An Unexpected Kind of Love

by Hayden Stone

  “Tedium? That’s serious.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “You’re not arranging a private bean collection alphabetically or anything terrible like that, I hope.”

  I laugh. Something frees up inside my chest. “No. I’d be useless at that without you. Even if I had a bean collection.”

  “Give it time,” he teases.

  Something in me leaps at the idea of more time with Blake. He says it so casually, like of course we have unlimited days before us, unlike the current clock ticking on his days before going back home to America. It’s a thrill to think of doing anything with Blake, even organizing a hypothetical bean collection.

  God, I have it bad.

  “’Kay, so no bean organization. Book organization?”

  “Well,” I say glumly. “You’re close with that one. Except my shop’s still mostly cleared out from filming, my stock in boxes somewhere on one of your film crew’s lorries. And the problem—one of them—is the floor. Apparently my assistant, Gemma, saw the damage happen. Alice Rutherford left an apologetic note, but I have no idea if they will actually fix this. Or how much it will cost me. Or how long it will take. Because every day the shop’s closed is a day I’m losing money. They’re not filming, so I don’t think I’m getting any money for the location, either.”

  “Shit.” Blake’s frown is audible. “That’s fucked.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well,” he says with authority. “Let me help.”

  “Blake, it’s brilliant that you fixed my sink, but the floors—”

  “I’m not going to fix the floors, don’t worry—but I’ll talk to Alice to make sure they do right away.” His voice is tense. “They should have fixed it already.”

  “Well…”

  “Leave it with me,” Blake assures me. His easy confidence provides some comfort. I’m not used to letting anyone help me. Everything always needs to be sorted on my own. I want to protest, but it’s a strange, comforting feeling knowing that he wants to help me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “’Course.”

  “’Kay.” I draw a deep breath. I’ll give him a chance to sort this out. “See you later to make plans for the weekend?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. And don’t worry, I’m going to talk to Alice right now.”

  With that, I hang up and sit back in my office chair. I’m still stressed, but with Blake’s help, I feel less overwhelmed. Like maybe this is fixable after all.

  When Blake arrives later, the shop has heated to the surface temperature of the sun. The usual curtains that cover the windows were packed away during the filming prep, and the curtains for filming taken away. The door’s propped open for any hint of a breeze. A couple of ancient fans attempt to circulate air.

  “Aubrey?” Blake calls into the mostly empty room, his voice echoing.

  I emerge from my office to see him standing just inside the open door. He puts down an overnight bag against the wall.

  Behind him, traffic’s snarled with the Friday commute. A steady flow of foot traffic passes. This would be prime time for book sales. If only I had books. Never mind.

  Instead, I thrill at the sight of him, lifting me again from the glum of the day’s problems. Blake’s in a form-fitting sky-blue shirt, a great contrast against his tan. And, thankfully, showing his well-toned arms. He takes off his sunglasses and grins. He draws me close, and we kiss to make heat of our own.

  When we straighten, it takes a moment to bring me back.

  “You all right? I’ve been worried. You sounded so down.”

  “Well…” I’d rather pretend I don’t have problems with the shop and disappear into the fantasy of Blake. But he’s looking at me so intently. “I’m mostly okay. I suppose. Except for the bits that…aren’t.”

  He frowns. “Well, tell me. But first, look what I found. It’s rare in your country.”

  Blake produces cold beer and crisps from another bag. “Let’s have a picnic for now and then order something or go out. What do you think?”

  “Brilliant.”

  I lock up the front door, turning to see Blake scowl at the damaged floor. He’s crouched, running his fingers along one of the deep ruts.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  I sigh.

  “But I have good news.”

  “Oh?”

  We walk through to the back and climb the stairs to my flat, which is also hot. At least the air moves more up here with the open windows. Blake sets out our picnic. The cold lager’s refreshing.

  “I talked to Alice,” Blake tells me after opening the crisps. “And I got mad that they hadn’t fixed things already. She promised me that they would have someone come tomorrow—”

  Disappointment knots in my stomach. So much for our plans to get away.

  “Thanks.” Unfortunately, I sound more disappointed than thrilled.

  Blake frowns at me, worried. “Is that not good? I just wanted to help.”

  “No, no, it’s good. Thanks. Just…I was looking forward to a weekend mini-break with you,” I confess sheepishly. Though that will cost too, but I don’t want to be a drag either. “Obviously the floors need to be fixed as soon as possible.”

  Blake’s expression softens. “I’m looking forward to going away too.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Could your assistant help? Like, could she supervise?”

  “Her supervision is how this happened in the first place.” I sigh. “Maybe. I can ask her.”

  He brightens. “If she can help, the weekend’s saved.”

  The only problem is that Gemma’s help comes with a price tag.

  “This is all so expensive. I just…maybe I shouldn’t.” I reach for the crisps set on the coffee table. Blake’s beside me on the sofa.

  “On that note,” Blake says, “I have some news.”

  “Oh? What sort of news?”

  Blake’s smile gives me hope.

  “Yeah, news,” he confirms. “Great news. The production company’s covering not only the cost of all repairs, but every day you’re closed too. Original hardwood floors better than the ones you had. And they’re paying for every day till you can fully open again.”

  I brighten a little at that. “Really?”

  “Really.” He squeezes my hand.

  “It sounds too good to be true.”

  “Apparently it’s in your contract you signed, Alice says.”

  “You’re right.” Despite the heat, I lean into him. Blake wraps his arms around me. Like this, there’s some hope.

  “Thanks for looking into all of this for me.” I give him a kiss, but I can’t shake off my worries, even so. Not entirely.

  He frowns. “You still have that look.”

  “What look?”

  “A stressed look like you’re thinking of fifteen different things all at the same time. What is it?”

  “It’s not what you’ve done,” I assure Blake. “That’s brilliant. It’s just…well, I’m behind on the shop’s bills and now the flat too and…all of this might not be enough. I mean, I shouldn’t spend more money on anything, really.”

  Blake gives me a kiss. “Listen. The weekend escape is my treat. If you still want to escape with me, that is.”

  “Of course I do,” I blurt instantly.

  He laughs, looking relieved. “Oh, good.”

  “Sorry. It’s just been so much worrying about the shop, you know? I’m behind on a lot and the film’s helping short-term, but I don’t know how I can get out of this hole. Or if I even can, how I won’t end up in the same place six months from now.”

  It’s a lot to think about. I’m mad at myself for even thinking about any of this while Blake’s here, just wanting to enjoy the very limited time we have together. Anything beyond this is a dream, no matter how much I want him.

&
nbsp; He squeezes me lightly. “I’m very glad you’re telling me. I want to know about you. And help.”

  “You’re fantastic, did I tell you that?” I sigh, leaning into him.

  Affectionately, he nuzzles me. “All you need to worry about this weekend is relaxing.”

  “God, I’m going to miss you.” That tumbles out before I can help it too. That’s the problem with Blake. He’s so disarming I find myself saying all kinds of things I don’t say to anyone, not even Lily.

  “I’m not going anywhere yet, gorgeous. Now. Let me spoil you and take you away this weekend, if you’ll let me?”

  “’Kay. What did you have in mind?”

  “I hear the Lake District’s beautiful. We can grab a rental car and do some hiking. Or hillwalking, as I hear the locals call it. Get a little cottage for a couple of days. What do you think?”

  Part of me wants to stress and protest at the cost. The other part of me thrills at being taken care of by Blake, his careful attention. In response, I kiss him. And he kisses me.

  Then, we spend the evening making arrangements. Gemma agrees to come help with supervising repairs at the shop. Blake and I scroll through cottages and book one.

  It’s wonderful, the idea of having Blake to myself for a few days in a world of our own.

  Chapter Fourteen

  We fuck right off on Friday morning, as Blake’s filming breaks before their last push before wrapping, all the way up to the Lake District. It’s an expanse of a palette of greens and sweeping skies and brooding clouds over mountains, a respite from the heat island of London and a break finally in the relentless heat wave of the last week.

  But first, there’s the getting-there part. We pick up a hire car and we set off on the motorway north, fueled with plenty of vegan snacks and a buffet of crisps by way of cultural introduction. A couple of times I white-knuckle it on the oh shit handle as he gets used to right-hand driving, but luckily he’s a quick study. At any rate, he’s a confident driver, like everything else he does.

  We’ve got enough clothes for a couple of nights, along with my dad’s guitar. Knowing my dad, he probably wouldn’t have wanted me sitting around getting too precious about it. Last night, I did my best to condition my old hiking boots, which are more or less in shambles and past ready for retirement. They’re from the days when Eli and I would take off to the South Downs or further afield for a change of scene. From the times I would stomp through tall grasses for the perfect shot or during frosty mornings or with fog rolling through broad pastures.

  We have a holiday cottage, a private getaway as promised. Blake at least lets me pay for petrol and the snack buffet. To compensate, there’s also plenty of veggie crisps, dried seeds, mixed nuts, and wasabi peas that I picked up from the organic grocer’s while Blake picked up the car. We stop to collect the keys to our cottage after hours cooped up in the car.

  When we pull into the gravel lot by the low stone cottage, the afternoon threatens rain. It’s a relief after the scorching few days. Out here, I feel like I can finally draw in a deep breath, even with the adrenaline of this rural idyllic escape with Blake. It’s uncharted territory, just him and me, away from film sets and damaged bookshops, and the ghosts that chase me.

  He parks and we step out into a fine mist.

  Blake outstretches his arms broadly, smiling with his eyes closed. “Oh, this is perfect.”

  I can’t help a grin at how blissed out he is. I tug on the hood of my light jacket. “This is the normal weather in my country. I’m glad it’s finally delivering.”

  He returns the grin and comes close to draw me into his arms, into a deep kiss. There’s no one around, just rain and grazing sheep off in the distance, and the rustle of leaves in the light breeze from the nearby trees. A bird sings, and there’s a stillness and peace I haven’t felt in a very long time. The sort of peace that doesn’t exist in the heart of London.

  Blake catches my face between his hands, gazing affectionately at me. “We made it.”

  “We did,” I confirm, and greedily I steal another kiss. It’s him and me and Cumbria is all ours this afternoon, without another human in sight. It’s perfect. And then I smother a yawn and he laughs.

  “Am I boring you already?”

  “Oh no. It’s just I’m not used to long car rides. Long anything, really.”

  “Really? I might have something for you that you’d be interested in,” Blake teases, pressing into me with promise. “Well, we can have a nap and a lazy night.”

  So we go in and check out the quaint cottage from an era gone by, all traditional furniture and paisley print cushions and matching curtains. There’s a working hearth with fire, if it gets cool enough later. A small kitchenette is off to the side, with the all-important kettle. Being me, I’ve brought along a selection of tea in my pack. A bowl of fresh fruit sits on the counter along with a welcome note. It’s all quite perfect and Blake draws me down on a proper bed. And we make out till we finally give in to the drowsy, lazy afternoon and fall asleep to the patter of rain, held in each other’s arms.

  The evening passes quietly, with us holed up in the cottage, and both of us getting an actual decent night’s sleep with the cooler temperatures. For me, the cottage also means the luxury of a real bed.

  Today, the sky brightens. We put on our hillwalking gear and off we go tromping about through farmer’s fields and windswept paths and along green tracks. We come across few people along the way, eventually rewarded with vistas over villages and expanses of lakes. Our reward at the end of it when the next squall rolls in is putting our feet up in a local pub and drying off.

  We kick off the mud from our boots and hole up in a corner together, in a mix of locals and other hillwalkers. Everyone is happy to be dry inside.

  After I return to Blake with two ales, we reward ourselves for our efforts and clink glasses.

  “Not a bad way to spend a day,” Blake says, still smiling from our adventure.

  “Not bad,” I agree, and I could happily spend a lot of days tromping about with Blake outdoors. We both brought our cameras and enjoyed some photography along the way.

  “I’ve got the bean of the day for you.” Light-hearted, I smile affectionately at Blake, unexpected brain chemicals making me happy, almost giddy. See, I can do new tricks.

  “Bean of the day!” Blake beams over his ale, looking a bit like a mountain man today in his thermal top and five o’clock shadow, a bandana around his neck and sunglasses on his head. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “I’ve got a clue.” I give him an intent look. “It’s white.”

  “Ooh, let me guess: navy bean, broad bean, the actual white bean.”

  I make a face at him, wrinkling my nose. “That’s cheating. There’s no such thing as an actual white bean. Cop-out.”

  “There really is such a thing,” he assures me with an irreverent sparkle in his eye. Was there a time when I was Blakeless, without any bean banter in my life?

  “Another clue.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “It’s got a black bit.”

  “Oh! Black-eyed bean.” Blake looks at me, triumphant. “Easy.”

  I gawp. “Seriously? How did you guess that so fast?”

  “I know my beans, remember? Runner-up would be the pinto bean, but those have brown spots on them.”

  Harrumphing, I sip my ale to nurse the abject loss of stumping Blake over beans. Really, I ought to know better than go head-to-head with a vegan over legumes, but sometimes I go a bit off the rails.

  “They’re one of my favorites.” Blake looks at me hopefully. “Great in soups.”

  “Yeah?” I give him a skeptical look.

  “Delicious, in fact. I’ll make it for you sometime.”

  I blink. “You’d cook for me?”

  “Of course I would. I love cooking.”

  “
Imagine.” It’s hard to imagine, actually. But seeing as Blake has a handle on things, from beans to DIY, why should cooking come as a surprise? Somehow, I’ve generally failed to adult appropriately. The idea of being taken care of by him, though, sends a ripple up my spine. Even if it’s bean-related care.

  “Well, I didn’t see a ton of vegan options on the menu,” I tell him. “But there’s green salad and chips, if that’s all right. Maybe they can make a sandwich with veg instead. I don’t know how well cut out country pubs are for vegans.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m very adaptable.” He grins.

  I feel my face growing hot. “Good to keep in mind for future reference. What else should I know about you?”

  “Oh, you think there’s more to know?” Blake teases.

  “Could be,” I drawl back. “Who knows what else you’ve got.”

  “Ideas. Loads of ideas.”

  “Ideas about what?” I peer at him, smiling.

  “Not just filthy ideas.” Blake’s grin warms me. “Even practical ones.”

  “Go on. I’m intrigued.”

  “For your shop, even.”

  Now he has my attention. “What sort of ideas?”

  “Well, you said it’s struggling. If you want, I can help you come up with a plan to turn things around.”

  “This isn’t a snake oil salesman trick?” I smile, but even my hope is tempered against the current reality of the shop.

  “Oh no. I’m fresh out of that. I’m actually qualified to help.”

  I laugh. Blake looks so earnest. “Tell me more.”

  “I’m a marketing major. But I never used it. But I’ve taken business courses too. I can help you come up with a business plan. Like, a short-term plan helping toward a long-term plan. You know, one-year plan versus five-year plan. We can look at your publicity and marketing, online sales, things like that.”

  I just stare at him. Blake’s talking some other language. Things I should probably know about, but frankly, don’t.

  He grins. “See? I’m totally the guy you need.”

  “Holy shit, Blake.”