No. 13 Face a foe
two
Bea
“Ithink we can safely cross another one off the list,” Cas says, settling under the covers in my bed, a cup of hot chocolate cradled between their palms.
“Number five is complete,” I agree, my own cocoa resting on my bent knees, held steady with one hand on the cup handle. I use my free hand to put a tick in the box next to the item on my ‘Fuck-It list.’ “I moved to the countryside.”
“You sure fucking did.” Cas smiles at me and knocks their mug into mine. “Now, we work on number six.”
“Number six,” I say, reading off my list. “Open a book themed café.”
Cas smiles at me indulgently. “You really are an adorkable little nerd girl, aren’t you?”
I grin back. “I like to think so.”
With a snort and a sip of hot chocolate, they switch to business mode. “Okay, so tell me what we have to do to before I leave.”
“I have a team coming tomorrow morning to fit the new kitchen,” I say, holding up one finger to list things off. “A carpenter coming in the afternoon to build the new counter. I need to find tables and chairs and maybe speak to the local businesses about supplying to the café.”
“Woah,” Cas huffs with a whistle. “That’s a lot for two days.”
I shrug, unconcerned. “We’ll get it done.”
“I wish to remind you I have used my precious annual leave to help you; do I get at least one moment of relaxation?”
“What are we doing right now?” I pointedly raise my hot chocolate and gesture at my bed.
The rest of my new home is in chaos with boxes strewn here, there, and everywhere.
Some half unpacked and some stacked precariously on whatever available surface there was.
But Cas suggested we at least got my bedroom properly unpacked and set up so I have somewhere comfy and cosy to retreat to at night after I try and settle into my new life during the day.
Cas did a great job of doing just that, the brand-new sheets they bought me as a moving in gift are sinfully soft and a rich, deep blue with a silvery quilted blanket.
They built my flatpack wardrobe and hung my favourite prints on my wall, all scene art from my favourite fantasy books.
The property my agent found for me is perfect, everything I said I wanted.
Not only did I get the village shop, which has a great square footage and plumbed in for a kitchen, but it was being sold with the cottage next door.
A beautiful, sixteenth century, one bed cottage with a huge fireplace downstairs and wonky stone walls with ancient oak beams. It’s one room downstairs and one bedroom with an attached bathroom upstairs.
It’s tiny but it’s still slightly bigger than my London flat and a fraction of the price.
Thanks to my inheritance, I’ve managed to keep my old flat, renting it out in case this venture into the country is wildly unsuccessful and I need to supplement my income.
“Neighbours seem nice,” Cas says with pointed side eye, holding their cup to their lips.
“Oh yeah,” I say with a smile. “Eli gave me loads of information, I still can’t get over the butcher’s is called Baker’s and the bakery is called Butcher’s.
” I giggle a little and sip my drink, loving the sweet chocolate.
I’d normally only have hot chocolate as a treat at Christmas, but despite it being early May, the stone walls and hard flooring in my new house mean it’s considerably cooler in the evening than my modern flat back in London.
A steaming mug of comfort cocoa is definitely needed.
“Mmhmm,” Cas hums, like they don’t think I’m telling them everything.
“Joanie was funny,” I say with a nod. “I liked her.”
“Uh huh.”
I know what I’m about to say next. Cas knows what I’m going to say next. But a little flutter of nervous excitement tickles at my belly in the same way it’s always done since I got my first crush in Primary school. “That August guy is hot, right?”
“There it is,” Cas says with satisfaction.
“But he is! You’ve got to agree.”
“I can’t argue with you. Eli is fucking beautiful, I could do bad things with that man, but August definitely has the sexy grump thing about him.”
They’re not wrong. Not that grumpy is my type at all, but August was definitely working for me this afternoon.
I have honestly never met someone so tall; he was at least a foot taller than my five seven.
Dark hair slightly too long, curling around his ears and the rough of his jaw was between stubble and a beard, like he’s not been bothered to groom his facial hair but also hasn’t shaved in a few days.
His nose is slightly crooked like maybe it had been broken once and not quite set right, and one of his heavy eyebrows has a small scar through it.
Does he box or something? That would be hot.
It was when his arms folded over his chest and tested the hem of his short sleeves, I knew I was crushing.
But I haven’t moved here to start a new life for myself just to start a new relationship.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Something pretty to look at while I’m getting settled, I guess.”
“Maybe he could help you out with some of the more interesting items on your list.” Cas waggles their bleached eyebrows that match their hair at me.
I glare at them. “You interfered with my list. Those are not items I will be looking to cross off with the sexy mountain or anyone, thank you very much.” I take a haughty sip of cocoa.
Cas pulls a face and makes a noise telling me they don’t believe me at all. “And yet, you haven’t re-written your list and removed those items, so…” They wobble their head from side to side.
Yep, that’s true, because I can admit to myself to being ever so slightly curious.
But I absolutely won’t be admitting it to Cas.
“Because that list is the one we wrote on my birthday that made me decide to change my whole life, it has sentimental value. And when I’ve finished everything on it, I’m going to frame it and hang it on the wall in the café. ”
“You want a list with the words butt stuff to hang in your cute little café?” Cas arches a near invisible brow at me.
Fair point. “Okay, scrap that. But I am not entering into a butt stuff kind of relationship with anyone from this very small, very close-knit community I just moved into.”
Cas knocks their mug gently against mine. “Amen. You don’t need a friggin’ man anyway, this is your time to shine, Honey Bea.”
“Okay, so I think I’m going to have to move the books over to the café,” I muse, still in my pyjamas as Cas and I try to find room in the living room to sit and have our morning coffee. There are boxes everywhere.
“Are you sure you want to put your precious books out on display in the café?” they say, looking concerned.
I shrug a shoulder as I switch on my espresso machine. “Only the paperbacks. All my hardbacks and special editions will stay here, but if I want to make the café book themed, it’s got to have books.”
“Okay.” They sigh, sounding unconvinced. “But just remember not everyone will love and care for them like you do.”
“I know, but like I said, it’s just the paperbacks. Easily replaceable.”
“Uh huh, this from the girl who actually cried when I bent a couple page corners.”
“Dog earring books should be an actual crime.” I point the tamper at them menacingly.
“You’re right,” they concede with a solemn nod. “Murder, tax evasion, and folding paper, all terrible crimes.”
“Damn right.” I go about making our drinks while Cas moves boxes off the sofa.
“So, after we’ve coffeed, I’m going to take a shower and I’ll move the boxes.
Could you maybe pop to the mini supermarket down in the village square and grab us some food?
Because I only bought enough for yesterday and we are going to want to stay fuelled. ”
“Yep,” Cas agrees easily as they’re already washed and dressed in their wide-leg jeans with multiple brightly coloured chains drooped between the belt loops and a cropped, sleeveless jumper with rainbows and clouds all over it.
“When I get back, I can start building the shelves you bought for the books in the café if you want?”
“You reckon? I don’t want them getting mucky when I have the workers in.”
“We’ll put the dust sheets over them.” Cas waves a hand to dismiss my concern. “But better I build them than you.”
“True.” The wonky coffee table and the unfortunate, untimely, demise of my self-built wardrobes are testament enough. “Okay, great.”
We drink our coffee in companiable silence while I mentally plan our day, Heathcliff resting on my shoulder, and Cas most likely planning which hookup they’ll be calling when they go back to London.
When Cas leaves for the shop, I go back upstairs, strip from my pyjamas, grab a clean pair of underwear and my towel, and head to my small but functional bathroom, which most unfortunately, does not have a bath.
When I was looking for my new home, a clawfoot tub was a dream and I found a couple places that either had one or the space to add one, but they weren’t right in other areas.
So, I settled for this perfect cottage with room for a small cubical shower only.
Maybe I’ll treat myself to a fancy hotel room with a fancy tub someday.
Cas told me there wasn’t an extractor fan, so I open the window to let steam escape before spending some time adjusting the knobs on the shower to get the perfect temperature.
Movement in my periphery startles me and I jump back, watching in horror as the biggest, thickest, hairiest spider crawls from the open window.
This thing must have emigrated from Australia because I have never seen anything this big in this country before.
Terrified whimpers escape my lips as I start breathing heavily, my heart making a solid effort to thump right through my breastbone, like this arachnid is holding me at gunpoint.
I. Hate. Spiders. Where the hell is Heathcliff when I need him?
The anxiety is giving me a prickly heat from the base of my neck, and I feel like I might throw up when the thing starts moving toward me.
Grabbing the first moveable object I see, I try to shoo the beast away with my hot-pink lace thong.
“Please, please, please leave me alone,” I cry with actual tears in my eyes.
When a flick of my wrist almost brings my intruder back with the fabric of my underwear, I scream and yeet my panties, along with the spider, right out the window.
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit.”
I have a towel around my otherwise naked body while I peer out the window to see the splash of bright pink land on the grey surface of the road outside.
I have to go and get them before someone else finds them…
but I should get dressed first, right? But it’s like a three second job to just pick them up.
It’ll take me longer to put my pyjamas back on.
Oh god, why do bad things happen to good people?