A Brit on the Side (Castle Calder Book 1) by Brenda St John Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

her ex either. But my brain niggles at me until finally my admonishment is as clear as if I said it out loud.
    You know what happens when you assume. You make an ass out of you. And me.

Chapter Six
    D ay two at Castle Calder , I wake at ten to a note on the table from Claire telling me to take it easy and rest today, so I promptly go back to bed, letting the rain lull me back to sleep until mid-afternoon. I’m exhausted from such a long day yesterday, but the three bottles of wine at the end definitely didn’t help – especially with Jasper in the mix.
    As I carry my second cup of tea back to my bedroom, I groan, recalling the argument we had about cycling as a valid form of transport and the need for dedicated bike lanes in major cities. We were actually on the same side; the argument came when Jasper suggested certain roads could be dedicated to cycle traffic only and I cited the traffic problems in Atlanta as a reason why that would be impossible. Less roads to choose from would increase congestion on existing roads, I said. He countered with the argument that lessening available routes would force people to change their habits, and it escalated from there.
    Both of our arguments were valid; it was how vehemently we defended them, sounding pompous and self-righteous, that feels even more cringe-worthy to me today than the amount I drank. Especially remembering Claire’s knowing half smile, which convinces me that in less than one day she’s got an inkling of the secret I’ve hidden from Scarlett for two years.
    At least I feel too hungover to eat, so that’s a small blessing. I cup my hands around my tea and close my eyes. But they fly open a second later as the door to the cabin rattles and I hear Scarlett call, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
    “I’m awake,” I say, but my voice is small and I have to clear my throat and try again. “What’s up?”
    “You’re still in bed? Oh my God, I’m so jealous.” Scarlett stands in the doorway, dressed in a long black jersey skirt and an oversize blue button-down she could have stolen from her dad. It looks effortlessly chic except for the black eyeliner, which makes me smile.
    “You look like you might be better off in bed yourself.” I scoot over and she collapses next to me, taking half my pillow. “Feeling rough?”
    “My bloody head. And Mum got me up at nine to help make up the beds.” She reaches for my tea. “I’m dying.”
    “You never can handle your wine. Remember the one time --”
    “If you speak of it, I’ll volunteer you for the kitchen tonight.”
    I sit up and fumble for my phone on the bedside table. “Shit. Am I supposed to be there? It’s already 3:12.”
    “Emma’s here, so you’re good, but if you get cheeky about my past, ahem, indiscretions, I’ll get Lou to send Emma home.” Scarlett closes her eyes and holds the tea out to me. “You know I’d do it.”
    I lean back and take the mug from her hand. “You’re hiding out here, so I actually don’t think you would.”
    “I came to see if you were as worse for the wear as I am, but sleeping in obviously has restorative effects.” Scarlett smiles, her eyes still shut. “Jaz was a little green this morning, too.”
    “Was he drunk?” He didn’t seem drunk to me, just animated.
    Scarlett lowers her voice. “Well, you know, Bea, cycling as a primary mode of transportation rather than simply an alternative makes excellent sense on several levels.”
    I groan and squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh, God. Tell me that conversation wasn’t as painful to listen to as it was to participate in.”
    “Both of you were very, very committed.” Scarlett turns to face me. Her face is close enough I can see the small clump of mascara on her left eye. “I’m not used to that side of you.”
    Right. Which takes us right back to Theo, where this whole thing started last night. Because, truthfully, would I have stood my ground so firmly with Jasper if I wasn’t holding onto the Barbie doll