Chapter Text
Penelope absolutely did not have time for this. A boom of thunder rolled through the inky clouds above as she ascended from the now closed Tube station. She looked up, trying to discern storm clouds from a typical charcoal colored London night sky, gauging how long she might have before the downpour.
She did not have time for this. “I do not have time for this!” she warned the heavens.
A few droplets of rain freckled her cheeks, spitting in the face of her obstinance.
She was meant to be starting her summer hols. With Eloise. On a beach.
Not alone. In London. About to get soaked by a midnight rain.
This was total bollocks.
She had already missed the train to Cornwall earlier that day. The train that had whisked her assigned-roommate turned bestie, Eloise Bridgerton, from Paddington Station to the promised land of sandy beaches and crystal clear water. So it seemed the universe was conspiring against her.
For one thing, she’d had an exam on the last day of the period, whereas Eloise had the luck of finishing three days ago. Then she’d had to stay late to submit her agony aunt column for the last edition of the Varsity.
Because she’d been pulling all-nighters studying until just yesterday, she hadn’t had time to pack up her half of the dorm room she’d shared with Eloise until today. That had taken an annoyingly long time, sorting her belongings into what she could put in storage versus what she would need over the summer and what she would need immediately for this vacation.
In retrospect, perhaps agreeing to this same-day itinerary for leaving Cambridge and starting the holiday in Cornwall had been a tad too optimistic. But it had been such a long challenging year — fulfilling and incredible, too, but draining — especially after her grueling exam period. She couldn’t resist the promise of immediate escape, immediate relaxation, immediate fun.
And Eloise had made it sound so easy. She hadn’t been able to resist the vision her friend painted of a quick train ride whisking them off to drink cider and sit by the sea.
So she had just barely caught the last fast train from Cambridge to London — “fast” except for the service disruption that had them crawl to a stop for an unbearably long, seemingly interminable time. By the time the train resumed its course and finally rolled into Paddington Station, Penelope was so bone-tired, so mind-numbingly exhausted that she’d dozed off upright in her seat and hadn’t woken until the conductor came round and roused her.
She’d forced her eyes open around her now dried out contacts and tried to get her bearings. Announcements rang out declaring the closing of the Tube station. Eloise and the train to Cornwall were long gone, leaving in their wake a string of frantic and then sympathetic text messages instructing Penelope to crash at Eloise’s mother’s home in Mayfair and get to Cornwall the following day.
Her friend had arranged it all with her mother, who would leave a key under the mat and a guest room made up. Eloise had known without asking that Penelope wouldn’t want to deal with a last minute night under her own mother’s roof.
So at least the universe hadn’t contrived to deprive her of shelter for the night.
If she could just get there without getting soaked.
But the slow “fast” train had arrived so late that the Tube was closed and a two-mile jaunt cutting across Hyde Park at this time of night, with her suitcase and bag, was simply not an option, even if it hadn’t been raining.
Penelope took stock of the nearby intersection, spotting rideshare after rideshare getting snatched up before her very eyes by other travelers wary of the impending rain.
Penelope sighed, pulling out her phone and quickly nabbing an approaching car, hurriedly typing in the address from Eloise’s text.
“You are a lifesaver,” she greeted the driver, popping her suitcase in the boot, shoving her weekender bag in ahead of her and sliding into the backseat.
On the ten minute drive to Mayfair, Penelope’s relief only grew as the droplets turned to a constant snare drum of rain outside the shelter of the cab.
When she arrived at No. 5 Bruton, the key was hidden just where it was promised to be and Penelope exhaled another sigh of relief. She had only met Eloise’s mum a few times during this past year of uni – at move-in and during the Cambridge Festival Family Weekend – but she already felt so mothered by the woman, so grateful for her literal refuge in this late night storm.
Penelope hurried inside to avoid bringing in much rain and quietly closed and locked the door behind herself. She treaded up three flights of stairs slowly, careful not to disturb Lady Bridgerton or Eloise’s three younger siblings still residing at home. She maneuvered herself, her suitcase and her bag down the hall, recalling that Eloise’s text had said the guest room would be the first door on the right on the third floor.
When Penelope opened the door, the sight that greeted her was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
A king-size four poster bed, a thick golden yellow duvet, and a veritable mountain of fluffy white pillows.
Penelope would sleep like a princess.
She toed off her shoes, took her weekender bag into the en suite and gave herself a cursory face wash and teeth brushing before slipping into her green cotton camisole and sleep shorts. She finally got her overworked contacts out, not even bothering to put on her glasses before making her way to the bed, peeling back the covers on the left side, and slipping in.
Penelope was asleep before she took another breath.
She slept beautifully, ensconced not only in the glorious bed but in the most vivid dreams.
Admittedly, her first dream started out a bit strange — she was walking through a forest of the tallest trees, feeling incredibly small, very alone, when the wind started to whirl around her bombarding her with leaves and then gusts of sideways rain. Suddenly she realized she was a bear and she spotted a cave ahead. She rushed for it, instinctively recognizing it as somewhere safe. When she reached the cave, there was another bear already slumbering, his warmth beckoning her to his side. She curled into him without hesitating and suddenly felt human again.
Was this a dream? It had to be. And yet she could still feel a form beside her, steady exhales pushing a warm broad chest closer to her back. Whoever this was in her dream, he was a lovely furnace. Even his breath was warm against her neck, sending delicious tingles of awareness throughout her body. She kept her eyes shut and reached into the depths of her mind to return to her dream, to stay within his grasp.
She reached one foot behind her to tangle with his, her dream man, entwining him securely to her. A strong arm came around her in response, resting across her midsection, tugging her even closer.
Her dream transitioned then and she had made it to the beach with Eloise, but while her friend had gone to swim in the sea, Penelope sank into a cocoon of hot sand, feeling it envelope her, welcoming its warmth, inhaling the fresh clean scent of sea salt and amber. Now she could feel the heart of this dream man beating as if from the very core of the earth, lulling her into a deep, deep sleep.
This was a heaven she didn’t want to wake from.
______
Penelope’s scream froze in her throat, never escaping her lips to disturb the quiet of the cavernous room.
There was a man in her bed.
Watching her.
She stared at him, blinking, willing her overtired neurons to start firing and make sense of this, of him .
The bear from her dream was a man .
A man with most remarkably blue eyes, a mop of dark curls, and the handsomest face she’d ever seen.
A very shirtless man. Penelope’s gaze trailed down the sleek lines of his neck, past his perfectly tanned shoulders, to a dusting of chest hair visible above the duvet. Heat bloomed in her belly. Was this still a dream? She reached her fingers tentatively toward his chest to test his solidity–
“Good morning, roomie.” She jerked her hand back, the low rumble of his greeting snapping her eyes back up to his face. Those blue eyes were dancing. “Or should I say pleased to meet you? I must say I’ve never slept with someone before I met them.”
She emitted a strangled squeak and yet words still evaded her. Well done, Penelope. How very eloquent.
He seemed amused by her extended stunned silence, patient as she eased into awareness of this unexpected reality. Someone who sounded so affable in such a… bizarre situation couldn’t possibly be an axe murderer. Could he?
The dreams came back to her — snuggling into his warmth, tangling her foot between his, feeling his arm pull tight under her breasts — and she felt her stomach launch into somersaults.
The good news was that someone so snuggly definitely could not be an axe murderer. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
The bad news was she had snuggled into a complete stranger . The world’s sexiest stranger. What must he think of her? What was he doing in here, come to think of it.
“What are you doing here?” Finally, her words returned to her, bluntness and all. She couldn’t make sense of this on her own.
“Welcome to my room,” he grinned, gesturing around. The motion jostled the bedding, putting a well-defined bicep on display and revealing the full expanse of his bare chest. Penelope swallowed, forcing herself to avert her gaze from his nipples and make sense of what he was saying. His room? She grabbed for her phone, scrolled for Eloise’s text, and blinked it into focus. First corridor on the right. Not first door.
“Shit. Fuck. ” She dropped her phone and hid her face in her hands.
He chuckled at her flustered state. When she peeked between her fingers, she saw his stupidly cute face was unfairly unbothered in comparison.
“I’m Colin, by the way. And you are?”
“Mortified.”
He laughed again and it loosened something in her.
She started over, smiling sheepishly at him. “Er, Penelope, actually. I’m Eloise’s friend?” She hoped that sparked in him some recognition of her reason for being here. Because of course it would be totally reasonable for a strange girl to snuggle him if she were a friend of his sister’s. Penelope felt she might die.
“I got in late, I read her text wrong. Clearly .” She dared peek at him again and he was still just as unaffected and amused. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you kick me out?”
“I’m not in the habit of kicking cute girls out of my bed.” Penelope’s stomach did a little traitorous flip. God, how easy was she. “My brothers would never let me live it down if I did,” he went on. “And this will make for an excellent story, don’t you think?”
Penelope’s mind spun. Actually, she thought that this would make quite the meet-cute for a romance novel – and he, in all his shirtless glory, would make for an excellent cover model – but she kept that thought to herself, letting the blush rising on her cheeks do the answering for her.
“I would tell you not to be embarrassed but it’s actually cute on you.”
Okay, he could stop with the charm any time now, thank you very much. Although, it did help her feel a smidge less embarrassed.
“I didn’t mind,” he insisted when she still hadn’t answered. “Honestly, I was so out of it with jet lag that I definitely thought I had dreamed you. Until I woke just a bit ago.”
“Were you watching me sleep?”
His cheeks colored. “I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so tired.”
“Ugh, thanks,” she said, rolling away from him to hide in her pillow.
He tugged her wrist to gently turn her back, and she found herself acutely aware of his large thumb warm against her pulse point. “Hey no, I just meant you looked so peaceful, so happy to be sleeping.”
She huffed out a laugh. “I was. I needed that sleep. Don’t ever let Eloise make your travel itinerary.”
“Eloise!? She’s bookish brilliance, but not one for common sense. I would never. Tell me you didn’t.”
The story trickled out of her, Penelope finding it weirdly easy to talk to this devastatingly handsome man, side by side, in bed. She vented about her travel crises the day before, he commiserated and shared some of his own travel mishaps. There was just something about him that made her feel comfortable despite this completely wild circumstance. Maybe it was the fact that they had basically spooned all night long and the awkwardness of first proximity was already behind them — while they were unconscious even.
But maybe it was just him. Just them, together.
“So I’m meant to be catching the train to Cornwall today,” she concluded her tale, mentally bracing for another day navigating solo transit.
“Why don’t you let me drive you?”
She stared at him. It was a five hour drive. “Are you… going to Cornwall today?”
“Might as well, Anthony thinks I’m an aimless wanderer anyway. Why not live up to my reputation while I can?” His voice wasn’t quite as carefree as it had been, but he shrugged and his cheeky grin returned. “Besides, I could use some beach.”
With the prospect of shirtless Colin in swim trunks before her, Penelope readily agreed.
The car ride went by in a blur of snacks, music and embarrassing stories traded about Colin’s trips abroad and Penelope’s first year at university. Eloise was not exactly thrilled when Colin gatecrashed their vacation, but Penelope was over the moon, a fact which she managed to bury deep inside herself. She was left slightly heartbroken when Colin drove away, three days later, ready to move on to his next adventure, and she was left to wonder whether their paths would cross again.