Beauty and the Brit by Poppy St. James
STERLING
I’m seconds away from ruining the evening with my foul mood, but it’s hard not to when the call from Charles put everything into shining clarity. My mood plummeted with the gravity of the entire situation I’ve found myself in, and then it was all I could focus on.
It may sound cliché, but my mum is my whole world. She’s the one who stood by my side when I was an unruly, spite-filled teenager who’d just been dropped into a strange new school in a brand-new country. I didn’t understand the customs, didn’t understand the culture. And worse, I didn’t have any friends to take away the boredom and dark pit of juvenile hell I’d found myself wallowing in.
Mum stood up for me, helped get me through. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t call someone a cunt, or why everyone giggled behind their hand when I said bloody. But Mum was there. As an only child, I was her whole world, and now that she has no one else, it’s up to me to fight for her.
Eventually I met Noah and got along fine, but those first months were hard.
As I grew, I always stayed close to her. And then somewhere during the process of becoming a divorce attorney and watching my own parents’ seemingly stable marriage crumble, I lost it. I lost sight of the meaning of a deep relationship between two people, didn’t know why in the world anyone would ever want to tie themselves to another person for all of eternity, knowing the odds of it ending badly were so high.
Because of all of that baggage, I’ve been living a lonely life. Maybe it’s the fact that my best friend has now settled down and has a baby on the way, but I’m starting to look at Camryn in a whole new light.
There’s no way this can possibly work out well, so I don’t know why I’m even trying. But when Camryn showed up tonight looking stunning, she took my breath away, and then was ready to leave before I’ve even spoken three words to her. I know I can’t stand by and let that happen.
I might have a mess of baggage to deal with, but I’m not about to let her walk away. The urge to pull her into my arms and hold her there is much too strong. I stroke her jaw, fighting with myself not to kiss her, and she looks up at me with huge green eyes.
“Don’t leave,” I whisper.
She draws a slow, shaky breath, still watching me with wide eyes as I touch her.
This just feels right. And for the first time in a long time, I feel good. I don’t want that feeling to end.
I’m still touching her, still caressing her milky-soft skin, and she’s still letting me. It’s a step in the right direction.
“I was a jerk. I’m sorry.”
A weak smile is her only response.
“Come on; you can do better than that, love.”
Her shaky smile grows, and her rigid posture relaxes just a fraction more. “I wasn’t sure what to think when I got here. You seemed angry.”
“Just a bit of bad news, but I’ll get it straightened in the morning. I’m sorry. Will you please stay?”
She nods, and I let my hand slip down from her jaw to the column of her graceful neck, her shoulder, enjoying the brush of soft cashmere against my fingertips as Camryn wets her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. The movement is so quick, but it doesn’t stop the indulgent images of her mouth on mine, from taking over. She has a beautiful mouth. And when she’s not using it to be sassy, those plump lips are just begging to be kissed.
My hand slides lower until it comes to rest on her lower back. The movement thrusts her chest forward slightly, and her firm breasts graze my chest. She responds with a tiny shiver.
My body responds instantly at the crackling electricity between us. But the strong suspicion that we’d have explosive chemistry in the bedroom isn’t something I can let myself think about right now. I force myself to pull away from the soft curves of her body, her huge, hungry eyes and damp lips.
“Come. Join me,” I say, taking her hand.
Camryn nods, and I lead her out onto the balcony.
“Does it always look like this out here?” she asks as we step outside.
“I might have spruced her up a bit,” I lie. I spent a solid hour giving this place a total makeover.
Camryn takes a seat on one of the pillows, and I do the same across from her.
I pour us each a glass of wine as we settle in. I watch Camryn take in the view surrounding us. The towering buildings glitter in the distance, and a gentle breeze lifts a stray strand of her hair.
Even though being here with her feels amazing, the dark shadow clouding all of this isn’t far from my thoughts.
“If this is how you plan a simple date on a Wednesday evening, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting you married off,” Camryn jokes.
I inhale, my jaw ticking. Right, that’s the plan. “Enjoy your wine. Let me put the finishing touches on dinner.”
I excuse myself into the kitchen where I remove our still-warm plates from the oven, and try to push aside the drama fighting for space in my brain.
Just chill, mate. One step at a time.
I deliver Camryn’s plate in front of her, along with a cloth napkin and silverware.
“Wow. I’m impressed,” she says, surveying the food.
“I hope you don’t have an allergies.”
“No, all good. This looks amazing.”
After I take my spot across from her, we both dig in.
The evening air is crisp, and I settle a woolly throw blanket over her lap. “Are you too cold? We can go inside, if you prefer.”
Shaking her head, she tugs the blanket around her. “It’s perfect out here,” she says, then takes a bite of pasta.
Neither of us seems to want to discuss the elephant in the room, the entire reason we’re working together—my upcoming nuptials. So we make small talk and stick to safe topics.
When we’re through with dinner, I stack our plates and set them aside, then bring out the chocolate truffles I purchased today and set them on top of the overturned basket.
“Cheers.” She touches her chocolate to mine, then pops it in her mouth.
“So, Camryn Palmer. Tell me, what is it that you’re looking for?”
She chews and swallows, taking her time savoring the bittersweet chocolate with caramel. “Ultimately, I’m looking for my lobster.”
My brows dart up at her unexpected response. “Your lobster?”
She laughs, a short, sharp chuckle that endears her to me even more. “It’s probably just a stupid myth, but haven’t you ever heard that lobsters mate for life?”
I shake my head. “I think someone fed you a load of bull there, love.”
“Oh, shush. Let me have my fantasies.”
“Fine.” I grin, amused that she’s looking for her lobster. “Carry on.”
“I’m looking for my forever. Someone to grow old with.”
Her dreamy smile quickly fades, and her expression turns to panic. “Oh geez, I just told you that I’m looking for commitment. Feel free to run the other way now. Climb down the trellis if you need to.”
“You didn’t say I had to give you a commitment, you simply communicated what you were looking for,” I say, correcting her. “And a woman knowing what she wants has been, and will always be, quite sexy.”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as naughty thoughts flash through my brain.
Camryn takes another sip of her wine. “Can I ask what was bothering you when I got here?”
Fighting through the tightness in my chest, I make the decision to let Camryn in. And while I’m not ready to share everything, I know she deserves to know. It’s something I never got around to telling Rebecca, even after eight months together.
Clearing my throat, I say, “My mum’s been in poor health lately. It’s been tough. And my uncle Charles is just worried, is all.”
“I’m sorry,” she offers, her voice soft. “I didn’t know.”
Nodding, I take another sip of wine. I haven’t opened up and told anyone about the seriousness of it, but the tender look in Camryn’s eyes makes me want to share a little more of myself with her.
“I’m all she has. My father left three years ago.”
“I see.” Camryn folds her hands in her lap and looks down at them. “My dad left when I was little.”
When she looks up to meet my eyes, I can see the pain and hurt his absence has caused. When someone that vital to your life disappears from it, it leaves a little hole behind. I know that firsthand.
We continue our discussion, moving from topic to topic, and unlike all the other women I’ve been with, my conversation with Camryn is real. We discuss our goals, more about our families, a little about work. We learn that neither of us has much contact with our dads, something unexpected that we share.
The pain and heartache that goes along with losing your dad isn’t something I’d wish on anyone, and the sadness lurking behind her gaze tells me she wishes this was one thing we didn’t have in common too.
“Let’s have another glass of wine,” I suggest.
“I’m game if you are.”