Page 9 of Valentine Nook
We’ve already had to move out of the way of a tractor carrying bales of hay and a couple of large, frisky-looking horses being led by a teenage boy. I almost fell into the hedge while trying to avoid them.
I shake my head. “Not out here. I’ve only been to London, and usually, it’s a quick visit with press junkets or award ceremonies. Never longer than a week.”
Clemmie’s blue eyes widen. “Wow, really?”
“Yup.”
“And you’re here for six months?”
I nod again, because technically, that’s the idea as long as the roof stops leaking.
“What’s your plan?”
“I don’t have one,” I reply truthfully. I didn’t get that far. Iusuallyhave a plan. Perhaps I should come up with something. “I’ve never had time off before.”
I wait for Clementine to be shocked or pick up on my nerves at the prospect of doing nothing, but instead, she loops her arm through mine as though we’re lifelong friends. It creates a comforting familiarity.
“Then you’ve come to the perfect place. You’ll absolutely love it here.”
Her grin is so wide and enthusiastic, the reticence I felt earlier vanishes. Large hedges we’ve been walking alongside give way to a fence lined with the same blossom trees I have in the backyard of my cottage. A little way up is a pale green gate too high for me to see over, but it doesn’t stop Clemmie from pushing it open.
Perhaps privacy isn’t a thing in the countryside.
“This is my brother Miles’s house.”
I peer around the wide open gate to find a cottage as equally cute as mine but with a collection of rain boots and mud-covered sneakers stacked up by the front door. A saddle is resting on a beam in the porch along with a pile of blankets.
“As you can see, he’s not the tidiest. He’s not the quietest either. His parties keep the whole village awake. But he gets away with it because he’sMiles, and because he invites everyone. I’d decline if I were you, though you’ll likely be the guest of honor.”
“Sounds exhausting.” I chuckle. “Is he younger or older?”
“Older. I’m the youngest, and I have four older brothers.”
“Four?” I gasp. “I have three siblings. An older brother and a sister, and a twin brother. I always think that’s enough. I can’t imagine four brothers.”
“It definitely has its disadvantages,” she groans ominously and shrugs out of her raincoat, only to hang it on the gate as she closes it. “I’ll get that later . . .”
It hasn’t been long since the rain stopped, but the heat is already drying the puddles dotted around the ground, and the birds have commenced chirping. It’s warm enough that I’m hoping I won’t regret wearing jeans because while I’m used to the dry Californian heat, this humidity will stick to me.
“Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Miles and my brother Hendricks are identical twins. They used to live in that cottage, but Hendricks became a dad, and their place wasn’t exactly child friendly. He and Max, who’s four, now live in Burlington, our family home across the fields”—Clemmie points in a general direction although there are too many hedges in the way for me to see anything—“along with my mum, and my eldest brother, Lando. My other brother Alex lives across the village.”
There’s something about Clemmie I can’t quite put my finger on. It makes me think her upbringing was different from mine, with her rose gardens and perfect chickens, and the way the tractor driver and the kid with the horses were almost deferential in their greetings to her. And now she’s telling me she still lives at home with almost her entire family.
My parents’ house isn’t small, but with the four of us kids plus six grandchildren, the most I can manage under one roof is a week during the holidays.
As much as I love my parents, the thought of moving back home makes me break out in hives.
“Sounds like a houseful.”
“It is. Especially with the mood Lando’s been in lately. I do what I can to stay out of his way.”
“Why’s he in a mood?”
“He went through a breakup.” Clemmie tuts.
Her deep eye roll tells me exactly what her opinion is and makes me laugh because it sounds like her brother is as dramatic as mine. And considering I act for a living, that says a lot.
I’m about to say as much, but then we turn a bend in the road. Suddenly, I’m walking over a stone bridge under which flows a stream coming from a large fountain at the end of the prettiest main street I’ve ever seen.
