Page 7 of Wallflower in Bloom

His breath caught as her living room came into view.

By some miracle, he’d stepped through a curtain of time and space into an English country cottage.

The low-ceiling cottage, easily from the 1800s, was stuffed to the brim with plants in every nook and cranny. Vines crawled along the windowsills, and lush, leafy ferns sat tucked into every corner. Chenille blankets were slung over a deep, comfy couch. Baskets of pillows were snuggled into corners, and a forgotten tea mug sat on an end table beside the sofa.

Walls of well-worn paperback books lined the room in deep, built-in white bookshelves. These were not fussy books used for decoration but the real kind that were read and loved and had cracked spines. The kind you kept because they’d become part of you—not because you equated reading with ego, but because you equated reading with happiness.

He glanced beyond her into the open kitchen. A huge, sturdy old wooden farmhouse table was the focal point of the bright, homey kitchen painted a robin’s egg blue. Copper pots and pans draped from the ceiling above the butcher block island, and he spotted a proper tea kettle on the stove. His hand came to his mouth.

His eyes welled up at how much it immediately made him miss his childhood home in the West Country of England.

Maybe this Violet was exactly his kind of person.

“It’s like…well, it’s like home,” he said, marveling at her.

She smiled back, confused, her head cocked to the side again. “Your house looks like mine?”

“No, no.” He set his suitcase upright. “It reminds me of my father’s cottage in England, where I grew up.” Where generations of his family had lived before them. The Grant family liked stability above all else. Wars might come and go, but the cottage on Toddingham Lane was always there.

That’s it. His mouth twisted with emotion briefly, but he willed it away. I miss home.

God, he hadn’t realized how much he missed home until right bloody now. The last few days had been a whirlwind of poor decisions, and here he was: tucked into a quaint, safe, perfect cottage with a temporary landlady giving him respite for the night.

Violet was oblivious to his small emotional breakdown, thank god.

She lifted the crate. “What should I do with Todd?”

“Right. If you’ll show me where I’m staying, I’ll let him get acquainted, yeah?”

They trudged up a narrow old staircase leading up to a landing.

“Here’s your room.” She opened the door to a large bedroom. “This guest room has an en suite, so I thought you’d be more comfortable here. I’m sorry though, I haven’t tidied since Lily left. That’s our younger sister.”

“Lily, Rose, Violet. I’m sensing a theme.” He smiled at her as he slid past her into the room with his luggage.

She tucked her hair behind her ear nervously. “Not many people pick that up when they meet us. You’re quick, Lord Eagleton.” She gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth.

Oh fuck, she was a fangirl. Her eyes went wide as meat pies, and she looked like she’d blurted out a secret.

A smile burst onto his face at her reaction. “So, you’re a fan?” He took Todd’s crate from her, his fingers brushing hers.

“I’ve watched an episode or two.” She nervously backed out of the room, her eyes not meeting his as she babbled. “Make yourself at home. Your bathroom’s right here. I won’t use this one, don’t worry. Make yourself at home. I’ll get you some sheets and…uh…make yourself at home.” She fled the room in a panic.

He swallowed a laugh. Maybe I should make myself at home.

He heard a tiny meow that eternally tugged at his heartstrings.

“All right, bub.” He sat Todd’s carrier down and closed the bedroom door. “Let’s not have you meandering about the house till you’re comfortable.”

He opened Todd’s cat crate in the bathroom and stuck his hand in to scratch his ears. Todd tentatively peeked his head out and then went back in the crate. “That’s all right, buddy. Take your time.”

He got the litter box and water dish settled and stood up to take in the space of the guest suite.

The house was quiet, accompanied by country evening crickets calling through an open screened window. The calm, rolling hills of the Pennsylvania countryside felt like he’d entered another land, far away from the bustling city where enormous cameras waited to find him.

What had he been thinking?

He couldn’t lose Beyond the Manor Walls. Or his position on the Wayridge Network. They’d provided him with steady work for five years. He’d done guest spots on other shows and even starred in Cobweb Kisses, last year’s steamy Halloween romance.

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