by Natasha Boyd
Jack came around and stopped close behind me. His hands settled on my waist and then slipped around my belly.
He dropped his head forward onto my shoulder. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“For?” I asked, folding my arms over his to keep him against me as I settled my head back against him.
“Making us come straight here.” He turned his face and pressed his mouth under my ear, making me shiver. “Being here with me at all. Doing all of this with me. Being in my life. Being you.” His mouth found my skin again, his voice husky.
“Well, me too. Thank you for bringing me here. Your mom, she’s…” I swallowed against a hard ball that suddenly seemed stuck in my throat. My eyes stung. Well, she was a mother. His mother. She adored her child.
And she loved me because he did.
And really? Love and beauty just seemed to radiate off her. I didn’t realize how much I missed the feeling of being loved like that by a mother, or grandmother, whom I adored and respected. It suddenly blindsided me. Nostalgia, not so much for my own mom, but Nana, slid over me. But my own mother too. I squeezed Jack’s arms tighter around me. I was so grateful he had her. With everything he’d been exposed to growing up, she’d protected him as best she could. Made him who he was today. “She’s beautiful,” I finally finished thickly, quietly.
“PINK?” I LAUGHED, meeting the mirth in Charlotte’s eyes. “Tell me you have pictures.”
She stood, ignoring Jack’s warning look. “You better believe it. Right back.” Charlotte made her way over the cream carpeted floor of the cozy living room to the wall of shelves. The room was bathed in gorgeous lamp and firelight, the gloomy day still not brightening outside. A large Christmas tree adorned in sparkling baubles and twinkling white lights added to the glow. We all had full bellies, Nigel having been persuaded to stay for an early lunch of shepherd’s pie and red wine. Now we were drinking warm British tea again.
We were both exhausted, and the wine made me sleepier, but we were trying our best to stay occupied to avoid the jet lag that was sure to hit us.
“Mum,” Jack groaned. He leaned back, his T-shirt stretching across his muscled chest, still looking indecently sexy. He desperately needed a shave, and I desperately needed to feel his stubble before he did so. Preferably on other parts of my body than just my hands. “Please stop, Mum. Keri Ann doesn’t need to see my school play photos. Least of all when I was dressed as the pink snake in Alice in Wonderland.”
“Oh, but I do.” I snorted, overcome with the giggles again. I squeezed his hand where it sat on my thigh. “Did no one ever call them out for being overtly homo-erotic? I mean, pink worms? Seriously? I don’t believe there are supposed to be pink worms in that book.”
“Snakes,” argued Jack. But his mouth couldn’t contain his laughter either.
Personally, I wanted a shower. Our luggage had been delivered a few hours ago, and I was desperate to get out of these traveling clothes. “Snake, worm, whatever. And it was your acting debut… this I have to see.” I looked over at Nigel.
His mouth had dropped open. “Blow me down,” Nigel muttered. “You’re right. Mr. Busby, the drama master, came out of the closet a few years after you left, mate. It was all the talk. To think? He was subtly trying to let everyone know even then. Making the boys prance about like little pink willies.”
“I wouldn’t call that subtle,” said Jack and winked at me as we both cracked up.
“So you went to Jack’s school too?” I asked Nigel.
He nodded. “A few years ahead of this guy, obviously. I’d left by the time he was there. But Mr. Busby taught me too. Saw him once several years later at a gay club in London.” Nigel’s eyes shifted to the left, and he suddenly flushed to the roots of his hair.
“Nooo,” said Jack, incredulously. “You and Mr. Busby?”
“Stop it,” Nigel snapped and glanced at Charlotte’s back. He busied himself taking another sip of his tea. “Anyway, it was just the once,” he added.
“Please tell me you were… of age?” I affected a dramatic whisper, emulating Jack’s good-natured teasing.
Nigel grinned. “Well, I was, but I still called him Mr. Busby.” He gave a little shoulder wiggle and twitched his eyebrow several times in a lascivious manner, joining in the fun.
“Eeeeeeew!” Jack howled. “Nige. Really?”
I let out a huge chuckle.
“Here they are,” sang Charlotte as she plopped back on the chair on the other side of Jack and laid the photo album on the table.
“I can’t believe we have to do a baby album on the first day,” Jack groaned. “Surely we could’ve worked up to this.”
“No way. This is fantastic.”
The album had pictures ranging from Jack as a baby, through a toothy toddler, a gangly little boy, and then barely a picture of his teenage years, until his mom had started adding newspaper clippings of his early acting accomplishments. Charlotte turned the pages, slowly, almost to the end. “Well, after a while there were too many things to cut out and stick in here. My baby boy had made it.” Although I had a feeling Charlotte had a box somewhere stuffed with all Jack’s clippings, I couldn’t imagine she’d let one pass her by.
Jack leaned over and gave his mother’s shoulder a squeeze. She leaned into him.
“Oh, I worried so. Me being so far away and you being at the mercy of all those… vampires.” She sniffed, then laughed at herself. “I’m so glad you came home. Both of you,” she added to me.
“Thank you for making me feel welcome,” I murmured, feeling a little overwhelmed. Jack turned his hand that was on my thigh palm up and squeezed my hand. “Looks like I should get some real pictures of you and Jack this Christmas, instead of newspaper clippings, so you can add to the album,” I offered.
“Oh yes, that would be wonderful!”
Nigel stood. “All right, you lot. A man can’t sit around on his arse all day. There’s work to be done. I’m picking up some rich Russian footballer in a few hours. You’ve got my mobile, eh? Just gimme a shout when you need a ride.”
“Yeah, man. Thanks.” Jack stood too.
“I know you said you’d like to take Keri Ann to your friend Max’s place down in Hastings for lunch one day. That still on?”
Jack shifted uneasily and glanced at me. “Um, I don’t know. It might be a bit much if we’re seen out.”
“Oh,” said Nigel. “Well, I can understand that. Max’ll be disappointed though.”
Did Jack feel like he couldn’t do anything when I was with him because I was so leery of the press? I hated that for him. Like I was holding him back from going out and doing fun things. Especially seeing some old friends of his. But I couldn’t deny I was nervous we’d blow our cover and our peaceful plans for Christmas would be shot. I resolved to bring it up with him later.
We all made our way back through the house to see Nigel off.
“You can always borrow mine or Jeff’s car if you want to go for a drive or something,” Charlotte offered. “You don’t have to wait on Nigel.”
“Where is Jeff?” I asked. I’d heard a lot from Jack about the man who’d made Charlotte so happy.
“At work, I imagine,” said Jack.
Charlotte nodded. “He’s a solicitor. Works in the city still. Though I wish he’d cut back on his hours. He’s up at five every morning to get the train in. But he gets home by six, so that’s good.”
We waved Nigel off, and then Jack grabbed our stuff that was still piled by the door. “Where are we sleeping?”
“Oh right, come on. You probably want to freshen up. Then Jack, you can take Keri Ann on a walk around the fields, show her the land. Maybe it will help give you guys a second wind so you can stay up until Jeff gets home.”
“Sounds great. I’d love a hot shower,” I said and literally felt Jack willing me to catch his eye. No freaking way. I didn’t need to have hot naked showers in my head when I looked at him right now in front of his mother. My cheeks warmed as I flushed. It had to
be so obvious that Jack and I were jonesing for some alone time. But, God, I didn’t even know what the sleeping arrangements were. What if Charlotte wanted us in separate bedrooms? Surely she wouldn’t.
CHARLOTTE TROTTED UP the wooden stairs, ahead of me. “Don’t try these old stairs in socks. They’re so smooth and worn with age, you’ll go flying. I even slipped in shoes once. Anyway, maybe save your hot shower for after the walk, you’ll probably want one later. Not sure how much capacity the old boiler has for multiple showers all day.”
“I wish you’d—” Jack started.
“No more of that, Jack,” Charlotte admonished.
I glanced back at him, my eyebrows raised. “Don’t tell me. Jack wants to pay to replace your hot water heater,” I stated as we followed.
He shrugged his shoulders, lips pursing as if to say, “And?”
Charlotte turned and rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. And I keep telling him when the time comes, Jeff and I can handle it.”
She showed us to a pretty floral bedroom with elegant green accents and botanical prints on the wall. There were two big windows with the same view as the kitchen, over the fields. “Uh, so um.” She flushed, and my gut cinched tight with nerves. Dang, this was going to be worse than the birds and the bees talk my mom had tried when I was twelve. “You’re adults and I’ll leave you to make your own choices. This is what we call the Green Room. This bathroom here leads into the Blue Room, which is also made up. That’s where Jack usually stays. But, uh, obviously, uh—”
“We’ll be sharing, Mum,” Jack said gently and set our bags down at the end of the large double bed. “Hope that’s okay. And if it makes you feel uncomfortable, we can go to the hotel.”
“Goodness, no, I’m fine. It’s just, um, this is a first for me.” She chuckled and walked over to an armoire in the corner and withdrew two fresh towels that she laid on the bed. “You’ve never brought a girl home, that’s all, and I just didn’t want Keri Ann thinking I was used to this sort of thing.”
I let out a long slow breath. My belly flooded with churning nerves. I was embarrassed. But man was I happy to hear I was the only girl Jack had ever brought home. I mean, I had an inkling, based on how separate he liked to keep his lives and protect his mother from the craziness, but it was great to hear it anyway.
“But, um, I should just add that it’s, um…” Okay now Charlotte was flushing again. This didn’t bode well. What else was coming? “It’s an old house, thin interior walls, sound carries,” she rattled out, briskly. “Just so you know.” She swallowed and cleared her throat as she headed toward the door.
I stood dumfounded. Too embarrassed to say a word.
Jack slapped his hand over his eyes, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“So, anyway, that’s it. See you downstairs in a bit, and I’ll show you the best path to take on your walk. Cheerio,” she added, slipping out the door.
“LOOK IN THE mirror.” Jack stood behind me where I stood at the sink, having just brushed my teeth. I was wrapped in a towel, my skin chilled in the cool air. Having access to a hot shower had been too much to resist, and I’d rinsed my body quickly so as not to waste too much hot water. I’d twisted my hair up to keep it dry since we were going for a walk outside.
“I look tired,” I responded, agreeing to his request by meeting his eyes in the mirror.
He leaned forward, placing his hands on the sink on either side of me. His hair was half sticking up and half flat. Hat hair. The dark stubble of his two-day-old growth made his green eyes stand out. Damn it, he was so sexy. “Yes, you do.”
I elbowed him in the ribs.
“But you also look absolutely beautiful.” He dropped his mouth to my bare shoulder and the curve of my neck, his unshaven face gently scraping. Eyes not breaking contact, his mouth opened, his teeth grazing, nipping my skin and his warm tongue soothing over me.
My belly flipped and swirled scalding liquid heat through my insides at the feel of him and sight of him behind me, the passion in his gaze. My breathing caught and went from slow and relaxed to shallow and choppy in an instant.
“I can’t believe you snuck in here and got naked without me,” he murmured against my skin, and his body pressed against my back.
Trying to turn to face him, I was stopped as he released one arm from the sink and wrapped it around my waist, holding me firm, my back to his front.
“Jack,” I managed, swallowing my words as I felt his arousal.
He winked at me in the mirror.
“We, I, we’re supposed to go downstairs. You heard your mom, we—” I broke off as his other hand left the sink and skated up my thigh and under the towel.
“God, I’ve missed you. So much.” His head dropped to my shoulder and he inhaled deeply.
“I’ve missed you too.” My voice was low and husky. I wanted nothing more than to be naked and wrapped up against Jack’s hard and hot body, flesh to flesh, my heart beating as close to his as possible. “But we can’t do this right now. It’s, I—”
“I know, but let me just touch you. Please, I’ve been dying to.” His hand made it around my hip, sliding across my lower belly, and skating downwards. His knee nudged my legs apart. I shuddered and he lifted his face, catching my eye again in the mirror.
“Jack.”
“Shhhh.” He drew the sound out softly. “You’ll just have to be quiet. I’ll be quick.”
A knock sounded at the bedroom door, making me jump.
Jack straightened, leaving my skin bereft and tingling in his wake. Who was I kidding? More like aching and throbbing and… a belly as nauseous as if we’d been caught in the act.
“Jack, honey?” Charlotte’s voice was hesitant.
He cleared his throat and winked at my mortified expression in the mirror before heading out of the bathroom.
I closed my eyes and released a breath. My point exactly. I finished getting dried off and putting on lotion as I listened to Jack answer the door to Charlotte. Apparently a bunch of packages had arrived for us.
Jack had told me to pack light because there was absolutely nothing in my wardrobe that could prepare me for a wet British winter. Having arrived and felt the icy, wet mist, that was almost a drizzle but not quite, I was inclined to agree. Especially now I’d seen that Charlotte practically lived in “wellies” as she called them. The closest thing I’d seen growing up in the Lowcountry were galoshes. Anyway, I knew they were available back home, but Jack had expressly told me not to bother with boots and rain jackets since they only made the best ones in England. Seemed like the stuff he’d ordered had arrived.
When the coast was clear, I came out of the bathroom.
Jack had opened most of the boxes but was hastily putting something away on top of the armoire. He turned and gave me a crooked smile.
“What was that?” I asked teasingly.
“One of your presents, so don’t you dare look.”
“Jack.” My heart sank a little. “You’re spoiling me. I can’t do the same for you. I, I feel inadequate.” It was true. I loved how excited he got when he gave me things, but I fought with myself and my reactions every time he did it.
“Keri Ann, you just being here with me is all I’ll ever need. I know that sounds…” he cleared his throat and laughed lightly. “Yeah, it sounds freaking pathetic. I know.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I whispered. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than with you.”
“But I know how hard it is for you with all the bullshit that follows me around.”
“About that…” I perched on a tufted stool in front of a small antique vanity and faced him.
His eyes slipped to my legs and the towel that had ridden up. “Jack,” I admonished with a ridiculous grin.
“Sorry.”
“So, I was going to say, please don’t feel like you can’t go and see friends and stuff because of me, okay? I can handle a few photographers. I mean, I dread it, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. And any
way, you could always go and I’ll stay here and hang out with Charlotte. She was telling me we could drive down to the coast one day and go beach glass hunting.”
Jack looked away, his mouth slipping into a frown.
“What?” I asked, confused by his reaction. “You don’t think I’d like to spend time with your mom?”
He looked taken aback. “No, not that at all.”
“What, then? My aversion to publicity? You already know that.”
His hand raked through his unruly hair. “I don’t know. Look, it’s not that. It doesn’t matter.” He came around the bed in long strides and sat on the end of it in front of me.
It squeaked.
Awesome.
We both cringed. “You need to get some damn clothes on before I embarrass my mother. I’m getting to the point I might not care what sounds emanate from this bedroom.”
He was deflecting from the issue at hand. The issue being more than just me not wanting to deal with a media frenzy. Something was weighing on his mind. I’d caught glimpses of it now and then. But what was it?
“IT’S CALLED A stile.” Jack stood by the wet mossy wooden contraption, holding out his hand in the cold, damp white-misted air. Did England, in fact, even have a sky? This was our second walk since our arrival yesterday, and I’d yet to see one.
I looked at his hand dubiously, then at the nonchalant looking bull in the distance behind his head while I breathed in the faint smell of cow dung and earthy wet stone. England. I kind of always thought it would feel, smell, and look like this. I loved it. It was so different from anything I’d grown up with.
“You just climb up on the board and swing your leg over the fence,” Jack said patiently. He was wearing jeans, dark grey green wellington boots, “wellies,” a dark green waxed Barbour rain jacket, and a tartan Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck. I didn’t look much different. Although my “wellies” were dark brown as was my ladies’ version of the jacket—the spoils of the many packages that had arrived. I felt like I was in a Town & Country photo spread.