The Foretelling (Charlotte Bloom #1) (17 page)

"Hmmm…" He looked around at the various selections on the wall. "Here, try this," he suggested, picking up a green wellie exactly like I’d worn horseback riding. "What size?"

"Seven. Thanks!"

"UK size?"

"Ummm…" I had no idea. I shrugged. He nodded and went to get the foot measure. I stepped into it.

"Ah, you’re a UK 5. I’ll be right back," and he went into the back to get a pair for me to try on.

I walked over to Alec. He was looking around, not paying attention. I wondered what he had planned for his day. Certainly not this, I was sure.

"Thanks for coming with me," I said quietly. "If you have stuff to do, you can go. I saw a clothing store a few doors down, so I can kill some time there. I can meet you back at the car in an hour or so."

"It’s fine, I don’t mind," he sighed. His tone clearly said otherwise.

"Really, I’ll be fine," I insisted. I couldn’t put up with his sour attitude any longer.

"It’s fine. I can’t leave you alone anyways. You’ll get lost."

Whatever.

The sales associate came back with a box and I tried on the boots, which fit perfectly. I paid for them and Alec and I left. We stayed silent as we walked along the street, towards the clothing store. I’d never been shopping with a man before. Harry had never accompanied me on any shopping trips; it wasn’t his thing. I wasn’t quite sure how to act. First of all, it really seemed like Alec did not want to be here. Second, he hadn’t said a word, so I had no idea what he was thinking. The only kind gesture he'd made was taking my shopping bag and carrying it for me.
I guess that was awfully nice of him,
I admitted to myself hesitantly.

"I was just going to pop in and grab a heavier jacket. I only brought this one," I said, pointing to the thin, fitted canvas military jacket I had on.

"Take your time."

As we got inside, he sat down in a chair near the entrance. I walked along the racks, caressing the heavy, wool coats. They all had classic silhouettes, and I slowly walked by, touching them. Every coat here was soft and luxurious. I picked through the rack until I found a navy blue pea coat. I tried it on. It was very plush and warm. It fit perfectly, framing my small shoulders and puffing out a bit mid-thigh. It was nice. I turned toward Alec, and he looked up at me.

"I hate it," he said bluntly. "That’ll get you nowhere when there’s a rainstorm. You need something waterproof."

"Well, I like it." I turned toward the mirror and turned around in a circle, admiring the fabric. I checked the price tag. OK, maybe not.
Whoa.
I slowly slipped it off and returned it to the rack. "
That
is WAY out of my price range." I walked over to Alec, who was smiling.

"I’m telling you, a parka is what you need. You don’t need this wool crap," he said, a little too loudly. The saleswoman glared at him. "Let me take you to another place down the road. You may be good at buying computers," he said as he stood, "but I am good at buying outdoor gear."

We walked outside. I felt that familiar sad tug I always got when I walked away from the perfect article of clothing, usually because it was way out of my budget. It was like the leather jacket I’d once found in New York City that cost more than my mortgage, or the red stilettos I passed up at Sak’s that cost the same amount as my first (used) car. I knew the smart financial decision was to walk away, but shopping had always been slightly addictive to me.

Alec took my hand as we quickly wound through the busy alleys, turning left, then right, then left, then left, then right. I could definitely see how I might get lost out here. Alec never once let go of my hand, which I appreciated because he was a very fast walker. I struggled to keep up. The streets got less crowded, and soon we were walking along a narrow, secluded back alley. We walked up to a nondescript door, and Alec pulled it open. A rush of warm air greeted us as we stepped inside. I looked around and realized we were in a giant sporting goods store. I wondered where the front door was, because surely this couldn’t be the front door.

"You’ll want a jacket from over here," he said, gesturing to what looked to be snow gear.

I nodded, and headed over. My stomach dropped. All of this stuff was so
ugly.
It was all black and grey. If I was going to invest in a puffy jacket, I wanted something a little cuter. Navy blue was my color of choice, or even teal, but black and grey made me seem so drab because of my pale skin. I conceded, and decided I would try a few on. My nightmare was confirmed. I chose a small, which was still too big on me. I looked like I was swimming in it. The ribbed puffs made me seem fifty pounds heavier than I actually was. I turned to face Alec.

"What do you think about this one?"

"It’s nice. A little big, but that’s OK, because you’ll want to layer. And if not, it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone, right?" He smiled a cocky smile, and my stomach did another little flutter.

I tried on a few more, and much to my surprise, I found one that I actually kind of liked. It was made of some sort of reflective thermal blanket inside, so it was much less bulky than the others. It was long, coming down almost to my knees, and it cinched in at the waist so it gave me a shape, at least. It had a big hood (my favorite) and giant pockets in front. The best part was that I found a small in navy. I decided it was a sign, and I bought it. Alec liked it, too. He said it brought out my hazel eyes.

We walked out and I checked my new cheap watch. I’d picked it up near the cash register in the store, to be able to tell time. I relied on my phone in Los Angeles, and I needed a way to tell time when I was out and about here. It was blue rubber, waterproof, and it calculated my heart rate as well, which could only be helpful, in my mind.

We walked back onto the main street, and I was more aware of Alec holding my hand this time around. He seemed to want to protect me, or shield me. I knew he was just guiding me, and since I tended to walk slowly, he was pulling me along. He’d been pretty pleasant for the last hour or so. I couldn’t complain.

Alec turned quickly and walked down another small alley. Another nondescript door later, and we were in a farm store. I followed him around as he grabbed various items for the horses, none of which I knew the name of. He was quick and efficient, barely stopping in the aisles as he grabbed what he needed. We walked up to the check stand and when the total came up on the screen, he threw down forty pounds.

"I don’t need change, thanks," he assured the sales associate. He took our bags, my hand, and walked out. It took all of four minutes. I still wanted to pick up a few more clothing items, such as a scarf and maybe another sweater. I kept an eye out for a clothing store.

As we walked hand in hand, I realized that we probably looked like a couple to others walking on the street. I looked up at him. I wasn’t sure how that made me feel. I mean, I was still technically married, and just nine days ago I'd been having sex with my husband. And now, here I was in Wales, holding the hand of a very tall, very handsome man with an accent. Alec unquestionably juxtaposed Harry, who was also tall but had light features, like his blue eyes and blond hair. Harry had rosy cheeks, whereas Alec was darker and tanned from working outside so much.

I stopped suddenly, looking into a small lingerie boutique. I used to love browsing lingerie boutiques, and this one was absolutely stunning. I peered into the window, unclasping my hand from Alec, and not caring about what he thought of me staring at a bunch of half-naked mannequins. I’d always had a thing for a beautifully crafted brassier or corset, and the underwear I actually owned unfortunately paled in comparison. I was all talk. I’d never actually wear anything like that. But it was fun to look at. In another lifetime, I would’ve been a great lingerie designer. I felt Alec watching me, and soon, he walked over.

"Listen, I’m sorry about last night."

"You should be." I turned to face him. He placed an arm beside me, leaning on the shop window and blocking me in. He was very close to me now. That feeling alone was enough to make me hyperventilate.

"I don’t normally drink that much," he explained, running his other hand through his hair and scrunching up his face in deep thought. "You bring something out in me. I can’t explain it." He looked down at me with bedroom-y eyes.

I laughed.

"What a line," I said, crossing my arms.

"What?"

"I’m not going to sleep with you. I’m not going to be your next conquest. Your dark, brooding attitude and Irish accent might work on other women, but not me. So, back off."

He looked surprised.

"I’ve never slept with a guest before."

"Right, like I believe that. You know exactly what you’re doing. It’s not going to work on me," I hissed, and started to walk away. He caught up with me and grabbed my arm.

"You fascinate me. You’re irritating and incredibly sexy all at the same time. And I wasn’t lying. I don’t hit on the guests. Ever. You’re the first." He looked at me sympathetically.

I shuffled a bit, crossing my arms and looking down. I was processing his words. He thought I was sexy. I thought he was sexy. We both found the other to be irritating. I could deal with that.

"Truce?" I offered, holding my hand out. He shook it. "This doesn’t mean I’ll sleep with you, or even be your friend. But… maybe we could get to know each other a little bit."

"Deal." He started to walk away. "We have an hour until we meet back up with Helen and George. Are you hungry?"

I thought about asking if we could stop in the clothing store, but decided against it. I could always come back into town sometime in the next few days. I agreed to the food, and he took me to a pub down the street. We chose a booth in the back, and he let me go in first. I was surprised when he came and sat down next to me. Perhaps it was tradition in Wales to sit on the same side. I eyed the empty seat across from us. Both sides were pretty small, and we were squeezed in tightly. There would’ve been much more space for him to sit on the other side, but I didn’t question it.

The waitress came over and we ordered. I got a hamburger, and he got a double cheeseburger with chips. We both ordered beers. I couldn’t help but notice the waitress eyeing Alec. She could barely take her eyes off of him. She flirted with him, and he smiled back at her. I knew he was probably just being nice, but it bothered me, and I didn’t know why. Couldn’t she be more professional? She was a waitress, for god’s sake. She shouldn’t be flirting with her customers.

"So… what’s the real reason you left L.A.?" He looked over at me with pure curiosity, but also something else. It struck me how interested he seemed, for someone who supposedly hated me.

I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it felt like he was boring his eyes into my soul. He genuinely wanted to know, which in and of itself was a miracle because I thought he despised me, but also, he knew I was here for a reason other than what I’d told the others. He was calling bullshit. And deep down, I knew he was the person I wanted to confide in. Even though he hated me, I was pretty sure he also
got
me. He was real, unequivocally himself, and we had some sort of connection. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I knew I could count on him. I knew I could trust him. He wouldn’t judge me.

Maybe him saving me from Bo yesterday proved that. I had a feeling he was also going through, or had recently been through, something similar. I wondered if it was a feeling that radiated out to other people when they go through something life-changing. It’s as if others like you can sense that, and you attract each other. I didn't know if it was his supposedly hard childhood (I had no evidence to back this up, but I imagined him on the hard streets of Northern Ireland begging for food as a child, even though I was pretty sure that was entirely inaccurate) or something else that had caused this hard exterior and attitude problem, but something connected us. I wanted to get to know him, I realized. I wanted him to get to know me.

"The sunny weather became too much, so I came to the UK, where I hear it rains all the time." I chuckled and he smiled, unsatisfied. At least I’d made him smile. "Fine. If you want to know the truth, I’ll tell you. But, I realize this story might make me sound crazy. So don’t judge me."

"I won’t judge you. Well, maybe a little bit." He smiled playfully.

The waitress brought out our beers and I chugged a good third of it before beginning.

"I’ve only told two other people about this," I said, thinking of Amara and Harry.

"You can trust me."

"Doubtful," I said, smiling playfully. "Do you really want to know? Or are you still trying to get into my pants, even though I told you it’s not going to happen?"

"I really want to know," he said. I waited. There was no comeback. He must’ve been sincere.

"Almost six months ago, Amara, my best friend, and I went to a psychic," I said slowly. His lips turned up into an almost smile. It looked like he was going to laugh. "You said you wouldn’t judge me!" I shouted, swatting his arm.

"I’m sorry. Please continue."

"OK. Well, I have a confession. I’m married," I said hesitantly, waiting for his reaction.

His face remained stoic.

"I know. I asked Helen what your deal was this morning. She told me that your husband left you."