A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1) (14 page)

I sound like a nut, but Jasper’s smile grows and he reaches for my hand. “The magic hour. I like that a lot.”

We hold hands the whole way back.

F
riday
, the day of the wedding, starts off bright and sunny. By noon the gray clouds have moved in, and by three, as the activity level approaches frantic, a steady rain starts. If I thought Hannah was tense on the Fourth of July, the combination of the rain and preparations have pushed her over the edge. She even snaps at me as I back through the swinging door of the kitchen, right into her.

“Dammit, Bea. You have to watch where you’re going.” Hannah’s arms are stacked with dishes and she huffs as she pushes back through the same door.

“Beware Hurricane Hannah,” Scarlett says, rolling her eyes. “She’ll be all apologetic later, but for now, steer clear.”

I laugh and put my hands up. “Your mom is nice even when she’s not, so don’t worry about me. What can I do to help?”

Lou hands me a bag of carrots. “Peel these and chop them into batons we can use for dipping. We also need cucumbers and peppers for the same. When you’re done, you can make the dips. I was thinking a couple types of hummus and a green pea and wasabi for color. The tables in the marquee will need setting too, unless Scarlett gets to it first.”

“Oh, no. I’m at the bride’s beck and call as of four o’clock.” She rolls her eyes again. “I’m not sure exactly what I’m supposed to do, mind you, but apparently we bonded the other day when she was here and now she wants me involved.”

“I’m sure you’ll be the calming influence she needs,” I say as I dump the bag of carrots into the sink. To Lou, I say, “I was thinking we could make some flowerettes, too, if we have enough carrots?”

Lou nods. “More than enough, so feel free.”

“Look at you making vegetable flowers,” Scarlett says. “Who would have thought?”

“I know, right? I think I missed my calling as a sous chef.” I laugh, but there’s an underlying truth there. In the weeks I’ve spent in the kitchen under Lou’s tutelage I’ve learned more about food and food prep than I have in the past twenty-four years.

“You’ve come a long way,” Lou says. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

I flush with pleasure as Scarlett says, “It’s never too late to change careers. Hey, maybe you could get a job at Einstein’s and bring home free food.”

“Oh my God, we could eat Mediterranean tart and black walnut cake every night. Can you imagine?”

Scarlett shakes her head and says, “I can, but then I’d be afraid it would get boring. Kind of like kissing the same guy every night. Fun for a while, until you can’t help cheating on your Mediterranean tart with the Italian calzone down the street.”

My back is to the door and I don’t hear it swing open over the laughter filling the kitchen. But I do hear Jasper loud and clear as he says, “Maybe you think Mediterranean tarts are your type, but they’re not? I’ve always thought you were more of an English trifle girl myself.”

“Or spotted dick?” Scarlett says, giggling. “Although, you know, that’s generally a bad sign.”

“Jello. I think jello is your type,” I say, turning slightly so I catch a glimpse of Jasper out of the corner of my eye. We haven’t been alone since our “blind date” on Tuesday night, but we’ve spent plenty of time together – setting up the marquee with Scarlett, Hannah, and Paul, cleaning up after dinner service with Claire and Lou. Jasper’s always been the one to bow out and say goodnight as soon as we’re done with the task at hand, but unlike before, it doesn’t feel like avoidance. Maybe because even in those groups, he’s still found a way to squeeze my hand, put an arm around my waist, and, last night, brush a strand of hair out of my face as I stacked glasses behind the bar. We haven’t kissed since the Fourth of July, but judging by the way my body hums at even these small touches, when we do kiss it will be fireworks.

Jasper laughs. “I know. The Pillsbury Dough Boy. Scarlett, I think we’ve found your perfect match.”

“Really, Mr. Sticky Toffee Pudding?” To me, Scarlett says, “Jaz has a long history of dating girls who are neeeedy. God, remember the one girl you went out with a couple years ago? Rachel? Raquel? When you didn’t text her back she got in her car and drove here from Norfolk.”

“Raquel,” Jasper says. “And yes, I’ll admit, she was a bit of a loose cannon.”

“Had a screw loose is more like it.” Scarlett looks at me. “What about Bea? Banana split, I think?”

I hold up a peeled carrot. “I’m more partial to carrot cake myself.”

“No way. Theo’s vanilla ice cream for sure. I was adding the bananas to give him the benefit of the doubt,” Scarlett says. “I think you need a molten lava cake in your life.”

I will not look at Jasper. I will not look at Jasper.

But I can’t help it as he says, “Don’t overlook banoffee pie. Bananas, cream, toffee. There’s a lot of possibilities there. It’s not as obvious as molten lava cake, but it’s got hidden layers.”

“Jaz is all about the hidden layers,” Scarlett says. “You know what they say about those studious types. Come to think of it, some depth is never a bad thing. Are either of those guys you met last weekend smart?”

I will not look at Jasper. I will not look at Jasper.

“Um, not that I know of.” Harry, the guy from the pub, WhatsApp’d me a couple days ago, but I haven’t messaged him back. I’d only be doing it to appease Scarlett, which isn’t fair to anyone.

“Excuse me, there’s a pretty smart guy in the room, thank you very much,” Jasper says.

“Really?” Scarlett asks, laughing. “Where?”

“Bea? I was thinking I could put some carrots in the samosas. Could you dice some for me since you’re chopping anyway?” Lou calls over. “You are chopping, right? Because those carrots aren’t going to cut themselves.”

Saved by the knife.

I finally let myself look at Jasper. Who’s too smart to have missed Lou’s super obvious save or my extra obvious discomfort, judging by the bemused look on his face. The corner of his lip tilts up a little and I feel myself smiling back before quickly looking back down at the pile of carrots I’m supposed to be slicing and dicing.

Scarlett misses all of this. Absorbed in her phone, she says, “Speaking of smart guys, guess who I got an email from?”

“Bill Gates?” Jasper says.

“Idiot. No, Bradley Waring-Smith. He wants me to come to London to meet about working for him. With pay. He’s asked for a list of possible dates and assures me he’ll cover accommodation and all expenses.” Scarlett looks up and squeals. “We’re going to London.”

I grin. “We, as in…?”

“You, Claire, and me. Girly trip to the city, here we come.” Scarlett clears her throat. “During which I will also be the consummate professional and secure a huge design commission.”

I laugh and Lou says, “That’s fantastic. Congratulations. Not to rain on your parade, but…”

Scarlett holds up her hand. “I know, I know. I need to go find my bride anyway. She’s bound to be entering full freak out mode.”

“And I need to help hang fairy lights, apparently,” Jasper says. “So I’ll leave you to creating your culinary delights.”

“Stop being a distraction is more like it,” I say.

Jasper’s grin is aimed right at me as he says, “Why ever would I want to do that?”

“Because I have a knife and I know how to use it. Now go. Both of you,” Lou says, waving her blade and shaking her head.

Scarlett and Jasper both leave the kitchen laughing, and when the door stops its gentle swinging, I finally glance up. Lou’s gaze is trained on me and she says, “You be careful.”

I know exactly what she means, but I try the wide-eyed look. “What do you mean?”

Lou shakes her head and goes back to the chicken she’s slicing. “Be careful. That’s all.”

The way Lou says it, it sounds like more than a request. It sounds like a warning.

B
y ten o’clock.
the wedding is in full swing and, by all accounts, a raging success despite the rain, which has continued in a steady downpour all night. Jasper and Paul erected a canopy over the walkway from the marquee into the castle, but even with the rubber mats over the grass, it’s slick. Way too slick for me to be trusted with the groom’s cake. And yet…

Claire and Lou are each carrying the actual wedding cakes on glass stands. The bride couldn’t decide between chocolate and carrot cake, so Scarlett suggested two separate cakes iced to complement each other. The chocolate cake has pink beading and sugar flowers on top and the carrot cake has glitter and edible pearls. The groom’s cake, red velvet, is a Manchester United football jersey and red and white icing spells out Rooney, who Claire assures me is “a decent player, but not worth immortalizing in fondant.”

I try to pick up the tray on the kitchen counter. “This is super heavy, you guys.”

“Can you manage it?” Claire asks. “If you want, wait here and I’ll find someone to help.”

I wipe my hands on my black apron. Everyone’s changed into black trousers and white shirts. Lou and I are the only ones wearing aprons, since we’ve been shuttling food all night. “Sorry. I’d just hate to drop it.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.” Claire grins. “Okay, stay put. I’ll get you another pair of hands.”

I hold the door for Claire and Lou and head back to the kitchen, picking a carrot off of the tray Lou and I made up for staff earlier. There have been at least twice as many people here as normal with the temporary staff Hannah’s brought in to handle the wedding and dinner service tonight, and Lou’s managed to direct everyone flawlessly.

I dip a carrot into some leftover hummus and hear the chime of forks on crystal. A man’s low voice shouts, “Snog her already.”

Brigid won’t like that. I met her earlier when I helped Scarlett take a tray of food up for her and to say she reminded me of my mother wouldn’t be a stretch. I’m grinning and chewing my carrot when the kitchen door swings in and Jasper walks through.

His white shirt is half untucked and his black trousers hang loosely on his hips, like they were bought for a different frame. Most of Jasper’s clothes fit like this, but before I can wonder anymore about it, he says, “Lou sent me. She said you need hands.” He holds his up, his long thin fingers wriggling at me.

“I do. I do. I’m afraid I’m going to drop this cake if I carry it by myself.”

Jasper looks at the cake and makes a face. “Rooney? I’ll drop it for you.”

“Hey, now. No one said you had to approve. You’re here to help.” I look at the tray. “I’m not even sure of the best way to hold it.”

“Well, let’s see.” Jasper comes and stands next to me, placing one hand on the corner of the tray and the other on mine, guiding it up and weaving his fingers through mine. “This feels about right to me.”

I smile. “I’m not sure it’s going to get this cake out there.”

“I doubt it, but as I said, I don’t really care for the cake.” Jasper squeezes my hand. “You’ve been a star tonight, by the way.”

“Thank you. You haven’t been so bad yourself.” Jasper’s been on bar duty with Will and Paul. “I didn’t realize you could shake a cocktail like that.”

He raises his eyebrows and takes a step closer. Our hands are still the only part of us touching, but I feel the heat between us like the sun in the Sahara. “Shaken, not stirred, my dear. It’s one of my many talents.”

“Is that so?” I step closer now so my chest grazes his and murmur, “What other talents do you have?”

Jasper’s breath hitches and he stiffens. I fight the instinct to step back, but I rock back on my heel in anticipation. Because if he pulls his classic dodge I’m out, a week of “starting over” be damned. I feel my knees lock as he opens his mouth, then closes it again. As I’m about to turn away, he says, “I’ve been told I have some talent with my tongue.”

Oh. I swallow twice before saying, “Who told you that?”

“I’m fairly certain it was you.” Jasper gazes at me over the dark frames of his glasses that have slid down his nose.

I’m hardly aware I reach for them before Jasper’s hand is on the back of my neck and my hand stops on his chest. His face inches toward mine and his lips graze the corner of my mouth. I don’t move. I barely breathe.

But then his lips plant kisses along my jaw and move to my neck and I let my body lean into his, my fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. A surprise heat flashes through my belly, spreading through my core despite the fact we haven’t even kissed. When I speak, my mouth hot against Jasper’s shirt, my voice trembles. “What are you doing? I didn’t think you wanted…”

“You?” Jasper speaks, his lips still on my skin. “Why ever would you think I don’t want you?”

“You said…” I have to pry myself away so I can think, and even as I do it, I can’t believe after all of our fits and starts, I’m the one stopping this right now. I take a deep breath and swallow, then try again. “You said you didn’t want a hook up like we had in Atlanta.”

“Still true.” Jasper’s fingers caress the back of my neck. “But I don’t think that’s what this is anymore.”

I take a step back. “Jasper, I told you. I just got out of a serious relationship. I--”

He puts a finger gently on my lips. “I’m not asking you for a serious relationship.”

“Everything you’ve said since I’ve been here this summer and now you’re all like, ha, I was kidding?” I’m not even mad. I’m confused. Both by him and me. Because why am I stopping this again? This is what I’ve wanted all summer, and now on the cusp of it, I need a definition?

“If we hooked up, as you say, when you got here, that’s all it would have been and all it would ever be. A summer fling, stolen moments, and some great sex. Really great sex, but still.” Jasper smiles. “I would have never known you spent a blind date in the emergency room. I would have never known about your intense knowledge of the Toyota Camry owner’s manual. And I certainly wouldn’t have known how your left eye droops when you get tired, you bite your tongue when you’re trying to push through the end of a run, or how you swirl your wine in the glass before you take your first sip. My original reluctance was self-preservation, but perhaps I’ve been holding out for Plan B the whole time.”

My eyes sting.

I blink at least ten thousand times to keep them from filling.

Even Theo’s proposal, at the top of Stone Mountain during a perfect sunset, didn’t make me feel like this. My feet have gone numb and I have a bonfire in my chest. If Jasper’s arm didn’t snake around my waist again, I’d disintegrate into ashes and tears right now on the kitchen floor.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod, swallow, then nod again. Finally, I point to the cake and choke out. “Um, we need to…”

I can’t even get the sentence out over the lump rising in my throat, but Jasper nods, steps away, and puts a hand to his chin. When he speaks, he puts on his best posh accent and says, “Regrettably, we are obligated, aren’t we? Such a shame, as it’s been a lovely wedding so far. But needs must and all. If you get the doors, I’m sure I can manage the cake.”

I smile and as I take a step and open the door, I feel my feet again and the cool air hits my skin like a wave of air conditioning on an Atlanta August afternoon. Jasper follows, stepping slowly but surely, balancing the cake. When we make it to the tent with the cake in one piece, he high fives me after he sets it down. “Still unfortunate to have a Man U cake at a wedding, but thank you for your help.”

“Thank you.” My voice still wobbles, but it’s hard to hear over the music and laughter, so I continue. “I mean it. Thank you.”

Jasper bends down to study my face. His breath is warm on my cheek as he says, “You have a tiny pulse in your neck that’s doing my head in, you know.”

I scrunch up my face and turn so I can see his expression. “Why is that?”

“I imagine my lips against it.” Jasper glances at my neck and his chin grazes my cheek as he whispers in my ear, “Like right now? It’s getting faster. Almost like you’re imagining my lips there, too.”

The bonfire that started in my chest in the kitchen reignites, but this time it threatens to take over my whole body. Jasper grins and turns to answer someone’s question about the cake, which is a good thing because I can’t think of a single response. In fact, I can’t think of anything. Even when Claire sidles up next to me and says, “The countdown is on. Apparently the bride has gone to change into her leaving dress.”

Claire may as well be speaking Chinese. “Leaving dress?”

“You know, the super sexy number she wears to end the wedding? Please tell me you have this in America.”

“Um.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. Get it together, Bea. Jasper crosses the floor back to the bar and I focus on his easy gait. His hands are shoved in his pockets in typical Jasper fashion. The fact I even know that… I turn my back so I can’t see him anymore and meet Claire’s eyes, saying, “Sorry, what? I was distracted.”

“Obviously.” Claire nods her head in Jasper’s general direction. “Anything I should know?”

“I don’t know.” This, at least, is the truth.

“Jaz hasn’t had a girlfriend in a long time,” Claire says.

“I’m not. I mean, we’re not --” I let out a sigh. “I’ve barely gotten over the whole Theo debacle.”

“You sure about that?” Claire raises her eyebrows.

I press my lips together. Theo’s smile conflates with Jasper’s and a carousel of images flickers in my head. Theo and me stretching before a run at Piedmont Park. Jasper and me walking hand-in-hand through Manchester. Theo’s proposal. Jasper’s observation. Finally, I shake my head slowly and say, “I’m not sure about anything.”

Except as I look over Claire’s shoulder and see Scarlett slip back into the tent, I feel a zing through my stomach like someone poked me with a live wire. There is one thing I’m sure of after all. There’s no way I can avoid an emotional entanglement with my best friend’s brother.

I’m already there.