He chuckled. “You could take me there, after you’ve taught me how to ride a tractor.”
Janie bit her lip. Yep. She was definitely dead, or dreaming, because things like Blaine Galloway promising to go to the Grand Canyon with her after hinting he might visit with her, really visit with her, didn’t happen in real life. Her heart clenched, but she refused to acknowledge reality right now. Today was for dreaming, for adventures, and fantasy and romance.
Chapter Eleven
I trust you.
The words echoed around in his head. He’d gone and blurted out that he wanted to go to America? And visit with her? You lost your mind, man?
“It’s small. Well, small and big all in one.” Janie interrupted his self-chastising.
“Little Acre, I mean. We live in a big old wooden house. Okay, not big compared to a castle, but big enough. Hunter and Tony shared a room growing up and Dave ended up in there too, when he came along. He was the baby, not a mistake my pop always says, but I don’t know, nine years is a big gap between kids when you’ve already got three.”
Blaine didn’t interrupt her. There was a glaze over her eyes, a distant focus that told him she was thinking of more than her family home.
“Anyway, the boys all shared, and I had my own room. Man, it sure is dark in there. On the wrong side of the house I guess, and without big enough windows.” She put up a lazy arm into the dust haze that was catching light. “Pop’s room is at the other end of the house and has the best view. And all this glorious sunlight. It’s completely wasted on him. When I get back I’m gonna fix up the guest room downstairs and use my old room as an office.”
“Not take your pop’s room?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t do that to him. He’s been there since we moved in. When his folks passed. It was his pa’s room. And since Mom… Well, it’s his room. Period.”
Blaine rubbed a hand over his face. The woman had a strong family connection. What he wouldn’t give to have grown up in a place with so many memories attached and parents to remind him of them.
“Out back are the tractor sheds of course and…well, there’s pretty much nothing except beet fields forever.”
“Nothing else? You exaggerate, surely. It must stop where the hills start or something?”
Her laugh was light, easy. “Have you been to Texas? It’s flatter than a dead snake. Nope. If you squint funny you might see the shadow of a tree or something, but only on a good day. There are beet fields for miles and miles around our place.”
It was a wonder she wasn’t stifled by it. Blaine contemplated a view without a hill. Without a mountain or a lake or a forest. Scotland was rich with things popping out of the ground, and while they weren’t on the same scale as the mountains in some of America’s national parks, the mountains near his birthplace were a verdant reminder of what life could be like if humans left well enough alone. “I can’t even imagine that.”
“Why would you?” Her sigh was short, as if she cut it off. “I shouldn’t say that. In the afternoon when the sun starts setting over them and the breeze picks through their leaves, it’s pretty. Real pretty. Anyway,” she shook herself, “that’s just our place. The town itself is cute, too. There’s a school where we all went. Aunt Alexia works there now that the library is closed.”
“They shut down the library?”
“Not enough people were using it. All the books went to the school, so you can go there if you need to. And we have the internet. I’d probably die without my Kindle.” Her hands were back in the sunlight, waving at the dust, making patterns in the air. Like magic. The tightening in his chest as he watched her was new to him. She was magic. So free and open with her feelings, with her history, with her family. Like no one he’d ever met, certainly no one in the entertainment industry. Blaine wondered if he’d ever been as free as her, as open.
“Then there’s the rest of the town. There’s the diner I told you about. Lesley runs bingo there on Monday and Tuesdays. No one eats out Monday or Tuesdays. And there’s the store with the post office in it. George runs that, and his daughter May is gonna get stuck running that if she doesn’t marry Benny like her pop wants her to. But if I were her I wouldn’t marry Benny, either. His breath is worse than a tractor with rancid engine oil and that skin of his is just plain scaly.” Her face gave away just how scaly. “There’s the church and the gas station, which I guess is a sort of a store too. Irene Milton sells a few groceries and magazines and such. Oh, and Hank’s barn gets used for town meetings, and there was a dance there a couple times. Hank might be a crotchety old goat, but he’s nice enough to me, maybe because I helped him beat my pop at poker that one time.”
Blaine waited. “And what else?”
“Apart from the beet processing plant? Not much else really.”
“You’re shitting me.”
She frowned. “Why would I do a thing like that?”
“There’s no bar, no cinema, no café?”
“The diner sells beer and coffee. And you can have a drink at bingo. It’d be nice to have a cinema. There was talk of using the old library building. Setting up a projector or something, but it never happened. People watch TV at home or play cards or read a book I guess. My pop has a gang over for poker night every week. You should hear them talk when they think I’m not listening. It’s hilarious. Kings of the world they are, every one of them, and if anyone gets in their way or touches their tractors funny, watch out. There was a time Hank bought a new tractor. Brand-new mind, not just with reconditioned parts, and Pop and his crew gave him hell about it so bad I thought he might send it back. Thing was yellow instead of red or green.”
She shook her head and smiled at the memory. “Poor old Hank. Told me he thought about returning it. I made him promise he wouldn’t, and made Pop swear he’d quit ribbing him. Still, it just shows you, it doesn’t take much for folks to share their opinions. Loudly. Thank goodness I stayed out of the public eye. Well, until I didn’t.” She sighed.
His head reeled with the list of people she’d just placed in her small town. There wasn’t a single shop owner whose name he knew back home. Certainly not the bevy of teenagers who took turns running the Tesco mini-mart down the road from his flat where he grabbed the essentials every so often.
“It sounds like you love the place.”
“Oh, I do. It’s my home. But this,” she said as she waved her hands around again, “this is amazing. More than amazing. Makes me wonder whether there’s more to life. I mean, outside Little Acre. I mean, oh you know what I mean.”
She didn’t say it, but he saw her face drop as her thoughts shifted to returning home and all that entailed, and he wanted to smooth the worry away. It wasn’t like he could tell her to leave Little Acre. He didn’t have the right. She might say she was happy to live out her days there, but Blaine didn’t buy it. Not completely. Despite her loyalty to her family, Blaine didn’t see why she didn’t take ownership of her future a little more and decide what she wanted, rather than letting her family dictate what she was going to do for the rest of her life. Maybe because that’s what I’ve done my whole life. Looked out for number one. It was as if the sunlight shifted focus and shone directly on him.
He was aware he’d been focused on himself; he had to be if he was going to make it in the entertainment industry. But the act of looking out for Janie, for caring what she thought, not because it was going to provide something for him—an audition, an agent, a part in a show—but looking out for her just because he could, because he wanted to, was new. And it made him feel another inch taller.
He rolled onto his side and feeling his shift, Janie rolled over too so they were facing each other.
“You look like you’re deep in thought.” She put a hand to his face and stroked across his eyebrow, easing away the tension that was building.
“I was thinking that when I’m around you I’m my best self.”
Face creasing in a smile, Janie’s eyes widened. “That’s perhaps the nicest thing
anyone’s ever said to me.”
Shit. There it was, the look that should have screamed run. The one that meant she was getting all sorts of feels, and that meant when he left, her heart was going to shatter into a million pieces.
But what if I don’t leave her behind? Good one.
In the corner, his phone pinged in his pocket and Janie raised an eyebrow. “There is cell reception? Out here? And here I was thinking we were away from it all.”
“Oh, we are. Just ignore it. Let’s pretend there is nothing else out here, that this really is our island. How’s that sound?”
“Like the best idea anyone ever came up with.” She reached her lips up to his and the kiss was tender, soft, and full of longing. Full of the possibilities he knew were racing through her brain. As he kissed her back and let the warmth of her skin envelope his, he tried to shut down his thoughts as they spiraled through the possibilities of a future with her. Enjoy the moment.
He was; he would. The question was whether he could see a way to enjoy the future as well.
Breaking the kiss, she pulled back to look him in the eye. “You know, when Two-Minute Tom and I broke up, I thought the world was over, that I was going to be a dried-up husk of a woman, like an old snake skin.”
Blaine opened his mouth to interrupt, but she put a finger to his lips to stop him.
“But this time with you? It’s just what I needed. Like the universe was looking out for me. What I had with Tom was nothing. I wasn’t even in love with him, not really. I know that now. It was simply me trying to do what everyone else thought I should. I was caught up in it and let myself think that that was all that love was. But you know what? Everyone is entitled to real love no matter where they live.”
“Yes, especially someone like you, lass.”
Her smile was small on the outside, but the way her eyes shone and body shifted, he knew he’d said the right thing. He’d pulled out the line that his character would have said right at the apex of a romantic scene. But rather than groaning inwardly at the cheese he’d let loose on the world, Blaine’s body wanted to get closer to Janie, to feel her on his skin, to be inside her again.
Blood surged downward and Janie flicked an eyebrow again.
“I want you,” he said, and she opened up to him without hesitation. In moments he had pulled her on top of him, and the moan that escaped from the back of her throat as he entered her in one long exhalation was enough to almost end him. She fit him so well. Perfectly. Completely.
When she rolled off him and sighed happily, he thought his heart might burst at the sound. Satisfying a woman had never brought him as much pleasure before. His thoughts flickered to what she’d said. Everyone is entitled to real love. It was true, sure. But he’d never really thought about it that much for himself. He assumed everyone wanted the full package: a wedding, kids, a picket fence. But maybe he could let himself have love, just love, and not worry about all the other stuff. He’d said that Janie made him feel like his best self and he’d meant it. Maybe that was the way forward. To take on his career with someone at his side who was on his side.
He stole a look at Janie. Could he build a life with her and keep his goals? The media would eat her up; they’d hunt her down like a pack of wolves and throw the bones out into those beet fields she so poetically described. She’d made no secret of how much she hated attention. But maybe he could keep them from her; other people managed it, somehow. Maybe. Maybe?
A distant gong sounded, and as if on cue, Janie’s stomach rumbled.
“You and your stomach have impeccable timing,” he said with a laugh.
She groaned and rolled onto her stomach. “It’s not my fault that life in Little Acre revolves around food. And the food here is sooooooo good. If I didn’t try it all, I’d hate myself forever. My ass alone should weigh a ton with the way I’ve been eating here.”
“I’d want to do this no matter what size your arse was,” he said and leaned over to bite her gently on the butt.
Shrieking and laughing at him, she slapped him away before she rolled back, wrapping her arms around him. He responded in kind, as if they hadn’t only just made love. His cock stiffened and she noticed. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s hungry.” She kissed him, letting her tongue draw his in, a stormy, fierce caress, before she pulled away when her stomach growled again. “You’ll have to hold that thought.”
“Let a woman’s stomach wait for no man,” he said, but refused to let her go. “Except a man’s thirst.”
“That right?”
He nodded. “And I’m thirsty for one thing only.”
“Okay.” She smirked. “How about this for a deal? I’ll go find myself something to eat for lunch and after that I get to learn how to cook dinner. You told the resort guys that was the plan, right? For a cooking class?”
He nodded.
“I’ll do some sleuthing and bring you back some options, as well as a drink, and I promise I’ll help you quench that thirst of yours.”
“Sounds perfect.” He unlocked his arms from around her waist and watched as she threw on a long T-shirt that was more saggy than sexy.
“Don’t wear that,” he said. “It’s hot out, show off your gorgeousness. I won’t be jealous.”
A light blush stole up her throat, and he reached out a hand. “Seriously, don’t let anyone ever tell you you’re anything but gorgeous.”
“Okay,” she said, grabbing a short dress and throwing it on and Blaine’s whole body sang with the warmth of her smile. “See you in a bit.”
He watched her leave, then, miraculously, dozed. It was a treat he never allowed himself in his usual life and he woke feeling like someone had purred over his whole body. Checking the sky outside he realized he must have slept for a good couple of hours and pulling on his shorts, felt the bulge in his pocket and remembered his cell pinging earlier. Fishing the thing out, he saw a couple of missed calls recorded, and a text from his agent.
Call me now. I thought you said Janie Milan was a quiet, no-drama nobody.
Oh. Shit.
Pressing his agent’s number, Blaine realized the reception was intermittent at best and, throwing on the rest of his clothes, rushed out onto the beach with his cell held in the air. Stumbling, he almost stepped on a banana leaf holding something that smelled sharp and ripe and…delicious. Janie. Blaine looked around for her, but there was no sign, and with his agent’s text message still burning in his mind, the relief swept through him. Whatever the mix-up with Janie was, being able to sort it without her around was a blessing he would thank the kilted lords for later.
Grabbing the banana leaf parcel and heading to the shoreline, Blaine sat on the sand when his phone finally showed a couple of bars of reception. He tried calling but got no answer, so he fired off a text to his agent: No reception earlier. Try again now. Cautiously he unwrapped the banana leaf. A mess of green mango salad and nuts was nestled in the brilliant green leaf, along with a small note that fell out of the folded native packaging. Saw you sleeping and didn’t want to wake you. I’ve arranged a surprise on the next beach over. Meet me there at sunset.
He looked at the time on his phone. Man, he had slept a while. The end of the day wasn’t a million miles off; sunset came early in the tropics. Blaine looked around again, but there was still no one but himself on the tiny beach. At the end of the cove was a pile of rocks and a path with blue and white pieces of fabric tied to posts leading away over the edge. The way to the other beach, apparently.
His phone trilled in his hand. Blaine’s stomach tightened, Chris never freaked out. Never. Here we go.
“Galloway, what the hell have you done this time?”
“I’m good, thanks, nice to hear from you.” Blaine tried for humor, but the silence at the other end of the phone told him it wasn’t the time.
“That photo from your hotel room got out before I tracked it down and now shit’s getting real.”
It was Blaine’s turn to be quiet. Shit’s getting real. “W
ho’s got it?”
“Some woman, Tina something, wrote a piece about you two and it’s been picked up everywhere. The London Times wants a comment, though knowing them they’ll run what they’ve got whether they get your comment or not. Bastards. If it was only the shot of you at the hotel it would be less of a story, but the other photos of this American girl and all the details…”
“Wait. What?”
“Photos and details. Of this Janie woman.” It was impossible, but Blaine could almost hear his agent rubbing a hand over his face. “The first piece came out with a whole lot of details about your girl. And then someone must have done some digging. The next piece came with photos. The one with the snake is the worst. Although I guess at least she’s wearing clothes in that, better than the other ones. And you forgot to mention she had a blog. Bloody hell, man. It’s a right mess.”
“Naked photos. And a blog?” Blaine’s stomach moved from tightening to turning into a ball of hardened cement. Sweet apple pie Janie?
“Yep. Naked. I have to give it to you. You know how to pick ’em. First Stephanie and now this Janie girl. The first article even has a link to her blog. The last piece on it is about her setting out to Thailand, just in case we didn’t know for sure it was her in the hotel room with you. But it’s the snake picture that makes the whole package scream front-page tabloid crazy. Chances of you getting the audition for the lead in that period drama pilot aren’t looking rosy. You know the exec producer is squeaky-clean. Old-fashioned, I know, but she likes everyone to be more PG than your lady friend. At least in public.”
“What about Stephanie? Have you heard from her?”
There was the intake of breath on the other end of the phone. “Yes.”
“And?” Blaine closed his eyes.
“She’s pissed.”
Her Scottish Mistake (A Perfect Escape) Page 13
