“Maggie, it’s so good to hear your voice.” She unscrewed the cap of a water bottle sitting on the nightstand and tried to swallow the early morning frog that croaked in her throat.
“Sorry, Arianna. I didn’t mean to wake you. You’ve always been an early riser.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t usually work until three in the morning, either.”
“Why on earth are you working so late? Especially on a Friday night?”
“I don’t get internet service at the Somers’ house, so I have to place all my orders here in town. And if you knew Mr. Somers, you’d understand how crucial it is that I make no mistakes.” She let out a sigh.
“I’m sorry, Arianna. That sounds painful. I wish I were there to help you out.”
“That would be wonderful, but it’s okay. I’m getting to use everything I’ve ever learned in school and on the job for this project. It’s a fun challenge.”
“You always have looked at the bright side of things. I admire that about you.”
“Thanks, Maggie. I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about my lack of sleep.”
“No, what I really called for has nothing to do with work.”
“Good. I could use a break. What’s up?” Ari took another sip of water and opened the shutters on the window next to her bed.
“Do you remember my upcoming baby shower?
Arianna choked. “Um”—she glanced at a calendar perched on her dresser—“of course I remember. It’s in two weeks, right?”
“Nice recovery, girlfriend,” Maggie teased. “You obviously forgot. I know you’ve been busy, so it’s okay, but I hope you can still come.”
“I’m coming, Maggie. You know I wouldn’t miss it.” She closed her eyes, grateful Maggie had reminded her, so she wouldn’t miss it. “I’ll drive out on Friday night so I can help with the preparations.” Their boss, Tasha Tate, Reese Johnson’s wife and business partner, had taken over plans for the shower. Besides supporting her friend, Ari needed to help Tasha out with the event.
“You can bring your hot new boyfriend, too, if you want. I’d love to meet him. He’s not invited to the shower.” Maggie laughed. “But maybe we can do something together later.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, Maggie.” She didn’t even know if he was her friend. Things had been a little weird between them. She just couldn’t get a read on him. At times he had gazed at her like she was the most important person in the world; then, the next thing she knew, he wouldn’t even look her in the eye. “I haven’t seen him for a while.” He’d made himself scarce since the day he’d stopped by to check on her.
“I’m sorry. I wanted him to be the one. He sounded like a perfect match for you—British and old-fashioned manners and everything. We all know how much you love those old British romance novels with the proper manners in them. No pressure, but you seemed happy when you talked about him, and I just want you to be as happy as Jason and I are.”
Arianna was glad Maggie couldn’t see her red face through the phone. She really did know her type—British and everything. “Hey, there’s a lot of history in those British romance novels you tease me about. But you’re correct. Christopher seemed like the perfect match for me. Someday I’ll find Mr. Right. I’m happy, just confused about Christopher at the moment.” She frowned at her image in the dresser mirror. She would love for Christopher to be the man for her. Tugging sweats from a drawer, she put the phone on speaker so she could dress.
“You know I love you, even though I think you’re a prude.” Maggie sounded sisterly. Arianna knew that tone well. Maggie used it when she thought Arianna needed comforting—and it worked.
“Yes, I know.” Ari padded down the hall and into the kitchen in search of nutrition. She settled on a protein shake.
“Don’t listen to her when she jibes you like that.” Jason had obviously overheard their conversation. His voice sounded like he was hollering in the background.
“Jason?” Ari smiled, imagining the tussle happening with the phone. She sipped on her shake while Jason and Maggie bantered.
“You’re not a prude. Maggie tells me all the time she looks up to you for your high moral standards, Ari. So, don’t let her teasing get to you.”
Arianna cleared her throat. “I think you two need to continue this conversation without me. I can’t wait to see you both in two weeks.” After she hung up and sank into the puffy recliner that had taunted her all week, she realized her heart hurt. How she missed Maggie.
She stared at the phone, still in her hand. She wished it would ring and this time have a deep British voice on the other end.
Chapter Thirteen
Christopher opened a window in his bedroom to let the stale air escape. A floral scent from the bushes outside immediately improved the air quality. Then he took a seat in an armchair next to his bed. He had been in something of a stupor ever since the day he’d read Sarah’s journal. He punched at the nearest pillow. It wrinkled in the middle where his fist had connected, creating a saggy, white, smiling face. He took another swing and punched the smile right out of it.
Thoughts spun round and round, never finding a secure place to land. He eventually digested the twisted reality of it all. He could truly never live a normal life while his father lived. And to that, Christopher had no solution.
Thinking about Arianna was the only thing maintaining his sanity right now. He’d kept his distance the past week or two. His feelings were still too raw and unpredictable. She most likely did not want his company, either, after he’d practically lost his composure right in front of her when he read Sarah’s journal. Furthermore, he could never explain it to her. He ran his fingers through his hair. And now she might believe she was to blame for his behavior. Ridiculous, of course, but there it was again—he’d given her no reason to think otherwise. He hated this.
He’d allow a few more days and maybe check on her the following week. By then, she may have been able to forget their last encounter. Doubtful, but he had to see her, and see to her safety. After all, he was certain his father had paid his precious mansion a visit or two by now. A chill made him shudder, thinking about his father alone in the house with Arianna. Father wouldn’t do anything to Ari…would he? No. Then again, if he felt cornered there’s no telling what he’d do. If history were any indication, he’d stop at nothing to protect his money or his secrets—even murder.
He wondered about Ari’s impression of the great-in-his-own-mind Benjamin Somerset—make that Somers. Christopher had noticed on the property deed his father had filed with the city, he’d shortened the family name. Good. Somerset belonged to Christopher’s grandfather—the honorable Earl of Hemington—not his criminal son. So disgusted by his father’s behavior, Christopher had changed his own surname to Flemming—his mother’s maiden name.
****
After a somewhat torturous weekend with his thoughts flip-flopping between his family’s situation and Arianna, Christopher decided to call her. He’d try to reach her before she left for work to see if he could manage a decent conversation.
She answered on the third ring. When he said who it was, he couldn’t tell whether her voice reflected surprise or disappointment. He pressed forward. “Can I interest you in lunch? I am certain there are no eating establishments near your worksite. I would hate for you to dwindle away to nothing during your stay here in Pueblo.” He attempted lightheartedness to balance out their last encounter.
Ari laughed, putting him at ease. “I do work up an appetite, walking from one end to the other in that giant house.”
He held the phone away and let out a long exhale. “I can pick you up—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Unless you’re planning to be near my jobsite anyway, I’ll meet you there. No need wasting your lunch hour driving unnecessarily.”
“Very well, then.” After some brief instructions of how to get to Abby’s diner, he hung up the phone. His shoulders slumped as he let his rigid body relax. Maybe he could act like a normal human yet.
She must think he had multiple personalities—a Jekyll and Hyde sort, perhaps. And he would not blame her.
Chapter Fourteen
Arianna ended the call. She frowned—not because she didn’t want to see Christopher again—she did. It just took her by surprise to hear his voice on the other end. He sounded so, she shrugged, normal. It was easier to push thoughts of him out of her mind when he acted strange. Oh well, she was happy to have someone to go to lunch with, and maybe she could at least find a friend in him.
Scanning her closet, she picked out a casual but attractive outfit, red blouse and white capris, and headed to work. Before long, lunchtime had arrived and she found herself sitting across from her British gentleman turned American policeman. That’s how she’d come to think of the enigma that was Christopher.
Ari loved Abby’s diner. Everything; from the yellow café rod curtains to the country-themed art and music; made her smile. And the smells of home-cooked food were heavenly.
As she popped the last bite of meatloaf into her mouth, she looked up to see Christopher grinning at her. “I told you Abby makes the best meatloaf in Colorado.” He winked.
Her heart thudded against her chest. Those dimples. She had never seen any man so absolutely gorgeous. She wiped her lips on a checkered napkin. “You were right about that. Now I won’t have to eat any dinner. I don’t think I’ve eaten so much since high school when I lived with Mom’s home cooking.” She took a drink and tamped down the memories of her family she had inadvertently invoked.
Lunch on Monday turned into lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, as well. Arianna enjoyed every moment spent with Christopher. He was a fantastic listener, not to mention gorgeous.
During Thursday’s lunch, she twirled too many pasta noodles around her fork before trying to fit it into her mouth.
“It seems your mouth is not quite large enough.” Christopher’s dimples appeared.
“You must think I have no manners.” Her cheeks warmed with a blush. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid. I just wanted to see if I could.”
Christopher’s blue eyes twinkled. “Hold still.” He reached up and held Ari’s chin with one hand while he wiped marinara sauce from the corners of her lips with the other. When he finished, his fingers lingered on her chin, sending shivers down her spine.
They both looked up when a waitress put a basket of steaming breadsticks on their table. The aroma wafted through the air, making Arianna’s mouth water.
“I need bread.” Ari eyed the basket.
“I believe that is what they call this.” Christopher picked up a breadstick and motioned for Ari to open her mouth.
“No, I mean I’m out of bread and a few other groceries. Sorry. The breadsticks reminded me that I haven’t been shopping in a while. I’ll go tonight after work. I’ll still take that breadstick, though.” She pulled his hand closer to her mouth and took a bite of the bread, then hesitated before releasing it. The fact that he didn’t pull his hand away wasn’t lost on her.
“I could use a few items as well; would you like some company?” Christopher took a bite of the same breadstick.
“That would be nice.”
“Then I will pick you up at seven.”
“Sounds perfect.” Ari’s heart thudded. She ducked her head to hide a smile. She didn’t know why grocery shopping sounded like a fun date. Maybe because it was such a domestic thing to do. Kind of like having a boyfriend.
****
That evening, Arianna glanced out the window and saw Christopher pull up to the curb promptly at seven. She’d never known a man as punctual as he was.
They leisurely walked each aisle together; Ari grabbing an item here and there. She noticed Christopher had yet to put anything in the basket they pushed. “I thought you needed food.”
“I do. We just haven’t found the items I’m looking for yet.”
She stopped pushing the cart. “Do you have a list?”
“Yes, I have a list.” Christopher tilted his head. His lips tugged up into a lopsided smile.
“Let’s see it.” Ari reached a hand toward him.
He surprised her by closing his own hand around hers instead of providing the list. Sparks of energy traveled up her arm, settling in her chest. She didn’t want to let go of his hand but wanted to see the list to make sure they hadn’t passed anything he needed. Hmm. What to do.
As if reading her mind, he grinned. “No worries, I’ve not missed anything on my list yet.” He put her hand back on the basket and covered it with his, then began pushing again. It made for an awkward gait, but a wonderful sensation.
As they rounded the corner to the dairy section, he stopped and picked up a dozen eggs. He slipped a small paper from his pocket and examined it. “I only need three more items.”
He did have a list. She didn’t know why she’d doubted him. Maybe because most men she knew made mental lists, then forgot half the items by the time they reached the market. Curious, she peeked over his shoulder to read it. “Eggs, sausage, bread, and lard?”
He stuffed the paper into his pocket. “Is that so very strange?”
She shook her head. “No. I just didn’t know people still used lard to cook with.”
He shrugged. Animal fats taste better than oils when I make Scotch eggs. More authentic.”
Ari gazed at him. “Sometimes I think you are an old soul. I like it.”
He squeezed her hand and they began walking again.
The last lane was the catch-all aisle. The lane that didn’t have a title because it contained a variety of items. “Look at this.” He held the box out for Arianna to see it. “I didn’t know they sold games in a market.”
“Do you like Scrabble?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never played.”
Arianna looked at him as if he’d said he’d never heard of pizza. “You have never played Scrabble? What about Uno?” She picked up the game next to it.
“Uh, we did not have these games where I grew up.”
“In England? You didn’t have these games in England?”
“No, I suppose not. We played a card game called Whist.”
“Seriously? They still play Whist in England? I thought that was just a game they played a couple hundred years ago. It’s in all the books I’ve read from that era.”
“You enjoy books from hundreds of years ago?”
“I love ’em—especially the British romances. Things were so…proper back then.”
“Yes, they were—” He shifted his weight. “I meant to say, I’m certain you are right about that.” He swallowed and took a breath. Ari thought he seemed tense. Strange. “So, you like to read about what England was like in the past?”
She nodded. “I guess guys don’t get into that kind of stuff, but I’m fascinated by the whole Regency era—you know, all the royals, princes, dukes, earls—”
Christopher’s smile faltered for a second. “No. You’re right.” He cut her off. “Guys don’t get into that sort of thing. But we do like a little healthy competition.” He waved the game box in front of her.
“Well, you, my friend, are going to learn something new tonight, then.”
Christopher tilted his head. Arianna realized what she’d said and felt warmth rise from her feet to her head.
“I mean the game.” She grabbed the Scrabble box, ignoring the innocent look on his face, and put it in her shopping cart, then turned away so he couldn’t see her blush. Evidently her accidental innuendo was lost on him. Any other guy would have jumped all over it. How refreshing.
She rummaged through her purse in search of her wallet, which always seemed to find the deepest corners in which to hide. By the time she located it, Christopher had paid for the items. “Hey, most of that stuff was mine. Now I owe you.” She began tugging bills from her wallet.
Christopher put a warm hand over hers, stopping her. “You owe me nothing.”
“But—”
“Let the man pay,” the mi
ddle-aged, bleached-blonde clerk behind the register said. “It’s rare to find a true gentleman these days.” She winked at Ari.
They drove to her apartment in relative silence. Ari didn’t like feeling indebted to a man. Most men she knew expected payment in some form. He’d paid for lunches all week, as well. Of course, most men weren’t Christopher.
“Let’s play in the kitchen.” Ari was happy to put the round wooden table to use. She’d eaten most of her meals on the go or in front of the television. Although the small room barely fit the necessities, its cream-colored walls and floral curtains gave it a cozy atmosphere. She set the game up and passed out the letter tiles. Christopher made popcorn in the microwave and poured M&Ms in a bowl. After Ari gave a quick explanation of the rules, the game began. Ari had grown up playing Scrabble with her family and felt confident. Things went along quite well. Christopher picked the game up quickly. That is, until he played the word “dray.”
“Ahem, that’s not a word, Chris.”
“Of course it is a word. Everyone knows what a dray is.”
“Is that right? Then what is it?”
“It is a cart used for hauling. You know, with horses.” He tilted his head and lowered his eyebrows as if to challenge her.
“You can only use words found in the English dictionary.”
“You are telling an Englishman that the word ‘dray’ is not in the English dictionary?”
Ari hadn’t considered that. “Well, let’s just look it up.” She pulled out her phone. There it was in black and white. Dray: A low heavy horse cart without sides; used for haulage. She blew out a breath. “Fine.” She put her hands on her hips. “You got lucky that time.”
The next word Christopher played earned him high points, having two Z’s in it. “Mizzen? Now I know that’s not a word.”
“Are you certain you want to question my language skills again?” He gave her the eyebrow challenge once more and rocked back in his chair.
Sure enough, there it was in the dictionary—again. “You’re killing me. I’ve never even heard of these words.” She reached across the table and punched his shoulder.
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