Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After Page 6

  She’d loosened her hair, leaving it to wave around her shoulders, framing her face in an attractive, mussed-up kind-of-way. Maybe he should return to the lobby for the night. His tired body begged for mercy.

  A knock at the door announced the arrival of the requested rollaway bed, of sorts. Well, that definitely needed an upgrade. One look at the lumpy, well-worn mattress and Nora cringed. “You can’t sleep on that. It’s horrible.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure what madness overcame him, but he crossed his arms and looked over at her. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  With beautiful predictability, the implication clicked into place and her shock slid into a glare—his only warning before one of the throw pillows sailed across the room, followed closely by her laughter. In the end, she created a pillow wall between them on the bed, dousing the last of his concerns about her involvement with his uncle’s matchmaking.

  They read for a while in companionable silence—she let him borrow her copy of Persuasion and she chose Emma—but the scent of apricots was never far from his attention. Then as he switched off the light, her head appeared over the pillows between them. “I ought to warn you. I snore.”

  “You snore?” He squeezed his eyes closed.

  “Especially when I’m congested.”

  He fought a grin and lost. “Thanks for warning me.”

  Her face dipped back beneath the pillows and suddenly emerged again. “It’s not a big snore, but a little humming sound. If you poke me, I’ll roll over and stop, okay?”

  And with her little confession, something told him he was going to love her forever. “Okay.”

  Chapter 5

  It was a good thing Nora stayed so busy the next two days or she might have missed spending time with Ethan. Which was really absurd, since they barely knew each other…although they’d slept in the same bed.

  Twice.

  They’d shared brief conversations each morning, before she left for the festival breakfast and he darted off to meetings, and then ended their evenings together, giving brief recaps before dropping off into an exhausted sleep. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror as she allowed her hair to flow loose and long, her eyes a bit brighter than usual.

  Hmm…

  She shrugged off the contemplation.

  For the record, practically-perfect-in-every-way Keller snored too. Nothing catastrophic, but enough to increase his relatability a little.

  But even with early morning hair and a wrinkled t-shirt, he looked pretty perfect. As swoony as she found men in Regency garb, she’d always preferred the untamed look of her husband in the comfort of his home, all disheveled and cuddly and…

  Whew…the temperature in the bathroom zoomed into the steamy category. She stepped from the room, fanning her face with a towel. The remnants of Ethan’s rich woodsy cologne greeted her, reminding her of a glorious mix between spring walks on mountain paths, the scent of air after a morning rain, and the wild warmth of a fire in the winter…with a couch-cuddling partner.

  Home, sweet home.

  She drew the aroma into her lungs, her smile as ungoverned as her imagination.

  Oh man, they needed to get separate rooms. Fast. Because her thoughts were dipping into territory she was certain he didn’t contemplate. With his wealthy lifestyle, the best she probably offered him was a simple flirtation. Nothing really serious. She bet he dated uptown-girl types with perfect hair and Spanx-free curves.

  Besides, what kind of relationship could happen in less than a week, right?

  Though, something serious wouldn’t be…bad. She’d steered clear of long-term relationships for almost four years, pouring herself into a literature doctorate after her husband’s death. Somewhere between fangirling over British literary heroes and working in her family’s B&B, her heart healed.

  And from the way it pumped blood through her veins at lightning speed at the thought of Ethan Keller’s roguish good morning, every romance-loving artery was in working order.

  She drew in a deep breath and adjusted the belt at the waist of her simple summer dress. Slipping out of Regency attire and back into the twenty-first century brought its perks. She sat down on the bed and slipped into a pair of pale blue peep-toe flats. Comfortable and cute.

  The door to the room opened and she rose from the bed, attempting to hide her excitement with a nonchalant smile. “Productive morning?”

  His grin responded as he shrugged off his jacket. “Very. Timothy Steele is a fascinating man. I’m pleased he felt well enough to meet with me. He gave me some more in-depth history of the inn as well as some specs on the blueprints.” His gaze took a quick inventory of her from eyes to toes. Her skin fanned the flame of her imagination, setting her cheeks on fire.

  “Let me change into something a little less formal?” He started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

  “Oh…umm…yes.” She stared a moment too long, then swallowed through her dry throat and reached for her purse. Fumbling forward with all the grace she’d never possessed minus some, she slammed right into the door frame of the open door she didn’t see…for some reason.

  “Nora?”

  Her cheeks burned to the teary point. “I’ll just…um…wait in the lobby.”

  She sighed back against the closed door, her gaze fixed upward. Help me just enjoy the journey. No expectations. Nothing beyond the fun, lighthearted pleasure of his company.

  In a few days or even a week, it would all come to an end. But finally, after a long sabbatical, reliving the thrill of attraction to someone other than a fictional character felt wonderful. Maybe, pretending this little English fairytale involved a handsome-prince-in-a-business-suit wouldn’t sting too badly when she finally returned home. Maybe?

  Her pulse pounded doubt in Morse code…and skittered right back into a gallop when he descended the stairs later in a polo the color of his eyes and a fitted pair of jeans. Enjoy the moment. Enjoy the moment.

  Her gaze followed him all the way. Not a problem.

  Nora looked beautiful. Her forties-style dress showed off her slender arms and long, slim legs, and cinched all her lovely curves together with a belt at her waist. A red headband brought out the same floral tones in her dress and matched her lipstick to perfection.

  Magnetizing perfection.

  As if her lipstick held some sort of magical quality because…well, they kept looking better and better with every word she spoke.

  She followed the server to a window table on the second floor of The Jane Austen Centre. No more than twelve to fourteen small tables filled the bright space known as The Tea Room. Elegant white cloths covered each table, their configuration almost pointing to a central feature hanging on the main wall: A portrait of Colin Firth in Regency attire.

  What did Colin Firth have to do with Jane Austen?

  When the server left to gather their tea, Ethan leaned forward, hesitating a moment to take in the way the sunlight through the window bathed Nora’s face and hair in a golden light. Her eyes shimmered, dazzling, filled with a myriad of colors he might never sort out.

  “So, what do you think?”

  He held her gaze far longer than necessary. “It’s beautiful.”

  She smiled and lowered her eyes, her face blooming with color enough to match the walls. Hands down this was the best match his uncle had ever made, on purpose or otherwise. She adjusted her napkin in her lap, avoiding eye contact. “I know. I’ve only looked at photos of this place online, but the real thing is so much better.”

  “The real thing always is.”

  His admission ground soul-deep. Was it possible he’d finally found the ‘real thing’?

  “It is,” she whispered.

  His heart thumped a faster rhythm in response, as if she’d answered his unvoiced question. He leaned closer, enjoying the way her smile lit at his attention. “I am a little confused about something, however.”

  Her gaze flitted back to him with all its uniqueness and light. “And that is…?”

  “
Why is there a golden-framed portrait of Colin Firth on the wall?”

  She caught her snicker in her napkin. “You have so much to learn, my dear Mr. Keller.”

  With what he was beginning to recognize as her usual charm, she shared the succession of Pride and Prejudice remakes and the pros and cons of each, as well as giving him an elaborate history, complete with all the romantic conspiracy theories, of Jane Austen and her time in Bath.

  By the time the three-tiered tray of assorted finger-food delights arrived, Ethan had a better handle on all things Jane Austen and a few more insights into his adorable date.

  “You’re really passionate about this Regency world.”

  She took one of the smoked salmon sandwiches, so he followed suit. This whole afternoon tea thing was way out of his wheelhouse and comfort zone. The relaxed pace, the elegant atmosphere—and, of course, the company—ensured his dreams would be as sweet as the chocolate torte on the top tier, but it sent him pondering what else he’d missed in his busy schedule and staunch routine.

  If he hadn’t slowed down, he’d have missed…Nora.

  “It’s not just the Regency world.” Nora kept her up animated chatter as she picked up her butter knife. “The primary focus of my PhD was British classic literature, so anything from Jane Austen to Charlotte Bronte to Charles Dickens and Mary Shelly—well, I like them all.”

  “So, I should call you Dr. Simeon, then?”

  A dusting of pink lit her cheeks with her smile. “Well, since we’re on much friendlier terms, you can keep calling me Nora, but if you’d continued with the whole grumpy thing?” She waved the knife in a circle toward him. “Then I would have had no choice but to insist on Dr. Simeon.”

  “I prefer calling you Nora.”

  She pressed her knife into her scone with such force, half of the scone fell from her hand back onto her plate.

  Hmm…he liked flirting with her. She made it fun and exciting…and worth every attempt.

  She cleared her throat and looked up, the playful fire back in her eyes. “It’s a good thing you sweetened up then, isn’t it?”

  He chuckled and reached for a scone. “Definitely. You must be a good influence is all I can say.”

  “Actually, I think the real reason you straightened up is because my bonnet intimidated you.”

  His laugh burst out so unexpectedly it garnered looks from the couple at a nearby table. “Okay, okay, so one thing I don’t understand. If you’re teaching at the university, why do you work at your family’s B&B too?”

  “Oh, you’ve got to try that scone with some of the clotted cream and the blackberry jam.” She directed him with her butter knife in hand. “Seriously, it’s one of those change-your-life moments.”

  He was already experiencing one of those.

  Her vibrancy proved contagious. He couldn’t stop smiling. In fact, he hadn’t smiled or laughed this much since his father’s death…if ever.

  Something inside him came to life with Nora.

  “But back to your question.” She smoothed the cream over the scone as she spoke. “I have this crazy battle inside of me. Working at Simeon Ridge—showing hospitality and meeting guests from all over the world—well, I love making people feel welcome and helping them fall in love with a new place. But I also love all of this glorious history and the intricate stories; the celebration of cultures, beliefs, and imagination through literature. My problem is that I haven’t found a job where I can combine the two yet, so I keep working both.”

  “And you’ve never traveled?”

  She shrugged. “I always thought I’d like to, but I got married really young—fresh out of high school.”

  “And the two of you never traveled?” He caressed the question with a gentle voice, hoping to keep her talking; revealing her past.

  Her brow puckered as she focused on her sandwich. “Grant was this introverted son of a landscaper in our community. I’d known him my whole life.” She looked up and pointed to the last strawberry. “You’d better eat it or I will.”

  With a hitch in his grin he took her offering, waiting for the rest of the story.

  “He worked in his father’s landscaping business to help pay my way through college, and boy, I don’t think anyone else in the whole world was as proud of me as him. He made me feel like I could do anything. Sweet man. Quiet, mountain man.” She drew in a deep breath, as if preparing for a dive—the coming impact. “The month before graduating with my Master’s, Grant was in an accident and fell off a ladder onto a rock patio.”

  Ethan winced.

  “Right?” She shook her head, staring out the window. “If he’d hit the ground any other way, the doctor said he’d probably have survived.” Her words whispered to a close and then she met his gaze, a gentle smile waiting in those eyes. Strong, forged in suffering. “I wouldn’t trade one second I had with him. He wanted a quiet life, close to home, and so I tucked those dreams away to embrace a different dream, with him.” She sighed and took a sip of her tea before continuing.

  It took everything within his power not to stand from the table and enfold her in his arms.

  His father told him once, years after his mother died, that a heart with the ability to love deeply once would always be able to find love again, if willing. Was Nora willing?

  “If I hadn’t had my faith and family to see beyond the grief, I don’t think I would’ve even considered getting my PhD, but they reminded me of how much Grant believed in me, so I kept going. For me…and for him.”

  Silence couched the moment with its due respect before she continued with a gentle smile. “As much as they can annoy me sometimes, especially my mom, my family’s sweet love—their heavenly love—brought me through. I wasn’t alone.” Her gaze searched his, probing for answers she never voiced. “You know what I mean?”

  The understanding tightened his invisible bond to her. “My parents loved that way.” And how he missed them. “Yeah. I know.”

  The gentle quiet settled between them in sweet acknowledgement of shared wounds and lessons learned. In the silence, his hand found hers across the table, enfolding her cool fingers into his palm. She accepted his touch with a gentle squeeze, then her smile quirked along with her brow. “So, what do you think of your first afternoon tea?”

  What did he think? His heart pumped too full to answer. He ran his fingers over hers. “I certainly hope it’s not my only one.”

  Nora had forgotten how much she liked holding hands. The initial touch of skin-on-skin attached two people together in a special way. Her heart spun through a flurry of little-girl-star-wishes, with Ethan taking a central princely spot, but her head reined in the flutters, grappling her back to reality.

  England was a daydream, a wonderful daydream—and Ethan played a beautiful part, but in less than a week they reentered reality—far away from England.

  She loved how well he listened to her, like he wasn’t in a hurry for her to finish talking so he could get to his next point. He seemed to really want her opinion.

  They chatted about life and dreams as they walked through the busy streets, even taking a tour of the famous Roman Baths for which the city got its name, before making their way back to the inn.

  “I want to get your opinion about something.” He tugged her forward, leading her through the lobby to the right where a double doorway opened into another vacant space. “Restaurant?”

  Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one side of the long, narrow room, providing a view to the courtyard at the center of the manor house—a courtyard she’d turn into a garden instead of a few parking spots, if she had her druthers. “It’s an excellent spot. I love all the natural light you’ll have.” She walked forward, keeping her fingers warmed in his. “Kitchen’s back there?”

  “Right.” His grin brimmed with a boyish delight. “Maybe provide a few dishes for Jane Austen fans’ taste buds.”

  She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Now you’re learning. Though I’m not too sure many of your patrons would w
ant things like onion soup or Welsh Rarebit. But you could certainly offer other authentic meals as well as more popular dishes. And you could work with some of the local restaurants to create value packages for your guests. That’s a nice option. Bath has a plethora of little cafes, specialty shops, and bookstores at your disposal. Who’s to say you couldn’t partner with some London day trips too?”

  His brow tipped in a wonderfully attractive way. “You must inspire creativity because I just had another idea.” He pulled her back out the door and toward the lobby, stopping right in front of the current—and tiny—café.

  The location offered a beautiful view down the hillside to the city, but, its openness inspired more of an airport-café-feel than a romantic-manor-house.

  “This.” He released her hand and gestured with both of his toward the café.

  “This?” Her gaze shifted from his gleeful expression to the empty café.

  “Picture a wall here, to enclose the space, then fill it with round tables and café-style chairs—like we saw in The Tea Room.”

  Nora followed him, catching the vision. “And any table in this round room would have an excellent view.”

  “On this far wall, I wondered if I could partner with one of the local bookstores—”

  “Like featured books of the month, or something?”

  “Right.” He rewarded her with that dashing smile. “And definitely Jane Austen favorites.”

  “Of course.” Having tea? Talking Austen? Daydreaming together? This had to be a fairytale! “Maybe even pair with a shop owner or two to offer some of their merchandise for sale?”

  “Exactly.” He seized her hand again and tucked it in the fold of his arm, surrounding her with the scent of forests and pine and fresh air. “I’ll have to learn how all of this works, but, I think it sounds great.”

  He guided them back out into the lobby and up the grand stairs.