Page 5 of From LA to London, With Love

Just then, Elliot upped his screaming to a new decibel level I didn’t think possible. The American took off his sunglasses, revealing a genuinely concerned expression on his face. That wasn’t the look of a creep. And Elliot really needed a change of clothes ASAP. And I really wanted to see inside the Castle.

My curiosity and my desire to preserve what was left of my hearing got the better of me.

“That would be great, thanks, so I can quickly change him. He won’t make it home in this state.”

Elliot’s face was as red as a double-decker bus from screaming, and he showed no signs of calming down.

“No problem. Let me take this.” He opened the gate so I could walk through and then lifted the pram effortlessly, as if it were a pack of baby wipes, rather than a very sturdy all-terrain vehicle with its under basket stuffed to the brim.

Holding Elliot, still howling, with one arm as I followed the man up the stone stairs, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and one-handedly shot off a message to Josh. I struggled to type, so I kept it brief.

Sophie: Going inside the Castle. If you don’t hear from me in 30 mins send cops.

The American ushered Elliot and me through the impressive door into the entrance hall, where he left the pram, and then into a living room.

“I’ll grab something to dry him off.” He rushed out, returning moments later with a pile of thick, blue towels. “Let me know if there is anything else I can get you.”

“Can you grab the nappy—I mean diaper—bag from under the pram? Thanks,” I said briskly. I didn’t have time for pleasantries with Elliot in his current state. I lay Elliot, still screaming and thrashing about, down on a towel and stripped him off.

An ice block, half melted, fell out of his top as I removed it. No wonder he’d been distressed. It must have slithered down his front and been pressing against his round potbelly. Poor little fellow.

I gave Elliot a vigorous rub down with the towels, which were remarkably absorbent, and he started to settle. He was back to his usual self by the time I’d wrangled him into dry clothes, and looking around, wide-eyed. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I finally had a chance to take in our surroundings as well. The living room had a beautiful wooden floor covered in a rug, two comfortable looking sofas, and a gorgeous period fireplace. A large antique vase was in one corner of the room. Another corner must have been the bottom of the turret, because it had an unusual circular shape. It was warm, inviting, and felt like a home I could relax in. Just how I’d imagined the Castle would be. And a world away from Cynthia’s ghastly house.

I suddenly remembered the American, who was sitting on a sofa, watching me look around his living room with interest.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said, smiling.

“It’s lovely. I’ve always wondered what this place was like inside. I was obsessed with the turret as a kid. I used to make up stories about the house—I called it the Castle—having secret passageways and Narnia-like wardrobes that were portals to a magical world. I don’t suppose you’ve come across any?” I asked, only half joking. This place really did look like it might have a hidden room behind a bookcase, or a trapdoor under an old rug.

He chuckled. “I haven’t, I’m afraid. But I’ve only recently moved in, so it’s possible I just haven’t discovered them yet.”

Still on the floor with Elliot, I unashamedly leaned back to look through a partially open door. If I remembered correctly from the floor plan on the real estate listing, it led to the kitchen. I didn’t care if I was being obviously nosy. This was my last chance to see my dream home in the flesh. I wouldn't let embarrassment stop me this time.

I caught a flash of a gleaming stainless steel oven before I lost balance. Shit. I put my hand on the sofa to steady myself. Could you be any more obvious, Sophie, or more uncoordinated?

The American’s mouth twitched. “Would you like a tour? That way, you can check for yourself—for magic portals, I mean. I assume that’s what you were just doing, or at least trying to do.”

He grinned, and heat rose up my cheeks. So much for being unashamed.

“And I’m Chris, by the way.”

His smile was playful, almost teasing, and it put me at ease. That wasn’t the smile of a creep. It was, however, the smile of a very attractive man. Chris had to be well over six-foot, with those impressive pram-carrying muscles, and while he was still wearing that ridiculous cap pulled low over his face—perhaps he was trying to hide a terrible haircut, or a receding hairline—I could make out warm brown eyes, strong cheekbones, and a rugged jaw. And he had that killer smile…

Urgh. My heart sank. I’d sworn off relationships when I got pregnant with Elliot, and well before that, I’d sworn off dating men. Just my luck, the first spark of attraction I’d felt toward anyone in a long time was some rich white guy, exactly the sort of person I’d vowed never to date again. Some of the worst memories started flooding back.

Nope. I was not—well, at least I didn’t want to be—attracted to this man.

I realized those warm brown eyes were staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to respond to his question. I forced myself to focus on the present. And the fact we’d just been offered a personal tour of the Castle. After seeing the living room and a tantalizing glimpse of the kitchen before I lost balance, I was dying to see more.

“Sorry. I’m Sophie, and this is Elliot. We’d love a tour. Since you’ve just moved here, we really should check, for your own safety, that there aren't any hidden portals to another world. It would be the neighborly thing to do, not at all motivated by wanting to satisfy over thirty years of curiosity about this house…You don't want to be woken in the middle of the night by a centaur galloping through your house, especially not with all these breakable objects.” I gestured at the antique vase.

“How very thoughtful of you.” Chris grinned. “Do you provide this service to all new residents of Hampstead?”

“Not yet, but perhaps I should.” I stroked my chin, as if seriously considering the issue. “I wonder…Do you think I could monetize it? Everyone else seems to have a side hustle these days. Maybe it could be mine.”

Chris looked thoughtful. “I’m afraid I can’t comment until I see how you perform today. I’ll be more than happy to provide a glowing reference if you protect this gorgeous vase from destruction by other-worldly creatures.”