Maid in England (The I Do Crew Book 1)

by Brenda St John Brown

  “Mrs. Cooper. It’s nice to see you again.” Alastair’s voice is warm and sincere.

  “It’s nice to see you again, as well. I didn’t realize you and my daughter had become reacquainted.”

  I stand up a little straighter. My mom sounds way too formal. I’m about to jump in when Alastair says, “I’m going to marry your daughter eventually, Mrs. Cooper. I’d ask her again right now, but it wouldn’t be fair to Bea and Jasper, nor do I think she’d say yes. But I hope you’ll give me a second chance because I intend to be around for the long haul.”

  My mom is speechless. And so am I. We’re both gaping at Alastair like he starting speaking in tongues when Claire and Greyson come up, Claire saying, “What’s happening here? It looks too good to be missing out on.”

  “And the DJ is playing Neil Diamond.” Greyson rolls his eyes and extends his hand to Alastair. “Nice to see you again. How’s the limelight treating you?”

  Alastair shrugs and says, “It’s strange. I’m not sure I like it, but I do like building the audience for my music.”

  Greyson says something else and Claire puts her hand on her chest in mock horror, but my focus turns to my mom, who’s looking at us with an inscrutable look on her face I know better than to ignore. I lean over to murmur in her ear. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Alastair. It’s been…unexpected.”

  “Maybe for you.” She shakes her head and when I look at her again she’s smiling. “That boy has owned your heart for longer than I can remember. I’m glad you’ve finally stopped and put your phone down long enough to see it.”

  “I’ll have you know, I don’t even know where my phone is right now.” That’s not one hundred percent true. It’s on the dresser in my room upstairs, but the fact that it’s not with me is a pretty big deal. Old me would have checked my messages ten times by now.

  “I love you, sweetheart, and I want you to be happy.” Mom clutches my arm and leans close to whisper in my ear. “And giving me a grandchild is in the cards now, obviously.”

  “Obviously.” It wasn’t that long ago that thought would have sent me screaming from the room, but now I smile and squeeze Alastair’s arm. He raises his eyebrows in a question, even though he’s listening to Greyson, but I shake my head and smile.

  There’s certainly no need to tell him what my mother said. Although I’ll probably mention that she’s glad I’m making time for other things besides work because work never made me feel like this. The biggest deal, the most impressive client, even the Oscars never made me feel like I do right here, right now, in this room with my family and the man I love.

  Epilogue

  I slip off my wellies as I come into the kitchen, Ziggy and Sarah trailing in behind me. My coat drips on the tile floor and I shoot an apologetic look at Alastair as both Ziggy and I shake the rain from our hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll mop up.”

  Alastair shakes his head from his place at the stove. Tonight is sexy spaghetti night and I’m looking forward to it in every imaginable way. “I’ll mop up. You dry Ziggy.”

  “Not happening.” I’ve grown a little fond of Ziggy, but a wet dog is still a wet dog. I turn a pleading glance towards Sarah. “You dry Ziggy and I’ll see if we have stuff for s’mores for dessert?”

  “Hmmm.” Sarah gives me a look. I swear, it’s one she reserves just for me and I don’t really know how to handle it yet. Alastair’s suggested I ignore it, which I do for the most part, but it’s hard when I’m trying to build a relationship with her.

  “Thank you.” I toss her the towel from the coat rack by the door. “You’re the best.”

  I hang up my coat and grab another towel to start wiping the floor. February in Fenchurch is way worse than London because even though the weather’s the same – rain, rain, and more rain mixed with occasional hail and/or snow – there are no cabs to take you door to door. I’ve started driving – because someone’s got to pick up Sarah when Alastair’s away – but even then, I’m at the mercy of whatever parking space is available. Spoiler: it’s never the closest one. Add Ziggy into the mix because he seems unfazed by the weather, and it feels like life is a constant rotation of damp towels and frizzy hair. Not that I’d have it any other way. Even though I’ve only been living with Alastair since Christmas, his house has become home.

  “Did you have a good day?” Alastair asks.

  “Yes.” Sarah and I both answer at once and I grin over at her. “You first.”

  “I got a house point for my English essay,” Sarah says. “And I don’t think I failed my history test.”

  “Well, well done on your English,” Alastair says. Then he smiles at me as I hang the towel up and come over to snuggle into his side. “Ew. You’re soaked. Did you run here from the Swan?”

  “All the four-by-four moms got to school before I did and took up two spaces each. I texted Paula a photo and she said I was most likely experiencing Range Rover rage.” I roll my eyes. “But it doesn’t matter because I saw Amy’s rough-cut video of your show in Manchester last week and it was amazing.”

  “And what did you decide?” Alastair asks.

  “We talked to Moira and she wants to use it to promote your concert at the Hammersmith Ballroom next month, which I think is a great idea.”

  “You mean the concert at the Hammersmith Ballroom I’m invited to, right?” Sarah raises her eyebrows, as if daring either of us to say no.

  I don’t respond. I admit, Sarah and I are still pretty tentative around each other, but I don’t think it’s fair to suddenly expect her to treat me as a parent, and Alastair agrees. We’ve gotten a lot more relaxed with each other, though, and the fact that she thinks my job is cool definitely helps.

  “Yes, you’re invited and allowed to bring a friend,” Alastair says. “I’ve already booked the suite at the Savoy.”

  “So fancy.” I squeeze Alastair’s side. “You were never this fancy back in the day.”

  “Sure I was.” Alastair kisses my wet hair.

  “I can’t wait, but right now I need to go change.” Sarah looks down at the wet tights of her school uniform. “I’m going to go upstairs and then can I watch a show on the computer?”

  “Homework first, please,” Alastair says. “If your homework is done, you have about a half an hour before tea time.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Sarah pushes the door of the kitchen and Ziggy follows her.

  I listen as their feet pound up the stairs, then turn to Alastair, giving him a peck on the lips. “For the record, I’m not sure I’d call eating baked beans cold out of a can fancy.”

  Alastair grimaces. “I’m not sure I’d call that edible. I can’t believe I used to eat like that.”

  “See? Proves my point, yes?” I start to pull away. “I should go change, too. These jeans are gross.”

  “I could help you change?” Alastair wriggles his eyebrows.

  “I have a feeling Sarah might have something to say about that.” Navigating sex with a child in the house is weird. It makes me doubly appreciate the two nights per week Sarah stays with Brinley.

  I’ve taken three steps when Alastair says from behind me. “I managed to be kind of fancy when we were in Toronto. I think? Unless I’m remembering it wrong?”

  I stop and turn slowly. “Um, no. That was amazing. Perfect, in fact.”

  “Good, I’m glad you thought so.” Alastair nods once, a smile playing around his mouth.

  “Are you…?” My eyes widen. I don’t even know how to ask the question in my head.

  But I don’t have to. Alastair shrugs, his smile widening. “Maybe. I mean, it’s not like I would tell you.”

  “Oh. Wow.” The air leaves my lungs in one long whoosh. Aside from his proclamation to my mother at Bea’s wedding Alastair has never mentioned marriage again, and you can bet I haven’t brought it up.

  “Or not,” Alastair adds quickly. “Who knows, right?”

  I laugh a little. “Right. Of course.”

  I stand frozen and when he speaks Alastai
r’s voice is soft. “But say I did ask. Would you say yes?”

  Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

  I know he’s not asking me to marry him right now, but he kind of is and I feel my heart stop for a second. Things between us have been amazing. Have they been perfect? No, but we’re two imperfect people and that’s easier to accept this time around. Especially when we’ve learned how to give each other space or support as needed, and kiss and make up so well.

  My heart sputters back to life and it nudges me out of the trance I’m in. I meet Alastair’s eyes and his expression isn’t wary like I thought it would be. It’s open and easy. That small smile still tilts the corner of his mouth up. His hand is in the pocket of his jeans, not combing through his hair in edgy anticipation. He’s not nervous at all and I realize something even more amazing. Neither am I.

  Surprised? Yes. But nervous? Not at all.

  My mouth splits into a grin and I say, “What do you think?”

  Alastair’s grin widens, as well. “I think that’s not an answer.”

  “I guess you’re just going to have to ask me properly then.” I shrug and spin on my socked feet toward the door.

  Alastair’s voice follows me out. “Don’t you think I won’t, Remi Cooper. Don’t you think I won’t.”

  I stop on the second step from the bottom and shout back over my shoulder, “I’m counting on it, Wells. Can’t wait.”

  His laugh makes me smile as I continue up the stairs, and I can’t help thinking how lucky I am. Again. How close I came to losing all of this. And how I thank my lucky stars for my old job because it brought me here. I even wrote Rex a Christmas card thanking him for exactly that.

  Alastair had laughed then, too, and told me I’m getting sentimental. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe I’m just happy. If the fullness in my chest right now is anything to go by, it’s happiness. One hundred and ten percent.

  Thank you for reading MAID IN ENGLAND! Remi and Alastair’s story is the first in a new series - The ‘I Do’ Crew - but did you know you can go back and read the entire Castle Calder series now? Keep reading for a sneak peek of A BRIT ON THE SIDE.

  Meet Bea and Jasper - where the Castle Calder series began!

  A swoony romantic comedy about getting a second chance with your best shag.

  I probably should have declined my bestie’s invitation to spend the summer in England working at her family’s castle-turned-hotel. But, dammit, it was either that or teach summer school math. Two doors down from my ex.

  Obvious choice, right?

  Except now I’m living within kissing distance of Jasper for the entire summer, and he’s just as sweet and sexy as I remember. Unfortunately, I also remember he gave me the best orgasm of my life in short-term parking. And on the desk chair. Then the kitchen counter. Judging by the way he kisses me, he remembers too.

  Clearly, the best solution is:

  a) Avoid him at all costs.

  b) Sneak into Jasper’s room and bring a little Atlanta heat to the UK.

  c) Fall for him. Hard.

  I’m not going to choose C. Almost definitely.

  Read on for chapter 1…

  A BRIT ON THE SIDE - CHAPTER 1

  There are worse places to escape a broken engagement than Castle Calder. I haven’t even been inside yet, but when my bestie, Scarlett St Julien, pulls into the driveway of her family’s castle-turned-hotel, I decide immediately. Castle Calder: one. Ex-fiancé: zero. My mother and her Oh, but Bea, he’s such a nice young man: negative five hundred and eighty.

  “Wow. I know you said castle, but I didn’t expect, like, turrets and everything.” I gape at the building in front of me. It’s an honest-to-God fairy-tale castle. Big. Imposing. Regal.

  Scarlett laughs, maneuvering the Ford Focus we picked up at Manchester Airport between a shiny black Range Rover and a sleek silver Audi TT. “Trust me, you’ll be cursing those turrets by the time you haul a few loads of bedding down the stairs. The people who rent the turret rooms are always the ones who leave their rooms in the worst state. You don’t even want to know the places I’ve found knickers up there.”

  I kind of do want to know, but Scarlett eases the car into park and opens the door in one smooth motion, hopping from her seat onto the gravel drive. I follow, leaving my door ajar as I continue to gawk at the red brick building in front of me. It looks bigger when I’m standing up. The front door alone must be eight feet tall and the windows, with their stained glass panes in the middle, are wide and sparkling in the sun.

  “This is amazing.” Understatement of the year. Even the cool breeze smells sweet. Judging by the thin sheen of yellow on the hood of the Audi, it’s only pollen, but I have to resist calling it the perfumed air like someone out of a Regency romance. Seriously, if I could bottle this scent, I would.

  “It is pretty ace, isn’t it?” Scarlett grins. “Good plan?”

  “Oh my God, the best.” I put one hand over my heart and gesture towards the castle with the other. “And then the fair lady rescued the maiden from an awkward summer of working with her ex, whisking her across an ocean and welcoming her into her kingdom.”

  Scarlett giggles. “And the maiden was so beholden to the lady she wrote her thesis outline for her over the summer holiday.”

  I laugh. “How about, ‘The maiden was so beholden to the lady, she did her laundry,’ or something? It reeks more of servitude.”

  “I can do my own laundry. It’s the outline I’m worried about. The Impact of Color and Art in the Workplace on Employee Satisfaction is titillating, but I need your research skills and flawless grammar.”

  “I’m a math teacher, not an English teacher. Remember?”

  Scarlett waves her hand like she’s brushing off a gnat. “Details, details. Surely a summer abroad is worth a little help with the proper use of the Oxford comma?”

  “You convince my mom I’m not getting back together with Theo, let alone marrying him, and I’ll Oxford comma the hell out of your outline. Swear.”

  “You forget I know your mother. I’ll be convinced I should marry Theo by the time she’s done with me.” Scarlett makes a face. “Speaking of, are you ready to say hello to the motley crew we’ve got on here?”

  “Yep.” I smile, but my pulse dances a samba in my chest. I’ve met Scarlett’s parents before, but spending Parents’ Weekend with them four years ago is very different from spending the summer – especially since Scarlett convinced them to take me on as occasional help, which keeps me off the books. Truly, if I’m beholden to anyone, it’s them.

  Scarlett starts towards the huge front door. “We’ll get our cases when we find out where you’re going to be staying. Come on.”

  Where I’m going to be staying? Even though Scarlett said the family apartment is small and I’d be bunking elsewhere, I still half-thought I’d be in the room next to Scarlett’s, connected by a too-small bathroom with a super messy counter. Just like our Atlanta apartment. Now, looking at the castle, I realize how dumb that is. This is going to be nothing like Atlanta. At all.

  Scarlett pushes the front door and I follow her through, stopping immediately inside. The walls are a deep dark wood, polished and gleaming. A huge fireplace takes up most of one wall with couches placed in a semi-circle in front of it. To my right is a large antique desk with a bell sitting next to a huge vase of fresh flowers. A tapestry of a guy on a horse covers most of the wall behind the desk. He’s holding a sword, a cape flying out behind him as he races towards a mountain.

  “That’s William,” Scarlett says.

  “William?”

  “William the Brave.”

  I nod, then shrug. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  Scarlett lets out a belly laugh. “Well, technically he might be William the Wannabe. My parents got that rug at an estate auction a few years ago. I’m not sure who he is.”

  “Jerk.” I laugh and reach out to hit her on the arm.

  “Hey, I’m trying to give you the full British experience.
Plus, you’re the only person I know who calls me a jerk instead of a bitch and I think it’s sweet.” Scarlett rings the bell on the desk before continuing. “Wait until everyone starts asking you to say things. We don’t get many Americans up here.”

  I follow as she walks through the foyer. “I’ve noticed.”

  When we stopped for gas – petrol – I ended up having a five-minute conversation with a woman in the Starbucks line after picking up the piece of paper she dropped from her bag. Once she heard my accent, we went through the gamut of questions I’ve heard Scarlett answer more times than I can count. Where’re you from? How long are you staying? What brought you here? I’ve always wanted to go to New York, have you been there?

  Atlanta. The summer. Vacation. And yes, but when I was five, so I don’t remember much.

  I haven’t watched Scarlett navigate that minefield for years without learning a few things in the process. It’s good to know her tactic works on both sides of the Atlantic – be slightly aloof and engage as little as possible.

  Scarlett turns and grins. “I wondered if I was going to have to run interference with that woman.”

  “Nope, but you owe me for the 7,012 times I’ve done it for you, and I’m sure I’ll be needing it at some point.”

  Starting now. A blonde girl dressed in shorts and a hoodie comes around the corner, followed closely by Mrs. Call-Me-Hannah St Julien. Both stop short before the girl throws her arms around Scarlett’s neck.

  “I didn’t know you were already here, you numpty. Why didn’t you text?”

  “I emailed you our flight info. Besides, I packed my UK SIM and I have no idea where it is.” Scarlett flashes a Julia Roberts smile. “And it’s nice to see you, too.”

  The girl laughs and passes Scarlett off to her mom, who hugs Scarlett while saying, “I was just thinking about calling to see where you were, although I guess that wouldn’t have helped. I’m so glad you’re here. How was your journey?”