by Aurora Rey
“Oooh. That sounds fun. When can I start?”
It was Lauren’s turn to sigh. “I need to do a little work first.”
“Work?”
“Remember that place in the Catskills? Hazelnut Inn?”
“Yeah.”
“Remember the before pictures they had in the bar for people to chuckle over while they drank their twelve-dollar IPAs?”
Anja laughed. “I do.”
“That’s sort of what I’m dealing with here. Only British, so like a million times older.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not all bad. A lot of it is quite charming. But I’ve got to spruce it up some. And overhaul the menus in the pub.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
Lauren laughed, appreciating the implied vote of confidence. “Ask me after I pull this off.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities for a second.”
“Well, that makes one of us.” She possessed probably more confidence than most, but this project was a tall order. She preferred to think it was that and not the crushing blow of being fired that had her uneasy.
“I’m serious. You—shit, I have another call coming in. It’s a client.”
“Go, go. I’ll call you this weekend. I still need to hear all about you.”
“Will do. Love you, woman.”
“Love you back.”
Lauren ended the call and looked around. She’d called it home for close to a week, but being there still felt a bit surreal. Even the dog bed she’d brought in so Tilly could sleep in the same room as her felt more like a prop than anything to do with her actual life.
She shook it off. Just another business trip. A slightly extended business trip, but the purpose and desired outcome weren’t so different from the dozens of trips she’d taken in the past to visit clients. She’d helped them come up with new visions for their products and brands, and she’d do the exact same thing here. Only this time, she’d get to be the client, too. And the payoff would be twice as sweet.
Feeling energized, she finished getting ready, putting on her favorite lipstick and a spritz of perfume. Her meeting with Cam was in less than an hour, and she wanted to be waiting for her when she arrived.
* * *
Cam walked into the pub and found Lauren already waiting for her at a table in the corner. When she saw Cam, she stood. She looked like she was dressed for a business meeting. Not a suit, but a tailored blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt and heels that managed to look utterly professional and sexy at the same time. Cam wished she’d put on something nicer than a plaid oxford and khakis, even if the idea of wanting to impress Lauren didn’t sit well.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Lauren smiled and Cam was pretty sure the smile alone had gotten Lauren her way many times before.
“Charlotte convinced me. You can thank her.”
The smile took on a mischievous gleam. “Oh, I already have.”
Even with Charlotte’s assertions there was nothing sexual simmering between them, the implied intimacy sent a ripple of discomfort through Cam. No, it wasn’t discomfort. It was jealousy, plain and simple. And it drove her crazy. “I have no doubt. So, what exactly do you want from me?”
For a split second, something akin to desire passed through Lauren’s eyes. It looked good on her and made Cam wonder what it would be like to have those eyes on her in bed. The image was so vivid, it sucked the air right out of her lungs. She coughed. Lauren raised a brow, more flirtation than concern. “I want your expertise on local customs, and I’d like you to consult on the menu. Mostly the cocktail menu, but Charlotte tells me you’re quite a cook, too.”
She should be bothered that Charlotte was talking her up like a prospective date, but she felt a little surge of pride instead. She’d bet money Miss Big City had a fancy modern kitchen and didn’t even know what to do with it. “I guess it depends on what you have in mind.”
“How so?”
“If you want to do overpriced, highbrow bullshit, you’ll need to find someone else.”
Lauren nodded slowly, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. “Are you always so frank?”
Cam shrugged. “It feels like a waste of time to be anything else.”
“Here’s the thing. If the Rose & Crown is going to attract people from out of town—people who will stay in the rooms and keep the place going—it’s got to be something more than fish and chips and Sunday roast.”
She didn’t disagree, technically. “There’s a lot of ground between that and twenty quid composed salads so tiny they wouldn’t satisfy my ninety-year-old grandmother.”
Lauren narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a ninety-year-old grandmother?”
Cam rolled her eyes. “No, but I could. That’s not the point.”
Lauren’s expression morphed from suspicious to amused. “I could argue that it is, but I won’t. I understand what you’re saying. I don’t want to alienate the local clientele. The idea is to bring in more customers, not swap one group with another.”
“Even if that other pays more? I thought that was your whole mission.” Cam’s tone had more bite than she intended, but she couldn’t walk it back now without undermining her own argument.
“You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”
Was that some kind of trick question? If she knew one thing about women, it was not to fall for trick questions. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You think I’m some flashy city girl who’s hell-bent on swooping in and changing everything on a whim without any thought or consideration for anything but what she wants.”
She might have said something almost identical to Charlotte, but she knew better than to admit it and think they had any chance of working together. At the same time, flat-out denial would be lying and she made a habit of honesty.
“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Lauren asked before Cam could respond.
Cam hated rhetorical questions almost as much as trick questions, but this one felt like a gift horse and she wasn’t about to look it in the mouth. “Why?”
“Because I know how to marry what’s there with what people want. I pull out the best parts of something, enhance them, maybe add on something new. And then I tell a story that draws people in, makes them feel connected to something they’ve never touched or someplace they’ve never been.”
It sounded pretty enough. But when push came to shove, it was still selling. “And you convince them to drop gobs of money on it.”
If Charlotte had been there, she’d smack Cam on the back of the head for picking a fight. She wasn’t trying to, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Something about Lauren got under her skin and drove her nuts. Some incomprehensible combination of annoyed and aroused.
She half expected Lauren to storm out or, at the very least, get huffy and defensive. Instead, she laced her fingers together and set them on the table. Cam got the distinct feeling she was about to be managed. “Do you market your gin?”
“Of course.”
“And your new line? You market it differently from the original?”
It grated that Lauren was talking to her like she was a five-year-old, but she supposed she walked right into it. “Yes.”
“How so?”
Cam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn’t ready to confess just how little she’d managed to differentiate the two. “It has a bolder flavor profile, so we highlight that.”
“And you’re probably going for a younger audience, people more interested in adventure than tradition.”
She didn’t, but she should. Would. Hell. “Something like that.”
“But at its core, it’s the same high-quality gin you’ve been producing for a billion years.”
“Not quite a billion.” Cam smiled, trying to concede the point gracefully. “But yes.”
“This is the same thing. I want to build on the history and reputation of the Rose & Crown, not destroy i
t. I want to share it with a wider audience and, in the meantime, provide an improved experience to the people who support it now.”
At this point, she didn’t doubt Lauren’s sincerity. Or the fact that she knew a thing or two about marketing. But how could she preserve something she didn’t understand, much less value? Maybe Charlotte was right. Maybe that’s where she came in. Somehow, Lauren had gotten it into her head that working together would benefit them both. Maybe instead of fighting that, she could use it. If Lauren trusted Cam’s opinion, Cam could keep things from spinning out of control. On top of that, she wasn’t an idiot. She knew that more visitors in Netherfield could help her business and a dozen others trying to stay afloat. Even if those visitors weren’t her cup of tea, their money spent just as good as the next person’s. “Okay.”
Lauren looked dubious. “Okay, you’re saying yes?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. You won’t regret it.” Lauren stuck out her hand like they were closing a business deal.
Cam accepted, thinking there was every possibility she might regret it. Because beyond expecting to butt heads with Lauren, she was going to have to contend with the fact that she couldn’t be around her without wanting to kiss her. And more. God help her, so much more.
Chapter Eight
Lauren had a million things she should be doing, from researching contractors to scoping out her competition. But she was starting to feel a little stir-crazy. Something about living and working in the same place maybe. She glanced at her watch. Charlotte should just be arriving for her shift. She’d pump her for some information and then venture out.
Maybe she’d take Albert’s car for a spin and check out a couple of the neighboring towns, or maybe this wool farm Albert owned a stake in. That would be fun. Assuming that, by fun, she meant strange and unexpected.
Excited for what the day would hold, she pulled on jeans and a tank top, grabbed her denim jacket from the closet. Feeling silly wearing sneakers anywhere but the gym, she settled on ballet flats she could do a lot of walking in. She should probably invest in a pair of hiking boots since only the main roads seemed to be paved. The idea of a little retail therapy put an extra spring in her step as she headed downstairs.
She let Tilly out into the side yard for her morning business and headed into the pub. When she walked in, it was Jack who greeted her instead of Charlotte. “Hey, Jack. I wasn’t expecting you until tonight.”
“Charlotte switched with me. I’ve got me a date this evening.”
The idea of her seventy-year-old bartender on a date made her smile. “Congratulations. Will you be bringing her here so we can meet her?”
Jack wagged a finger at her. “Not a chance. I’m inviting her to my place, making her a nice dinner.”
Lauren bit her lip to keep from laughing because it would give him the impression she was poking fun. “That sounds like the perfect way to impress someone.”
He offered a playful shrug. “We’ll see.”
“I’m heading out for the day. Feel free to call if you need me.”
“You have yourself a nice time.” He offered her a wave. “And remember, we drive on the left.”
She offered a salute. “Thanks for the reminder.”
She let Tilly in and gave her her breakfast, then let her into the pub so she could spend her day snoozing and greeting patrons. With a final good-bye to Jack, she headed to the tiny garage out back. After wrestling the garage door open, which took more time and strength than she cared to admit, Lauren opened the car door and paused. There was no steering wheel. Well, there was, but it was on the opposite side of the car. Right.
She closed the door and went around to the other side. She climbed in and took a minute to locate things like lights and turn signals and windshield wipers. Nothing dramatically different from a car back home. Not that she ever really drove at home. But she had her license and, really, how hard could it be? It wasn’t like she’d be fighting her way through Manhattan traffic.
She turned the key in the ignition and, after some brief coughing, the engine roared to life. Even though she was expecting it, the sound startled her. She shook her head. Good thing she was by herself.
After a couple minutes of adjusting and acclimating to everything, she shifted the car into gear. Thank God it was an automatic transmission at least. Having to ask for driving lessons would be beyond embarrassing. She took her foot off the brake and eased it onto the gas. The car lurched out of the garage and she quickly returned her foot to the brake pedal. Okay, so this was going to take a little getting used to.
She didn’t bother with GPS at first, figuring it would be easier to get used to the car and the driving, then worry about where she was going. As long as she avoided that crazy road into town that was way too narrow and half-covered with shrubbery. She returned her foot to the gas, more gently this time. The car crept forward. She smiled. Easy. Or as Mrs. Lucas would say, easy peasy.
After reminding herself for the tenth time to keep to the left, easy was no longer the word flitting through Lauren’s brain. Did everyone have this hard a time or was it because she was so out of practice? At a stop sign, she took a second to close her eyes and take a deep breath. It was fine. She just wasn’t used to feeling so awkward at something. She’d not crashed into anything, nor had she almost killed anyone.
She drove in circles for a while, familiarizing herself with the streets and lanes around the pub. There weren’t that many of them to learn. With each turn, it felt a little easier—both the driving and the knowing where she was going.
More confident than when she started, she decided to track down the sheep farm. She pulled to the side of the road and searched it on her phone. She figured it would be a ways out of town, but it wasn’t. It sat near the edge of the village and spread out to the fields and pastures beyond. Should she call first? Make an appointment? There was a wool shop, and according to the internet, it was open. Good enough for her.
Lauren propped the phone next to the gearshift and pulled back onto the road. It only took a few minutes to wind her way there. She passed the shop going slow enough to note how adorable it was, then realized there wasn’t any sort of parking lot. She’d just need to double back and park on the street. Which would have been fine if there was a place to turn around. Or a cross street. Anything. But no.
A minute past the shop and she was at the farm. Or somebody’s farm. The buildings ended abruptly, and all that remained in front of her were rolling hills dotted with trees and sheep. The road—another impossibly narrow road—was bordered by bushes on one side and a low stone wall on the other.
Lauren sighed and stopped the car. At least there wasn’t any oncoming traffic to worry about. She’d just need to do a three-point turn. Or five. Or maybe seven. Again, no one was there to watch or make fun, so it didn’t matter how awkwardly she went about it.
At point four, the back right corner of the car sank. With it, Lauren’s stomach. She shifted into drive and pressed on the gas. Nothing. Well, not nothing. She felt the tires spin and heard that whirring noise of a tire stuck in something soft. Hell.
She tried again, even though she knew it was an exercise in futility. She banged on the steering wheel a couple of times, then climbed out of the car. It could be worse, really. There was much more of a ditch than she’d realized. She could have dumped her whole back end into it. This, in comparison, constituted a minor conundrum. Not that she was any better equipped to handle it herself. The image of her standing in the ditch, attempting to push the car, made her shudder.
She folded her arms and tapped her foot, considering her options. Surely there was a tow truck in town. She’d never called a tow truck, but it couldn’t be all that complicated.
Lauren walked around the front of the car and reached in to grab her phone. She opened a browser, but nothing happened. She tapped reload and glanced at the signal strength. Nothing. She let her head fall back and sighed. Literally two minutes outside the village and not
hing. Not that the signal in the village was anything to write home about.
She reconsidered the pushing option. No. Even if she was strong enough to move the car—and she had no idea how much strength such a thing would require—she’d seen enough movies where cars went rolling off with no one in them. No, she’d just walk back into town and call for help. She debated for a minute, then reached in to turn on the emergency flashers. Chances were good not a soul would come by, but it seemed like the thing to do. She grabbed her purse and started the trek.
Just shy of the wool shop, her phone winked back to life. Unfortunately, the search didn’t yield any good news. The closest towing company, at least the closest one with an online listing, was three towns over. She could call them. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. But she’d waste half her day waiting. Lauren decided to start with a call to Charlotte instead, to see if she had any better options.
Five minutes later, she had the promise of a lorry that could pull her out in under an hour. Lauren hung up the phone, relieved. Charlotte made it seem like no big deal, like this sort of thing happened all the time. She considered going to the wool shop to pass the time, but it seemed rude not to be waiting when Charlotte’s friend arrived. She made the short walk back to her car.
While she waited, she resisted the urge to check email or try to accomplish something on her phone. She looked around, really taking in the scenery. The rolling hills to her left were impossibly green, and the sheep, the kind that had black legs and faces and fluffy white bodies, looked almost too perfect to be real. Combined with the ancient-looking stone wall, the whole vista looked like it belonged in a picture book.
“People would pay good money to look at you,” she said to the small cluster of sheep nearby. “Damn good money.”
* * *
Cam held her phone in one hand and used the other to pinch the bridge of her nose as Charlotte relayed the call she’d gotten from Lauren. And the favor she was asking. “Calling in a tow will take all day. Couldn’t you just zip out and give her a hand?”