Page 9 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)

Daniel

Which is why I was so excited to get off set and back to the hotel.

Tudor had promised me something good and I was excited to find out what that was.

I had, I admitted, been a bit of a recluse and avoided the dining room for the most part, having only taken a couple of meals there when Stacey had asked me to so we could gossip following a particularly long day.

Otherwise runners and PAs ran me food and I ate in my room as I learned my scripts for the following day.

Tudor was waiting for me behind the reception desk and smiled as I crossed the threshold. It was nice to see that customer-service smile had changed to a genuine one in the last couple of days. “Good day’s shooting?” he asked.

“Bloody tiring,” I replied.

“Well let’s take an opportunity to relax, then.” Tudor smiled.

“Do I need to dress up?” I asked. I had gone to location in my usual works garb - tracksuit bottoms and a loose-fitting t-shirt to make life easier for me and for makeup and costume.

“Nah, we’ll favour a casual vibe for this time. C’mon.” Tudor led me down the corridor past his accommodation and the basement gym, to a door at the end I hadn’t previously noticed. He pulled out an old and chunky-looking key and turned it in the lock, pushing the door open with some effort.

“Ladies first,” he winked and I walked past him and through the door.

“Wow,” I said as I looked around. The room I had entered seemed to be made almost entirely of glass, like an old Victorian greenhouse.

Holding together the clear panes were thin bands of steel with decorative curls.

Even the roof was glass and held up with beautiful and intricate archways.

Some of the windows were open and the sea air blew through, cooling the room from the rays of the setting sun.

The sun was the main attraction, shining through and casting thin shadows across the wall to my rear. Right in the middle of the room was a singular round table with two chairs., a candle lit and a bottle of red wine. It looked like the most romantic setting I’d ever seen.

“Would you like to take a seat?” Tudor gestured, and followed me to the table. He pulled out he chair facing the setting sun and I sat in it. “I’ll be right out.”

I heard the door swing closed behind him and sat for a few moments alone.

When after a couple of minutes had gone and he hadn’t returned I got up to take a look at the view.

The conservatory was perched right on the very edge of the cliff and the waves rolled below.

The sun was reflected in the sea, so bright it was hard to look at but so beautiful it was difficult to take my eyes away.

If I took a step back from the windows so I couldn’t see the edge of the cliff it felt like I was floating above the ocean.

The door opened behind me and I looked back.

Tudor was stood still with two plates in his hand, the setting sun illuminating his face.

He really was a beautiful man. “Couldn’t sit still for two bloody minutes, no wonder Roland is shouting that no one ever takes direction.

” He grinned and gestured vaguely with one plate for me to sit back in the chair.

“Right, here we have Welsh rarebit. I know it may just look like cheese on toast to the untrained eye, but I promise it’s good.

” Tudor placed one plate in front of me and then sat opposite, so he was silhouetted in the dying rays of the setting sun.

I looked down at the meal in front of me. It did look exactly like cheese on toast, but I could tell a lot more effort had gone into the presentation.

“Red?” Tudor asked, holding up the bottle of wine. I nodded as I took a bite into the bread.

“Jesus, that’s good,” I said.

“It is, isn’t it? Cheese, ale, flour, chives and Worcestershire sauce.” Tudor took a bite of his own. “Bloody lovely.”

“So this is…Welsh?” I asked.

“Yup, the recipe is traditional Welsh rarebit but even the ingredients are local. I buy all my bread and meat from the baker and butcher on the high street and I get all my dairy from farms in the area.” Tudor looked proud of himself and I could tell why.

Simple ingredients had never tasted so delicious.

The cheese was tangy and crispy and the bread had just the right crunch.

“I’ve eaten in so many fancy restaurants and schmoozed so many producers and directors but nothing beats a bit of home-grown cooking,” I said.

“Glad you agree. You showed me your world yesterday, now welcome to mine.” Tudor held up his wine glass and I did the same. We toasted and took a sip. “Even the wine is from a Welsh vineyard down in Pembrokeshire,” he said.

“Well it’s bloody lovely.” I looked into his eyes, and feeling a little emboldened, continued. “You’re bloody lovely.”

Tudor hesitated for a second, as if unsure of himself. “Thank you,” he finally replied. “Are you done?”

I looked down at my completely empty plate, and laughed. “I think so, though I might be able to lick up a few crumbs if I try really hard.”

“Great.” He stood up, collecting our plates and heading for the door. “I’ll go and get the main course.”

“That was just the starter?” I called, but he was already out of the room. I sipped at my wine for the next ten minutes, trying to resist the urge to check my phone. Finally, I gave in to the urge, and checked my Instagram.

I had over 200,000 followers, and didn’t usually notice new ones.

But this time, I had if only because I’d been looking him up myself and happened to see that he had followed me.

Since moving into the hotel, I had a slightly unhealthy obsession with checking Tudor’s Instagram each day.

His feed was the complete opposite to mine, in that it was completely un-curated chaos.

Nothing posted for a month, then three pictures posted in a day.

A random pint of beer. Pictures with friends, of the Hiraeth views, of rugby matches he had watched.

Tudor’s beauty was in his reality, in that the moments he posted online seemed so authentic and so full of joy and life.

I envied him. In a few weeks of shooting, Sandra had sent me no less than seven different brands who were eager for sponsorship and I’d dutifully posed and praised these skincare, sports and clothing brands for unspecified money like an orca being paid in fish at SeaWorld.

Sandra was naturally delighted and assured me that this was furthering my career.

Looking at the pure joy on Tudor’s face in some of his snaps made me feel less sure that was something I even wanted.

The door swung open again and I stuffed my phone in my pocket before Tudor could see. No use in letting him know I was pining over him when I couldn’t even be sure where I’d be in the next few months.

“Here,” started Tudor, snapping me out of my trance, “is some lamb cawl - simple enough word, Welsh for soup.”

The bowl was filled with big, meaty chunks of lamb and potato.

Tudor had brought out more bread too, so I dunked it in the broth and took a bite.

As soon as I’d had a taste of that I started attacking it with my spoon.

Once again, my bowl was empty before I realised.

I took a big gulp of wine and Tudor refilled our glasses.

“Nice?” he asked. I sensed it wasn’t really a question, but a statement. He knew he was good.

“Delicious,” I confirmed.

“Good. I like it when people love what I love making…if that makes sense,” said Tudor.

“It does to me.” I took another gulp of wine, and Tudor poured the remainder of the bottle into the glasses.

“I’ll be right back,” he said again. He took the bottle and bowls deftly and left. I stood once more, taking the wine with me this time, and watched as the sun’s very last rays peeked over the horizon.

“Getting dark, isn’t it?” said Tudor behind me. I jumped as I hadn’t heard him come back in.

“I like the dark,” I replied. It was true. I never felt more at peace than in a quiet and dark room.

“Well let me…” I heard the flick of a switch, and suddenly the latticework above was glowing with light. As I looked up in wonder, I saw that thousands of LED lights had been wound tightly around the steel latticework and beams.

Tudor came to stand next to me. He had a new bottle of wine, which he poured into each of our glasses again. I wasn’t normally much of a drinker and I could feel myself getting a little lightheaded. “You welcomed me into your world yesterday, can I welcome you into mine?”

“Of course,” I said. Tudor took my free hand and led me into the centre of the room. I felt almost a spark at his touch, and I wondered if he could feel it too.

“This,” he said, “used to be an old conservatory and greenhouse when the hotel was a manor house over a hundred years ago. The owners used to grow their food in here year-round, and apparently they were growing exotic fruits and peppers years before they became available to anyone this far out. What I want to do is to plant all around the edges in planters here, so we can cook from our own crops, and then here-” he pulled me back from the centre and out to the edges so he could make a big sweep across the centre of the room “-I want tables, lots of them - people eating good local produce that supports the town and local people.”

“That sounds…amazing,” I said. The whole place was beautiful, his plan was beautiful. He was beautiful.

And I knew then that I liked him. The man was gorgeous, of course, but to see him here in his element and sharing his love for something just unlocked a deep want inside of me. I leaned in and kissed him, wine stained lips and all.

He pulled back and looked at me, as if confused. “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to-”

But he cut me off with a kiss, hesitant at first but then more confident. I felt a little wine slosh out of the glass and on to my hand as he kissed me harder, his free hand winding itself into the top of my shirt buttons and keeping me close to him.