Eternally North
Page 21
“Tash… I like it,” he leaned down, his arms trapping me against the bar. He put his mouth to my ear and whispered huskily, “But I like the idea of calling you Ms. as well.” He met my now-stunned gaze, and stepped back as if that little conversation had never happened.
He’s done that to wind me up, unnerve me but... but – man, he’s so hot! Oh my God, he has dimples… write me off now or let me take up residence in those little caves of cuteness!
Shuffling uncomfortably on the spot like he was nervous, he peered down at me. “So, do you want to join our table? Boleyn keeps raving about you and quite honestly I’m intrigued to hear all about the ‘famous Ms. Munro’ in person. Plus, it may shut her up for the remainder of the night if you sit with us. She’s been craning her neck all over ever since you came back here. Claims I was a bad brother and an even worse human being to speak to ‘the best teacher ever’ like that,” he declared, putting on a teenage-girl whiny voice.
“Ahh, so this little conversation is not altruistic, then? You want back in your sister’s good books,” I shook my head in mock disappointment. “And just when I thought you might have a heart, a conscience for offending little old me,” I lilted, acting upset and fluttering my eyelids.
Looking at me like he was aware of my sarcasm but playing along anyway, he replied, “I admit I may have been a bit of a 'fuck-nut' as you so eloquently put it. Sorry, I really shouldn't have spoken to you like that,” he apologised, one side of his mouth curving up in a devastatingly sexy way.
Trying to ignore the fact that the temperature in the room seemed to have gone up a hundred degrees, I jumped down from my stool.
“Well, lead the way, oh dutiful brother, we can't have your little sister pissed at you, can we?” I directed with a swing of my arm, earning a shake of the head from a begrudgingly entertained Tudor North.
Seated at the table next to Tudor, I fell into easy conversation with the rest of the family.
“So where are you from, Ms. Munro? I can’t place your accent,” asked Henry.
“You can all call me Tash. Well except you, missy. I’m still Ms. Munro to you,” I said, pointing to Boleyn. “I’m from England. A place called Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. You probably don’t know it. We are pretty much as far north a city as you can get to before you hit Scotland,” I informed.
“Newcastle? Right. So, what brings you to Calgary?”
“Well Ti-, err John, my roommate and best friend, and I, decided we needed a change, you know, a chance to travel. We kind of randomly just picked somewhere to live, and Calgary it was,” I explained, purposely leaving out the cheating ex, Jane Austen quote, drunken decision-making and the role Cool Runnings played in the story.
“Wow, just like that?” remarked Samantha. “I could never do anything so drastic. I am from Winnipeg, and Calgary is about as far as I’m willing to go. My mom would kill me if I went too far from home.”
“Yeah the ‘rents were a bit upset, but in the end they supported it. I just have to Skype, email and text pretty much every day,” I joked.
“So, no-one special here or back home?” she enquired.
“Not any more. Ex-boyfriend in England is now involved with someone else, so I’m free and single and ready to mingle with the best Calgary has to offer,” I winked.
“What do you think of the Canadians, then?” asked Henry.
“Amazing. You lot are so nice. Well, nearly all of you,” I tipped my head sideways and pointed my thumb at Tudor, who winced and looked down at the table. Henry, on the other hand, seemed tickled by my dig.
“Well, most of us are. Tudor's the exception – all broody and tortured. Just ignore him, we do,” he waggled his eyebrows whilst Tudor scowled at him moodily.
Henry continued, “What about the accent though, no trouble there?”
“Nope. I love the way you say ‘oot’ and ‘aboot’. You sound kind of Scottish, it’s funny.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Well, we are all very happy you have moved here. Newcastle’s loss is Calgary’s gain,” exclaimed Pamela, smiling alongside a very cheery Boleyn.
“Thanks,” I answered bashfully.
“So, Pamela, what’s up with the Tudor Royal names? I love it, but I have never come across it before,”
“I studied History at University and that was my favourite period, everything about it really. So when I had Henry I knew what I would call him. Tudor was a little more difficult. I didn’t like Edward, and my friend came up with the idea of using Tudor as a forename and it just stuck. Anne Boleyn was my favourite of the wives. It probably seems silly to you being from England, eh?” she asked, seemingly embarrassed.
He’s done that to wind me up, unnerve me but... but – man, he’s so hot! Oh my God, he has dimples… write me off now or let me take up residence in those little caves of cuteness!
Shuffling uncomfortably on the spot like he was nervous, he peered down at me. “So, do you want to join our table? Boleyn keeps raving about you and quite honestly I’m intrigued to hear all about the ‘famous Ms. Munro’ in person. Plus, it may shut her up for the remainder of the night if you sit with us. She’s been craning her neck all over ever since you came back here. Claims I was a bad brother and an even worse human being to speak to ‘the best teacher ever’ like that,” he declared, putting on a teenage-girl whiny voice.
“Ahh, so this little conversation is not altruistic, then? You want back in your sister’s good books,” I shook my head in mock disappointment. “And just when I thought you might have a heart, a conscience for offending little old me,” I lilted, acting upset and fluttering my eyelids.
Looking at me like he was aware of my sarcasm but playing along anyway, he replied, “I admit I may have been a bit of a 'fuck-nut' as you so eloquently put it. Sorry, I really shouldn't have spoken to you like that,” he apologised, one side of his mouth curving up in a devastatingly sexy way.
Trying to ignore the fact that the temperature in the room seemed to have gone up a hundred degrees, I jumped down from my stool.
“Well, lead the way, oh dutiful brother, we can't have your little sister pissed at you, can we?” I directed with a swing of my arm, earning a shake of the head from a begrudgingly entertained Tudor North.
Seated at the table next to Tudor, I fell into easy conversation with the rest of the family.
“So where are you from, Ms. Munro? I can’t place your accent,” asked Henry.
“You can all call me Tash. Well except you, missy. I’m still Ms. Munro to you,” I said, pointing to Boleyn. “I’m from England. A place called Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. You probably don’t know it. We are pretty much as far north a city as you can get to before you hit Scotland,” I informed.
“Newcastle? Right. So, what brings you to Calgary?”
“Well Ti-, err John, my roommate and best friend, and I, decided we needed a change, you know, a chance to travel. We kind of randomly just picked somewhere to live, and Calgary it was,” I explained, purposely leaving out the cheating ex, Jane Austen quote, drunken decision-making and the role Cool Runnings played in the story.
“Wow, just like that?” remarked Samantha. “I could never do anything so drastic. I am from Winnipeg, and Calgary is about as far as I’m willing to go. My mom would kill me if I went too far from home.”
“Yeah the ‘rents were a bit upset, but in the end they supported it. I just have to Skype, email and text pretty much every day,” I joked.
“So, no-one special here or back home?” she enquired.
“Not any more. Ex-boyfriend in England is now involved with someone else, so I’m free and single and ready to mingle with the best Calgary has to offer,” I winked.
“What do you think of the Canadians, then?” asked Henry.
“Amazing. You lot are so nice. Well, nearly all of you,” I tipped my head sideways and pointed my thumb at Tudor, who winced and looked down at the table. Henry, on the other hand, seemed tickled by my dig.
“Well, most of us are. Tudor's the exception – all broody and tortured. Just ignore him, we do,” he waggled his eyebrows whilst Tudor scowled at him moodily.
Henry continued, “What about the accent though, no trouble there?”
“Nope. I love the way you say ‘oot’ and ‘aboot’. You sound kind of Scottish, it’s funny.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Well, we are all very happy you have moved here. Newcastle’s loss is Calgary’s gain,” exclaimed Pamela, smiling alongside a very cheery Boleyn.
“Thanks,” I answered bashfully.
“So, Pamela, what’s up with the Tudor Royal names? I love it, but I have never come across it before,”
“I studied History at University and that was my favourite period, everything about it really. So when I had Henry I knew what I would call him. Tudor was a little more difficult. I didn’t like Edward, and my friend came up with the idea of using Tudor as a forename and it just stuck. Anne Boleyn was my favourite of the wives. It probably seems silly to you being from England, eh?” she asked, seemingly embarrassed.
