nodded.

  The man grunted something and stood from his desk before waving for me to follow him through a doorway that led to a row of rooms. Liam stayed close behind. I was glad I didn’t have to ask him to, but I didn’t think he would let me out of his sight even if I wanted him to.

  We entered a room with a chair that reminded me of what I sat in at my dentist’s office. On the table beside the man’s stool sat an array of tools and cleaning equipment with stacks of drawers beneath it. While everything looked perfectly clean and organized, I felt like I was getting in way over my head.

  I turned back to Liam and shook my head. “This is crazy,” I hissed. Surely, the man behind me could hear me, so I wasn’t sure why I whispered.

  Liam chuckled and placed his hand on my stomach. “It’s just a temporary tattoo. You never have to come back here if you don’t like it.” Then he gently applied pressure, enough to push me back into the chair.

  I stared up at him, my mouth falling open, ready to tell him off, when the burly man behind me growled, actually growled.

  “Are we doing this or what? I have an appointment in three minutes.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, narrowed my eyes at Liam to let him know he was in deep shit when this was over, then leaned back in the chair. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  “You’re going to need to pull down your pants, sweetheart.”

  Out of my peripheral, I caught Liam’s smirk, which only made me want to kick him out of the room, but there was no way in hell I was letting him leave. So instead of fighting this one, I unbuttoned my jean shorts and pulled them down, along with my underwear, as low as possible without introducing the two men to my lady bits.

  In less than a minute, Liam’s art was on my pelvis, centered at my bikini line, and the tattoo artist handed me a mirror so I could see it better.

  “What do you think?”

  I grinned up at him, instantly forgiving him for pushing me into the chair before I was ready. “I think I’m in love.”

  Liam’s grin grew wider as his eyes traveled down to where I was nearly exposed. “I think I am too.”

  I released my shorts with my left hand so I could swat him with it, then I smiled up at the tattoo artist, who was already rising from his chair. “Thank you for this. Do I make an appointment if I decide to get the real thing?”

  “Or just swing by. Someone here will be able to do it. It’s small enough. Shouldn’t take too long.”

  The second we stepped out of the tattoo parlor, I grabbed Liam’s arm and laughed. “It almost feels like I got the real thing.” Then I looked up at him with an amused glare. “I can’t believe you pushed me into that chair.”

  “Oh, stop,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I barely touched you, but you sure pulled those knickers down in a jiffy.”

  I went to swat him again, but his hand caught mine, and he threaded his fingers through mine. “Now it’s my turn. Take me somewhere. Impress me with your Providence knowledge.”

  It wasn’t too hard to think of where to take Liam next. The man loved art, and Providence had plenty of that to offer. I took him on a walking tour of everything I knew, including huge metal sculptures and wall canvases nea
rby.

  Finally, I took him back through Waterplace Park, where we took our time strolling over Venice-inspired bridges, admiring the street-vendor art, stopping to listen to music on the live stage, and taking a narrated boat tour down the river.

  When it started to get dark, we grabbed dinner at an outdoor café then moved to the bar to drink more wine. I hadn’t even noticed how many hours had passed or that we’d stayed in the same four-mile radius all day long. Liam had a genuine interest in all that Providence had to offer, and I loved that I could be the one to show him around.

  I laughed as he recounted my reaction at the tattoo parlor. “I’ve never seen someone so frightened to get a temporary tattoo before.”

  I placed a hand over my face. Now that I had more drinks in me, I was feeling ridiculous for how I’d acted earlier in the day. “It wasn’t about the temporary tattoo,” I said in an attempt to defend myself. “It was the first step to getting the real thing. Do you know how intimidating that place was to someone who’s never even stepped in one before?”

  Liam tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “That was your first time? Really?”

  I was grateful for the darkening sky so Liam couldn’t see my blush. “It was. Between the drilling noises and Hagrid himself putting his hands on my lady bits, I don’t know how I feel about getting a real one.”

  Liam’s eyes sparkled as he leaned forward. “Between you and me, I’m not fond of Hagrid coming close to your lady bits either.”

  I leaned in, mimicking him. “And why are you so protective of my lady bits, Liam Colborn?”

  He grinned then leaned in farther until his mouth touched my ear. I sucked in a breath to steady my heart as it leaped to life.