Page 18 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

Clemmie and Lando watch me as I take my first sip. The crisp, bubbly apple taste hits my throat. It’s incredibly refreshing and immediately goes to my head.

“Well?”

I take another sip under their watchful eyes. “Hey, best cider I’ve ever tasted.”

Clemmie whoops. “Correct answer.”

“It’s made from Burlington apples. The ones Churchill doesn’t eat, anyway,” Lando adds, taking a huge gulp of his own.

Clemmie’s already moved on to serving more customers. As there’s not enough space at the bar for us to stand here and drink, I pick up my cup and once again follow Lando.

“See you two later. Don’t have too much fun without me,” Clemmie calls after us as we make our way over to the field of games.

The coconut shy is essentially nine coconuts balanced on the top of ten evenly spaced poles set into an overlapping diamond formation, ready to be knocked off.

What’s shy about it, I don’t know.

It also looks easy enough, though from the way Lando’s looking at me, I suspect he thinks otherwise.

“Afternoon, Your Grace,” the man behind the counter greets. “Come to give it a go?”

“We have, Mike,” Lando replies, peeling notes off a stack he pulls from his pocket. “And we’ll take a couple of buckets. It’s my friend’s first time at the coconut shy. ”

I thrust my hand out to Mike. “I’m Holiday. I’m new here.”

Mike gets that look people do where he can’t quite place me, but he shakes my hand anyway and heaves the buckets of balls on the shelf in front of us. They’re roughly the same size as a baseball, though a little heavier, but I’ll make it work.

I knew all those hours spent pitching to Tanner would come in handy one of these days.

I curl my fist around the first ball. “So what? I have to knock the coconuts off?”

“Sure do. Just aim and throw,” says Mike.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Hollywood.”

I grin wide at the two men staring expectantly at me, and as I pitch my fist back, I realize the back of the booth is empty.

“Hang on, what do I win if I get them all?”

“Anyone who knocks them all off wins dinner for two at a restaurant of their choice in the village,” Mike replies.

“No stuffed bear?”

Lando shakes his head. “No.”

I put the ball down. “I’m used to winning a stuffed bear.”

“You need to knock them all off before we can negotiate prizes.”

I was going to go easy, but the smile he’s wearing is so placating that I’m going hard.

“I’d like to negotiate now if it’s all the same to you.”

Lando scratches through his beard, and one thick eyebrow rises. “All right, if you knock them all off without missing a throw, I’ll add a stuffed bear to the prize.”

“An extra-large, life-sized one.”

“Life-sized?”

“It’s what they have at the fairs in America.”

“Okay, a life-sized bear.” He holds his hand out, and I shake it.

“You have yourself a deal, Gracie.” I toss the ball into the air and catch it. “Let’s see what I can do. ”

Pitching my arm back, the first ball flies out of my hand with enough speed and accuracy not to only knock the coconut in the middle but crack it open.

“What the . . .?” Mike’s reaction is exactly the same as Lando even though I can tell he’s trying to hide it.

“Beginner’s luck.” I lift a shoulder and throw him a wink.

The second coconut doesn’t crack, but it falls off just the same.

The third, fourth, and fifth follow.

By the time the sixth flies off its perch, a small crowd has begun to form behind me. But as I’m sure Lando’s guessed by now, this isn’t my first rodeo. In fact, he’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, a wide grin stretched over his face.

I don’t hate it.

I channel Tanner and all those times I’ve watched him play or practiced with him over and over in the backyard until the ninth ball hits the coconut square in the middle, and it topples to the ground.

A couple of people behind me clap. A group of boys step forward to give it a go of their own, while muttering it can’t be that hard.

I push the remaining bucket of unused balls over to Mike and hold my hand out.

Silently, he pulls an envelope from his pocket, places it in my palm, and grins wide. “I guarantee no one else is going to do that today.”

“Thank you,” I reply, turning to Lando whose eyes are open wide. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

I can see he’s battling with himself while he tries to figure out a way to tell me he’s impressed without coming across as sexist or offensive. It’s kind of cute, so I decide to go easy on him.

“My twin brother, Tanner, plays baseball in the major leagues. I was the one who practiced ball with him for hours and hours on end growing up. You learn some things.”

Lando nods slowly. “And what did you get out of it?”

“He practiced my lines with me.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first guy who’s underestimated me.”

Two deep creases appear between his brow, and his smile drops. “I don’t doubt that. And I’m certain it’s never a mistake made by the same person twice.”

The last part of his sentence is spoken with such sincerity that I can only shake my head in response.

As we say goodbye to Mike and turn to leave, a couple of boys have blocked our path. Though they’re not boys. They’re men, young men but still men.

One of them steps forward, phone in hand. “’Scuse me, are you Holiday Simpson? Can we get a picture?”

It was going to happen sooner or later. I’m not exactly hiding myself in the village, but for the past couple of weeks, there’s been peace in walking around undisturbed.

Any disappointment I feel, however, vanishes when I realize Lando’s stepped Rottweiler-like between me and the guys because his natural instinct is to protect. Even before he figures out what’s happening.

I place a hand on his arm to let him know I’m okay, then nod to the guys.

“Sure. No problem.”

I put on my best smile, the one I practice for moments like this. The one that’s shared and viewed millions of times over. It’s the one that everyone knows, that makes me look happy all the time. Friendly.

Hollywood’s Golden Girl.

But as my eyes flick to Lando and his scowl, my smile morphs into a wide grin. Right now, he looks like he wants to rip the guy’s arm off for slinging it around my shoulders.

“Thanks. Big fan. We loved your last film. ”

“That’s kind, thank you. Thank you for your support,” I reply, easing away from them for their own safety, given the murderous expression on Lando’s face.

As soon as there’s a gap, Lando steps close to me again.

He stares until the guys have walked away out of sight, then turns us in the opposite direction, like he’s worried they’ll come back.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Yes,” I reply, folding up the dinner envelope and slipping it into my purse. “Not as much as some actors because I keep a lower profile, but yes. First time here, though.”

“Must be annoying.”

I take a breath. I’m always careful to respond to comments like this in case it comes back to bite me in the ass. But with Lando, it sounds like he’s speaking from a place of experience. If that older lady from earlier is anything to go by.

“Sometimes. When people don’t respect boundaries. With social media, everyone feels like they’re entitled to a piece of you. But this is a career I chose, and meeting fans comes with the territory. And I do love it most of the time. It’s just a bit more intense right after a film releases.”

“And you just had one come out?”

It’s a question, not a statement.

I stop walking and glance up at him, pushing my sunglasses on my head.

It’s been a long time since I met someone who’s never seen my work, even from my early days.

It’s been even longer since I spent time with anyone who had no interest in films or fame or Hollywood. It’s a strange experience meeting someone who already knows a ton about you, thanks to Wikipedia or whatever tabloid outlet they’d got their hands on that day.

It’s even stranger to meet someone who doesn’t .

But Lando’s asking because he genuinely wants to know. Because this is all new to him.

“Are you telling me you haven’t watched my films?”

He takes in my shocked expression and his mouth drops. “Um . . . um . . . I?—”

“I’m messing with you.” I laugh and shove him playfully in the ribs.

“That may be . . .” He clears his throat. “I’m still embarrassed to say I haven’t, but that’s nothing on you. I just never have the time to sit and watch a movie. Alex said it was very good, though,” he adds quickly.

“Well, then, please thank him for me. If you ever do find yourself having time, I can recommend a few good ones. Not mine, just really good movies.”

“But I’d like to see yours,” he replies, “as long as you bring the popcorn.”

“I can do popcorn.”

A huge roar of cheers erupts from the cricket pitch, and everyone around us spins to see what caused it. But there’s too much in the way to see. I want to ask Lando what he thinks happened, and if we can go watch a little when I notice an impossibly glamorous older woman walking toward us.

The type of woman I aspire to be when I reach her age.

Perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect makeup.

She has to be mid-sixties, wearing navy blue slacks and a white button-down that doesn’t look like it’s ever had a speck of dirt on it. She’s dressed in that impossibly expensive and put-together way, but only if you know what you’re looking for—custom fits and the highest quality fabrics.

She’s so English and proper. I imagine she has afternoon tea with sandwiches every day.

I notice people watching her as she passes them, though her eyes are on no one but Lando, and as this woman looks exactly how Clemmie will look in forty years, it’s not a stretch to figure she’s his mom.

“Oh god .” I barely catch what he’s mumbling from the side of his mouth. “Holiday, I apologize in advance for anything about to happen.”

“There you are, darling. I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I haven’t seen you all day.”

Lando bends down, placing a brief kiss on her cheek. “Hello, Mother.”

But she isn’t looking at Lando. Her entire focus is on me, and she thrusts her hand out. Lando’s watching me, and I can’t tell if it’s through nerves or curiosity.

“You must be Holiday. Welcome to Valentine Nook, my dear. My daughter has been singing your praises. It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Victoria Burlington, Lando’s mother.”

I have met so many people in my life, which instilled in me the ability to be both incredibly charming and not easily intimidated, but right now, I have to dig deep. I also fight the urge to curtsey.

Removing my sunglasses, I give her my very best smile. A genuine one. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“How are you enjoying the cottage?” she coos. “Lando used to live in it, you know. If you have any problems at all, he’ll be able to help.”

I turn to Lando. I’m certain he’s not mentioned that before, and I’m also certain Clemmie hadn’t either. No, it’s brand-new information.

That uncomfortable expression is back on Lando’s face, and this time, it’s coupled with a hint of embarrassment, and I wonder why. But then again, this lady is his mother, so it comes with the territory.

“He’s been awesome help. He and Clemmie have been welcoming me to the village. ”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” Her eyes bounce between Lando and me. “And you must come for supper. How about next Friday?”

Lando tuts loudly, “No, Mum. Holiday doesn’t want to come for supper.”

“Lando—”

“ Mother —”

I don’t know what’s going on between Lando and his mom, but I have a sneaky suspicion it’s something to do with me. You learn to pick up on cues when people have conversations about you in front of you .

But next Friday is the Fourth of July, something I’d normally celebrate with my family. I was going to plan something at my cottage, but I hadn’t yet gotten around to it. This invitation not only saves me from hosting, but it also means I get to see Lando’s family all together.

I’m not sure who’s more surprised—him or his mom—when I answer.

“Actually, I’d love to.”