up and take notice. “Does that give you a clue?”
“No. I’m at a total loss,” I tease. “I think you might have to give me more clues. Like, a lot more.”
“Oh, I think I can manage that.” He scoops me up in his arms and carries me over to the large four-poster bed, where he lays me down and kisses me once more, this time like he can’t get enough of me, and any thoughts I had about Chris Hampshire vanish.
* * *
The following morning, I resolve to fix this whole Geraldine thing once and for all. It’s crazy that the woman has made a snap judgment on me and not even given me a chance. So what if I’m not from some toffy-nosed British family? Sebastian and I are in love and we’re getting married. That should be enough.
I fire off a text to Jilly, asking her to meet me at Mia’s Café for coffee. I’ve decided I need to bring in reinforcements to tackle this whole Geraldine situation, and with Zara living in London most of the time, Jilly’s my only friend here. She knows how things “should” be done. She’s easily my best bet.
When she replies with a yes, I do a little air punch. With Jilly’s help, Operation Win Granny Over will be back on track in no time.
While I’m on a roll, I take some time to make some Timothy-related calls. I’ve been steadily working my way through the list of potential UK activewear retail outlets that Penny and I compiled, and so far all I’ve had in response is purchasing managers’ polite disinterest.
But Penny and I didn’t get where we’ve got in the US without being knocked back a bunch of times, and I’m determined to make a success of the label in my new home country. I’ve sent out a bunch of samples, and am now hoping like crazy that at least one of the purchasers is open to meeting with me to talk about the label.
I sit at an ancient walnut desk in the bedroom, with its green felt tabletop and ornate detailing, and I begin to dial. I work my way down the list, getting knocked back at every turn. Some of them have received the samples, some of them haven’t. One even tells me she liked the shorts I sent her so much she wore them to her cardio tennis session yesterday, but although she personally loved them, she couldn’t see her store stocking them at this time. Hopes raised and dashed, all within one sentence.
I try the guy at Body Sports, the biggest sports clothing chain in the country. He tells me once again that he’s super interested in the label, but now isn’t the time. Again. As I hang up with a sigh, I wonder if he realizes he’s used that line on me before.
Eventually, I snap my laptop shut. I refuse to be defeated, even if no one seems to want to even give Timothy a chance. I know it’s a great line. I just have to keep working at to show these Brits that, too.
I glance at the time and realize I need to leave to meet Jilly. I find Sebastian at his desk in the large study downstairs. He’s got his reading glasses on as he studies his laptop, looking utterly adorable. My heart gives a little squeeze at the sight of him.
Eat your heart out, Clark Kent.
“Brady,” he says as I plant a kiss on his cheek. “Are you leaving?”
“Off to see Jilly at Mia’s.”
“Say hello to her from me. “I’ve got a wonderful day planned researching the intricacies of opening the house to the public.”
“Do you need some help?” I ask, hoping he’ll say no.
He holds up a wad of paper. “Do you want to read all about inheritance and capital gains tax?”
“As totally riveting as that sounds…”
He shoots me a grin. “I’m joking. Take the Aston Martin. She needs a blat.”
“What is a ‘blat’? Because it sure doesn’t sound like it’d be good for a car. Or for me, for that matter.”
He chuckles. “It means give the car a good run.” He collects the keys from the chest of drawers and hands them to me. “Only please remember which side of the road we drive on here.”
“How stupid do you think I am?” I tease as I take the keys from him. “I know we drive on the right.”
“The left, Brady. The left,” he says as I kiss him once more and