Page 48 of Valentine Nook
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 youin 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.”
CHAPTER 9
Lando
JEREMY: Mate, I need to talk to you.
JEREMY: I know I fucked up but pick up your phone. It’s important.
The vision of Jeremy’s Superman logo’d white arse burns in my brain, and until the day comes when it’s not the first thing I think about when either of their names are mentioned, I have no intention of speaking to them ever again.
Wherever Caroline is, I’m sure she’s happily wearing the four million pounds’ worth of jewelry I bought her over the course of our relationship and was allowed to keep.
And Jeremy? I have zero fucks to give about what Jeremy’s doing or why he needs to speak to me.
On the plus side, the messages do make me realize I haven’t thought about either of them in a few weeks. Unless you count Mrs. Fraser at the summer fair or when I went to Bluebell to see Holiday, my thoughts have been adultery-free.
And I plan on keeping it that way.
Just like all the others before it, I delete the messages and goto slip the phone back into my pocket. On second thought . . . I bring up Jeremy’s contact details and hit Block.
There.
No point in ruining a perfectly lovely day with a stream of unwanted messages.
A lovely day that I intend to continue by taking Thunder through the fields, one of his favorite things to do. First, however, he’s got a new set of shoes being fitted.
Arriving at the stable yard, I’m only greeted by silence. Silent enough for me to notice Thunder isn’t where he should be. Usually, when I arrive, he’s whinnying his head in excitement, hopping about while a groom is trying his best to tack him up.
All I find is Max’s pony Sherbet, a fat little Shetland, face first in a bucket of feed, snorting up his breakfast like he’s never eaten before, and Sunday, Thunder’s best friend, kicking his door in annoyance because Thunder isn’t there.
The rest of the stables contain their usual residents. It’s only my horse who’s not where he’s supposed to be.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” One of the stable boys walking past with two very full buckets of water nods.
“Morning, Will. Where’s Thunder?”
“Jack’s out in the field trying to get him in. He wasn’t waiting at the gate this morning, so I brought the rest of them in, and Jack went to fetch him.”
I frown because my horse is too astute for his own good.
