Beth turned around a little too quickly and the movement made her wobble.
“You must be Beth Greenwood. Fellow finalist. I’m Blake O’Brien.” Blake extended his hand and offered a firm shake. “I’m glad you could make it. I was starting to think I’d be getting a head start.” He was smiling but there was a glint in his eyes that told her he was poking fun at her. He’d never replied to her email, and yet he’d referenced it with his ‘fellow finalist’ remark. Clearly, he thought a lot of himself and not very much of her.
Beth felt her cheeks flush but she blinked away the awkwardness and took back her hand.
In person, Blake was shorter than she’d expected, but his square jaw, dark hair, smooth Canadian accent, and ridiculous dimples made up for it. He was wearing a checked red shirt with a white t-shirt underneath, and Beth hated that she was noticing how good looking he was.
Looking away from him and towards the boat, she tried to recalibrate herself. She’d met celebrities before, real celebrities, people much more famous than Blake – Cooper’s was well known for its luxury clients – and yet for some reason this semi-well-known blogger was making her nervous.
“Shall we...?” Blake waved towards the boat and grinned at her.
“Yes, let’s.”
Beth strode off in front of him, taking a deep breath and reminding herself that she had earned her place in the competition. She deserved to be there. And Blake O’Brien had no right to make her feel otherwise.
6
The boat journey to Granville Island should have been idyllic. She should have been leaning over the side, marvelling at the scenery and taking pictures to send to her mum. But instead, she was standing beside Blake O’Brien with her back to the water, answering questions that she really didn’t want to answer.
“So,” Emily smiled broadly, motioning for Beth and Blake to stand a little closer together. Other people were watching, and Beth felt stiff and awkward. But Blake seamlessly inched towards her and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Our two finalists,” Emily continued. “Beth and Blake, it is so great to finally meet you both.” She was speaking loudly and in an exaggerated British accent. “How does it feel, Beth, to be here in the beautiful city of Vancouver?”
Beth desperately wanted to shrug off Blake’s arm, and she could feel her words getting mangled before they’d even made it out of her mouth. “Oh, it’s fantastic.” She was trying to sound cool and knowledgeable, and cute-British not posh-British. “Unbelievable actually. I can’t believe that a few days ago I was in sleepy old Oxford and now I’m here. In Canada. With this view.” She gestured to the Vancouver skyline behind them and Emily gave her a thumbs up.
“Are you nervous about the competition?”
Before Beth could answer, Blake gave a small throaty laugh and said smoothly, “Well, of course she is. She’s up against me.”
Beth felt the hairs on her neck standing on end. How dare he be so arrogant?! “Actually,” she said, remembering how good it had felt when she stood up to Helen, and trying to summon some of the same courage, “I was pretty nervous on the flight over, but when I met Blake the nerves sort of disappeared.” She glanced up at him, then looked straight at Emily’s camera. “I guess I’m feeling more confident now I’ve seen my competition.”
Blake blinked at her and smiled with the side of his mouth.
“Now, now,” said Emily, “play nice you two.”
The interview continued for a few more minutes, with Emily asking each of them about what they were most excited to see on the trip, how they felt when they heard they’d made the final, and about their writing experience prior to the competition.
As Blake regaled Emily with his CV – five years working for Toronto’s biggest travel company in digital marketing before starting his own blog, moving to the city, and going from zero to making a living in just under a year – Beth took a deep breath and tried not to lose the sense of stubborn competitiveness she’d felt when he goaded her.
By the time Emily asked her the same question, however, she was starting to give in to the realisation that she had absolutely no experience and Blake had heaps. She was totally new at this. So, she did what she’d promised herself she would never do; she told Emily, and the camera, and all of Nomad’s followers that her father was Charles Greenwood. Famous travel writer.
For a moment, Emily didn’t blink or move. Blake, who was now leaning back against the railings of the boat raised both eyebrows.
“Really?” Emily reached for her iPad. “Did we know this about you Beth?”
“No. I’ve never mentioned it on my blog. And I made sure to keep his name out of my competition entry.” She was already regretting it. She shouldn’t have said anything.
“Right.” Emily laughed nervously. “Of course. Well, that’s certainly some experience right there. Did your father teach you a lot about writing?”
Beth wondered if Emily knew that her father had passed away. Pretty much everyone had heard of his most famous books, but not many people had read the tiny amount of news coverage about his death.
“Beth? Did your father teach you a lot about writing?” Emily repeated her question, slowly.
Beth shook her head and folded her arms in front of her, trying to dislodge the guilty feeling in her stomach. “I guess it was more that he was always writing, so that made me want to. I’d sit with him in his writing shed and scribble things while he worked.” Beth suddenly pictured her mum’s face as she watched the interview online and heard Beth talk about her dad. Would she think Beth had mentioned him to give herself a leg-up? Was that why she’d mentioned him?
As the thoughts tumbled across her mind, giving her an instant headache deep in her temples, she tried to change the subject. “But I worked at a travel company too, actually. Like Blake. So, I guess that’s probably my most relevant experience. I worked at Cooper’s Luxury Travel in Oxford.”
Emily nodded. She was clearly more interested in talking about Charles Greenwood than she was in Beth’s job at Cooper’s.
Beth was trying to work out what she could say to steer the conversation in a different direction when, above them, a bell sounded. They’d reached Granville Island and so, reluctantly, Emily wrapped up the interview and put away her camera.
As they disembarked, Blake stepped up beside her and whispered, “Wow. I mean, wow. I’m a huge fan of your dad’s books.”
“You are?”
Blake nodded. “Listen, you know all that was just for show. The whole I’m going to kick your butt thing. I was just trying to be...”
Beth stopped and looked at him. He was almost impossible to read; constantly smiling, with his strong jaw and his twinkling eyes making it seem like everything was either a chat-up line or a joke. Not giving anything away. “You were trying to be...?”
“Funny?” Blake laughed a little and nudged her upper arm as if they were old friends.
“Right.” She was trying to soften towards him but couldn’t quite manage it. “Well, maybe I don’t get Canadian humour.”
Blake rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “That’s okay. You Brits are known for being a little stuck up, aren’t you?”
“At least we have the courtesy to reply when someone sends us a well-intentioned email.”
Blake’s eyes widened, as if he was surprised Beth had mentioned it. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Beth shook her head, tutted, and walked on ahead – deliberately not looking back.
Under the huge-lettered sign that read Granville Island Public Market, Emily told them they’d have four hours to savour the sights and that it was their choice whether they did this together or separately. Before Blake could say anything, Beth said, “Separately, thanks, see you in four hours,” and strode off along the waterfront.
She had no idea where she was going, she just knew that she needed to do this alone. Blake had somehow, in the short time she’d known him, managed to get under her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was kn
owing that he’d received her email and hadn’t bothered to reply that was getting to her, if it was because he’d been making fun of her, or if it was because he oozed with the kind of confidence that was more like arrogance. But she knew that his presence plus her travel-weary head would make it almost impossible to concentrate.
Walking beside the water, taking in the boats and the people and the sunshine, Beth felt herself start to relax a little. On a small wooden jetty, a musician was playing guitar and singing a song she didn’t recognise, tapping his foot and bobbing to the backing track. She stopped and took a photo with her phone, still kicking herself for leaving her camera at the hotel. She was good at photos, and she knew from following Blake’s blog that it wasn’t one of his strongest points.
“Great isn’t he?” A woman in a flowery dress threw some coins into the singer’s guitar case and smiled at Beth.
“Really great.” Beth paused, then as the woman was about to walk away, she called after her, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you. Are you local?”
“I am.” The woman smiled.
Beth tucked her hair behind her ear. “I wonder if you could help me... I’m writing an article about the island and I’m looking for somewhere off-the-beaten track for a coffee and something to eat. Somewhere I could recommend to my readers.”
“Oh sure, my favourite place isn’t far. I’ll show you.”
So, the friendly Canadian lady walked with Beth through the crowds of tourists, down some side-streets that Beth never would have noticed, and stopped outside a small but big-windowed coffee house.
“They do great fries.” The woman, whose name was Kate, waved and continued on her way, leaving Beth feeling suddenly a little more optimistic.
Inside, she ordered an espresso and a plate of yam fries, because she’d never eaten yam before and the time-difference was playing havoc with her appetite.
She was scribbling some notes about Kate and the musician and the ambience down by the Aquadock, when the waiter arrived with her coffee.
“Fries will be ready soon ma’am.” He smiled and noticed her notebook. “Not giving us a bad write-up, I hope?”
Beth sat back and put down her pen. “No, absolutely not. This place is wonderful. How did you know I wasn’t just writing a grocery list?”
“I didn’t.” He smiled again. “But I do now.”
With a twinge of pride in her voice, Beth replied, “I’m a travel-writer. Actually, I’m just trying to plan what to go see next.”
The waiter’s eyes widened and he waved his finger in the air. “Ah, then you might be in luck! My brother runs a small tour every afternoon...” He checked his watch. “It leaves in about twenty minutes, just outside.”
Beth sat up straighter and tapped her pen on the cover of her notebook. “A tour?”
“It’s fantastic. He takes a really small group, five people max, to see some artists’ workshops. There are a couple of food stops too. It’s a great way to see something a little different.”
Beth couldn’t stop herself from grinning. Blake would never have thought of this. He’d be wandering around looking at the market and all the usual tourist-spots. This was sure to give her a head start with their first article. “It sounds great, could you let your brother know I’ll join him?”
“Sure. And I’ll be right back with your fries.”
The waiter’s brother was called Todd. He was young, about seventeen, and running tours to help him save up some money for college. Thrilled at the idea of some publicity, he let Beth join the group free of charge, and started by heading towards a quieter area of the island.
There were only three of them, Beth and a middle-aged German couple who spoke very little English, so Beth was able to ask lots of questions and take photos as they walked. Todd was part-way through explaining how and why Granville became known for its artists when Beth felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
“Blake?” Beth stopped in the middle of the path, glanced towards Todd, then back at Blake. “What are you doing? How did you know where I was?”
“I was looking for a place I saw on Trip Advisor. I spotted you and thought I’d see how you’re getting on.” Blake looked at Todd and the German couple then smiled ironically with the corner of his mouth. “Did you join a tour group?”
“No.” She couldn’t tell if he was envious that he hadn’t thought of it or making fun of the idea. “Listen, I’ve got to catch them up. I’ll see you later.”
“But it’s not a tour?”
Beth started walking but Blake was following her. “Okay, it is. But not the kind you’re thinking of.”
“What kind am I thinking of?”
She let out an exasperated sigh and put her hands on her hips. “It’s not some cheesy tourist outing. It’s a small group. We’re visiting some artists’ workshops. I’m sure it’s not your kind of thing.”
“Why wouldn’t it be my kind of thing?”
“Are you trying to drive me crazy? What’s wrong with you?” She could feel her voice rising in pitch, but Blake just laughed and put a hand on her arm.
“Calm down. It sounds great. I’ll tag along.”
“No. Absolutely not. Did you follow me from the waterfront?”
“Why would I follow you?”
“I...”
She was cut off by Todd, who’d jogged back to see what was going on. “Beth, you have a colleague who wants to join us?”
Blake extended his hand and shook Todd’s warmly. “I’m Blake O’Brien. You might have seen my blog? The Canadian Wanderer?”
Todd shook his head, he clearly hadn’t, but was impressed all the same. “We’re just getting started Mr O’Brien. I’d be happy for you to–”
“I’d love to.” Blake glanced at Beth, grinning, and took out his phone. Waving it, and looking pointedly at the notebook Beth had tucked under her arm, he said, “I dictate my notes. I hope that’s okay?”
“Oh sure,” Todd nodded. “Absolutely. Whatever you need to do.”
Beth couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Why was he such a show-off?!
7
Beth’s plans to see a side of Granville Island that Blake had totally missed were well and truly thwarted. He stuck to their tiny tour group like glue, making the German couple laugh (because, obviously, he spoke German), flattering pretty much every artist they met, asking questions, and grinning away with his stupid dimpled smile.
He was brash, and loud, and his presence made Beth feel as if she was an intruder. Where she was awkward and nervous, Blake was self-assured and knew exactly what he was doing. Even as he was dictating into his phone as they walked between locations, his material sounded on-point and interesting and exactly the kind of stuff Nomad readers would be interested in.
But, amidst all of that, Beth noticed one thing: Blake didn’t take any pictures. He was so busy entertaining everyone that he didn’t once capture an image to go alongside his article. So, while Blake was busy telling the artists that their work was, “Incredible... Moving... So unique...”, Beth was quietly taking photos that she knew she’d be able to edit into something pretty stunning when she got back to the hotel, despite the fact they were just iPhone shots.
Later that night, sprawled out on her hotel bed with her iPad, she was proved right. She had captured some beautiful images of the artists, and she’d been smart enough to take a business card for each one so she could ask permission to use the images of them and their work. It was just the writing she was struggling with.
She was reading through her notes, adding to them and highlighting important bits, when her phone started to buzz. It was her alarm. She’d promised Harry she would call him at ten p.m. Vancouver-time, which would be six a.m. in Oxford.
Beth tapped her phone screen and silenced the alarm. Then scrolled to Harry’s name. Harry. Harry. For some reason, she suddenly felt exhausted by the idea of talking to him. He’d sent her three ‘career idea’ emails since she’d left Oxford an
d she couldn’t stand the thought of explaining why she didn’t want to train as a teacher, a nurse, or an accountant.
So, instead of calling, she texted.
Hey Harry, sorry but I’m really tired. All is good. Just need some sleep. Will try and call tomorrow. Beth xxx
Then she turned her phone off before he could text her back.
Day Two - Vancouver, Lynn Canyon Park
“Wow.” Even as the word escaped her lips, she knew it wasn’t enough. “That’s high.”
They were approaching the Lynn Canyon Suspension Bridge. Strung between the trees above a fast-moving river, it was fifty metres above the ground and Beth’s legs were starting to wobble.
“You don’t like heights, Greenwood?” Blake was beside her, dressed in hiking boots and, once again, a checked shirt – this time blue. It was early. Not quite eight a.m. The light in the forest was still a little hazy, and the air a little cool.
Beth pulled her cardigan closer and shuddered; she never thought she hated heights. But then, she’d never crossed a bridge that was suspended precariously in mid-air before. “Not really. But this is...”
“Yeah, it’s pretty high.”
When they reached the start of the bridge, they were the first there. There was no one in front of them to show them how it was done. No one to prove it was safe. Just the bridge, and the trees on the other side, and what felt like a very long way in between.
Beth stopped. She couldn’t persuade her legs to move.
Blake was a few feet ahead, about to stride out onto the bridge, when he looked back. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, stiffly, forcing herself to move.
“Need a hand?” Blake held out his arm, smirking slightly, but Beth shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I can manage. I’ll go first.” Determined not to let him see that she felt sick to her stomach, Beth wriggled past and walked quickly onto the bridge.
The True Love Travels Series Box Set Page 17