The Inn at Netherfield Green

by Aurora Rey

  The arousal didn’t surprise her at this point. She’d come to accept the fact that she couldn’t think about Cam without getting turned on. Most of the time, she ignored it, if for no other reason than being turned on all the time was ridiculously distracting. Other times, she indulged it, let her imagination roam. Thinking about what it would be like to act on it, to have her desire reciprocated.

  Today, she indulged it.

  Lauren adjusted the temperature of the water, closed her eyes, and let her hands move over her body. Her nipples were already taut, hard peaks that stiffened even further under her touch. She grazed a hand over her stomach, down her thigh.

  Cam’s hands, she’d noticed, were a little rough. For all her corporate leanings, Lauren had a thing for rough hands—what they symbolized as much as how they felt. They’d create friction against her skin, especially where it was softest.

  She slid her hand back up, pressed two fingers to her swollen clit. The sensation, paired with images of Cam, made her groan. She angled her hand, pressing her fingers inside. Her whole body clenched, and she braced her free hand on the shower wall.

  What would it be like to have Cam behind her, one hand around her waist, the other fucking her? She let her head fall forward, rested it against the cool tile. Cam would cup her breasts, pinch her nipples. She’d whisper in Lauren’s ear, telling her what she wanted, telling her she was beautiful.

  Lauren rocked against her hand, longing for Cam and longing for release with equal ferocity. The orgasm tumbled over her and threatened to make her knees buckle. She kept her footing, barely, and blinked her eyes open. The bright light of the bathroom and the cool water sluicing over her brought her back to reality more harshly than she would have liked. “Fuck.”

  She finished her shower and shut off the water. By the time she’d dried off, her pulse had slowed, the throbbing in her clit subsided. She padded into the bedroom in search of clothes. Between the physical labor and the orgasm, she had half a mind to crawl into bed. But it was the middle of the afternoon. The sun was shining and she had things to do.

  Lauren dried her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. She pulled on jeans and a tank top and slid her feet into sandals. As she left the room, her stomach rumbled, and she was grateful the next item on her agenda involved food.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lauren spent the rest of her day on non-physical tasks—scoping websites for both inspiration and market analysis. She stayed up way too late, but slept well and woke up full of energy. She showered and dressed, humming with a mixture of enthusiasm and confidence. Even with so much still to do, it already felt like things were coming together.

  She bounced into the pub, excited to show Charlotte the draft of the new menu before tackling the dreaded carpet project, but came to an abrupt stop when she realized Charlotte wasn’t alone behind the bar. Sidled up next to her, looking very cozy, was Cam. “Hi.”

  Cam took a step to her left, putting space between herself and Charlotte. If they’d looked a little guilty before, the shift only reinforced the idea they were up to something. “Good morning,” Cam said, her voice stilted.

  “Morning, Lauren.” For better or worse, Charlotte seemed unfazed by the whole thing. “Cam just stopped by with some samples of what she’s working on. Do you want to give them a try?”

  She was torn. Yes, she wanted to try anything Cam was cooking up. Yes, she wanted any opportunity to be in close proximity to Cam. But even though they’d settled into being friendly, she still got this undercurrent of antagonism from Cam, which left her feeling like an awkward teenager with a crush. Even with the time they’d been spending together, Lauren couldn’t put a finger on where things stood between them. “Sure.”

  Lauren walked up to the bar. Charlotte pulled out a stack of shot glasses, and Cam poured from a small bottle into three of them. “This one is infused with cardamom. I thought it might be a nice small batch run for the holidays.”

  Lauren sniffed it before taking a sip. The flavor matched the aroma—warm and inviting. “Oh, that’s good.”

  Cam smiled, causing Lauren’s pulse to kick up a notch. “Thank you.”

  “What would you make with it?” she asked, unable to think of anything.

  “I’m still working on that. A martini, maybe with star anise.” Cam tapped a finger on the bar.

  “And what about something with ginger beer and lemon?” Charlotte said.

  “I love the way you two think.” She really did. Lauren loved a good drink as much as the next person, maybe even more, but she couldn’t come up with ideas for what flavors would go together. Her brain didn’t seem to work that way.

  Charlotte tipped her head toward Cam. “She’s the real genius. I just stand here and look pretty.”

  “You’re very pretty.” Lauren pointed at her. “But you’re a genius in your own right, too.”

  Charlotte bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you.”

  “Speaking of, I have a draft of the new menu. Mrs. Lucas helped me come up with a couple of things, and I found a bunch of gastropub fare online.”

  “Ooh, fun,” Charlotte said.

  Cam made a face.

  “What?” Lauren asked. “Why are you scowling?”

  “She thinks gastropubs are going to be the demise of English culture.”

  Lauren looked at Cam and raised a brow. “Seriously?”

  Cam rolled her eyes. “She exaggerates, but I mostly think they’re pretentious and overpriced.”

  A trio of men walked in and Charlotte stepped away to take care of them. Lauren looked down at the menu she’d been so thrilled with just a minute ago. Was it pretentious? Maybe a little. She’d been so focused on adding variety, making it more modern, she’d not thought about the possibility of taking it too far the other way.

  “Come on. Let me see.” Cam held out her hand.

  “So, here’s what I’m thinking.” Lauren reluctantly gave Cam the piece of paper.

  Cam took it and skimmed the list, feeling her lip curl with each item. “This is rubbish.”

  “What do you mean?” Lauren folded her arms, looking as offended by the comment as Cam felt about the menu. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I don’t know what half these words mean. And I don’t want to know.”

  “Come on. You’re being dramatic.”

  “I’m not.” Cam pointed at her, not trying to rein in her frustration. “What the hell is gazpacho?”

  Lauren shot her an exasperated look and showed no signs of backing down. “It’s a cold tomato soup. I thought it would be nice to lighten things up a bit, especially in the summer.”

  “Ten quid for cold soup? Are you bloody insane?”

  Lauren uncrossed her arms and squared her shoulders. “The price points aren’t set. I’m looking for feedback on the concept.”

  Cam gave her bland look.

  “And you aren’t a fan.”

  Cam rolled her head from side to side, trying to work out some of the tension that had suddenly taken root in her neck. “You want to bring in tourists, city folks. I get that. But this? This is too much. This is selling out.”

  Lauren took a deep breath, and Cam got the feeling she was making an effort to remain calm. “I’ve already said that isn’t my intention. What, or maybe I should be asking who, exactly, you think I’m selling out by putting gazpacho on the menu?”

  Cam fumbled for the right words. Again, they eluded her. How could she explain this visceral reaction she had to the idea of everything changing, the idea of the Rose & Crown being anything other than what it was now? It was about her, yes, her own sentimental attachment to the place. She could own that. It was more, though. It was thinking about Albert and his chums, all over the age of eighty. Albert wasn’t the first of them to die. Those that remained still came to the pub more days than not. If the place was full of twenty-somethings who’d pay ten quid for a bowl of mush, where would that leave them? And the women who came in a couple of nights a week to get away from thei
r husbands? And the people who worked at the distillery and the sheep farm? Where would they go to relax and share a pint at the end of the day?

  She realized that Lauren was staring at her, waiting for an answer. She cleared her throat. “The pub is special, it’s…” Cam could feel herself getting emotional, knew it was written all over her face. She huffed out a breath. “It’s complicated.”

  Lauren’s whole expression changed. Cam expected to be pulled into fisticuffs, but instead of glaring or yelling or rolling her eyes, Lauren’s face softened. “Tell me. I want to understand.”

  Cam opened her mouth, closed it. She opened it again. “Villages like this one are going extinct.”

  “I get that. I really do. I’m trying to prevent that, to bring people and money and life here.”

  “But if those people are very different, the ones who live here are going to get lost in the shuffle. If the pub is full of fancy people and fancy food, the people who live here won’t go there anymore. And there isn’t anywhere else for them, for us, to go.”

  “Oh, my God. It’s gentrification. That’s what you’re afraid of.”

  Cam narrowed her eyes. She was pretty sure that’s what Americans called social cleansing. “Maybe. What does that mean to you?”

  Lauren closed her eyes and shook her head, and a sense of foreboding rose in Cam’s chest. When Lauren opened them, she looked squarely at Cam. “It means you’re absolutely right. I didn’t even realize I was going down that path and, honest to God, it’s the last thing I want.”

  The apparent about-face caught her by surprise and was enough to make her dizzy. “So, what does that mean for the menu?”

  Lauren shrugged, then smiled. “It means we scrap it and start over.”

  Could it really be as easy as that? “What’s the catch?”

  Lauren looked at her with exasperation. “Why do you assume I’m going to be difficult?”

  “I—” Cam held the denial on the tip of her tongue. She did assume Lauren would be difficult. Saying otherwise would be a lie. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you?”

  God, this woman didn’t let up. Which, to be honest, Cam respected. “You’re very big city.” She paused, sighed. “Very corporate.”

  Lauren nodded slowly, as though trying to decide whether to be insulted. “I’ll give you that. For the record, though, corporate is a means to an end more than an inherent inclination.”

  “Inherent inclination?” Cam chuckled even though she was certain Lauren hadn’t meant to be funny.

  “I want to open my own agency, but I need the experience and reputation of an established one if I expect anyone to take me seriously.”

  “Huh.” Cam had no desire to strike out on her own, but she could appreciate leveraging the reputation of a known entity. She’d never have gotten Carriage House off the ground without the Barrister’s name behind it. Not to mention the production facilities.

  “What? Are you judging me for that too, now?” She looked, not insulted, but maybe resigned.

  “No. The opposite,” Cam said.

  “Really?”

  She tried to soften her stance without backpedaling completely. “Really. I think that’s admirable.”

  “But you still think I want to change everything for the worst.”

  “Not the worst.” How was it that Lauren swooped in with her crazy ideas and Cam was the one who came off looking like an ass?

  “And you admit some changes are needed?”

  Cam rolled her eyes. “We’ve already established that I do.”

  “But I still want to preserve what works, what’s good.”

  Did Cam believe that? Did she want to? She’d been dead set on holding her ground, trying to convince Lauren not to change things, or not change them very much. But when it came down to it, compromise was probably as good as she was going to get. She liked compromise, generally. And there was the matter of keeping the pub in business. “Okay.”

  Lauren raised a brow. “You finally believe me or you’re tired of fighting with me?”

  “I believe you.”

  “Good.” Lauren looked satisfied. “Now, do you have any ideas about the menu?”

  “Salads, maybe? And sandwiches? Stuff a reasonable person would eat.”

  “See, now we’re talking. I’ll go back to Mrs. Lucas and see what we can come up with.”

  Cam nodded, relieved but also something else. Something slipperier. Something that resembled admiration.

  Lauren looked at her with doe eyes that made Cam feel like a heel. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

  Cam felt her shoulders slump. What was it about Lauren that brought out the most abrasive parts of her? “Of course I’m not mad.”

  “Good.” Lauren grinned. “Because, you know, we’ve got a lot of work to do today.”

  “Right.” Cam chuckled. She might not get Lauren entirely, but one thing was for certain, Lauren never failed to keep her on her toes.

  * * *

  Lauren attempted to wipe the sweat from her brow, but only succeeded in smearing gritty carpet dust across her forehead. This might be the worst idea she’d ever had. And she’d had plenty of terrible ideas.

  “What?” Cam looked at her over a large piece of brown carpet.

  How did Cam manage to look so good doing such utterly disgusting work? Lauren could only imagine how frightful she must look. It wasn’t fair. “I’m having a moment of regret.”

  “Nonsense. We’re almost done.”

  That part was true at least. Albert had gotten it into his head in the late eighties that carpet would appeal to lady guests, but never got farther than two rooms. Hearing the story from Mrs. Lucas was the first time Lauren said a prayer of thanks for Albert’s tendency to start things and never finish. Unlike his haphazard upgrade of the electric or rigging some of the plumbing, this was actually going to save her money and time.

  Lauren smiled. “I have to say, you are quite good at it. Have you done this a lot?”

  “What? Trade manual labor for professional favors?”

  Cam lifted a brow and, truthfully, it was all Lauren could do not to swoon on the spot. There was nothing suggestive or sexual about the comment. She was pretty sure Cam didn’t even mean a lighthearted double entendre. Neither of those things kept her mind from thinking about trading all sorts of favors. “Um.”

  “I was kidding.” Cam looked at her with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

  “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know where my mind went.” Or at least not that she was telling. “I meant pulling carpet.”

  Cam smiled like she knew that’s what Lauren meant all along. Like she was teasing her. Was that possible? “I did it at my place. My aunt had put carpet in the bedrooms and the bathroom when she lived there.”

  Lauren made a face before she could stop herself. “The bathroom?”

  “Right? Utterly disgusting. It was one of the first things I changed.”

  She realized she knew absolutely nothing about where Cam lived. “Is the house yours now? Or sort of a family thing?”

  “Both, in a way. I live in the carriage house at the edge of my parents’ property.”

  “Nice.” She’d grown up with money, but not carriage house kind of money. She’d not gotten the wealthy estate vibe from Cam. Interesting.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea,” Cam said, as though reading her thoughts. “It’s not some grand manor or anything. Just old enough to need a place for the carriage and horses.”

  Lauren chuckled at the ferocity of Cam’s tone. “You seem horrified by the idea that I might think you come from money.”

  Cam shrugged. “It’s more of a thing here, the upper class. Most of us who don’t come from it want nothing to do with it.”

  So different from her parents, who strove for money and status above all else. She’d share that with Cam one day, maybe. “I promise I don’t think you’re gentry.”

  Cam shook her head and actually shuddered. “Please.”


  Lauren connected the dots of Cam’s story. “Wait. Carriage House. Is that where you got the name for your gin?”

  Cam lifted a shoulder as though she might be embarrassed by it. “Maybe.”

  “You really are sentimental.”

  “I am.”

  Cam’s embarrassment seemed to fade, leaving this kind of openness, this authenticity, that did something to Lauren. It made her sentimental in return, maybe. Something she couldn’t afford to be when it came to Cam. She finished rolling the chunk of carpet they’d cut and shoved it against the wall. “I like it. Tell me about your house.”

  Cam freed the final piece of carpet from under the baseboard. Lauren moved to the end and they started rolling it together. “My grandparents converted it to a house for my great-aunt, who never married. When she passed away, I claimed it.”

  “Did you have to fend off your sisters?”

  “Jane is the oldest and married, so she didn’t want it. I’m the next oldest, so it was mine by rights.”

  “Does that really work with siblings?”

  “It didn’t with yours?” Cam gave her a quizzical look.

  “Only child.”

  “Right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  She’d wanted a sibling for most of her childhood. The longing had faded, helped along by her general preference to steer clear of her parents. Not that she never wanted to see them.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  Second time she’d been caught with her thoughts wandering. At least this time wasn’t about getting Cam into bed. She smiled brightly. “Totally fine. Let’s get this done.”

  They worked together in silence for a few minutes, carrying the carpet down the stairs and to the skip out back. Lauren wiped her brow and again realized she was just making things worse. She was glad she hired a professional to do the sanding and refinishing of the floors.

  “We could do the drinks meeting there, if you’d like,” Cam said.

  It took Lauren a moment to understand her meaning. “Oh, at your house? I’d like that.”