Chapter 8 Ollie
ollie
I had no idea why I brought her here. Initially, I was planning on something simple—a market or maybe some touristy spot to get her out of her head—but instead, I brought her to my family home in the Cotswolds.
I hadn’t called my mum or dad to let them know I was going to use the guesthouse. It wasn’t busy this time of year, and Mum never expected me to pop in during the season because I was always wrapped up in work with the team.
Yet when I ran into her flat and asked her roommate to pack her a bag, Luna was thrilled.
She didn’t even question it, just stuffed a bag full of clothes and handed it over with a grin like she knew something I didn’t.
That egged me on, made me feel like I was doing the right thing, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing.
Here we were. No turning back.
“My parents live in the big house,” I said as we stepped out of the car, nodding toward the mansion at the end of the drive. “But I’ve always used the guesthouse.”
Nova raised an eyebrow, clearly unsure what to make of the setup.
I shrugged. “No siblings, so it’s not like anyone else was fighting me for it.”
She glanced at the guesthouse, her expression unreadable as she took in its cozy charm. “And you . . . live here when you’re not in London?”
“Pretty much. I mostly come here during the summer.”
“Why am I here?” she asked, stepping out of the car and walking toward the back of the property, where the trees stood tall and vibrant, their leaves a mix of fiery reds, deep oranges, and golden yellows. She stopped and turned, watching as I grabbed our bags from the back seat.
“What are those?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait . . . no.”
She shook her head, her curls bouncing slightly with the motion. “I cannot be staying here. That’s . . . No. Absolutely not.”
“Your roommate packed it.” I held the bags. “It’s one night. I wanted to show you something that’s not . . . urban.”
She flicked her eyes to the bags again and shook her head more fiercely, tears starting to form.
Shit. This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t bring her here to make her cry. I thought, with everything going on with her personal life, this would be a break.
“Nova.” I dropped the bags onto the porch and stepped toward her. “It’s a quiet night. Nothing big, nothing overwhelming. I thought you could use some space. A break. There are two bedrooms.”
“Obviously,” she bit back and turned away, swiping at her face quickly like she didn’t want me to see. “I don’t need space. I need . . . I don’t even know what I need.”
I didn’t press further. Instead, I stood there, waiting, hoping she’d let me in. Because, for whatever reason, I’d brought her here, and I wasn’t about to let her walk away from it.
“This is wrong. I didn’t want to come out here. You should have asked fucking permission first.”
She walked toward me, angrily stomping her boots, and grabbed her bag before she headed to the guest house.
I followed a few paces behind, watching as she shoved the door open with more force than necessary and disappeared inside.
The door creaked as it swung back, and I hesitated, standing outside.
This wasn’t exactly how I imagined this would go.
I gave her a second before I followed her inside.
Her bag was on the floor as she walked around.
The guesthouse was a proper Cotswolds gem, all creamy stone walls and low-beamed ceilings that made you feel like you’d stepped back a century or two.
The wide-planked floors creaked gently underfoot.
A cozy little fireplace sat at the heart of the room, its iron grate framing a neatly stacked pile of logs.
The furniture was a charming mismatch—a weathered leather settee with cushions that had seen better days, a faded floral armchair tucked near the hearth, and a sturdy wooden coffee table with faint scratches and the unmistakable patina of age.
In the corner, the kitchen boasted sage-green cabinets, a farmhouse sink with a slightly chipped edge.
Nova wandered through the space, her fingertips grazing the back of the settee as she moved. She paused near the fireplace, her back to me, framed by the warm glow of the room.
“It’s nice, but I’m still mad I’m here.”
I chuckled. “Again, I’d expect nothing less.”
She whipped around to face me. “Tell me something inappropriate. Hurry before I start to get uncomfortable.”
I thought about it for a moment. I wasn’t going to go the sexual route again because that’d be a surefire way to send her running.
“I miss playing rugby. I stopped because of my shoulder, but I hate being a coach. I want to play.”
“I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, her eyes meeting mine.
I shrugged, trying to brush it off as I dropped my bag next to hers. “Your stomach’s growling,” I pointed out, tilting my head toward her.
She shrugged too, her lips quirking up faintly. “What else is new?”
I couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, shaking my head. She had this way of disarming me without even trying.
Walking into the kitchen, I pulled open the fridge door, only to be greeted with . . . nothing. Of course. It had been weeks since I’d been here, and I doubted anyone had stocked it.
“I’m going to walk over to see if my mum’s home.” I closed the fridge and glanced back at her. “And steal some of their food. I’ll be back.”
There was a long pause before she finally spoke. “Can I come with you?”
I hesitated, flattening my lips into a straight line. “If they’re home, you might run into—”
“It’s fine.” She waved me off. “I guess our friendship just went to a new level, and we’re at the meeting-the-parents moment.”
“Friendship?” I clutched my chest dramatically, pretending to be wounded. “We’re friends?”
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she bumped my shoulder on her way past me. “You kind of forced me to be when you kidnapped me and dragged me here.”
She stopped at the door, hesitating for a second before glancing back at me. “Well, are you coming?”
I stared at her, my chest tightening in a way I couldn’t explain.
Fuck me. She was about to meet my parents.
And fuck, I had it bad for her.
“Oh my god,” she moaned, biting into an apple she’d snagged from the counter. Her eyes widened as she chewed. “This is the best apple ever,” she mumbled through muffled bites, juice dribbling down her chin.
I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at her enthusiasm. “You act like you’ve never had fruit before.”
She shot me a mock glare, but didn’t stop eating.
“Right.” I moved toward the pantry. “Let’s see what we can put together for a proper lunch.”
I pulled out a few essentials: thick slices of bread, a block of sharp cheddar cheese, a jar of Branston pickle, and a pack of ham. From the fridge, I grabbed butter, a pot of mustard, and a small container of coleslaw.
“What are you doing?” Nova asked, watching as I placed everything on the counter.
“Making you a proper ploughman’s lunch.” I grinned.
“A what?”
“Bread, cheese, ham, and a few bits to go with it,” I explained, grabbing a small knife and cutting the cheese into thick wedges. “It’s simple, but trust me, it’s good.”
She wandered over, nibbling on her apple, clearly curious as I assembled the spread. I added a handful of cherry tomatoes and a couple of hard-boiled eggs I’d found in the fridge.
“Sit.” I nodded toward the kitchen table.
She hesitated for a moment before pulling out a chair. “This better live up to that apple,” she said teasingly, though there was a glimmer of intrigue in her eyes.
“It will.” I set the plate in front of her with a flourish.
“It’s like a charcuterie board, but . . . better?” Nova murmured, grabbing a bite of hard-boiled egg and topping it with a dab of mustard.
I chuckled. “I guess you could call it that.”
The familiar creak of footsteps sounded from behind me. I turned to see my mum standing in the doorway, her expression shifting from surprise to delight.
“Ollie?”
“It’s me, Mum,” I said, holding up a hand in a half-apologetic wave. “Sorry if I scared you.”
Her face lit up, and before I could say more, she crossed the room and wrapped me in a warm hug. “We never see you during the season. What on earth—”
Pulling back, she glanced over my shoulder, and her gaze landed squarely on Nova, who was mid-bite, chewing slowly as she realized she was being watched.
“Oh.” Mum’s voice rose with curiosity. “Oh.” The second one came louder, her eyes widening.
“Mum,” I said in warning.
“Todd,” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice carrying through the house. “Todd! Come here.”
“Keep it down, will you?” I groaned, shooting her a look.
Nova stood up quickly, brushing crumbs off her hands, clearly uncomfortable.
“Mum.” I stepped aside and gestured toward Nova. “This is a friend of mine. We work together. Nova. She’s never been to the British countryside, so I thought I’d show her around.”
Nova gave a polite, if slightly nervous, smile and extended her hand. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
“This is my mum, Nancy.”
Mum looked between us as she shook Nova’s hand. “Lovely to meet you, Nova. Welcome. I hope Ollie’s been a decent tour guide.”
I sighed. “Mum.”
She ignored me completely, already sizing Nova up like she was putting together a puzzle. I could feel the questions forming in her mind before she even opened her mouth.
“You’re American?”
“Yes. I used to live in Chicago, but recently moved here. Well, not here.” She chuckled and gestured around the house. “But you know, to the UK.”
“We work together. She does the team’s social media.”
Mum’s face lit up, and before I could stop her, she pushed past me and grabbed Nova’s hands. “You’re the one who made the video of Ollie?”
Nova blushed, her cheeks turning pink as she glanced at me nervously. I instinctively stepped closer, ready to shield her from whatever Mum had in store.
“Yes,” she said sheepishly.
“Oh my god.” Mum didn’t hesitate, wrapping Nova up in a hug.
Her wiry brown hair, piled into a messy bun held by chopsticks, bobbed as she squeezed Nova tightly. She was wearing one of her usual long dresses and a chunky sweater, her excitement almost childlike.
“Thank you,” she gushed, pulling back to look at Nova. “You’ve made me the talk of the town. That’s all the ladies at the hairdresser’s can talk about! I finally saw the video yesterday and laughed so hard.”
Nova instantly looked relieved. “Thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed.
“No, thank you.” Mum grinned. “He looks like a proper hunk in it.”
I caught Nova glancing at me before quickly looking down, her lips twitching like she was trying to suppress a smile—or something else. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was too much for her. She’d lost her mum. Was being around a family like this . . . overwhelming?
“Okay, Mum.” I interjected, just as Dad walked into the room, scratching the back of his head.
“Why are we yell—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes landing on Nova. His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “A girl,” he declared, his voice booming. “Ollie brought home a girl.”
Nova looked at me and burst out laughing, the sound light and genuine. “Hi, Mr. Stone.” She extended her hand with a grin. “I’m just a friend of Ollie’s.”
Dad looked between us, clearly not buying it, and Nova’s amusement only deepened.
“I hate you,” I muttered under my breath, but the corner of my mouth twitched in a smile.
She poked me in the chest, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You brought me here.”
Mum pulled up a chair at the table, adding a few more glasses of water and ushering Nova to sit. Dad followed, setting down a bottle of whiskey and a couple of tumblers. He poured himself a generous glass and offered Nova one, but she declined politely.
“So, Nova,” Mum began, sitting down and clasping her hands together like she was about to start an interview. “What brought you to the UK?”
Nova smiled politely, settling into the chair. “Work. I’ve always wanted to try living somewhere new, and when the opportunity came up, it felt . . . right.”
“Do you like it so far?” Dad asked, leaning back in his chair and swirling the whiskey in his glass.
“It’s been lovely.” She glanced at me briefly before continuing. “A bit overwhelming at first, but I’m getting used to it.”
Mum raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “What do you do exactly? Aside from making Ollie look like a hunk on the internet, of course.”
Nova laughed, and for the first time, her smile lit up her face. It caught me off guard—bright and genuine. It was beautiful, and the fact that it was so rare made it feel even more precious.
“I manage social media for the team. It’s a lot of content creation, strategy, and . . . well, trying to keep things interesting.”
“You’re very good at it.” Mum nodded approvingly. “Everyone in town’s been talking about that video. It’s the first time they’ve cared about rugby in years.”
Nova blushed slightly, but her smile didn’t waver.
Dad chimed in. “What’s Ollie like to work with?”
His tone was casual, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. He was having too much fun with this.
Nova glanced at me, clearly debating her answer, before grinning. “Stubborn.”
Mum let out a bark of laughter, and Dad chuckled, raising his glass. “That’s our boy.”
I groaned, leaning back in my chair. “I can’t believe I brought you here.”
Nova smiled, that teasing glint in her eye still firmly in place. “You really have no one to blame but yourself, Ollie.”