Maid in England (The I Do Crew Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  “I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll get up by half-six so I have time to do my hair,” Sarah says quickly.

  “We probably need your hair long and loose, actually,” I say. If Alastair doesn’t want Sarah’s face visible, wearing her hair down will help with that.

  Sarah nods with more enthusiasm than she’s shown towards me all night. “That’s fine. I can do that.”

  “It means you also have to be completely packed for your residential tonight.” Alastair’s voice is stern. “No last-minute faffing about because as soon as we finish tomorrow morning, it will be time for school.”

  “I’ll go up right now and triple check everything. I have a list from school and I’ll make sure I have everything, I promise.” Sarah starts for the swinging door leading out of the kitchen.

  “Check twice, please,” Alastair says as Sarah pushes the door.

  She shouts an okay as the door swings shut behind her. It’s not until her feet thump on the stairs that Alastair turns back to me and says, “So I guess ‘Pleading’ is about a father and daughter now.”

  I could point out that “Isn’t She Lovely” is one of the most iconic father-daughter songs of all time, but I don’t want to encourage this direction. Instead, I say, “What’s it supposed to be about?”

  Alastair raises his eyebrows at me. “Are you really asking me that question?”

  “Yes?”

  “Most people think it’s a love song,” Alastair says.

  “Right.” I think so, too. I mean lyrics like I never knew love until I met you? Sounds like a love song to me. Which is exactly the problem with bringing Sarah into it. I wince a little as I say, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sarah, but I’m not sure making it a father-daughter song will be okay with your fans. I mean, you don’t want to alienate people who’ve imagined it as a love song this whole time.”

  Alastair nods slowly. “Good point. But I can’t tell Sarah we don’t need her now. And there’s the fact we don’t have anyone else. Unless…?”

  He doesn’t even have to finish that thought. “I am not going to be in your music video.”

  Alastair takes a step closer, continuing like he didn’t hear me. “It would be perfect. We could reshoot the scenes on my mum’s sofa with Sarah, then go back to the field and you could walk across it at the end. That way I don’t have to let her down and it’s the best of both worlds.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but I’m really not comfortable being in the video.” My hands have turned clammy with the prospect and I shove them in the front pockets of my jeans like that will help. “I’m sure we can find someone else. Amy must know people.”

  “I don’t want people. I want you. It’s only fitting.” He reaches out and his hand grazes my waist. My pulse jumps, even though it’s only a casual touch.

  I swallow hard. A giant part of me doesn’t want to even ask. But I do anyway. “Fitting how?”

  “I wrote the rough outline for ‘Pleading’ back at Cornell after everything blew up between us, but it took me ten years to finally make something of it.” Alastair’s voice is low and his finger loops around one of my belt loops like he’s about to pull me closer.

  My mind doesn’t want him to. My body has other ideas. Very specific ones involving other places Alastair can put his hands.

  “Um, I…I didn’t know. It’s a great song.” I can’t keep my thoughts in order with him touching me, but this is the truth. The fact that it’s probably Alastair’s first-ever song – because he wasn’t a songwriter when I knew him – is something I’ll think about later. Alone. With my headphones on and ‘Pleading’ on repeat so I can analyze every single word.

  “So does that mean you’re up for it?” Alastair asks like my yes is a given.

  Maybe it’s because he’s still touching me. Or maybe it’s because I remember how I felt watching that other woman run across the field into his arms. Or maybe it’s because at that minute Sarah comes bounding down the stairs breathlessly exclaiming that she’s done, Alastair lets go of me and I can finally think again. I see a too-easy escape route. I nod and say, “Sure. Can’t wait.”

  Then I give Sarah a closed-mouth smile and leg it up the stairs like I’m being chased by a ghost. Which maybe I kind of am.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  For anyone who thinks shooting a music video is glamorous, it’s not. Not at 7:30 in Brinley’s living room. Not at 12:30 in Alastair’s field. No surprise, it’s worse in Alastair’s field because despite the sunshine, it’s cool and windy. I’m wearing one of Amy’s flowery skirts and a white T-shirt with a cropped denim jacket over the top, which means my bare legs are freezing. At least Brinley’s living room was warm and she had coffee.

  There, I was only required to stand on the side, peering over Amy’s shoulder while she shot Alastair and Sarah on the couch. Now I’m supposed to walk towards Alastair, arms outstretched, and jump into his waiting arms like I’m coming home. I’ve got the jumping part down – I’ve been bouncing like a kangaroo trying to stay warm since we got out here – it’s the physical contact part I’m having trouble with. From barely touching to a full embrace is a big leap. Not that we’ve gotten that far yet. The prospect is putting me on edge enough for Amy to repeatedly yell at me. Case in point, I’m halfway across the field when her voice rings out. “Cut. Remi you look like you’re walking to your execution. You’re supposed to be excited about this.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and rub my hands on my triceps. “I’m trying, but I’m not an actress. Maybe we should get someone else?”

  “There’s no time to get someone else.” Amy’s voice is firm and she waves for Alastair to come over. He’s far enough away that he probably can’t hear anything over the breeze. As he approaches with Ziggy trailing behind, Amy says to him, “What can you do to help here? Remi has the worst case of stage fright I’ve ever seen.”

  Alastair raises an eyebrow at me. “You’ve never had stage fright in your life.”

  He’s right. At Cornell I was on the debate team and loved it, even when our team went to Boston to compete regionally. There had been thousands of people in the auditorium, which made some of my teammates freak out, but it didn’t bother me at all. It made me better. More determined.

  Alastair continues. “Besides, it’s only Amy and me here. Unless Ziggy is putting you off?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, he’s fine. I’m nervous, I guess.”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me,” Alastair says.

  I stop myself from blurting out that he’s problem, but barely. Last night while Alastair and Sarah watched TV together downstairs, I alternated between watching the rough-cut video Amy sent me and flipping through the engagement album in my guest bedroom, so I was wound tighter than a two-dollar watch when Alastair knocked on my door after Sarah went to bed. I called out a sleepy goodnight, but in truth I was sitting on top of the duvet wide awake and fully dressed.

  He called back a soft goodnight and I didn’t see him again until this morning when we were leaving to go to Brinley’s. I said I was running late because I needed to send a few emails, but I was avoiding him again, refusing to be lured by the smell of bacon cooking in the kitchen. Although my banana breakfast bar was a weak replacement. Made worse now by the lunch I skipped because my stomach was in knots with anticipation of this moment.

  Turns out my nerves were justified.

  To Amy I say, “Let’s do it. I’m sure by the fifth take, I’ll be fine.”

  “She’s right. Don’t cut it off this time,” says Alastair. “Let’s see how it goes.”

  “It will be easier if we can get it right sooner than later,” says Amy. “I’m working in the pub tonight, so I only have until about four to edit this.”

  “Do you have any time tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Yes, but I want to make sure it’s perfect,” Amy says. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right? That gives me a day and I basically need to resplice the whole thin
g with the new footage from this morning.”

  I don’t know Amy well at all, but I’m pretty sure there’s a ‘get your head out of your ass’ implied there, so I take a deep breath in and give a curt nod. “Got it. I’ll do my best, I promise.”

  “Don’t overthink it and you’ll be fine,” says Alastair as he turns back towards the fence where he’s supposed to wait for me.

  Ziggy trots behind him and I take a few yoga breaths to try to calm myself as I watch them cross the field. I can do this. There’s no reason on the planet that I can’t. Except for the fact that his hand on my waist last night was enough to send my senses into overdrive. What the hell is going to happen when we’re chest to chest? I bite my lip hard to stop that train of thought before I get carried away. No good will come of it and, honestly, it could be enough to send me running the other way.

  “Ready?” Amy calls out from behind me.

  No.

  I make myself nod once and put my right foot forward, focusing on the cow in the next field instead of Alastair. I can still see Alastair in my peripheral vision, but the cow looks up, which helps. As I step forward I notice the cow’s big brown eyes. On the second step, I see her nostrils and wonder if cows ever get colds. This makes me smile through the third and fourth step and on the fifth step, I focus on the yellow tag on her ear and immediately look for one on the other ear, as if they’re earrings. Which makes me smile wider because cows with earrings are pretty ridiculous, especially for me.

  By the time I pry my gaze away from the cow, I’m only two steps from Alastair and grinning like it’s my job. His smile is wide too, and when he extends his arms, I don’t hesitate. I don’t let myself think. I speed up and jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist like we discussed. His arms tighten around me and he buries his face in my hair. I feel the stubble from his cheek on my neck as the wind makes his hair dance across the backs of my hands.

  Oh my God, he feels good. My body melts against his and I breathe in the faint woodsy scent of his cologne, pressing my chest to his. He squeezes me tighter and murmurs, “This is good. Another thirty seconds for the shot.”

  My smile freezes. I let myself forget what we’re doing, what this is really about, but Alastair hasn’t. He’s focused on the video, acting a part. I’m the one who jumped into his arms like I was finally coming home. He caught me, but it doesn’t mean he feels the same way.

  The realization sobers me and I loosen my arms around his neck. He lifts his head to meet my eyes and tightens his arms around my back. He doesn’t say anything – Amy hasn’t yelled cut yet – but the expression on his face takes my breath away. It’s the same one I imagine he sees on mine. Longing. Desire. Confusion.

  “Cut.” Amy’s voice rings across the field behind us. “I need a second to check my settings and then we’ll do it again.”

  For a long minute, Alastair continues to hold me, his hands clasped behind my back. I feel the shock of his arousal and my heart starts a steady jog in my chest. I focus on the blue stripe of his T-shirt, lifting my eyes slowly to meet his. His expression has morphed into pure desire and his eyebrows arch as he murmurs, “I’m sorry. I was trying not to let that happen.”

  I look back down at his chest and try to swallow, but my tongue has turned to sandpaper in my mouth. I run it over my lips anyway and croak out, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

  He doesn’t speak, just pulls me against his hard length. My hips buck against him and I can’t help the low moan that forms in the back of my throat.

  “You’re killing me, Remi.” Alastair’s voice is just as rough as mine and I can’t help thinking that if Amy weren’t behind us somewhere we could very easily end up having sex in this field. All it would take is a kiss to ignite this spark flickering between us. Like a match in the middle of a California summer, I’m pretty sure we could burn for days.

  I look up at Alastair as he gently sets me down on my feet. He’s looking into my eyes like he’s studying a puzzle he can’t quite solve and I make myself hold his gaze, even though it makes me feel exposed. Because the truth is, I can’t solve this puzzle either, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the pieces of my heart are clicking into place.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  We do two more takes of the video – thank God for the cow, who seems a little mesmerized by the whole thing – before Amy’s satisfied and proclaims us done. Alastair gives her a lift to the pub, leaving Ziggy and me on our own at his house. I’m too keyed up to be scared of Ziggy, but not too keyed up to be talking to him.

  “What do I think is going to happen here? It’s all well and good to resolve the past, but I can’t live there, can I?” I pace the edge of the dark red area rug in Alastair’s living room. Ziggy sits on the chair watching me.

  “I should have never agreed to this. It’s confusing and, obviously, it’s not going to make a damn bit of difference to my job.” I clench my hands into fists because for a few hours, I’d actually forgotten about the shambles of my career. “What the hell am I going to do about that anyway? Jed and Rex don’t value my contribution. I’ve given my life to this stupid company.”

  I laugh but it sounds bitter and hollow. “What a walking stereotype. How the hell did I let this happen?”

  My eyes sting and I shake my head hard. I am not going to cry over my job, of all things. “I made this bed, I’ll lie in it. But I’ll be damned if I’m not getting out of it once and for all. Moneywise I’m okay for now, but not forever. If I left my job tomorrow, I’d be fine until I could figure out what to do next. But then, what do I actually do next?”

  I look at Ziggy like he might answer me. He stares back, silent. His eyes – well, eye - aren’t that different from the cow’s, but maybe that’s just me. I remember from my internet research that maintaining eye contact with a dog can be seen as a form of aggression, but as soon as I look away I hear Ziggy’s tail thump on the chair and I look back at him. His tail thumps faster and I raise my eyebrows at him. “Is this you lulling me into a false sense of security? Because I am not here for that. Not today.”

  More wagging and his mouth opens slightly, like he’d tell me I’m being silly if he could. I roll my eyes a little. “Fine, but I swear to God if you bite me I’ll have you turned into a rug.”

  I take a step closer to the chair. Then another. I have a fleeting thought that I’d be better off approaching Ziggy on my own when his owner was somewhere within shouting distance, but I push it aside because this feels like a personal challenge. Like maybe if I can do this thing that scares me, I can do other things, too. Bigger things, like figure out my life.

  “How the hell are you symbolic of me getting my shit together again?” I murmur. I’m only one step away from Ziggy. His tail is still wagging a little, and his one-eyed gaze is intense. Almost a little too intense, but I reach my hand out anyway, saying, “Please be nice, okay?”

  The minute my hand makes contact with his furry forehead – do dogs have foreheads? – Ziggy’s tail goes into overdrive. His nose pokes at my forearm, pushing my hand further back until my palm rests on top of his head and my fingers are behind his ears. I wriggle my fingers and I swear, he purrs.

  I know he’s a dog, but seriously, I’ve never heard a dog make a sound like that. Of course, I’ve never been close enough to a dog to know it could make a sound like that, but still. I take a step closer so I can reach better and Ziggy rests his cheek on my thigh, which I admit, is pretty cute.

  “You think you’re winning me over, don’t you?” I ask as I dig my fingernails into his fur a bit and he purrs again.

  “It certainly looks that way from here.” Alastair’s voice is soft behind me.

  For five seconds I freeze, then turn around. “Caught me.”

  I’m pretty sure I look like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, but instead of snatching my hand away, I scratch behind Ziggy’s ears some more because it gives me something to do as Alastair approaches. I haven’t seen him alone today until now, but it�
�s clear neither of us are going to ignore what happened earlier.

  Instead of things cooling off between us, it was exactly the opposite. Every take of our embrace became more sensual. After the initial shock of Alastair’s arousal, the next time I was expecting it. By the fourth time, his hands had slid under my full skirt to my bare thighs. I’m not sure what would have happened if Amy yelled cut from her usual place behind us, but for the last shot, she came close to zoom in on our faces. By the time she was done, talking excitedly about the shots she’d gotten, the heat of the moment had cooled.

  Now, though, it’s back up to eighty degrees. And rising.

  Alastair stops a step further away than I thought he would, but it’s close enough for one of us to reach out and grab the other’s hand. His voice is still soft when he says, “Ziggy’s been pretty determined to win you over, you know.”

  I smile. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “He’s not the only one.” Alastair takes a step closer. “I’ve missed you, Remi. I didn’t know how much until I saw you again, and then today…”

  He lets his voice trail off, but judging by the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat he doesn’t have to say more. I slip my hand into his and link our pinkies together. That tiny contact is electric and my body instantly craves more. “Today was not what I expected.”

  “It was better.” Alastair squeezes my fingers with his. “But I know myself. I can’t do this halfway, and I know what a priority your career is and your life in London, and –”

  “You don’t know anything.” Right now, my life in London, my career, my proposed move to LA, are all a distant second to the man standing in front of me. I take a deep breath because I’m going to have to be the one to push us over the edge here. Alastair’s given me an engraved invitation, but it still feels like a risk when I say, “Except, as I recall, you really know how to kiss.”