A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1) (10 page)

“Weird.” I’m not sure what Jasper was going to say, and I’m not sure I want to know. But he’s one hundred percent right. I purse my lips and slide a few inches back on his thighs. “We need to get the whole playlist thing done and I should get back to the kitchen, honestly.”

I’m purposely looking at the cream-colored wall behind his head when he says, “Bea?” His fingers caress my jawbone until I finally look at him. “Remember the date I asked you to think about?”

I nod.

“Will you give it a go? Tonight? Meet me at the tennis court after we finish clearing up?” God, he looks so sincere I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to.

I nod again and instead of asking what kind of date we can possibly have at eleven o’clock at night, I say, “Sure. That would be great.”

“Great.” Jasper smiles wide and says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

My heart leaps in my chest and I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak. Mostly because I’m worried I’ll say something downright dumb, but partly because I’m worried I’ll say something along the lines of, well, maybe if he could not mention this to Scarlett it would be better. And if he asks me, “Better for whom?” I won’t have an answer for him. At least not an easy one.

M
y daydreaming
about meeting Jasper later lasts for ninety seconds, tops. From the minute I come back downstairs, I’m thrown into a frenzy of activity that makes me think I must have imagined the earlier casual vibe because there’s no evidence of it anywhere I look. As I walk through the dining room, Hannah argues with Paul about taking tables outside, and I’ve barely entered the kitchen before Lou’s rattling off a list of things that needed to be done ten minutes ago. Even Scarlett, who’s usually pretty chilled out, is looking harried.

For a couple of hours, it gets worse instead of better. I put too much mustard in the potato salad and no matter what I do, I can’t make it better and finally Lou tells me throw it out and start over. Hannah comes in red faced and gets a plate of chocolate cake out the fridge, attacking it with such force, no one says anything, even after she leaves the kitchen, taking the fork with her. And Paul, who usually floats quietly in the background, seems to have his hands in everything, including my crappy potato salad, until Lou kicks him out.

By the time the party’s started, the mood among the staff is strained, to say the least. Claire and Jasper are the only ones who are even laughing, and if Jasper and I hadn’t had the kiss we’d had in his apartment, I could almost imagine he and Claire are the ones who hooked up. I nudge up next to her with a pile of plates and say, “You’re in a good mood.”

“I love the St Julien’s summer picnic,” says Claire.

“You do?” I glance around. “Why?”

“Give it twenty minutes and you’ll see. Now that all the prep is over, we get to have fun with the guests and it actually is fun. Plus, this year we’re doing Fourth of July, and the fireworks will be fab.”

“If you say so.”

And yet, sure enough, when I bring the burgers out to Paul at the grill half an hour later, the music’s started and laughter rings through the air. Scarlett dances with two little girls, Lou has a smile on her face and a glass of wine in hand, and Jasper winks as he hands Hannah and me a pitcher of Pimms and two glasses.

“Pimms isn’t very American, is it?” I ask.

“No, but it’s Mum’s favorite,” Jasper says.

Hannah nods and pours me a glass, then herself. “I don’t believe in drinking on the job, but today all the work is mostly done, so.”

She clinks her glass on mine and Jasper nods his approval as he walks away. Hannah tilts her head a little, then says, “Is this your playlist?”

Miley Cyrus plays in the background. “Yes, but I refuse to take responsibility for some of the lesser choices.”

Hannah takes a long swallow of her Pimms. “I doubt anyone will notice. But I’m glad you and Jasper have found some common ground. It’s good for him.”

“What do you mean?” I take a sip of my drink and make a face. Pimms is a sweet liqueur mixed with carbonated lemonade, then muddled with cucumber, strawberries, and mint. I’ve never had anything like it before – aside from a taste in the kitchen about an hour ago – and my verdict is definitely still out.

“Jasper can be difficult, but he’s a good egg.” Hannah takes another sip of Pimms.

I take another sip of mine. It’s too sweet, but I like the hint of cucumber. “He’s good. I mean, you’re right. He’s hard to get to know, but he seems nice.”

“He and Scarlett have some water under the bridge between them. It makes for hard going sometimes.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I nod because she seems to assume I would know. Should know? If I hadn’t shut Scarlett down every time she brought Jasper up after his visit two years ago, I probably would know. But a guilty conscience is ever vigilant and every time she so much as breathed his name, I changed the subject.

Much like I do now. “Do you have any siblings?”

Hannah nods. “Two sisters. One of them lives in Kendall and the other in London, but I see them both about the same.”

After that, Hannah wanders off to talk to a couple of the older guests and I play a game of croquet with two teenagers. At some point, Paul announces burgers are ready and we all line up for food. As I sink down in the grass beside Scarlett with my plate, I realize Claire was right. This is fun.

“You having a good time?” Scarlett asks.

“I am. It’s almost like a traditional July Fourth, but better because my mom isn’t here trying to get everyone to try her devilled eggs.”

“Well, good.” Scarlett leans into me. “Later we usually go into town and end the night at the pub. Will’s expecting us.”

Crap. I didn’t even think about Scarlett when I agreed to meet Jasper later, but I’m obviously not going to be able to do both. I know which one I’m going to choose, even if it makes me a bad friend. I also know exactly what I’m going to say now, knowing I’ll bail later.

“Sure, sounds great,” I say. “Speaking of Will, any progress with him and Claire?”

Scarlett shakes her head and sticks her bottom lip out. “Nope. But maybe she’ll meet someone tomorrow night when we go out.” She wriggles her eyebrows. “Maybe we all will. Remember? We’re finding a guy who will adore you.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I’m good. Trust me.”

“A hook up would do you a world of good. Get Theo out of your system.”

“I don’t feel like Theo’s still in my system.” I shrug. “Just saying.”

But then there’s the email I sent him a few weeks ago, which he answered. Of course. Because if there’s one thing Theo is, it’s polite. And even his, ‘I’m surprised by your message,’ was followed by, ‘If you’re in London, it would be fun to see you,’ because he’s too nice to tell me to go to hell directly.

Of course, Scarlett knows nothing about this, like she knows nothing about the fact I was making out with Jasper earlier, but I have a feeling she’d have a strong opinion about both. Suddenly the secrets I’m keeping from her taste bitter in the back of my mouth, so I wave in Lou’s direction and pretend she’s called me over, shuffling away from Scarlett, but not my guilt.

Which follows me around all afternoon like a devil perched on my shoulder. By the time Claire comes and holds out a plate of apple crumble, I jump a mile at her hand on my arm. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. You startled me.”

“I see that,” Claire says. “Are you okay? You’re not exactly yourself.”

“I’m not? Who am I?” I laugh, but it sounds high and fake. “I thought I was playing the token American quite well.”

“You are, actually. We’re expecting you to sing the “Star Spangled Banner” before fireworks. Did Hannah forget to mention that?” Claire smiles as she takes a bite of crumble. Then with her mouth still half full says, “But that’s not what I mean.”

I take a forkful of crumble, but more so I have something to do with my hands. I’m not going to eat it, not after everything else I’ve had today. Pimms is pretty low-cal, but the rolls for the burgers are white and everything combined is more calories than I can even think about. And that doesn’t include all of the tastes I had in the kitchen earlier. “Okay?”

“If there’s something bothering you…” Claire trails off and shrugs. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’ve been working here every summer since I was fifteen and sometimes it can feel a bit intense – like you’re caught up in the family drama, but it’s not actually your family.”

I have to laugh. “Trust me, the St Juliens have nothing on my family, drama or otherwise.”

“I thought you said your mom was great?” Claire pauses.

“She is, but she’s a single mother in the South, and in our family that’s just not done, darlin’.” I add a bit of Southern twang for emphasis. “If you met the rest of my family you’d understand.”

“I don’t have to meet them to understand.” Claire’s lips curve up, but it’s not quite a smile. “I’ve been working here since I was fifteen for a reason.”

Claire and I have lived together for weeks and this is the first she’s mentioned her family. Scarlett told me Claire grew up with her grandmother, but she didn’t say more. I’m not sure I’m supposed to ask, but I can’t help it. “To get away from home?”

“In a word, yes. When I was five my mother had to go to New York for work and my grandmother was going to look after me as a special treat. My mum’s second day in New York she was sitting in a sidewalk café wasting time before a meeting and a car jumped the sidewalk, plowing into her table and killing her instantly. The driver was an eighty-two-year-old guy who had a heart attack whilst driving and also died.” Claire’s voice is even, almost monotone. This is a story she’s told often. “My dad was never in the picture and he didn’t magically appear after my mum died, leaving my grandmother to take care of me. She did the best she could, but she’s not exactly, shall we say, maternal.”

“So you started working here?” I’m not sure how living with her grandmother led to Castle Calder, but now I’m curious.

“The summer I was fifteen, I came here for a holiday with my grandmother and her then-boyfriend. My grandmother is quite a femme fatale of the geriatric set. She’s had more boyfriends than I can ever hope to.” Claire smiles, but it’s got an edge to it. “Anyway, we came here and Scarlett and I hit it off, which was a life saver because my grandmother was otherwise engaged. I helped out around the castle, doing whatever jobs needed doing so I could hang out with Scarlett and, in return, get away from my grandmother. The day before we were supposed to leave, I was talking to Scarlett, telling her I wished I could stay at Castle Calder instead of going home with my grandmother, and Hannah overheard. She asked if I’d want to stay to help out, they could keep me on the rest of the summer, blah, blah, blah.”

“And your grandmother didn’t mind?” I can’t help picturing my grandmother if a stranger asked if I could stay with them for the rest of the summer. Even if I begged, she’d never have agreed when I was only fifteen.

Claire barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding? She was thrilled. When Hannah asked her, the first thing my grandmother said was, ‘Oh, fab. Ben and I will be able to go to Italy after all.’”

“Wow. That’s pretty shitty.”

“I used to tell myself she didn’t mean it, but she did.” Claire shrugs. “She was great when I was little, especially right after my mum died. But a few years in, she realized there was no end in sight and I was either going to cramp her style or have to learn to live with it, and for her the choice was clear.”

“So do you still see her?” I ask.

“We have an obligatory family Christmas, Christmas Eve through Boxing Day, which is only bearable because my cousins are there and it’s a big extended family thing. We always meet somewhere, so she’s on neutral ground, which also helps. She can be a little precious about her things and God forbid one of the kids takes a drink into her lounge.” Claire’s smile this time is genuine, but it fades as she continues. “She used to come up here for a visit every summer, but last summer she didn’t, and so far there’s no booking for this summer either. If she doesn’t come, I’ll take the long way back to uni and meet her for lunch.”

“And that’s it? What about your other school breaks?” My mother drives me insane, but I can’t imagine only seeing her for three days per year.

“I have a flat and a job in the campus bookstore, so school breaks are an opportunity to work and catch up on life stuff. Sometimes if I know Jasper’s coming up here for a visit, I’ll come too, and Hannah and I meet in London every February to do some shopping and see a show.” Claire levels her gaze at me. “So if you’re asking if I miss my grandmother, the short answer is no.”

“Right. So the St Juliens are sort of your fill-in family? Ish?”

“They’re my fill-in family without any of the drama. Jasper and Scarlett are like the brother and sister I never had, but seeing the way they can fight, maybe it’s better this way.” Claire grins. “Believe it or not, they’re better than they used to be. God, when we were younger, they used to go at it.”

“Now it’s more of a cold war?”

“Scarlett’s bubbly and friendly and great with people. Jasper’s super smart and really intense. I think both of them wish they were more like the other, but they’d never admit it in a million years.” Claire smiles. “But there’s a genuine affection and admiration between them too, which is good because it keeps them from killing each other.”

I laugh more loudly than I mean to, causing Jasper to look over from his chair by the barbecue. He raises his eyebrows and I feel myself start to grin before turning quickly away. Because shit, shit, shit, Claire’s right here.

And she doesn’t miss a beat. Her voice is soft when she says, “He likes you, I think.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Um, yeah. I mean, I think he likes me well enough as a friend of Scarlett’s.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

I have two choices here and both of them make me uneasy. But my response finally banishes the devil on my shoulder when I say, “I know.”

T
he world doesn’t implode
after my admission to Claire. Nor does she run over to tell Scarlett straightaway. In fact, she just smiles and waves over Lou, who’s walking around with a jug of Pimms refilling glasses.

Several Pimms and an American hot dog later, it’s finally dark enough for Paul to announce the fireworks will start in the next fifteen minutes and Hannah starts passing out sparklers to everyone. Sometime in the last few hours, Scarlett, Jasper, Claire, and I created our own little circle away from the guests and Scarlett nominates Jasper and me to snag some extra sparklers and blankets. Unlike July Fourth in Atlanta, it’s gotten downright cold as the sun’s gone down.

Jasper and I head to the cabin for the blankets, staying an arm’s length apart. The minute I follow him inside, though, Jasper shuts the door and threads his fingers through mine. “You’re freezing,” he says, drawing me closer and putting an arm around my shoulder.

I am, but my body flushes with heat from the inside like someone turned on a radiator in my stomach. I’ve been sitting next to Jasper for most of the evening, not touching. Our interactions have been easy, casual enough for me to begin to doubt the intensity of our kiss earlier. Now, however, my pulse jumps and I realize the intensity has been simmering, but it’s definitely there.

I try to keep my voice light. “I thought ninety degrees, minimum, was mandatory for Fourth of July.”

“Obviously you have high expectations of the great British summer.” Jasper smiles and I wish it was brighter in the cabin so I could see him more clearly. “We’re lucky if we hit eighty here in July. Or ever, really.”

“That must be why you Brits haven’t embraced the Fourth of July. Lack of appropriate weather.”

Jasper laughs and I feel the vibration of his laughter in his chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason, but you keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey, I’ve got it on good authority this is one of at least four similar celebrations going on in England today at this very minute.” This is actually true. Claire told me earlier about the celebrations at the American Clubs in London and Manchester, as well as an American-themed bar she knows that does “killer ribs” for the holiday.

Jasper draws me closer and I feel his warm breath on my skin as he speaks. “But we’re the only ones who have you, so where’s the real celebration happening?”

“I don’t know. I heard--”

I don’t get to say what I heard because Jasper yanks me to him so we’re chest to chest. And even though there are two thick sweatshirts between us, I swear I feel his heart pounding in time with mine. “That wasn’t actually a question. The real celebration is happening here.”

“Of course.” I look up and somehow my lips find a sliver of Jasper’s collarbone, and they’re on his skin before I can stop and think.

He inhales sharply and steps back like I bit him. I open my mouth, but he’s already shaking his head. “All I’ve thought about today is kissing you senseless, but we need to get back or everyone will notice.”

Whoa. Jasper’s pushed me away twice today, and legit reason or not…I cross my arms and swallow. I’m glad for the dark because it hides the way my face flames. “Yeah. No, you’re right. We should get the blankets and head back.”

“Bea.” His voice is firm and he lifts my chin. I keep my eyes on his nose. “Don’t.”

Now I do let my eyes meet his. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t talk yourself into believing I wouldn’t rather stay here with you. I would.” He pauses. “Probably more than you know.”

“But?” It’s the type of statement practically begging for a but.

He shakes his head. “Let’s talk tonight.”

Right. Tonight. We’re supposed to have our so-called date, which felt full of promise this afternoon when Jasper suggested it. Now, though, it feels full of uncertainty, which makes me want to avoid it altogether. “Jasper, I’m not sure this is a good idea. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this and it’s cold. Maybe we should forget it.”

“Meet me up in the attic then,” he says.

The attic you mentioned would be great for an afternoon tryst? Because that would be a good idea? “I don’t think…”

“Please.” Jasper’s face looks so earnest it’s almost painful. “Give me a chance to explain.”

I want to ask, ‘Explain what?’ but he won’t tell me now and I know it. So I nod. Against my better judgment, I’ll at least meet him and hear him out.

And lie to Scarlett in the process. Which bothers me even more than it would have, especially when she pouts like only she can. “Come on. You haven’t been out at all,” Scarlett whines as she paces around the living room of the cabin. “If you hate it, we can come back in an hour.”

This is her go-to line when she’s trying to drag me someplace in Atlanta and it almost always works. Tonight, though, I hold firm. “We’re going out tomorrow. I’m really not feeling it tonight.”

Claire opens the bathroom door and shouts out, “Leave her alone. If she doesn’t want to come, don’t guilt her into it.”

Scarlett sticks her tongue out at Claire. “You, bugger off. No one asked you.”

No one did, but I have a feeling Claire’s speaking up on my behalf because she suspects I’m meeting Jasper, which makes me feel worse because my best friend has no idea.

“You’ve roped me into your schemes more times than I can count, so I get to offer my opinion whether you want it or not,” Claire says. She spritzes her perfume and comes out to stand beside me. Gone are her hoodie and beat-up sneakers. Now Claire wears a soft blue sweater fitted enough to show off her figure, a pair of dark jeans, and silvery flip flops. Just like the first night we met, her make-up is caked on, although the light is more forgiving this time. She looks like she’s trying, but not too hard, and is in stark contrast to Scarlett in her paint-splattered shirt, who looks like she’s not trying at all.

“Fine.” Scarlett sticks her tongue out at me this time. “You don’t want to come, don’t come. I’m giving your number to every guy I see. For a good time call.”

“Well, that would be great, except I don’t have a UK number.” I laugh. “But feel free to give them yours.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’ll get them to WhatsApp you then.” Scarlett grins and turns to Claire. “Let’s go. My dad said he’d take us down there and we can either get Will to bring us back or call a cab, yeah?”

I watch them gather their things, wave them out the door, and then proceed to alternate pacing the cabin with getting ready until I hear Paul’s car rumble down the gravel driveway. I glance in the bathroom mirror one more time. My hair is in the same ponytail it’s been in all day, and I’ve brushed some sheer powder over my face and cleaned my teeth, so I feel and look more presentable. But that doesn’t mean I feel more ready.

In fact, as I walk up the path to the castle, I alternate between wanting to run up to the attic, and wanting to go back to the cabin, lock the door, and crawl into bed. I stop in the middle of the path, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths, focusing on the exhale. It’s times like this I wish I were a real yoga fanatic. Then I’d know more about how to calm myself on the spot instead of relying solely on the breathing technique. Which only works when my heart’s
not
beating triple time.

But at least it’s enough to get me in the front door and up the back stairs leading to the attic rooms. I know where they are because Scarlett showed me the attic one day when we were supposed to be cleaning out the turret rooms. From the main hallway in both turrets are doors concealing stairs leading up to the attic, which is a weird combination of bedrooms and storage space. Scarlett says the attic would have been where servants slept, but her parents made a few extra bedrooms up here in case of overflow or if she and Jasper had friends to stay for any period of time. It’s mostly forgotten about now, but Scarlett remembers some pretty epic sleepovers up here when she was in high school.

The best part, according to Scarlett, is even though the stairs creak, they’re so far removed from the actual living space you could race a horse up and down them and no one would hear. The same cannot be said for all of the attic rooms, however, which she knows from experience. The corner room is the quietest and it’s no surprise that’s the room where the light shines from across the wooden floorboards.

I stop in the hallway, my breathing shallow. What am I even doing here, besides asking for trouble? When Jasper mentioned a date this afternoon, I’d envisioned flirtation, laughter, and more than a little kissing, setting the stage for dates number two, three, and four, where eventually we’d sleep together. Now, on the threshold of date number one, I realize what an idiot I am. Jasper didn’t get the script of my happy little fantasy and kissing him today has veered from hot to weird. Not exactly encouraging.

“Bea?” Jasper calls. “I know you’re out there.”

I take a deep breath and drag my feet forward to propel myself through the door. Where I stop dead in my tracks. Jasper’s right. This room would be perfect for a tryst – afternoon or otherwise. It’s almost totally white – from the duvet to the desk to the white-washed floorboards. There are a few light gray pillows on the bed, which is the only color in the room. A small lamp makes a circle of light on the white side table and illuminates Jasper so I see more of his shadow than I do of him.

I take another step forward so I can see his face more clearly. He peers at me, leaning slightly forward. His glasses are on the desk so I have no idea how well he can see me. He reaches out a hand, but quickly withdraws it back to his lap, patting the space beside him on the bed.

I take two more steps, perch on the edge of the bed, and force my voice to come out even and flat as I say, “Hey.”

Jasper picks up an empty wine glass from the desk. “I can’t remember if you drink red or white, so I brought both.”

“I drink red, but I’ve probably had enough for tonight.” Gah. I sound prim and uptight, as opposed to the cool and unaffected I’m going for.

“Okay, fair enough.”

I wait for Jasper to say something. He’s the one who suggested this. But when he doesn’t, I let out a sigh and say, “So.”

Jasper’s words tumble out, like he’s been waiting for some kind of go signal. “I’m being a bloody idiot and I’m sorry. And not only today, but in general. I didn’t want to be here with you this summer and I’m handling it badly.”

“Wow. Are you excluding this very minute from your assessment or not?” I ask.

“Jesus. No. I mean yes.” Jasper picks his glasses up from the desk and pushes them up on his nose. “This is exactly what I mean about why I didn’t want to be here.”

What the actual fuck?

“I don’t think I can help you with that.” I stand up, crossing my arms across my chest. “But I don’t want to bother you, so…”

“Bea, sit down.” Jasper sounds exasperated. “Let me explain. Then if you want to walk out, at least it will be for the right reasons.”

“Besides you being an arsehole, you mean?” I force a smile and say, “You know, when you said date earlier, this isn’t really what I envisioned.”

“I know.” Another heavy sigh. “Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”

This time when I smile, it’s a little more genuine. “No, but maybe you should go ahead.”

Jasper shakes his head. “I was thinking it would help.”

I perch on the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you explain to me why you need liquid courage to have this conversation and I’ll be on my way?”

Jasper scoots forward until he’s on the edge of the bed and our knees are inches apart. When he looks at me half of his face remains in the shadows and I wonder if it’s deliberate. “Liquid courage. I like that phrase, but I thought maybe you’d like some. Not me.”

I straighten. “Why?”

“Because before we talk about what’s happening between us this summer, we need to talk about what happened last time we saw each other.” I open my mouth to ask why and Jasper answers before I get the word out. “I can’t do that again.”

“Do what?”

“Have the most incredible weekend of my life and never again speak to the girl I have it with until she shows up with my sister to spend the summer at my house.” Jasper’s voice is low and even. Like he didn’t just send my heart on a collision course with my stomach.

“Um.” I swallow. “I…”

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I’ve thought about this a lot and I have to be honest.” Jasper’s voice drops. “Last time really did my head in.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Technically, I understand Jasper’s words fine. It’s the implication I’m struggling with. “I mean, you came back to England and we both knew that was always going to happen, so I don’t understand…”

“Look at me, Bea.” This time Jasper’s voice is pained and he doesn’t speak until I actually turn my head and meet his eyes. “The weekend we had? That’s so far outside the scope of things that normally happen to me, it would be laughable if it weren’t so sad.”

“You weren’t some virgin I deliberately deflowered.” I try to smile, but it doesn’t quite take. “I mean, that weekend was pretty far out of the scope of things that normally happen to me, too. But we were both consenting adults.”

“Of course we were.” Jasper says this with more disdain than if I’d accused him of actually being a virgin. “But that’s not the point.”

I scrunch up my nose. “So what is the point? I mean, I never heard from you…”

“I never heard from you either.” Jasper’s reply is quick, then he lets out a sigh. “And I get it. I do. But that weekend took me a long time to get over.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you, but let’s be frank. You’re my sister’s best friend and that’s not something I take lightly.” Jasper sighs again. “I get if you want a distraction for the summer, but in the interest of self-preservation, I don’t think I can be it.”

I drop my head to my hands. My thoughts are spinning faster than a Tilt-a-Whirl at Six Flags and my emotions seem to have jumped on the ride as well. When I speak, though, only one emotion comes through. Loud and clear. “So in the interest of self-preservation, you’ve decided then what I’m all about and what I want? Without asking me how or if I’ve thought about
you
since that weekend?”