Smitten by the Brit--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  Shouldering her laptop bag, she headed to the orientation meeting for summer instructors. She’d arrived in Cambridge a few days ago and had plenty of time to settle in, but still, as she walked through the Newnham gardens toward another of the old redbrick buildings, she had to fight the urge to pinch herself. She was really here—on her own in England. Really teaching Shakespeare at Cambridge University. Bonnie gave her fifteen-year-old self a high five. That girl would be so proud. Hell, current Bonnie was proud. She’d done it. She’d packed up her old life, closed the book, and was ready to start fresh. Who knew what adventures lay ahead?

  She slipped into the meeting room and scurried to find a spot at the long wooden table. She was early, but several seats had already been taken. The room hummed with quiet conversation. Bonnie set her things down and looked around. A tea tray had been set up in one corner. Oh yes, she was going to love it here. Leaving her things by her seat, she made her way over to the tray. She filled a cup from the carafe of hot water and gleefully perused the tea selection. So much more variety than her office back home.

  “Earl Grey would be my choice,” a male voice suggested over her shoulder.

  Bonnie startled, and the cup jerked in her hand, splashing steaming water on her wrist. “Ouch!” she yelped.

  “Sorry,” the voice said, doing that British thing she loved, rounding the middle of the word with a soft, crisp d sound. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t,” Bonnie began. “Okay, well you did,” she admitted, dabbing at her skin where an angry red welt was forming. For half a second, she’d thought it was Theo behind her.

  “Oh dear.” The man sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ll wager that smarts.”

  “It looks worse than it is, really. Ginger problems.” She glanced up to offer him a reassuring smile and almost spilled on herself again. The man was strikingly handsome, with tousled sandy-blond hair and soulful brown eyes.

  What was up with her? For most of her life, she’d been immune to the male population, not noticing or caring what anyone who wasn’t Gabe looked like. Now she seemed to drool over every guy she met. Well, not every guy, just those with nice hair and British accents. And she wasn’t drooling, she was admiring. The man talking to her was very good-looking. This was a simple, objective fact.

  He returned her smile, a sweet, crooked grin making him even more handsome. Despite this, aside from appreciation for the specimen of male beauty before her, Bonnie realized she didn’t feel anything. She paused, mentally taking stock. Her pulse remained steady, and there was no prickling … anywhere. She wasn’t sure if this made her feel better or worse.

  “Are you going to take my advice?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “The tea.” His grin widened as he nodded toward the selection on the tray.

  Nope, nothing. Not one flicker. “Oh, right. Earl Grey? Really?”

  “Quite.” He filled a cup for himself and popped a tea bag in. “I know it’s not very continental of me, but I confess I prefer the old standby.” He handed her a tea bag, brushing her hand with his fingers.

  Was he flirting with her? Bonnie stared down at the tea bag. She wasn’t a fan of Earl Grey. It was, in her opinion, boring. But not wanting to be rude, Bonnie accepted his offering and plopped the tea bag into her cup. “Thanks.”

  “Of course.” He gazed at her over the rim of his steaming cup. His warm brown eyes reminded her of Cassie.

  Her best friend’s voice popped into her head. Yes, he is totally flirting with you.

  A few others had clustered around the tea tray, and Bonnie stepped out of the way. Unsure what to do next, she headed back toward her seat. He followed her.

  See? Cassie’s voice sang between Bonnie’s ears. Told you.

  As luck would have it, though the table had begun to fill up in earnest, the seat next to the one she’d left her things at was absent. She sat, and he settled into the chair beside her. Bonnie busied herself arranging her things, opening her notebook and digging a pen out of her laptop bag. She swore she could feel his eyes watching her every move as he sat back and sipped his tea.

  Say something, Cassie whispered in her head.

  Okay, Cassie really needed to stop doing that. Or, Bonnie needed to stop imagining her doing that. Ugh. Bonnie doodled on the corner of her notebook and stayed silent, willing her inner Cassie to do the same.

  “First time teaching summer term?” he asked.

  “That obvious?” She glanced up.

  “I haven’t seen you before.” He tapped her notebook, his hand brushing against hers for a moment. “And you’ve come a bit more prepared than those of us who’ve been at this awhile.”

  “Ease off, Romeo,” an older woman on Bonnie’s other side ordered. She turned her attention to Bonnie, eyes flashing behind her spectacles. “Watch out for Ian, he’s a charmer,” she said, but her warning held more humor than heat.

  “I’m only being friendly,” he protested.

  “I have a cousin named Ian,” Bonnie blurted, unsure how to handle this conversation.

  “There you go, Nan, we have something in common already.”

  The woman, Nan, shook her head, and huffed. “Whatever. It’s not my business.”

  Ian snorted and leaned closer to Bonnie, whispering in her ear, “You’ll find out soon enough, everything around here is Nan’s business.”

  Despite herself, Bonnie giggled. She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked back at Nan, but the woman had turned away to chat with someone farther down the table.

  “You leave me at a loss,” Ian said.

  “I do?” Bonnie returned her attention to the chatty Englishman.

  “You know my name, yet all I know is you have a cousin named Ian, and I’m fairly certain you’re American.”

  “American, yes.” She nodded, cheeks heating. “And I’m Bonnie.”

  “Indeed you are.” He reached for her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Bonnie.”

  Really, that’s what you’re going with? Bonnie had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes at his play on her name. She didn’t need Cassie’s mentally voiced opinion to confirm this guy was definitely flirting with her. Thank God he didn’t try to kiss her hand or anything.

  Unlike another British charmer who had made her heart flip-flop when he’d pulled that move.

  Though Bonnie wondered if the same gesture from someone other than Theo would affect her quite the same way. Again, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or bothered by the thought. For now, she decided to be relieved. She and Ian were going to be colleagues. The last thing she needed was to turn into a weak-kneed ninny around every guy with a cute smile and British accent.

  But beneath that relief swirled fear. If only one man made her feel that way … if only he had that effect on her …

  A woman approached the head of the table, and the room quieted. Bonnie silenced thoughts about Theo, tucking them away to worry about later. It had been three days since she’d arrived in England, and she hadn’t worked up the nerve to call him yet. Hadn’t even texted she was here.

  You’re hesitating. She pulled her notebook closer, straightening in her seat. This time it wasn’t the voice of her best friend invading her thoughts, but her uncle Donnie. Bonnie was waiting for a sign, when what she needed to do was just go for it. Theo had left the ball in her court. Told her to let him know when she was settled so they could meet up.

  But would they be meeting as friends or … something more? Did he expect to pick up right where they’d left off? Hopefully not right there. They’d left things so awkwardly—she’d left things so awkwardly—and now the longer she waited to call, the more awkward it became.

  She took a sip of tea, trying to focus on the schedule details the woman at the front of the room was reviewing, but her mind was a rubber band, snapping back to Theo. He’d wonder why she’d taken so long to let him know she was in town. And what could she say? That she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about her fee
lings for him?

  Even saying that was an admission that she had feelings for him. Feelings she wasn’t sure she understood. Feelings she wasn’t sure she could trust. He’d said to call when she was settled. Well, her suitcases may be unpacked, but she still hadn’t unpacked her feelings.

  And she was far from settled.

  * * *

  After the meeting, Bonnie rose and discreetly dumped her tea in the trash. While the other staff members stood around and mingled, she made a beeline for the door. She was halfway across the garden courtyard when someone called her name, the newly familiar voice bouncing around the low brick walls. Ian. She paused and turned, waiting for him to catch up with her.

  “Hey,” he said, slightly out of breath, a thatch of hair falling over his brow.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “Let me guess, you’re staying in one of the resident halls, right?” He pushed his hair back, looking like a windblown poet. He smiled, and something in her brain perked up and took note.

  Hmm. Maybe she wasn’t immune to him after all.

  “Why do you want to know?” Bonnie narrowed her gaze at him. She wasn’t a complete lackwit. She knew better than to hand out info about where she was living.

  Picking up on her vibe, Ian stepped back. “I’m not planning to stalk you.” He raised his hands, palms up. “God’s truth.”

  She continued to stare at him.

  “It’s only”—he dropped his hands and shrugged—“if you haven’t learned yet, the grub here is dodgy. I thought you might like to get off campus and have a bite with me sometime.”

  “Oh.” She relaxed. He had a point. The resident banquet hall did leave much to be desired. Bonnie wasn’t complaining; free food was free food, after all. But still, it would be nice to get out and have something other than cafeteria-style shepherd’s pie. And she was curious about the city. Cambridge had a rich history, and she was aching to explore more. She’d been hoping to do that with Theo but …

  “Why not.” It would be good for her to get out.

  A grin broke across Ian’s face. No dimples, but still, a little tingle-worthy. “Are you free tonight?” His warm brown eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

  Maybe it was because his golden brown eyes reminded Bonnie of her best friend, or maybe it was because she was in a foreign country and was lonely … or maybe it was because she was mad at herself for not following up with a certain other Brit yet and this was a convenient distraction, but Bonnie decided yes, she did want to go out for dinner with Ian. “Sure,” she said, committing before she could back out. “What time?”

  * * *

  “You’re going on a date?” Cassie clapped her hands. “That was fast.”

  “It’s not a date,” Bonnie countered, sorting through her clothing options in the wardrobe of her dorm. She adored her little room, loved the tall oak wardrobe and matching dresser and desk, the narrow bed with the curling wrought-iron headboard. She especially loved the view of the garden from her window, and the glimpse of the other historic university buildings beyond.

  “You know, this sounds very familiar,” Cassie teased. “Isn’t that what you all told me when I agreed to meet Logan for a drink last summer?”

  Bonnie snorted. And look how that turned out. But this really wasn’t a date. “It’s not a date,” she said again.

  “If you say so.”

  Bonnie didn’t need to look up and see her friend’s face on the chat screen. She could hear Cassie’s doubt loud and clear.

  “What are you wearing for your non-date?” Cassie asked.

  “Ha-ha,” Bonnie said, but didn’t rise to the bait. That was exactly what one of them, probably Ana, had asked Cassie last summer. “I’m thinking a sundress; it was pretty warm today.”

  “Just nothing with animals on it, please,” Cassie admonished.

  Bonnie stared at the outfit she’d been about to pull off a hanger. It was her bird dress, the one Sadie had wanted to burn. “Oh, come on. You too? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It makes you look like that wacky teacher who does all those wild experiments on a flying school bus.”

  She wondered if Cassie could see her glaring at the screen from across the room. “Just because we have the same red hair—”

  “Please, Bonnie. Trust me. No animals. Or birds or insects or teacups, even.”

  “Fine.” Bonnie tossed the bird dress onto the bed and tugged out another sundress. This one was basic black with an ivory swiss-dot pattern. She held it up to the laptop camera for Cassie’s approval.

  Cassie gave a thumbs-up, and Bonnie began to change. “No animals,” she said, tugging the dress over her head. “Any other rules?”

  “Are you going to be alone with this guy?”

  “Nope.” Bonnie pulled up the zipper and shook her head. “We’re meeting in town. At a restaurant.”

  “What restaurant?”

  Bonnie padded across the herringbone pattern of the honey-colored pine floorboards and sat down at the desk. She adjusted her laptop screen until her face popped up in the chat window. “It’s walking distance from here. The Hawk, I think?” She grabbed her phone and double-checked the info Ian had given her. “The Eagle.”

  “Well, text me later so I know you got home safe,” Cassie said.

  “Yes, Mom,” Bonnie teased. She was usually the one acting like a mother hen. “I’ll bring a sweater too.”

  “Good. Summer evenings in England get cold.” Cassie winked into the camera. “Hey, speaking of cold, why are you giving Theo the cold shoulder?”

  “I’m not.” Bonnie avoided facing the screen as she pulled on a sweater.

  “You haven’t called him yet.”

  Bonnie froze, meeting Cassie’s gaze. “He told you that?”

  “He told Logan, which is basically the same thing.” Cassie peered at her. “Everything okay between you two?”

  “Eveything’s fine.” Bonnie smoothed the sweater down over the pleats of her dress.

  “I hope so,” Cassie murmured. “I’d hate to see the best man and maid of honor at my wedding not getting along.”

  Ugh, another reason to avoid calling him. If she messed things up, if things got weird with Theo, or weirder than they already were, she could ruin her best friend’s wedding. “When do we start planning wedding stuff over here?” Bonnie asked, taking advantage of the opportunity to change the subject.

  “Soon. I fly in next week.”

  “Already?” She hadn’t been expecting that. Next week marked the beginning of July. Cassie wasn’t getting married until August. Bonnie had selfishly hoped she’d have a few more weeks to herself before all that started.

  “Work, remember? I’m covering Wimbledon for my new segment on how the media portrays women in professional sports.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Bonnie smiled apologetically into the web cam. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

  “That’s an understatement.” Cassie laughed. “Seriously, though, Bon, call Theo. And have fun on your date tonight.”

  “I will.” Bonnie blew a kiss at the screen. “And it’s not a date.” Ensuring she got the last word, Bonnie quickly closed out the chat and logged off. She checked the time. She was supposed to meet Ian in about half an hour. According to her map app, it was only a ten-minute walk from her building to the pub.

  She got up and hung her bird dress back in the wardrobe. She knew she had quirky taste but couldn’t help it. Besides, Gabe never seemed to mind.

  Yeah, but maybe if you had dressed less silly and more sexy, you wouldn’t have found your fiancé in bed with someone else. No. She shoved those negative thoughts back into whatever evil little dark cave in her brain they had crawled out from. What happened with Gabe was not her fault. She glanced in the mirror hanging over the dresser. He made that choice. How she looked or what she wore had nothing to do with it.

  She scrunched up her face, considering. Like her literary counterpart, Anne Shirley, it had taken a long time for Bonnie to overc
ome her animosity toward her red hair and freckles. As she’d gotten older, she’d finally started to appreciate how her coloring set her apart. And now, as she neared thirty, she admitted it was nice to still get carded. At almost fifty, her mother often still got carded too. At least Bonnie had that to look forward to.

  Before she could change her mind, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her purse and phone, and headed out the door for her non-date. As Bonnie headed across campus, the sense of adventure returned, and a twinge of excitement blossomed. She was on her own in England, a professor (or summer instructor, at least) at Cambridge! And yes, she rather liked the fact that she was on her way to meet a handsome British professor for dinner. Once more, she high-fived her teenage self.

  The Eagle was straight out of a dream. Historical places often turned Bonnie into an awestruck fangirl. She stared openmouthed, wanting to look everywhere—to touch everything—at once. Open since the 1500s, the former coach inn sported dark walnut panels and a curved antique corner bar.

  Once she and Ian were seated, Bonnie stared up at the ceiling, where graffiti had been burned into the plaster. She squinted at the blackened maze of numbers and letters, trying to decipher their meaning.

  “The Eagle is history personified,” Ian said, following her gaze, “literally. Most of the graffiti was created in the early 1940s by pilots flying in World War II.” He pointed to a big, bold 398 clearly visible on the ceiling near the entrance. “That’s a squadron number.”

  Bonnie shivered, having removed her sweater, when one of the thin straps of her dress slipped off her shoulder. She tugged it back into place, thinking of the soldier who must have stood on a bar stool, or maybe a copilot’s back, to make those marks, wanting to leave some proof of his existence behind, knowing any day his life could be cut short. “Amazing.” She smiled at Ian, glad she’d agreed to meet him for dinner. This was just the kind of place she was hoping to experience.