Red Clover Inn. Carla NeggersЧитать онлайн книгу.
shrugged. “Not interested in a pint.” He let go of the suitcase and Charlotte’s hand and smiled at her, unapologetic. “See you around, Charlotte.”
Greg leaned against the bar and watched her ex-fiancé head out through the main pub door. Then he shook his head and sighed. “Nothing takes that swagger down a notch, does it?”
Charlotte rubbed her hand. “Not much.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She shook out her hand. “It’s tension more than anything else. Thanks.”
“First time you’ve seen him since you left him at the altar?”
“I suppose I’m not surprised you know about that. Yes. First time. Getting stood up on his wedding day didn’t take his swagger down a notch, either.”
“An interesting life you lead, Charlotte Bennett.”
“It’s a Bennett rule. Can’t be boring. Are you heading back to London?”
“I’ll hang out here another night. I don’t know about London. Heather and Brody are expecting an assortment of Sloans in to see the sights.” He sat on her vacated stool. “I assume that’s your suitcase and you’re leaving.”
“I’m taking a late train to Edinburgh.”
“Guess I’ll have to put myself to bed tonight.”
Charlotte smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll manage just fine. When do you have to be back at work?”
“I’m starting a new position. No firm start date.”
“Can you say where it is?”
“Washington. DSS Command Center.”
She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. “My grandparents’ house is in the DC area. Well, it’s my house now that they’re gone. I rent it out. Max loved living in the city but I think my grandmother missed New Hampshire. They both grew up there.” Charlotte waved a hand. “I’m talking too much. Today was my first wedding since Tommy and I...” She took a deep breath. “Have you ever been posted in London?”
Greg didn’t answer at once, looking at her as if he wanted to say something besides what he knew he would end up saying. “I worked in London for two years when my kids were small. It was good. I haven’t always been able to have my family with me.”
“Your family—”
“Andrew is fifteen and Megan is thirteen. Laura—my ex—and I had an amicable divorce. We got married young, had a couple of kids and drifted apart given my job and life in general. We’re okay with each other and we share two great kids. That’s it.”
“Your life in a tidy paragraph?”
“Yep.”
It was how Greg Rawlings thought, Charlotte realized. He didn’t dwell on details and things he couldn’t control. “Tommy and I wouldn’t have had an amicable divorce,” she said lightly.
“You figured him out in the nick of time.”
“Yes, I did. Tommy Ferguson was never going to be the love of my life.”
“Is that what you want, someone who’ll be the love of your life?”
“Don’t we all?” She took in a sharp breath. “I must have had too much champagne at the wedding. I’m saying too much. I need to get going or I’ll miss my train.”
“No problem,” Greg said. “If I can’t manage to get myself up to my room without you, I’ll just sleep in a booth.”
“You aren’t embarrassed about last night, are you?”
“Should I be?”
Charlotte laughed, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wish I could be as oblivious as you are at least pretending to be right now. Thanks for intervening with Tommy. He wouldn’t have gone too far, and I’d have handled him if he’d tried, but I appreciate the help.”
“You could have flipped him on his ass?”
“More likely I’d have called the barman.”
“Smarter, I guess. Not as much fun.”
“You’re an interesting man, Agent Rawlings. Best of luck with whatever’s next for you.”
She lifted her bag and started out the door, glancing back at Greg Rawlings, trying to ignore a pang of regret that she wouldn’t see him again. She couldn’t explain it but it was there. Maybe he’d find a way? Maybe he was feeling the same thing?
What was she thinking?
Fortunately, her cab was waiting. Next stop was the Oxford train station. She’d be in Edinburgh tonight and on her way to Boston and Knights Bridge in a day or two.
Samantha and Justin were a special, wonderful couple, but Charlotte’s opinion of weddings hadn’t changed in the past twenty-four hours.
Best to avoid them.
* * *
An hour after Charlotte left for Edinburgh, Greg stood on a footbridge on a marked trail that had taken him through the village, down a twisting lane and into woods. The wooden bridge spanned a shallow stream, the coppery water coursing over rocks and mud. He’d changed out of his wedding clothes into khakis and a polo shirt and jacket but he hadn’t bothered with rain gear. Might prove to be a mistake given the darkening clouds.
He dug out his phone and called his son in Minnesota. Fifteen and he had his own phone. Not unusual these days.
“Hey, Dad,” Andrew said. “What’s up? How was the wedding? Are you still in England?”
“Still in England. Wedding was good. Nice setting, great food, great people.”
“Did you dance?”
Greg heard the teasing note in his son’s voice. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Wish I’d been there to see that. Did you dance by yourself or with someone?”
“I don’t dance by myself. What are you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Whenever I said I wasn’t up to anything as a kid, my mother handed me a broom.”
His son chuckled. “Good thing you’re in England, then.”
“What’s your sister up to?”
“Nothing much.”
“I bet your mom has two brooms.”
“She’s not here. She’s at a movie with...” Andrew stopped abruptly. “Never mind.”
“With Richard,” Greg said. “I know. I texted her earlier. I hope they’re having a good time. Listen, I’m on my way to Washington via New England. What if you and Megan join me for a few days? It’s okay with your mom. I have some time off before I start my new job. New England would be different. I’ll be staying at a small-town inn that’s being renovated.”
“I’ve never been to New England,” Andrew said.
“We’d have the place to ourselves. You and Megan can each have your own room.”
“Sounds cool. What’s there to do there?”
“Beats me.”
His son laughed. “Good thing you’re not a salesman, Dad.”
“I was there for a few days in the winter. It’s a pretty town. We can hike, go fishing—swim if you’re brave since it’s only June and the ice just melted.”
“Ha. This the town where Ambassador Scarlatti lives?”
“Yes, it is.”
Greg