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

comment somewhere in my head? Even now, I bristle. “That’s not fair.”
    “You’re normally more about keeping the peace is all I’m saying,” Scarlett says. Judging by her posture, she either doesn’t hear my change in tone or she’s choosing to ignore it.
    “I like to choose my battles.” Before I say anything else, I jump up from the bed.
    Scarlett asks, “Where are you going?”
    “I’m going to shower. I should at least pretend to be a functioning adult today.” I head for the bathroom as she murmurs and sinks down, pulling the duvet up over her shoulders. Knowing hungover Scarlett like I do, I’m pretty sure she’ll be sound asleep by the time I’m finished and it will take the four horsemen of the apocalypse to wake her.
    Thank God, because the only things I’ve unpacked so far are my robe and the clothes I threw on yesterday. I have to rummage around in my open suitcase on the floor to find something to wear and, while I’m at it, I decide to hang up the most wrinkled things, scraping the closet door open with a wince. Scarlett doesn’t move, though, her breathing deep and even. I debate drying my hair, but I’m not sure she’d sleep through that, so I pull it up into a wet ponytail, pull a zip-up sweatshirt over my capris and T-shirt, and softly close my bedroom door.
    For the time I’ve spent in the cottage today, I’ve been focused on the most direct path from the kettle to my bed, but now that I’m up, I realize it looks a lot more lived-in than yesterday. Claire’s sneakers are by the front door and a packet of crackers is open on the counter next to an empty glass. Judging by the crackers and Claire’s closed bedroom door, I wonder if she’s succumbed to feeling hungover too, even though she didn’t seem too bad last night.
    Then again, Scarlett expected me to be feeling worse than I do, so maybe none of us are very good judges while under the influence.
    I lift the sleeve of crackers from the table and glance at the nutritional info. One cracker equals twenty-four kcal? What the hell is a kcal? Is it the same as a regular calorie? I debate it for far less time than I normally would and grab a few crackers. As I take a bite, the flavor makes my mouth water and I reach for a few more. In my mind’s eye my mother shakes her head in that way she does, but I ignore it. I declare special hangover dispensation – and I can always run tomorrow.
    With a final glance at my closed bedroom door, I slip out of the cabin. The rain is lighter than I expected, based on how it sounded falling through the trees outside my bedroom, and it’s warmer than I thought it would be too. I start for the castle; my instinct is to go to the kitchen because it’s the only place I really know. But I’m not hungry for real food yet and I don’t want to have to make small talk with this Emma person, so instead I head down the other path.
    It’s quiet aside from a bird or two and twigs snapping in the brush. Compared to Atlanta, where the steady hum of traffic on the street outside, people walking by talking, and the occasional siren is the soundtrack of everyday life, the silence feels almost oppressive. I strain my ears to listen for a car or voices, but nada. It’s easy to imagine getting lost here, not necessarily in a good way.
    My imagination kicks into gear and I contemplate turning back towards the castle, small talk with Emma be damned. Just as I’m about to turn around, I see the tennis court before me – and Jasper, his back to me, painting a sign under the awning of a wooden building that must be the clubhouse.
    My first instinct is to turn around. Leave before he can see me and I find out exactly how dumb our conversation was last night. But then I remember it was him who Scarlett mocked, right after she said he was a little green this morning, and I think maybe it might be okay if I make a joke straightaway.
    Of course, I can’t think of anything even remotely funny and I’m still standing