Page 17 of The Dating Ban (Mind the Corbin Brothers #1)

SOS from Kent

Ivy

I zip up my bag and set it by the door after glancing inside one last time to make sure I’ve got everything. Bathrobe, towel, swimsuit, shower gel, shampoo… check. Book for lounging, snacks for the car ride… also check.

Christa will be here any minute to pick me up for our spa day, and I’m actually looking forward to it. A whole afternoon of facials and soaking in a heated pool without a single email notification in sight. Heaven.

I grab my phone to see if she’s texted, but the screen lights up with a message from Theo instead.

Theo

SOS.

I frown. That’s it? No explanation? No follow-up?

I fire off a reply.

Me

What’s wrong?

No response .

I wait for the little typing bubble to appear. Nothing.

Great.

I sigh, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder before heading downstairs.

Whatever’s happening, it must be urgent—Theo never texts like that.

Since we exchanged phone numbers we have been messaging on and off a bit.

About the weather, his brothers bugging him, my growing army, and my personal favourite: videos of Lucy telling me goodnight.

Friends stuff. But he doesn’t do dramas… usually.

I push open the door to The Kaiser’s Mug, and the scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries wraps around me instantly.

The place is already heaving for it being barely eleven in the morning—every table occupied, the gentle clatter of waiters stacking crockery mixing with the low hum of conversation.

Despite the morning rush, everything still runs with the precision Theo demands.

His staff, dressed in crisp white shirts and neatly pressed waistcoats, move effortlessly between tables, balancing trays of coffee and delicate slices of Sachertorte .

The polished wooden counter gleams under the soft lighting, and the glass cake display is fully stocked— Apfelstrudel , Gugelhupf , and perfectly layered cakes waiting to be served.

Theo is behind the counter. His jaw is tight, his movements just a little too sharp, and there’s a tension in his body that immediately sets off alarm bells in my head.

He glances up as I step forward, and the second he sees the bag slung over my shoulder, his expression falls.

“Oh,” he says, voice tight. “You have plans.”

I shake my head. “Ignore that. What’s up? ”

He hesitates, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter like he’s weighing his options. I know that look—he’s trying to figure out how to handle this alone, even though it’s already clear he can’t.

I arch a brow. “Theo.”

That does it. He exhales sharply, sliding the finished coffee onto a tray before leaning in slightly, voice low over the noise of the café.

“Jasper took Lucy for the day,” he says. “They went back to his place. But he just called me—he’s fallen, and he thinks he’s broken his arm.”

My stomach clenches. “Is he okay?” Stupid question, Ivy, the man broke his arm!

“He says he will be,” Theo replies, but his expression is strained. “The problem is, he needs to get himself to hospital, but he can’t exactly take Lucy with him. Geoff’s not available, and I don’t know what to do.”

I don’t even think about it.

“Give me the address,” I say immediately.

Theo’s jaw tightens. “Ivy…no. I can’t ask you to cancel your plans.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

He hesitates, his shoulders tense with that familiar internal struggle—grateful but reluctant, torn between accepting help and insisting he’ll figure it out himself.

“Theo,” I say firmly. “Just give me the address.”

He exhales, defeated, and pulls his phone from his pocket. “I can tell you how to get there by train—”

“Don’t bother,” I cut in, already unlocking my own phone. “I’m getting Christa to drive me.”

That makes him pause. “Wait. You’re really—?”

“Yes,” I grin, already texting. “Now stop wasting time and send me the address.”

The Kent countryside stretches out around us, all rolling fields and winding country lanes, the occasional hamlet breaking up the endless green.

Christa drives with one hand casually on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume of the radio as we make our way deeper into what feels like the middle of nowhere.

I glance at my phone. The blue dot on the map confirms that we’re about fifteen minutes away from Little Hadlow, the tiny village where Jasper lives.

I exhale. “I still feel bad for dragging you into this.”

Christa scoffs. “Ivy, if you say sorry one more time, I’m kicking you out of this car.”

I smirk. “While it’s moving?”

“I’ll slow down.”

I chuckle, shifting in my seat. “It’s just… I know you were looking forward to today. And now instead of relaxing at the pool, you’re driving me around the country so I can look after someone else’s child.”

Christa waves a hand dismissively. “And yet, weirdly, I don’t mind?

Lucy needs looking after. That takes priority over a steam room.

Plus,” she throws me a sly look, “I’m kinda curious to see where Theo’s brother lives.

From what you’ve said, I am picturing some countryside bachelor pad with questionable furniture choices. ”

“Same,” I admit. “I’ve only seen him once, when you and I went to the café for the first time.”

“Well, we’re about to get a front-row seat to his life,” she says as we turn onto a narrower road, lined with stone walls and wildflowers.

A few minutes later, we drive past the sign for Little Hadlow, a picture-perfect village if I’ve ever seen one.

It’s all thatched roofs, ivy-covered brickwork, and a high street that consists of a pub, a post office, and a tea shop.

The kind of place where everyone probably knows everyone, and news spreads faster than broadband.

Christa whistles. “Cute.”

I nod. “Very.”

We follow the sat nav through the village and onto a quieter road, passing some charity shops and an old church before turning into a long gravel driveway.

Our jaws drop.

The house is massive. More villa than cottage, with sprawling gardens, elegant stonework, and large sash windows gleaming in the late morning sun.

There is an extension to the left that looks like a weird add on—might be a granny flat—but the rest belongs in a magazine spread rather than a sleepy village.

Christa parks in front of the extension. “When exactly were you planning on telling me that Theo’s brother is secretly aristocracy?”

I shake my head, still staring. “I didn’t know.”

Before I can process the sheer size of the place, the front door swings open.

Jasper stands in the doorway, tall and broad like Theo, but with a scruffier edge.

He is clean shaven whilst Theo always has a bit of a stubble.

Jasper’s hair is also a bit lighter and has some streaks in it that look like his genes couldn’t decide if they wanted him to be dark haired or blond.

His eyes are currently clouded with pain.

His arm is cradled against his chest in a stiff, awkward position, but he still manages a grin.

“Welcome to the countryside,” he says as if we’ve just popped by for afternoon tea.

I hop out of the car, closing the door behind me. “Jasper, are you—”

“Fine,” he interrupts smoothly, waving me off with his good hand. “A bit of a tumble, nothing dramatic.”

Christa side-eyes me. I side-eye her back.

Lucy suddenly appears at Jasper’s side, beaming. “Ivy! You came!”

“Of course I did,” I say, crouching down to hug her. “You okay?”

She nods eagerly. “Uncle Jasper fell, but he said he’s super strong, so it’s probably okay.”

Jasper grins, but his fingers twitch slightly against his injured arm. Yeah. He’s in pain .

He gestures for us to come inside. “Come in, come in. I’ll give you the quick tour before I head off.”

We step inside, and my jaw drops again.

The interior is just as stunning as the exterior—high ceilings, exposed beams, and a blend of classic architecture with modern furnishings. The place somehow manages to feel both luxurious and lived in. I love this place.

Jasper leads us through a massive open-plan living room and into an even more impressive kitchen. It’s sleek but warm, with a ridiculous farmhouse-style table, hanging copper pots, and one of those professional-grade ovens that look like they belong in a Michelin-starred restaurant .

“Help yourselves to anything,” he says, motioning to the kitchen. “Food, drinks, whatever you need.”

Before I can argue, Lucy tugs at my sleeve. “Ivy! Guess what?”

“What?”

She bounces on her feet. “You can swim in the pool!”

I blink. “The—wait, what?”

Jasper chuckles. “Hot tub, technically. It’s next to the patio.

” His grin turns sheepish as he points through the open French doors that lead from the kitchen to the garden.

“That’s actually how this whole thing happened.

I was getting it ready, slipped on the decking, and—” he tries to lift his bad arm slightly, wincing. “Gravity won.”

Christa and I exchange a look.

“I mean,” she says, “if the hot tub is already set up…”

“Christa!” I laugh.

She shrugs. “What? We did pack towels.”

And honestly… she has a point. The thought of sinking into warm bubbling water, letting all the stress of the week melt away, is extremely tempting. I glance at Lucy, who is practically vibrating with excitement, and start to think that maybe this isn’t such a terrible idea.

But before I can voice it, Christa claps her hands together. “Right. Jasper, hop along. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Jasper blinks. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” she says, already grabbing her car keys. “No offence, but you look like you’re dying inside, and I am not about to let you sit here trying to pretend you’re fine.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “I appreciate the concern, but I can call a taxi. ”

Christa narrows her eyes. “And wait for one to actually show up out here in Little Piddleborrow or whatever this place is called? No. We’re going now.”

Jasper looks between us, clearly trying to find an escape route. “I really don’t—”