A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1) (13 page)

“Nothing like some thinly veiled disinterest to get you through the day.” Jasper smiles. “And she didn’t approve of you calling off your engagement?”

“No. She thinks Theo is amazing, and he is. He ticks all the boxes, but something was missing. My mother said maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough, but I don’t think you’re supposed to have to try so hard. It felt like a sign things weren’t right, you know?” I let out a long sigh and kick a battered Pepsi can on the sidewalk. It makes a satisfying thonk as it hits the pavement. “Why are we talking about this, again? I thought you were supposed to be regaling me with historical facts and figures about the great city of Manchester?”

Jasper stops in the middle of the sidewalk and from the look he gives me, I think for a second he’s going to revert to type or, worse, call me on my avoidance tactics. He does neither. Instead, he spreads his arms and says, “I have been remiss. So begins your tour of Manchester, great industrial city of the north. Please pay attention. There may be a quiz at the end.”

For the rest of our walk, Jasper is interesting as well as entertaining. He makes me laugh so much that if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was treating this like a date. And when he pulls my chair out for me once we reach San Carlo I can’t stop myself from asking, “Okay. What’s the deal? Why are you being so nice?”

“Am I not supposed to be nice?” Jasper asks, sitting down across from me.

“Yes, of course, but why are you acting like the perfect date all of a sudden?” My hand flies to my mouth. “And shit. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jasper doesn’t say anything for a second, but when he does it’s not at all what I expect. “A/B testing. Plan A has been shit, so I’m trying Plan B.”

I tilt my head like it will help me make sense of his statement. It doesn’t. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Jasper doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at the menu, signals the waitress over, and orders a basket of bread, half a carafe of wine, and some olives. Then he places his elbows on the table and leans towards me, saying, “I’m a scientist. My approach to things is fairly methodical and, as I said the other night, I want to have a different relationship with you than the one we’ve had since you’ve arrived. To me, that means changing the way I’ve been doing things, since that obviously hasn’t been successful. Hence plan B.”

I nod slowly. “Okay. Which is what, exactly?”

“Um…” Jasper’s expression changes and for a second he looks so vulnerable and unsure it makes my heart feel like he reached over and squeezed it. “Pretend you’re someone I don’t know and don’t have history with? Kind of like a semi-blind date.”

I nod again. “So this is you on your best blind date behavior?”

A flicker of irritation crosses Jasper’s face, but it’s replaced by a smile. “Sort of. Maybe. I’ve never had a good blind date, so the outcome remains to be seen.”

There are a hundred different directions this conversation could go. At least half of them involve me prodding to the point where Jasper gets irritated and shuts down. But then I look at Jasper’s face across the table, uncertain yet hopeful, and only one response feels right.

I smile and pick up the wine the waitress pours and places in front of me, signaling Jasper to do the same. When he does I clink my glass gently to his and say, “I’ve never had a good blind date either. So here’s to blind dates. I say we make this the best blind date we’ve never had.”

Jasper takes a sip of his wine. “Starting now?”

I take a sip of mine, too, and nod. “Starting now.”

I
don’t know
if it’s calling it a date or if it’s the hormones swirling between us, but the rest of our evening is so full of flirtation it feels like foreplay – right down to the butterflies in my stomach when Jasper pulls me out of the way of an oncoming cyclist and I end up plastered against him. I expect him to let go of me right away, but his arm lingers around my waist and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one thinking it would be nice to stay this way for another minute or ten.

“Thanks.” My voice is low.

“Saved your life.” Jasper grins and dips his head towards mine. For one wild second I think he’s going to kiss me, but he simply pushes his glasses back up his nose.

His arm stays where it is and I’m tempted to slide my own arm around his back, but I don’t. I’m not sure what’s happening here, but Jasper’s told me he’s skittish often enough for me to let him set the pace. So I grin back and say, “Well, I’m obviously forever in your debt now.”

“Yes.” He lets go of me and does a small fist pump, which makes me giggle.

“You realize that means I’ll, like, do your chores at the castle or something, right? I don’t mean actual debt. I’m a teacher and I have no money.”

He reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “Oh, it’s not your money I want, Beatrice. Trust me.”

Okay. If I had any doubts about the turn this evening has taken, they’re disappearing now. Rapidly.

Jasper raises his eyebrows and takes a step. He looks at me again and takes another step, his hand still clasped with mine. I squeeze lightly, put on my best southern drawl, and say, “Why, Jasper St Julien, I do believe you are flirting with me.”

“Why, Beatrice Gillespie, I believe you are right.” Jasper laughs, but his tone turns serious as he continues. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t? In which case, I will stop immediately.”

We turn and I recognize the white van we drove up in. We’re back to where we started, which means a chat and a cup of tea with Rose. Which makes me a little bolder, knowing we’ll have a buffer between us soon. I keep my drawl and say, “I’d rather you put your money where your mouth is, but I can wait. Hours, possibly days.”

Jasper stops at the end of the sidewalk leading up to the apartment building. “Days? What about weeks?”

I shake my head. “Oh, sugar, you won’t want to wait that long. Who are you kidding?”

Jasper throws his head back and laughs, pulling me up the sidewalk. “You forget I’m a scientist. Waiting is one of my specialties.”

I narrow my eyes and can’t resist throwing out a final zinger as Jasper yanks at the door. “I didn’t say you can’t wait. I said you wouldn’t want to. There’s a world of difference.”

Jasper’s still laughing as he knocks on the apartment door and this time a short bald man answers. He smiles and says, “Well, aren’t you bloody cheerful.” He yells over his shoulder. “Rosie, you didn’t say anything about Jaz being so damn merry.”

“He wasn’t,” Rose yells from somewhere in the apartment. “Invite them in. Don’t leave them out there molting on the mat, for goodness’ sake.”

George moves out of the way and Jasper clasps him on the shoulder as he walks in, still holding my hand. I keep waiting for him to drop it – these people know him, they know his parents, they know Scarlett – but he doesn’t. He says, “I’m tickled to see you again, George, that’s all. How are you? Mum said you’ve been tired.”

George gestures us towards the living room. There’s a green and pink floral couch and two mauve wingback chairs and I know I’m going to choose one of the chairs before I’m even aware I’ve let go of Jasper’s hand. There’s too much history – and too much opportunity for Rose or George to mention to Hannah that Jasper and I seemed “awfully cozy”. And then Hannah tells Scarlett and I’m screwed. Especially after our conversation the other night.

George gives me a funny look as I dart for a chair, but then says, “I’m tired, but it’s old age. Sixty-eight isn’t what it used to be.”

Jasper sits on the end of the couch closest to me and, despite how eager I was for his touch twenty minutes ago, I pray he doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t. He gives his full attention to George, asking him questions about his grandchildren and talking football stats. It’s only when Rose comes in, balancing a full tray, that either of them seem to remember I’m in the room. And only because I jump up and say, “Oh, Rose. I’m sorry. I should have helped.”

“Nonsense. You sit right back down.” She sets the tray on the coffee table and makes a production of arranging the cups and saucers before pouring the tea. She pours mine first and says, “Ladies first. How do you take it?”

“Milk and a sweetener.” I hunch my shoulders. “I’m afraid my American-ness is showing.”

“As long as you don’t drink it over ice, you can stay,” Rose says with a smile as she continues pouring tea. She obviously knows how everyone else takes theirs because she doesn’t ask, just pours and hands the cups around.

My eyes dart to Jasper and I can’t help the giggle rising in the back of my throat. He shakes his head but grins, too. George clears his throat. “We can make an exception, of course.”

Jasper coughs into his hand, but his grin stays. “No, sorry. That’s not it. Bea and I have a long-standing disagreement about iced tea. I’m happy to say you’ve helped to prove my point.”

“However, wouldn’t you agree the problem isn’t the ice and ice has its uses?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. I don’t know if this is a sign of progress that both of us are laughing about the memory of our conversation about ice and foreplay, but it beats the awkward alternative.

Jasper chokes out another cough-laugh as Rose replies, “Well, of course. But why do I get the feeling there’s more to this disagreement than you’re letting on?”

She smiles in a way that makes both Jasper and me laugh out loud and he says, “My lips are sealed. But again, thank you for helping to prove my point. You’re looking well, Rose. Mum said you haven’t been feeling too well, but you look as gorgeous as ever to me.”

Rose frowns and looks at me. “Is he this way with you? Please tell me you don’t let him get away with this kind of rubbish.”

“Let me assure you,” Jasper says, “Bea doesn’t let me get away with much of anything and I’m better for it.”

My cheeks flame, not so much at Jasper’s words as from the way George studies me. He takes a sip of his tea and nods once like he’s decided something important. His question is innocuous when he says, “So, you’re in England for the summer, are you? Then what?”

“I go back to my teaching job in Atlanta. I teach middle school math.” I glance at Jasper. “I mean maths.”

“Didn’t Hannah tell me you’re going to Atlanta to do some teaching in the fall?” Rose asks Jasper.

He nods and I try not to choke on my tea. I knew he was talking to a professor in Atlanta, but I didn’t know it had actually turned into an offer. “I confirmed the arrangements last night. I’ll be teaching undergrad biology and studying with Dr. David Feldstein, who’s the leading expert in my field of research. It’s a really rare opportunity and one I’m lucky to get.”

“What do you study again?” George asks.

“Molecular biology with a focus on genetics.” Jasper laughs a little. “Basically, my research focuses on why certain traits are transferred genetically but others aren’t. For example, did you know the breast cancer gene is more likely to be found in white women than in any other ethnic group, but African American women develop breast cancer at a median age of thirty-three versus forty for Caucasians?”

George straightens. “I didn’t, but that’ll be somewhat useful, won’t it?”

“And this Dr. Feldstein has invited you to study with him?” Rose asks.

“Sort of. He’s doing a control-group study and I’ve been invited to join the research team. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to participate in a meaningful way. If I’m not lucky, I’ll be the one fetching coffee and trying to learn by osmosis. So it’s a win-win either way.” Jasper sounds so sure of himself.

And hot as that is, I want to get back to the part where he’s going to be in Atlanta in the fall. “Wow. It’s a great opportunity then,” I say. My voice sounds thin and strange.

Jasper nods, but he doesn’t look my way. “It really is. I mean, there’s the research part, but having experience on an international team will be great for my CV.”

Rose asks how the whole student visa thing works. George mentions some new barbecue place in Manchester Jasper will have to check out in preparation for his move to Atlanta because it’s supposedly authentic. Jasper, for his part, answers everything with easy assurance. I interject occasionally, but no one seems to notice my lack of involvement.

Except Jasper. Who grabs my hand as we head back to the garage behind George and Rose’s building to get the chairs and says, “I got confirmation about the Atlanta placement last night. I was going to tell you.”

Jasper and I have a brief past, a very tenuous present, and no foreseeable future. I have two choices – freaking out about what might happen or staying in the moment. Sitting on George and Rose’s mauve wingback chair, I swore I’d stay in the moment, even though it goes against every instinct I have.

No one can say I’m not giving Plan B a fair shot.

I squeeze Jasper’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. It sounds really great.”

“It is. I mean, it is really great, but it doesn’t mean…”

I swallow down the part of me still freaking out and put my finger over Jasper’s lips. “Stop. We’re on a blind date, remember? You don’t owe me an explanation. At least not tonight.”

“Bea--”

“Jasper.” I make my voice stern. “As blind dates go, this one’s ranking in my top five and moving up. Let’s not ruin it now.”

“Okay.” Jasper bites his lip and nods. Then he arranges his mouth into a smile and says, “Top five, huh? Let’s see if moving some chairs can inch it up to number four.”

Oh, boy. Forced cheerfulness is the last thing I want and I feel the familiar tightness in my chest I’ve come to expect of my interactions with Jasper. But dammit, I can see Plan B through for one night. Can’t I?

I make myself smile back and give it my best shot. “Trust me, it will beat the blind date I had junior year of college where the guy I was with was rushed to the hospital during our date.”

“No way. What did you do to him?” This time Jasper’s smile is more genuine.

“He had an allergic reaction to something he ate. It was actually pretty terrifying because I didn’t know him, so I didn’t know he even had a food allergy. And to all of a sudden be in the back of an ambulance with a blind date…definitely not the way to win my heart.”

“Noted.” Jasper lets go of my hand to fish a key ring from his pocket. “So, did you ever go out with him again?”

“Funny enough, no. I stayed with him at the hospital, but wasn’t allowed in with him since I wasn’t family. When he was released, he called one of his roommates or someone to come pick him up and walked right by me in the waiting room like we’d never met. I don’t know if he was embarrassed or what, but we never even spoke again.” I make a face as Jasper fiddles with the key in the padlock. “Obviously I dodged a bullet, but you’d think he could at least say thank you.”

Jasper turns the key and the lock springs open. “I promise, if I end up in the hospital tonight, I will not only acknowledge you, but beg for you at my bedside.”

I laugh and the tension in my chest eases. “How about we make it a goal no one ends up in the hospital? Unless you’re going to have an allergic reaction to physical labor I should know about?”

“Nah,” Jasper says, pulling open the door. “If I didn’t go down the science route, I was going to study agriculture and farming. When I was younger, I really wanted to run an organic farm.”

That doesn’t fit with my image of Jasper at all, but I don’t get to ask about it because he switches on a light and I follow him into the garage. It’s definitely the neatest garage I’ve ever seen, with everything arranged in orderly piles. Including a huge stack of chairs. I point to it. “Are we taking all of those?”

“We need one hundred. George has a trolley around here somewhere that will make it go faster.” He turns and puts his hand on my arm. “Stay here and I’ll find everything first. This place looks tidy, but there are hidden hazards.”

“Speaking of trips to the emergency room,” I say but stay put, watching Jasper. He moves with the ease of someone who’s been here before and I ask, “How often do you come over here?”

“Hardly ever, but I helped George move all of this stuff and he’s left it where it landed, so to speak.” He ducks behind a stack of tables and emerges pushing a flatbed cart. “Aha. I knew there was a trolley here. Ready to get stacking?”

Um, no. But I do it anyway. It doesn’t take long to find a rhythm. We stack about twenty chairs on the trolley and take them in loads to the van where Jasper heaves them in. It doesn’t seem to me like they’ll all fit, but when he slides the panel door shut, we’re stacked to the brim with one hundred folding chairs.

George and Rose came out mid-stacking, but both Jasper and I refused their offers of help. Now when they hug us goodbye, we’re damp and sweaty, apologizing profusely as we climb in the van.

“No apologies necessary,” Rose says as she pats Jasper’s arm. “And bring Bea back sometime when you can stay for a proper visit.”

Jasper agrees and I don’t call him on it until we’re driving away and out of earshot. “Do I need to put a return trip to Manchester in my calendar then?”

He grins. “Rose likes you. Who am I to argue with that?”

There goes that little bubble of warmth in my chest again. God, I’m so easy. I clear my throat and reach for the radio. “Do you mind if we check out the Greater Manchester music selection?”

Jasper shakes his head and follows the turning instructions on the GPS. I find a station playing Beyoncé and settle back in my seat, watching as we leave the city behind. The clock on the dash says it’s ten o’clock and the sun is starting to set. The long evenings are one of my favorite things about England and I murmur, “It’s the magic hour.”

“What do you mean?” Jasper asks.

“The last hour of the day when everything is washed in gold and the hard edges have faded away. I always think of it as the magic hour. It feels like anything could happen. Like magic.” I shrug and give a sheepish smile.