"That name still sounds made up to me."
"And I still can't help that someone decided to name the town that."
"Why are we staying at your parents' place instead of yours?"
"Because my home is ground zero for that sodding scandal." I turn my face toward her to breathe in the scent of her hair. "Tomorrow, I'll take you to Cockshire and show you my business and my home. All right? If we get accosted by a horde of women who are gagging for a 'special' massage, you can't say I didn't warn you."
"I can handle it, Nick. Jeez, I deal with college kids all day long, five days a week. They're much more difficult than lustful women."
"Can we shag now? I'm feeling reinvigorated."
She laughs. "Have I ever turned down sex with you?"
"No, you're more likely to shred my clothes."
Even while I'm making love to Siobhan, I keep wondering what those American women are plotting.
Chapter Twenty
Siobhan
Nick and I borrow his brother's car for our trip to Cockshire, which is only ten minutes from Colchester. The town where Nick lives and works might have a strange name, but it's the cutest little "chocolate box village," which is what Nick says Brits call this kind of town. It has quaint cottages and quaint shops, plus beautiful scenery. We pass verdant fields hemmed in by lush trees on our way into the village, and I can't help feeling awed by the beauty of this region. I've lived in New Mexico for a long time and rarely took vacations away from home.
I think I forgot what plant life looks like.
Nick gets more anxious the closer we get to Cockshire. He grips the steering wheel tighter, and he seems to be clenching his jaw.
That idiotic scandal has upset him more than I ever realized.
As we enter the village, we drive past big brick houses with brick walls that encompass them. Some are low walls, but others are quite tall. Every house has shrubs or hedges, and flowering trees and bushes.
"It's beautiful here," I say. "Are we going straight to your house, or stopping off at your spa first?"
He twists his hands around the wheel like he's trying to strangle it. "I thought I'd show you my business first."
"Sounds good." I lay a hand on his arm. "Relax, Nick. I don't see any rampaging mob of lust-crazed women. No villagers with pitchforks and torches either."
"I know," he says on a long sigh. "But I have no idea what people round here think of me anymore."
"They used to like you, right?"
"Yes. I think so, at any rate."
"Come on, you're a pillar of the community."
A laugh splutters out of him, but it seems more panicked than amused. "Pillar? Me? You've got me confused with my brother and my parents. I'm a massage therapist."
"Wow, you have quite the inferiority complex, don't you?"
"No, I—I'm not as accomplished as the rest of my family."
"I know your dad started a publishing company," I say, "and now Richard owns it. What does your mom do?"
"She dedicated her life to raising me and Rick and taking care of the household. She's a member of the WI, and she volunteers for various charities." He tries to strangle the steering wheel again. "So yes, she's as impressive as Dad and Rick."
"Never heard of the WI. What is that?"
"Women's Institutes. Ladies get together to hear speeches or learn how to cook or craft various kinds of…things you cook or craft. I've never been to a WI meeting, so I can't give you the details."