Page 31 of Valentine Nook (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #1)

Holiday

“ I knew it.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. Of course not. Absolutely not.” Clemmie grins wide. “I knew something was going on when you came over for family supper.”

I’m staring at her, trying to find any tell that she’s pissed I’ve been making out with her brother, but I can’t. I try one more time. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. “I think it’s great, truly. Not to put any pressure on you, but Lando’s been so much happier since you arrived here. The brother I used to know is coming back.”

“What d’you mean?”

Clemmie pulls the champagne from the ice bucket and tops off our glasses. I’ve become one of those women who seem to find any excuse to pop a bottle. What’s more, I like it.

I could get used to this new life I’m living.

“Well . . .” Her tongue clicks against the roof of her mouth. “It’s a lot of work running Burlington, keeping everyone happy, and managing the complaints, and that’s nothing to say of the estates worldwide. Alex manages it mostly, but the buck stops with Lando.”

She reaches out, picks up a chip, and scoops it deep into the hummus I picked up from the store. We also have slices of peach pie, which I made with Pierre this morning, and he begrudgingly admitted was “ magnifique .”

Not to brag, but he’s right. It might have been the eighth attempt at getting the pastry to the exact thickness Pierre instructed me to—at which point, I was ready to smack him with the rolling pin—but it was nevertheless worth it.

“Keeps him busy.”

“You could say that. He’s an excellent leader. The problem was Caroline.”

Stuffing a handful of chips in my mouth so as not to give away how desperately I want to know everything about this woman Lando planned to spend his life with, I ask, “His ex?”

Clemmie nods. “Yup.”

I crunch as quickly but as quietly as possible, hoping Clemmie will continue if I don’t interrupt.

“They were very badly suited.”

My shoulders slump. I was hoping for something juicier. “Why did he stay with her?”

Clemmie shrugs. “Good on paper, I guess.”

It’s morbid curiosity, but I can’t help myself. “So what was the problem?”

“Everyone hated her. And I mean everyone .”

She’s so blunt in her delivery that I have to cough up the chip dust that was inhaled too quickly. I think about all the people I’ve met, including Clemmie, who’s so friendly toward everyone she meets that it takes her forever to get anywhere.

“Even you?”

“I didn’t hate her hate her. I mostly felt sorry for her. Being the future Duchess of Oxfordshire is not for the weak, but she expected to be waited on hand and foot, which is not how we do things around here. Lando works .”

I know. I’ve seen that firsthand. I think about the ride we took with Thunder and Sunday, and how Lando’s eyes never stilled. They lasered in on broken fence posts or cows in fields where they shouldn’t have been or trees that needed trimming.

The only time he focused on me a hundred percent was when we made it to the waterfall.

I shift in my chair and recross my legs. Now is not the time to think about that .

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” She shakes her head. “Truthfully, I thought they were heading for splitsville, but he took Caroline on holiday, and they came back engaged. I was away at uni, and Miles called me to break the news.”

“Did Miles like her?”

“Miles hated her. So you can imagine how that went down.”

I chuckle. Of all the brothers, Miles is the one who has no fucks to give. He does what he wants when he wants. His behavior is equally outrageous and amusing, and now that he’s stopped hitting on me, I quite like him.

He’s gotten into the habit of waving and shouting, “Howdy, neighbor,” very loudly every time he sees me.

“I think Miles just hated that she treated Lando like a cash machine, and Lando gave her anything she wanted because it made his life easier. That’s what really fucked off Miles. Lando became someone we didn’t recognize.”

“And then she screwed his best friend—” My scoff drips in disdain.

Clemmie’s brows shoot up. “He told you about Jeremy?”

My cheeks burn as I nod. I’m still mortified by my reaction to him telling me when it should have been compassion, but the more I’ve thought about it—and I’ve thought about it a lot —the more I believe it was the reaction he needed .

“Wow. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone.”

“He didn’t go into detail,” I spit out.

I don’t want Clemmie to think her brother shares more with me than with his family, but from the smile on her face, I’m guessing she’s okay with it.

“So, not to be nosy or anything . . .” She reaches for a fork and casually chips away at the pastry on the pie, though her eyes keep flicking up to mine. “Are you seeing Lando again? Have you . . . you know . . . made any plans?”

Was I that obvious when I was asking about Caroline? If so, I should quit acting for good.

I laugh. “Actually, yes. He asked me to meet him for a drink later.”

“Cool. Cool,” she replies just as casually and cuts off a giant piece of pie, which she scoops into her mouth. “Omigodthisisgood.”

I beam with pride. Academy, take back my Oscar because that pie is my greatest achievement this year.

“Really? You like it?”

“Yes. Wow,” she mumbles, taking another huge bite. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Sure am.” I nod and pick up my own fork before Clemmie eats it all. “But boy, Pierre takes his job seriously.”

Clemmie’s eyes brighten as she snorts in amusement. “Yeah, he does. It’s why I stopped with roasting a chicken. I couldn’t take the disappointment in his tone every time I got something wrong.” She finishes the champagne and chases it with a full glass of water. “I nailed that chicken, though.”

“Can Lando cook?”

She shakes her head. “Better than I can, though that’s not a stretch. One of the pitfalls of having every meal prepared for you. There are other things I’m good at. Hendricks is the only one of us who can legitimately cook. ”

I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging. Us kitchen novices have to stick together.”

She’s just about to reply when her phone lights up on the table, and she catches sight of the time. “Shit. Hendricks is going to kill me. I promised I’d go and help him with the late shift at the vets. I should have been there five minutes ago.”

She shoots out of her chair and gathers up her bag. I stand to walk her to the door and am wrapped in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Holiday. I know it’s only temporary, but I hope we’ll be friends for life.”

For a moment, I’m too stunned to speak.

I have my girlfriends back in New York, but Clemmie is the first person I’ve truly made friends with in a long time.

My life is so transient, and I exist in circles of colleagues and air kisses, where we cross paths at industry parties or events or on the next film set before we drift off on our separate ways.

But when I hug her back and reply, “You bet your ass we are,” I mean every word.

I wait by the front door as she rushes out and down the path. As I’m closing it behind her, two huge magpies land on the fence and stare at me.

Two for joy.

One for Lando, one for me.

If my time in Valentine Nook is destined to become the memory of one more fleeting episode in my life, then I’m making the most of it.

We might have had our dinner together, followed by time in the fountain. But after Lando came to find me this morning and asked if I’d meet him for a drink, tonight has all the ingredients of a proper date.

One I hope will continue where we left off the last time.

The champagne emboldens me to spend the next three hours prepping for my date like I’m about to hit the red carpet.

I soak in a bubble bath, scrubbing myself from top to bottom. I apply a deep conditioning treatment to my hair. I shave my legs. I wax.

I spread a clay face mask, followed by a sheet mask that promises to remove all wrinkles while plumping my skin to its fullest potential. I follow with toner, serums, and moisturizers that assure me they do the same.

I slather my body in a fragrance that smells so good I almost turn myself on.

But deciding what to wear takes the longest.

I try on four dresses, a cute skirt and top combo I’ve yet to wear, and jeans and a cute off-the-shoulder tee before returning to the first dress I tried on.

A long dress printed with multicolored florals that swirls around my feet.

I bought it from one of the village boutiques because it reminded me of the beautiful flowers blooming in the front yards I kept passing.

Pairing it with flats, I add a slick of lip gloss and finish with mascara and run out the door with ten minutes to spare.

I don’t spot Lando when I walk into The One True Love, and it’s busy enough that there are no spare tables, so I pull out a stool at the bar and sit down. It’s the first time I’ve been in here by myself, and aside from a few double takes as I peer around, no one’s staring.

The novelty of being seen around Valentine Nook has worn off, and it brings a huge smile to my face.

I’m still smiling when Eddie appears carrying a large tray of clean glasses. “’Ello, ’Oliday. You look pleased with yourself.”

“I think I am.”

“Well, good, what are you drinkin’?”

I turn back to the door, in case Lando’s arrived, but there’s no one by the door except a small dog. “I’ll wait for Lando.”

“Suit yourself,” Eddie replies, turning to put the glasses on the shelves.

I use the time to go through my phone and read all the messages that have flooded through on the Simpson Family Chat Group today after one of my nephews caught a ball in Little League with his face, knocking out the brand-new adult tooth that had just grown through.

I’m debating what to reply when the stool next to me moves, and my head snaps up only for the smile to falter when I see it’s not Lando, just a random guy, so I resume with the messages.

“You must be Holiday.”

My eyes flick toward the voice. I’ve been in Valentine Nook long enough now that I’m recognizing people. Whether it’s at The Beanery or Valentine Cook or passing down the main street where I’ll offer up a smile.

I’ve never seen this guy, and the way he says my name has my hackles rising.

“Have we met?”

The guy pulls a packet of tissues from his pocket and places them on the bar next to a brown cardboard box. I lean back. If this guy’s sick, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.

“We haven’t,” he replies, at which point Eddie stops putting glasses away and turns around. “Hello, Eddie.”

Eddie, who I’ve only ever known to be the curmudgeonly grandpa type, looks so menacing that I’m momentarily speechless.

“Get the fuck out,” he hisses. “You know better than to show your face around here.”

The guy nods and rolls his mouth into a hard line. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait for the duke to tell me that.”

“Your funeral.”

Ice cubes clatter as Eddie scoops them up from the cold bin, drops them in a bowl, and slings it across the bar, where the guy thumps down a fist and stops it from going any further.

He neatly lines up the packet of tissues next to it.

Okay, this is fucking weird .

“Are you sick?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

Mystery dude huffs out a small chuckle. “Nope. But I say I have about five minutes before I’ll need them.”

I go back to my messages and try to focus on my siblings arguing over what to do about my nephew’s missing tooth, but my eyes are too busy flicking between this guy in front of me and the door where I’m hoping Lando will walk through any moment.

When he does, he marches across the stone floor, barely offers me a glance, and punches the mystery man square in the nose.