{"id":7829,"date":"2014-07-11T21:38:00","date_gmt":"2014-07-12T01:38:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jennytrout.com\/?p=7829"},"modified":"2014-07-11T21:38:00","modified_gmt":"2014-07-12T01:38:00","slug":"one-more-if-ever-i-would-leave-you-post","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/?p=7829","title":{"rendered":"One more IF EVER I WOULD LEAVE YOU post"},"content":{"rendered":"

Since I didn’t roll it into the #MerlinClub post today (which was stupid because it was written completely by the #MerlinClub three), and since it’s now available in all formats on Smashwords, below the jump are the final buy links for\u00a0If Ever I Would Leave You<\/em>, and an excerpt from my story,\u00a0A Choice Fit For A Queen.<\/em><\/p>\n

To say that the Rose and Pig was off the beaten path would have been an understatement.<\/p>\n

\"If<\/a>There were no streetlights. The street wasn\u2019t even paved. It was barely more than a dirt two-track leading past the low stone fence that surrounded the field. At the end, a two-story wattle-and-daub house stood, chimney smoking. The light spilling from its windows promised warmth and a place to get dry. Though my feet ached and stung with raw blisters\u00a0from jogging around airports all day, I practically sprinted the last leg of my journey. Mud splattered onto the legs of my jeans, and I didn\u2019t care. All I wanted was to get inside, away from the hellish downpour. I reached the door, prepared to fling it open and launch myself into the warm embrace of a charming Welsh pub.<\/p>\n

It was locked.<\/p>\n

Visions of sleeping in the cold, shivering in the dark, wet, pneumonia-encouraging night put urgency into my arm as I pounded on the door. \u201cHello! Hey, is anybody inside? Can anyone help\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

A guy opened the door. A hot guy. An annoyed hot guy. One look at him and my heart jolted. I froze in shock, but managed to stutter out, \u201cm-me?\u201d<\/p>\n

He was absolutely gorgeous. Flawless dark brown skin stretched over a face that made the words \u201caesthetically pleasing\u201d an understatement. His cheeks were full, like he\u2019d retained baby fat in the exact right places, and his lush lips spread in a smile that was half \u201clet\u2019s be friends\u201d and half \u201clet\u2019s be friends with benefits\u201d as he looked me over.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, the longer I stared at him, the more his smile faded. He leaned his shoulder against the door and slung a white bar towel over the other to cross his arms over his chest. \u201cLet me guess. American white girl, thinking, \u2018What do you mean, they have black people in Wales?\u2019\u201d He held up his hands in mock apology. \u201cSorry, we\u2019re everywhere. Hope you\u2019re not too disappointed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cN-no, I wasn\u2019t\u2014\u201c Explaining was not going to work if I couldn\u2019t talk like a normal human. I had to glance down and push my wet hair from my face to concentrate and steel myself against his good looks when I raised my head again. When I did, I managed a smile. I hoped I didn\u2019t look goofy. \u201cI was actually thinking, \u2018wow, the guys are a lot hotter here than at home.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

His smile returned slowly. \u201cYeah, all right. You\u2019re forgiven. Come on inside.\u201d<\/p>\n

His accent. Oh god.<\/em><\/p>\n

The inside of the pub was exactly the way I imagined pubs would look. Lots of wood, not too much light, pictures of horses on the walls. Mr. Gorgeous moved behind the bar and took out his cell phone. \u201cWe\u2019re closed, but I can give you a lift and someplace dry to wait, at least.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, but I don\u2019t need a ride. My place is supposed to be\u2014\u201c I pointed at the ceiling and whistled.<\/p>\n

\u201cBill finally rented it? Huh.\u201d The guy shrugged his shoulders, then reached across the bar to give me a clean towel. \u201cBill\u2019s not in right now. You\u2019re going to find that he\u2019s not \u2018in right now\u2019 a lot of the time. Sorry about that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh.\u201d I looked around as I squeezed water from my long brown hair with the towel, for all the good it would do me. I had way more hair than towel. The building was old, but clean, though there were some cracks in the yellowed plaster walls. \u201cUm… is there like a Holiday Inn around here or something?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hot guy pulled a carabiner from the belt loop of his jeans and jingled it at me. \u201cLucky for you, I\u2019ve got a spare key.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are a lifesaver\u2014\u201c I paused, waiting for him to fill in the blank.<\/p>\n

\u201cRhys.\u201d He held out his hand. His big, warm palm swallowed mine, and I hoped he thought my skin was damp from rain and not nervous sweat.<\/p>\n

\u201cMadison.\u201d Had I just giggled? I needed to get that on lock down.<\/p>\n

Or not. Because Rhys held my hand just a heartbeat longer than necessary, and smiled wide in the moment it took him to respond. \u201cLook, do you mind waiting while I finish up here? Just for a couple of minutes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s fine. Better than sitting out in the rain, anyway.\u201d I leaned an elbow on the bar and propped my face on my hand. \u201cSo… you work here alone? Isn\u2019t that kind of dangerous?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt didn\u2019t seem like it before, but now you\u2019ve said that…\u201d He gave me serious side-eye, as if he thought for a second I wasn\u2019t really kidding.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t generally attack people,\u201d I reassured him playfully. \u201cI know I look super intimidating.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d He grinned as he flicked off the lights that glowed above the shelves behind the bar. \u201cAll, what? Nine stone, soaking wet?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I am<\/em> soaking wet,\u201d I laughed, and then I realized how incredibly wrong that sounded if taken in a different light.<\/p>\n

Whatever. I was twenty. I was in a different country. Wasn\u2019t the point of a trip abroad to sow some wild oats? Or whatever it was dad called it?<\/p>\n

Knowing my dad, he meant actual oats, and was imagining a pastoral scene of farming the Welsh countryside.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know, it\u2019s rude to ask a woman her weight,\u201d I reminded him. \u201cI thought people in England were supposed to be more polite.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, you\u2019re not in England, and you better know the difference before you go saying something like that in front of the locals.\u201d He grinned and gestured to the door. \u201cCome on. I\u2019ll let you in upstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n

The second floor apartment was accessible from a staircase at the back of the pub. The scarred wooden door at the top looked liked it could have been original to the house, but the knob and lock were brand new. Rhys slipped the key in and wrestled with it for a moment, which was an auspicious sign.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, there we go.\u201d He held the door open for me, and I struggled my bag up the last remaining stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me get that,\u201d he said, and when he leaned down, the side of his face grazed my chest. I took an audible, embarrassed gasp of air, and he straightened with an awkward laugh. \u201cYeah…sorry about that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amazon<\/a>\u00a0\u2022 Smashwords<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Since I didn’t roll it into the #MerlinClub post today (which was stupid because it was written completely by the #MerlinClub three), and since it’s<\/p>\n

Read moreOne more IF EVER I WOULD LEAVE YOU post<\/span><\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7829"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7829"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7829\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7830,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7829\/revisions\/7830"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7829"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7829"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jennytrout.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7829"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}