Page 18 of Valentine Nook
“Look, consider sleeping on it a little longer. Please, Lando?—”
“No. If you won’t sign it, then I’ll find someone who will.”
He remains silent but pulls a pen out of his blazer pocket. I’m aware of his disapproval with every letter I scrawl at the bottom of the page, and the moment I’m done, he snatches it away and signs on the dotted line next to my signature.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “Would you please courier it to Arthur?”
Arthur is our family solicitor. Just like everything else atBurlington, we’ve inherited him from his father and his father before him. His firm has served our family for one hundred and fifty years. I see him once a month when I head to London for monthly meetings, but I was there last week to collect this document, and I have no plans to leave Valentine Nook again quite so soon.
“Certainly.” He turns and walks out without another word.
That went about as well as could be expected, though I really hope he doesn’t mention it to my mother before I do because that wouldn’t be ideal.
My cheeks puff as I exhale loudly and turn back to the windows. Following the much-needed rain yesterday, the sky is cloudless and a glorious shade of blue. The stacks of papers on my desk are crying for my attention, as are the dozen unreturned calls—most likely about the summer fair—but after the last hour, I need to reset my day.
I’m tussling what to do when my phone beeps from an incoming message.
JEREMY: Can we talk?
I stare at the screen, fighting the urge to punch something. It’s been six months since I last spoke to him, and even then, it was only a cursoryfuck off.
Instead of reiterating my stance, I take a deep breath, delete it, and change into a pair of running shorts.
I’m definitely not doing any work now.
Five minutes later, I’m sprinting down the drive. Cutting through the first field on my left where Thunder has been turned out, I stop to give him a quick scratch and a Polo, then continue on my way. Aside from working Thunder around the land, running is the best way to check on my property.
I can go where the Land Rovers and tractors can’t. I can see where hedgerows need repairing or fences are down. Where the cows can sneak out or goats can sneak in. It helps me feelmore than a CEO when I’m actively contributing to Burlington’s mammoth upkeep.
I run until I arrive in the one place I come when I need to be alone.
Just as I’ve always done since I was a child, I strip off completely and dive into the water until I touch the pale pink rock that’s in the middle of the pool. It’s a little ritual I’ve had whenever I swim here and the first thing I do.
If anything could convince me magic exists, it’s this place. The water should be freezing cold, yet it’s not, even in the winter. It’s crystal clear, and as it’s quite warm, I stand under the waterfall, allowing its power to pummel my shoulders, releasing the persistent tension I’ve been carrying. It also helps me think.
I havea lotof thinking to do—about my life, my future, about whether I’m doing the right thing. About what my father would have done and whether I’m living up to his expectations. Whether he would be proud.
It’s where I came to grieve after he died.
It’s where I came to lick my wounds after my marriage ended before it began.
Unfortunately for me, I don’t get to think today.
Suddenly, my peace is shattered by a loud gasp followed by a deafening screech.
A blond woman is on the other side of the pool frozen in place, hand clasped to her chest with blue eyes as wide as dinner plates as they scan over me in horror.
Her hair is scraped back from her face and wrapped in a messy knot on top of her head. Loose wisps of gold catch the light and pull my attention to her immaculate bone structure, peachy smooth skin, and full, plump mouth that’s currently dropped open.
She’s wearing the tiniest white bathing suit I’ve ever seen; the material is cut so high on her thighs that it makes her legsgo on forever. Toned bronzed skin that, even from this distance, I can see how soft it is, how lithe she is.
She’s fucking beautiful.
I’ve never seen another person here in my life. For a split second, I wonder if she’s real or if my brain is short-circuiting through the haze of spray.
As I wipe the water from my eyes, I remember I’m stark naked. Before I can say anything or cover myself, she darts away back down the path leading toward Bluebell Cottage.
So that’s my tenant.
