“Romances novels aren’t realistic,” I breathed, remembering what Ellie had said about Jeremy seeming as if he’d stepped out of the pages of one.
“Maybe, but it seems to me you’re practically living inside one right now. You’re about to be in England, all dressed up like Elizabeth Bennet with your own live-action Darcy. A hot one. Sounds like a dream come true to me.”
Chapter 19
Tuesday
Our final fitting was scheduled for ten in the morning. I picked up Jeremy and we drove to Mitchell’s shop together. When we got there, a familiar black Audi was parked in the lot. I pulled into a spot several spaces away.
“No way,” I groaned, squeezing the steering wheel.
“What?” Jeremy asked, glancing around for the source of my discomfort.
I nodded toward the Audi. “That’s Lacey’s car.”
“She’s here?” He glanced into the shop.
“Yeah, which means Harrison is too, probably. Want to come back later?” I knew it was a cowardly thing to say, but I didn’t feel up to trading barbs with Lacey and her manicure today.
“No,” Jeremy said, already pulling off his seatbelt. “We have an appointment, don’t we?”
“Yeah, I’m going to kill Mitchell for this. This is exactly the type of drama he’s into.” I glanced down at my clothing. No maxi-dress for Lacey to mock. You’d have to be truly sinister to mock jeans and a black T-shirt. Still, I wouldn’t put it past her.
“Let’s go.” Jeremy opened the door and unfolded his six-foot-three-inch body from my tiny car.
I reluctantly unbuckled my seatbelt and followed him, locking the car with my fob on my way in and dragging my feet.
The bell on the door jangled when Jeremy opened it for me. I winced as both Mitchell and Lacey (who was standing next to him near the counter) turned to look at us. Harrison was nowhere to be seen. The dressing room curtains were closed. I suspected he was in there.
“Hi, Mitchell,” I said in as bright as voice as I could muster.
“Sorry!” Mitchell mouthed. He was standing behind Lacey so she couldn’t see him. “Hi, Meggie,” he said aloud for her benefit.
“Dr. Knightley, what are you doing here?” Lacey asked me, although she wasn’t looking at me, she was too busy eyeing Jeremy like a hungry predator again. I couldn’t exactly blame her. Mitchell and I had eyed him too.
“It’s time for our fitting.” I glanced at my phone. “You said ten o’clock, didn’t you, Mitchell?”
Lacey turned to Mitchell with one eyebrow arched. “And ours was at nine thirty?”
“Sorry, y’all,” Mitchell said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He patted his head with his hands.
I knew what he’d been thinking: Days of Our Lives being played out live in his shop would be fun to watch.
Ms. Julia ran up to Jeremy and scratched at his leg, obviously wanting to be picked up and petted.
“Harrison’s just finishing up,” Lacey explained. “We should be gone soon.”
“Don’t rush on our account.” Jeremy scooped up the dog and patted her on the mobcap.
We all stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes before Harrison pushed open the curtains of the dressing room and came out wearing his J.Crew-type clothing. “It all looks adequate—” he said to Mitchell before he stopped short at the sight of us.
“Meg.” He said my name with no emotion.
“Harrison,” I tried to mimic the same hollow voice.
His gaze jumped back and forth between me and Jeremy. Harrison cleared his throat. “Meg, may I have a word with you...privately?”
My gaze flew to Jeremy’s. I didn’t need his approval, but for some reason I wanted it. He nodded nearly imperceptibly. “Okay,” I said to Harrison.
Lacey’s eyes narrowed to slits and she folded her arms across her chest as she watched Harrison and me walk to the front door and jangle our way outside.
Once the door closed behind us, he turned to me. “Do you really think you can make this construction worker into Mr. Darcy?” When he sneered the words “construction worker,” my nostrils flared.
“What?” Of all the things I thought he might say to me at this moment, somehow, I hadn’t expected this. “Who told you he’s a construction worker?”
“Mitchell did, not that it matters. I’m serious, Meg. I don’t think you’ve thought this through all the way.”
“First of all, he already told you he’s a woodworker, not a construction worker, and even if he was, what’s it to you? Secondly, I’ve thought it through plenty.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve made a rash decision, and Dr. Holmes and I are worried for you. You tend to let emotions overrule your better judgment at times.”
“Sometimes judgment sucks.”
“What?” The look he gave me indicated that he clearly thought I’d lost my mind.
“Are you sure you don’t just want me to quit so I won’t beat you?” I countered, righteous indignation making my voice higher than it should be.
Harrison pushed his hands into the pockets of his blazer. “That’s ludicrous. You don’t have a chance of beating us. I want you to quit so you don’t humiliate yourself and our department.”
“That’s really kind of you, but I’ll take my chances.” Besides, I thought, Harrison hadn’t seen Jeremy in his Regency gear. He might be way more worried if he had.
“Look, Meg, I know you’re competitive...often to a fault, but I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you humiliated.”
“I’m not going to be humiliated. Jeremy’s really good.”
Harrison’s voice was tight. “How much can he possibly know about the Regency?”
“As much as Lacey Lewis does?” I countered.
He sighed and paced away from me. “I’ve spent most of the summer teaching Lacey. You’ve only spent two weeks with this Neanderthal.”
“Oh, my God. You’re such a snob. He’s not a Neanderthal, and I—”
The door to the shop flew open and Jeremy strode out, anger making his features harsh. He faced Harrison and cracked his knuckles. “Hey, Dr. Asshole, I can hear you, and while I’m not a Neanderthal, I’d be more than willing to punch you in your pompous face if you continue to insult Meg.”
“I did not insult Meg,” Harrison insisted, but I noticed that he’d taken a step back.
“Yes, you did. Telling her she doesn’t know what she’s getting into is an insult to her intelligence, and I think we both know how smart she is.”
“It’s okay, Jeremy,” I said.
“Frankly, I don’t think either one of you have thought this through adequately,” Harrison said, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at both of us.
“That’s not for you to decide,” Jeremy replied. His fist remained clenched at his side.
Lacey stepped through the door with two large garment bags of Harrison’s clothing draped over each arm. “Let’s go, Harry. You’re wasting your time arguing with them.”
“Meg, please,” Harrison said. “Reconsider this. Be smart.” He looked me in the eye.
“I’ll take it into consideration, Harry,” I said with as much sarcasm I could muster.
The two of them walked away. They put the bags in the backseat of the Audi, climbed in and purred off.
Mitchell came hurrying outside with Ms. Julia under his arm. “I’m so sorry, y’all. Who knew that nerdy Dr. Macomb of all people would make a scene?”
Jeremy stood watching them drive off, his knuckles still flexing and relaxing. “Damn it, Meg. I can’t wait to get to England, enter this competition, and beat his ass.”
Chapter 20
Wednesday
I severely underestimated the awkwardness of taking a transcontinental flight with a super-hot guy. Earplugs, an eye mask, travel sickness medication, and a neck pillow aren’t exactly a sexy combo. Clutching the armrest and yelping every time the plane hit turbulence probably wasn’t the most attractive trait either, but
Jeremy actually grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuringly each time that happened, which made me feel better, even if he was thinking I was a nut.
The good news was that while we were flying economy, which meant we were cramped together, we were also flying so early (USA-time) that we could sleep. I’d specifically changed my ticket and purchased Jeremy’s ticket on a flight that was not the same one as Harrison’s and Lacey’s. That would be too much. We were sure to have a lot of uncomfortable run-ins at the festival, and I wanted to stay as far away from them as possible until then. I’d changed the flights before our encounter at Mitchell’s, but now I was even more glad that I had.
Harrison was being a class-A jerk. I mean, he probably really thought he was doing me a favor by warning me to stay home, but it felt like he was being a condescending asshole, and calling Jeremy a Neanderthal was unacceptable. I knew Jeremy was judging me a little for not dumping him immediately, but a rude warning and the failure to tell Lacey Lewis to shut up when she said a maxi dress wasn’t my best look (and she was kinda right) weren’t enough for me to toss nearly three years down the drain. But Harrison and I definitely needed to talk after the competition was over...and set things straight.
Jeremy and I managed the flights to New York and then London quite well for a couple who’d barely traveled across town with each other, let alone across the Atlantic Ocean. Jeremy, it turned out, didn’t get cranky when traveling the way that I (cough, cough) tend to. He always seemed fresh and rested, while ten hours in, I felt like a mix between The Creature from the Black Lagoon and a used Kleenex. I was also eighty-seven-percent certain I smelled like a foot. A dirty foot. A dirty, sweaty foot. A dirty, sweaty hobbit foot. But Jeremy managed to find our route via Heathrow into London’s Paddington station, where we had to change trains, and then onto Bath. We arrived in the lovely, hilly town less than two hours later. It was close to six p.m.
“I read about England’s extensive canal system,” Jeremy said as the taxi meandered through the winding streets of Bath. I smiled at him weakly, but I couldn’t manage to say anything. My introversion had been severely tested by the hours in the airports, and my battery was drained. By the time we arrived at the hotel at the upper crescent, all I wanted was a hot shower and a long nap.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” the young blonde hostess said in her prim accent after I’d given her my name and asked for our two rooms. “I only see one room on this reservation.”
“No. No. No,” I said, smiling for Jeremy’s sake. “I specifically asked for two rooms.”
She clicked away at her computer for a few more seconds before saying, “Was your reservation previously under another name?”
My heart shimmied up my neck and lodged in my throat like a fat little pumpkin. “Um, yes,” I squeaked. “Macomb. But I transferred the reservation to my name over two weeks ago and specifically requested a second room.”
“I’m showing that Dr. Macomb has two rooms now, but your reservation still only shows one.”
“Well, that’s a mistake.” I was desperately trying not to screech because I didn’t want Jeremy to think I was a screecher. “We definitely need two rooms.”
I smiled at Jeremy, who merely smiled back and pushed his hands in his jean pockets.
More clicking ensued before the hostess said, “I’m sorry, Dr. Knightley, but we’re completely booked because of the festival. There are no more rooms.”
I let my head drop onto my hands, which were calmly folded atop the counter. “Of course you are.”
“Can we get a rollaway, or is there a couch in the room?” Jeremy asked jovially from my side.
“There is a sofa in the room,” the young lady offered helpfully.
“I don’t suppose any of the other hotels in town would have any more rooms?” I asked, a sinking feeling already spreading through my gut.
“I can call ‘round and ask, but I doubt it,” the hostess replied, biting her lip.
“It’s fine, Meg. I can take the couch,” Jeremy offered. “As long as you don’t mind sharing the room.”
“It’s quite a short sofa,” the young woman added, eyeing Jeremy’s height.
“I’ll make do,” Jeremy replied.
I pointed one finger in the air to indicate to the hostess that we needed a moment to discuss our options, then I discreetly pulled him over to a nearby wall.
“Jeremy,” I whispered. “You’ve been extremely magnanimous this entire time. In fact, I’ve never seen a more happy-go-lucky traveler, but you should not be forced to share a room.”
“But there aren’t any more rooms in this hotel,” he pointed out. The man was obviously far more reasonable than I was after twelve hours of travel.
I knew he was right, but I was still hanging onto the last shred of hope. How awkward would it be to share a room with Hottie McFox for four nights? He would learn that I wore a green facemask at night, and he’d probably see my bare feet. “We might be able to find one somewhere else.”
Jeremy shifted his weight to his other foot. “Didn’t you say this is the best place in town and the hub of all the festival activities?”
“Yes, but we need two rooms.” I hoped my voice wasn’t sounding whiny. Besides, all of this would be a moot point if the hostess couldn’t find us another room. Where was Patsy, the hotel manager, when you needed her? I’d met her on my previous stay.
“Okay, we can have her check, but I’m fine with sharing and taking the couch if you are,” Jeremy finished.
The hostess, who had been frantically making phone calls since we moved to the wall, cleared her throat. “Doctor, I called the three other places I know of and they’re all full too.”
“Of course they are.” I sighed.
“Looks like we’re rooming together.” Jeremy said with another bright smile. Did nothing ruffle this man? He strolled back over to the desk. “We’ll take the room.”
If flying across the ocean with a hottie was awkward, sharing a hotel room—a small cozy, old, English hotel room—with one was like the Awkward Olympics. The room ensuite consisted of a narrow hallway with a lavatory on one side. It contained a tub with a shower inside, a small toilet, and the tiniest sink I’d ever seen. Past the bathroom was the bedroom that housed a queen-sized bed, two nightstands, a couch that could easily pass for a wide chair, and a small wooden table and desk chair. In the first five minutes in the room, Jeremy and I bumped into each other at least three times and then did an unwieldy, shuffle-dance sort of thing to move out of each other’s way. I finally left my suitcases in the short corridor near the door and made my way over to the window that overlooked the wide lawn on the crescent. The sun was beginning to set, but many of the festival-goers were there, milling about on the lawn. Most of them were dressed in period attire.
Jeremy came to stand behind me. He looked over my shoulder. “I thought you said it doesn’t begin until tomorrow.”
“It doesn’t. Some of these people are a little overly enthusiastic,” I said with a laugh. Actually, he had no idea. Some of these people would behave all weekend as if they were living during the actual Regency. They wouldn’t break character. It was both strange and interesting. Harrison liked to quiz them on historical facts and see how they held up. Amusement for nerds like us. I doubted Jeremy would appreciate that particular pastime.
Harrison. Where was he? The tickets we’d had before would put him here even earlier than Jeremy and I had arrived. Wishing they’d somehow missed their flights and wouldn’t make it was probably too hopeful. Were he and Lacey already posted up in their comfortable individual rooms? Had they already unpacked? I scoured the lawn for any sign of the two of them but didn’t see them. Lacey’s height and tendency to wear a giant hat to hide from paparazzi would normally make her stand out in a crowd, but in a sea of bonnets I didn’t recognize her. No doubt she was hiding in her room to avoid the press.
Jeremy turned in a wide circle and assessed the sofa. He was staring down at it as if he hoped it would somehow exp
and in size.
“Look,” I said, “if that thing pulls out, it’s barely gonna fit me, let alone you. I’ll take it.”
“No way,” Jeremy replied. “I’m the hired help here, remember?”
“Then I don’t want you filing a workman’s comp claim against me,” I said, still smiling. “Please let me take it. It only makes sense with the laws of physics and all.”
“We can discuss it later,” he finally said. “What’ll we do first?”
I scratched my head. “Uh, I was sort hoping for a nap. I’m exhausted.”
He shook his head at me. “If you nap now, you’ll never get on the right sleep schedule.”
“I know, but if I don’t, I’ll fall over. Just about an hour or so.” I scrunched up my nose and shrugged.
“Okay, I’ll go downstairs and assess the competition. Any message for Harrison if I see him?”
My last conversation with Harrison played through my mind like a bad movie stuck on repeat. I’d called him Harry. He’d told me to ‘be smart’. “Nah,” I said. “No message. Other than good luck.”
“Yeah, well, he’ll need it. He’ll be lucky if I don’t punch him,” Jeremy said with a wink before he opened the door to the hallway and left the room.
I woke up to the sound of loud laughter outside my door. I was alone in the room. I’d taken the couch. It pulled out into a tiny bed that was just big enough for little ol’ me. I figured if I’d already slept in it, Jeremy couldn’t argue with me later. Besides, he had to be reasonable. There was no way his tall frame was going to make it into that tiny pull-out. It would be laughable. Half his legs would hang over the edge.
Hiring Mr. Darcy (Austen Hunks Book 1) Page 16