Page 9 of For My Finale
She hurried to the door, flinging it open to see what all the fuss was about, only to see a sodden woman, rain dripping from her hair, face a picture of panic, paused mid-knock.
Blossom was about to say something when she saw a familiar shape at the garden gate. “Billy,” she said joyfully. “There you are. I was starting to get worried.”
The wet woman turned to her. “You know… that?”
“Him,” Blossom said helpfully. “All bulls are boys. And yes, it’s Billy, why?”
But before the woman could answer, the wheels in Blossom’s head started to turn and she started to put pieces together until…
“I know you,” she said.
And she did. That face was unmistakable. She’d had posters of that face.
“You’re Lilah Paxton.”
Chapter Four
Blossom wasn’t often lost for words. But as she stood in her doorway staring at a dripping-wet Lilah Paxton, she found that the cat had, momentarily, got her tongue. It wasn’t every day that a world famous actress showed up on her doorstep looking like a drowned rat.
Lilah shivered, a large drop of rain falling from her hair to the ground. “So, am I supposed to stand here like a Victorian orphan? Is this some sort of quaint village tradition? Do I have to complete a task in order to gain entry?”
Blossom started to breathe again and felt herself flush. “God, yes, right, come in, I’m sorry.” She stepped back hastily, letting Lilah stumble inside, dripping all the way. “Sorry, just, well, um, you’re Lilah Paxton.”
“I think we’ve established that,” Lilah said, sighing and wringing out her jacket all over the welcome mat. “And trust me, I’m very aware of the fact.”
With a small, awkward laugh that made her cringe internally, Blossom said, “Right, of course.” She closed the door quickly, then hurried to the airing cupboard and pulled out a fresh towel. Lilah Paxton. In her house. She turned back with the towel. “Here, dry off, you must be freezing.”
The actress accepted the towel with a muttered thank you and immediately began dabbing at her face and hair. As she did so, she cast a disapproving glance around Blossom’s sweet cottage,her gaze lingering on mismatched furniture and dusty rugs. “Cute,” she muttered.
Blossom decided to take this as a compliment. She grinned. “Come on, the kitchen’s this way. I’ll get you a cup of tea. That’ll warm you up.” She was slowly getting used to this idea, she thought. Maybe.
“Have you got coffee?” Lilah said.
“Lord no, no coffee machine here. There’s one at the cafe where I work, though. Anyway, tea’s what you need. Good for the shock as well,” said Blossom, switching the kettle on. “And you’ll regret not having a warm drink if you catch cold.”
“Gods, the English and their tea,” said Lilah, groaning and flopping into a wooden kitchen chair. Her wet clothes made a squelching sound as she sat. “And I already have regrets. So many regrets.”
Blossom decided not to pursue whatever Lilah’s regrets might be. It seemed rude, somehow. The woman was obviously not in good shape. Anyone who’d walked away from a successful career would have their reasons. So she concentrated on making tea.
“Here,” she said finally. “Try this. It’s my favorite.” She handed the steaming cup to Lilah, who took a cautious sip and immediately pulled a face.
“What the hell’s this?”
“Earl Grey with honey,” Blossom said.
Lilah smacked her lips. “It tastes like soap.”
“It does not,” Blossom said, in genuine horror. “It’s a classic.”
“Yeah, so was the Black Plague,” Lilah said, setting the mug down.
Blossom snorted a laugh, unable to help herself. Lilah didn’t crack a smile, but Blossom thought she saw the smallest twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth before she schooled her famous features back into a scowl.
“My name’s—” Blossom began.
But before she could finish, a large, wet nose appeared through the open kitchen window. Lilah screamed and launched herself backward, nearly knocking over her chair. “What in thehell is that?”
“Oh, that’s Billy,” Blossom said, grinning and reaching over to scratch the bull’s nose. “I’ve been waiting for you, Bill. Here you go.” She reached under the sink and grabbed one of the carrots she kept for him. “There’s a good boy.” Billy chomped down happily.
