by Loraine, Kim
There were the odd knickknacks, such as paperclips he’d destroyed by bending them into random shapes, one of his fire helmets which she could barely look at, a manila folder full of pictures of them together, and his uniform.
She set aside everything except for the uniform shirt. She took the deep blue fabric in her hands and brought it to her face. She inhaled deeply and could still smell him; clean and a little spicy. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but this time she was smiling.
“Grace.” Valerie’s voice was soft. “Do you want me to go? I can get some lunch while you look through his things.”
“No, I think I’m good. I’m going to save this for later.” She ran her fingers over the envelope with her name on it.
Valerie nodded and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
“I think I’ll keep the pictures and the shirt. The rest can go to Marianne. Would you mind boxing it back up for me?”
Valerie set to work on getting the box packed and placed it by the front door. Grace stood, brushed her hands off, and took the few precious mementos of John back to her bedroom. When she returned to her living room, Valerie took her in a tight hug. Grace let out the breath she’d been holding and pulled away to give Valerie a watery smile.
“All right, let’s get to work.” She pulled herself together. “This house isn’t going to pack itself.”
Months later, here she was, sitting in her new bedroom, an expectant Valerie waiting for details of her major make-out session with another man. She took a deep breath and stood.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat and I’ll tell you about it.”
“So, how are things with Drew? Any new developments you haven’t shared?” Valerie asked Grace two weeks later as they walked back from appraising the work site.
“It’s really . . . different.”
“Different good?”
“I think so. I mean, it’s been fifteen days since we started really seeing each other, but we’ve both been so busy we’ve had most of our conversations by text. He may look like John, but I forget that most of the time. He’s just, different.”
“Well, when are you seeing him again?”
“Maybe this weekend. He’s been spending a lot of time going back and forth to London. I guess they’re working on an expansion deal for Ten’s.”
Valerie’s eyebrows rose. “Really?” She eyed Grace carefully. “So you two haven’t, you know?”
“Had sex?” She laughed. “No. Not yet.”
“Really? You’ve got more self-control than I do. He’s hot. He’s got that whole mild-mannered, Clark Kent thing going for him.”
A grin spread over her lips and she chuckled as she opened the door to their house and headed inside, ready to attack her barrage of emails. Valerie sighed as she opened her laptop.
They’d been putting in long days as they tried to solve all the problems that came along with restoring historic buildings. They had to decide what was appropriate, safe, and fit the time period. Since the building served as connected homes, or apartments, it also had to be up to code to be considered safe for living. The building had once served as a home to one of the many lords given title by Henry VIII. It was large, grand, and had been altered many times. Maintaining the original structure and design was presenting numerous challenges. They spent countless hours scouring blueprints, any original documents they could find, and consulting with local historians, making sure all their work was authentic.
The sun was dipping below the horizon as the two of them put out the latest in a long line of fires for the project. Valerie stretched and yawned fiercely while Grace brought them both a glass of Pinot Noir she’d bought for the weekend.
“I was saving this for Saturday night, but I think we need it now,” she said as she pushed a stemless glass to her friend.
Valerie took the offered drink and leaned back in her chair as she downed half its contents. Grace eyed her suspiciously.
“Thirsty?”
“Yes.” Valerie’s answer was curt and out of character.
“What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted all day.”
As if on cue, Valerie’s phone chirruped again. She checked it briefly and rolled her eyes as she tossed it onto the table.
“Mick?” Grace asked.
“Yes. He won’t leave me alone. After the way he treated me while we were in London, I thought I was clear that I didn’t want to see him again.” Valerie’s eyes were fixed on the table, avoiding Grace’s concerned gaze.
Grace glanced at the clock over the fireplace and then downed her own glass. “Come on. Get your purse, we’re going out.”
Valerie’s eyes widened. “Grace, it’s a Thursday night. We have to work tomorrow.”
Grace smiled and shook her head. “Nope, I’m giving us a day off. Now get your purse and finish that wine. In the name of immersion, we need to experience the traditional English pub-crawl.”
“I guess, but you’re freaking me out a little. This is so not like you. I think I must be a bad influence.”
“Just get your purse, will you?”
The old clock tower was chiming eight when they rounded the corner and entered the town center. While the town was small, it wasn’t short on pubs. There was one on every block, each with a different specialty. Some served traditional English pub food, others opted for a more American style, some with western flair, and others with Karaoke. There was even one dance club at the far end of town.
People were beginning to mill around town, the regular crowd of pub-goers making their way for a drink after dinner. The first pub they chose was traditional English, with a solid wooden bar, complete with columns on each side and carved wood panels along the walls. A group of burly men stood at a tall table in the corner, drinking large glasses of dark beer and talking loudly about a rugby match they must have just played. They were visibly battered and bruised, their clothes stained with smudges of dirt and grass. She could practically smell the sweat and turf on them.
“Well, hello there, ladies. What’ll it be?” the bartender asked as they took a seat at the bar.
Grace turned to face Valerie. “Um, well . . . a pint of bitter?”
Valerie nodded and shrugged at the same time. “When in Rome?”
The bartender laughed and brought them each a full pint. As Grace brought the beer to her lips, she steeled herself for her usual reaction. “Bottoms up.”
They took long pulls on their pints and set their glasses down with a grimace, shudder, and a burp each.
“Ugh, I hate beer.” She turned to face Valerie. “Now tell me, what’s going on with Mick?”
“Nothing, really. He’s just acting like a possessive jerk. I mean, we were out at a club in London, I was dancing, and he was hanging out with some of his buddies. Some guy came up and started dancing close to me. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, not even touching me, but Mick came over and started yelling at him and pushing him around.” Valerie paused to take another large drink of her beer. “After that, we left and Mick started telling me I was acting like a whore by the way I was dancing and what I was wearing. He told me I was his and I needed to start acting like it.”
Grace finished her beer while Valerie talked and felt herself getting angrier with each sentence.
“So, I kicked him to the curb and he’s been calling and texting me non-stop ever since,” she finished and took a deep breath, polishing off the rest of her own drink.
“Wow, that’s kind of scary. Has he threatened you in any way?”
“No. He sticks to the constant calls and texts. I ignore it. He’s harmless, but annoying.” She looked around the pub, a pout on her sweet face. “This place is dead, let’s go somewhere we can sing karaoke.”
Valerie hopped off the barstool and headed out
before Grace could finish paying for their round. She followed as they made a beeline for the nearest karaoke bar.
When they walked in the door, they were assaulted by someone finishing a terrible Whitney Houston impression on the tiny stage, followed by the crowd’s enthusiastic applause. The bar was dark, humid, and filled with weeknight drinkers. The smell of cigarette smoke tickled her nose and made her sneeze as Valerie found them a table toward the center of the audience. Grace sat gingerly at the slightly sticky table, while Valerie headed toward the bar to bring them each a drink.
Chapter 9
“Oi, mate! All right? Let’s get this show on the road,” Alec called to Drew from the doorway. “Missy will be pissed good and proper before we even get a pint in if you don’t hurry it up.”
Drew finished doing up the buttons on his faded denim shirt. He glanced in the mirror, giving himself the quick once-over. He looked good. A night out with his mates was just what he needed to get his head straight. He’d not been able to get Grace out of his mind, and their snogging session a few weeks back just intensified the feeling. He wanted to be near her every second and it was driving him mad. He felt slightly giddy at the idea of escaping her magnetic pull on him, if only for a moment.
The group standing in front of him was a ridiculous bunch of crap footballers. There were five of them all together. Stuart, Mark, Bryan, and Alec, the groom, all looked as if they’d already started the festivities without him. Stuart, who was a bit on the round side, out of shape, and a terrible drunk, belched and grinned. His cheeks were reddened by the effects of the alcohol he’d obviously consumed.
Drew cocked an eyebrow. “Started without me?”
“Pfft.” Stuart waved a hand at him. “Didn’t expect us to wait all bloody night for a greengrocer, did ya?”
Mark rolled his eyes at his stocky friend. “We’ve only had a few pints. Stu, on the other hand, has taken it upon himself to be the first of us to be sick all over someone.”
“All right, you sod, let’s go.” Drew pushed Stuart down the walk toward the first pub in their path.
They were smashed by the time they finally caught up with Missy and her hen-night party. His group must have stopped at four pubs since beginning their shambling adventure toward drunkenness. Drew couldn’t keep going like the rest of them. His lanky build left him little tolerance for excessive alcohol, and five pints was bordering on excessive for him. The place they were meant to meet Missy was the town’s only karaoke bar and he grimaced at the thought of listening to bad covers of Beyoncé.
The club—for a pub it was not—was dimly lit, smoky, and loud. His head began hurting the moment he walked inside and was assaulted by the smell of sweat and stale cigarette smoke. He and Mark hung back, observing the scene, while the rest of the party was already entangled with Missy’s hen-night.
Mark shot a keen glance his way and grinned. “Come on, old chap. Let’s get you a drink.”
Drew caught a glimpse of the women already out of control and taking over the karaoke stage. He waved away the drink offer and headed for a seat as far from the speakers as possible. That was when he saw the familiar sway of Grace’s hips as she walked with Valerie to a table in the center of the room.
His breath sped as he took in the tight jeans showcasing her gorgeous ass. Dark locks of hair spilled down her back enticingly, just begging to have his hands tangled in it. He smiled at the turn the evening had just taken and decided to take Mark up on that pint after all.
His buddy followed his gaze as he brought their pints back from the bar. “Ah, I see what’s brought you around.” The grin on his face caused Drew’s ears to burn. “The sharks are circling, mate.”
He’d already noticed the other men as they caught sight of Grace, her unassuming sexiness incredibly alluring. She, for her part, was oblivious to the world around her. She picked at her cuticles and looked generally uninterested in her surroundings. He had to beat down the surge of excitement at the thought of her lack of attention to any of the men in the room.
“Go on, then. You said things were moving along with her. Go get her.” Mark nudged him forward.
“Drew! Drew!” He heard her before she crashed into him, wrapping her little body around his in an unusual gesture of familiarity.
“Val. Hello.” He laughed as she pulled herself upright and turned to the bar to collect two drinks.
She smiled and swayed slightly on her heels. “Grace will be so happy to see you. She needs some hot man-cake action.”
His eyebrows rose as he took in her words. Fighting a blush, he took a sip of his beer. “Man-cake, eh?”
“Oh yeah, she needs it. It’s been a long time, and she gets so cranky.”
Valerie was clearly drunk and apparently alcohol made her chatty. He grinned and took the drinks from her, setting his own on the bar.
“Oh, no-no-no. You go over there,” she said, pointing in the direction of Grace’s table. “I’ve got meddling to do. I’ll be back with these in a few minutes. Keep her company.”
He nodded, laughing at this little bit of a woman who somehow managed to steer everyone the way she wanted them to go.
He picked up his beer and headed toward Grace.
While she waited in the noisy bar, Grace turned her attention to the group of girls, obviously part of a bachelorette party, as they piled up on the stage. They launched into a Spice Girls song, which was barely discernible through all of their giggling.
She wanted a drink, badly. Karaoke was a guilty pleasure for her, but she needed a little more liquid courage to actually get on stage.
“Taking a break from the Tudor family, eh?”
A soft, deep voice in her ear sent a shiver up her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood when his breath tickled her skin and a flash of heat crept up her face. She smiled and turned to look into dark eyes, glittering with amusement.
Drew took the seat next to hers and sat his beer down on the table.
“Yes. I was feeling a bit murderous. Too much Henry, not enough Spice Girls.” She gestured toward the drunken women and their microphones.
“I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt.” He looked with a grimace at the stage.
“What are you doing here? Are you a closet karaoke champion?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No way. One of my mates is getting married on Sunday. I’m here for his stag night. That’s his lovely bride up there now.”
He winced as the bride toppled off the stage, her veil with glowing penises flying out behind her.
“Nice.” She tried to suppress her laughter. “Well, don’t let me take you away from your fabulous evening.” She was offering him an out and trying to disguise the twinge of disappointment in her voice.
Drew took a drink of his beer and smiled. “No way. You’re not getting away from me now. I’ve not gotten to see you nearly as much as I’d like to. They won’t miss me. I’m pretty sure these blokes are all so pissed they won’t be making it any farther than here tonight anyway.”
“Who has their bachelor and bachelorette nights on a Thursday?”
“Ah, well the bride there, she didn’t want him to get out of control without her and this was the only day they could do it. They’re umm . . . an interesting lot.”
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Me? No, I’m taking the day off.”
His boyish smile was irresistible. Grace leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, there was a lemon drop martini in front of her and Valerie was seated on the other side of the table, grinning from ear to ear.
“What took you so long?” Grace asked.
“You’ll see.” Valerie’s smile didn’t falter as she took a sip of her cosmopolitan.
Grace had a sinking feeling she knew what was co
ming. She looked at Drew and raised her glass.
Two lemon drops later, she was drunk. She wasn’t out of control or sick, just pleasantly floating on the alcohol in her system. In the back of her mind, she knew she should either stop drinking or eat something.
As Valerie arrived with a third round of cocktails, Grace pushed the thought out of her mind. Drew had gone back to his party for the next round of pints, just as the DJ called Grace to the stage.
“What did you do?”
“You’ll see. You know this one, I promise. Work it.” Valerie cheered loudly when the DJ called her name again and Grace headed toward the tiny stage.
Drew winked as she stepped up to the microphone, unsure of the song Valerie had picked. The familiar opening of . . . Baby One More Time began and she laughed as the crowd groaned.
She smiled to herself, letting go of her inhibitions and deciding to go for it. She was a good singer; she’d been in choir all through high school and a regular at her college karaoke bar. She also remembered this music video very well. It was all naughty schoolgirl and innuendo.
As she started her performance, her nerves dissipated and she began to move with the music. She locked eyes with Drew and almost forgot the words when he licked his lower lip. He sat with his eyes wide and his attention glued to her. She swiveled her hips with the music and focused on him, emulating a sexually repressed Catholic schoolgirl as well as she could. Blame it on the drinks, or the way Drew’s eyes were searing her own; she felt sexy. Eat your heart out, Britney.