by Nikki Ashton
I was really curious, but a little concerned at the same time. What could be so bad that it would worry the big, strong, arrogant Roman Hepburn?
‘My name isn’t Hepburn; well, it is, but it’s not my surname, it’s my middle name.’
‘Oh okay. So what is your surname?’
‘My mother is very strange, I’ve told you that.’
‘Yes,’ I said slowly. ‘Although, I don’t wholly agree.’
‘Believe me she is. She’s especially got a thing about names. As far as she’s concerned names are very important and they can tell you a lot about someone.’ He paused and rubbed a hand down his face.
‘Roman, just tell me,’ I pleaded, thinking he was being extremely dramatic, and rather unnecessarily so.
‘Well, before she met Dad, she’d already decided that if she ever had a son he’d be called Roman.’
‘Okay.’
‘So when she met Dad, she knew he was the one because of his name. You see our family surname is actually “Holliday”.’
I thought about it and then it suddenly struck me.
‘Oh my God, your name is actually Roman Holliday? Really?’
Roman nodded and rolled his eyes.
‘So where did the Hepburn come from?’
‘Mum’s obsessed with Audrey Hepburn, so the fact that her future son was going to be called Roman Holliday probably made her pee her pants with excitement.’
I started to giggle at the thought of Roman’s embarrassment. I’d always hated my name when I was a child because the kids at school thought it hilarious to call me Winter, Spring or Autumn. But I had to be honest: Roman Holliday was a much bigger burden to bear.
‘So,’ I said, with a smirk. ‘I’m guessing Tiffany is after Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and Doolittle after Eliza Doolittle?’
Roman nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘Well, it’s a bit strange, but it doesn’t make her weird,’ I replied.
Roman scratched at his stubble and sighed. ‘Listen, she’ll tell you this if I don’t, but don’t take any notice of it. You promise?’
I was concerned, but still nodded.
‘Well, Dad wanted to call Tiffany “Summer”.’
‘Oh, that’s why she giggled when I told her my name.’ I nodded in understanding.
‘Kind of. Dad wanted to call her Summer, but Mum said no. And she said no because she said, when I grew up, I would marry a girl called Summer, so she’d forever be …’
‘Summer Holliday,’ I gasped.
‘Yeah,’ Roman whispered. ‘According to her, Summer would always be my destiny.’
My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. I don’t know whether I started to choke because of the great gasp of air that I sucked in, or the fly that flew into my gaping mouth, but either way it wasn’t pleasant.
By the time we got back to Roman’s parents’ house my feet were starting to ache. I could walk around in high heels all day, but ask me to jog a mile or so in them, and then walk another mile along a bumpy canal bank, and I wasn’t so good.
‘Oh, sit down,’ Mrs. Holliday gushed as I hobbled in through the front door. ‘I can’t believe the big bully made you go with him.’
She shoved me down onto the sofa in front of a large brick fireplace, over which hung a framed pencil sketch of none other than Audrey Hepburn. It was evidently some sort of shrine to Audrey, because on both sides of the picture were white taper candles in glass candlesticks, and a fresh red rose lay on the mantelpiece directly underneath it.
‘Is that better?’ Mrs. Holliday asked as I settled back.
‘Great, thank you.’
‘Ooh you’re so inconsiderate, Romy, I don’t know where you get such bad manners from,’ she complained.
I grinned at her chastising Roman. I wondered whether I should get her to come into the office and help me deal with him.
‘I didn’t make her come, and I certainly didn’t make her wear such stupid shoes,’ Roman grumbled, as he flicked through his phone.
‘What are you doing anyway?’ his mother asked, as she pushed a cushion behind my back.
‘Trying to find some local vets numbers. Summer thought it might be an idea to call them as someone may have found the stupid mutt and taken him in.’
‘Oh my word, aren’t you clever?’ Mrs. Holliday regarded me with pride, as if I was one of her own children and she’d just watched me in my first nativity play.
‘It’s only what I would do, if my dog went missing,’ I replied, a little embarrassed by her adoring gaze.
‘Well, it’s still very clever. Why didn’t you think of that?’ she asked Roman, giving him a light slap on his arm.
‘Because evidently I’m a stupid moron,’ he muttered under his breath, without looking up from his phone.
‘Takes after his father in sooo many ways. Now, Summer, my love, let me get you a nice cold drink, and maybe a bowl of water for your feet?’
‘Oh no,’ I blustered. ‘No, just a drink is fine. Honestly.’
‘Okily dokily, a nice glass of fresh orange juice coming up. Romy?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Would you like a cold drink too?’ Mrs. Holliday sighed and snatched Roman’s phone from his fingers. ‘We have a guest, so stop being rude.’
‘I’m trying to find your bloody dog.’ He snatched the phone back and tutted at his mother. ‘Like I said. Stupid mutt.’
‘He doesn’t mean it,’ Mrs. Holliday said turning back to me. ‘He loves Doolittle and Doolittle loves him.’
‘Oh I know. I only mentioned Roman’s name, and he couldn’t stop wagging his tail and started howling.’ I smiled as I recalled the scruffy little dog.
‘Oh how sweet, they’ve always been the best of friends. They adore each other.’
I looked over at Roman, who had a tinge of a blush at his cheeks, and a warm feeling swept over me. It appeared that Roman Hepburn was nice to his dog, even if he was grumpy with everyone else. It really was quite sweet.
‘Mother, my reputation is being seriously annihilated here.’
I couldn’t help but giggle, earning me a cocked eyebrow from Roman.
‘When did you meet Doolittle, Summer?’ Mrs. Holliday asked, ignoring Roman’s grumble.
‘Oh when I went to Roman’s house the other day.’
‘Ooh you did?’ Her head whipped around to look at Roman. ‘So you see each other out of work then too?’
‘No, Mum, we don’t,’ Roman answered with more than a hint of exasperation. ‘Summer went to get me a clean shirt because I’d spilled coffee down mine.’
‘So you sent Summer?’ she asked in an accusatory tone.
‘I had work to do!’ Roman exclaimed.
‘She’s your PA, Roman, not your slave, remember that.’ Mrs. Holliday pointed a finger at him and raised her eyebrows.
‘Yes, mother,’ Roman sighed with a shake of his head. ‘Whatever you say.’
Their interaction was amusing, and showed the deep love between them. The easy banter reminded me of my own family.
As I crossed my legs and settled into my seat, a voice bawled out from the kitchen.
‘Twinkle, where the hell are you?’
My eyes shot up and I stared in astonishment at Roman.
‘Twinkle?’ I mouthed.
Roman suddenly looked panicked,
‘I told you, my grandparents were hippies,’ he groaned on a deep sigh. ‘The owner of that dulcet tone is my dad. Whatever you see and hear from this point forward, please erase it from your brain. He is why you shouldn’t have agreed to stay for dinner.’
I looked towards the door and wondered if he was right? Maybe I should go home?
‘In here, Pete,’ Mrs. Holliday called impatiently. ‘Sorry, Summer.’
That was all she said: ‘Sorry, Summer.’ As though no further explanation would be needed. I looked to Roman, whose own face was crumpled with worry.
The door from the kitchen was flung open and in walked what could only be described as Peat
Bog Man. Roman’s dad was covered in something from head to toe, with only the whites of his eyes showing. It could have been mud, but the smell was horrendous.
‘Pete! What are you doing, you’re getting whatever that is all over my carpet,’ Mrs. Holliday screamed.
‘Shit, that’s what it is,’ Mr. Holliday replied as he held his arms out in front of him like an extra from The Walking Dead. ‘Bloody shit!’
I couldn’t help the quiet snort of laughter at the sight of Mr. Holliday stood in front of his wife covered in shit. Despite the dirt, I could see where Roman got his looks from, because he looked exactly like his father—just a taller version.
‘Christ, Dad, you smell,’ Roman groaned. ‘Why don’t you wait outside, you’re stinking the place out?’
‘Shit stinks, son, so what do you expect?’
I had to agree with him—it did. And he did. I clapped a hand over my mouth and nose, trying hard not to inhale the stench.
‘Oh my God, it’s not like anything I’ve ever smelled before.’ Roman held his arm across his face. ‘I’m going to gag.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic. Shit is shit, whatever it smells like.’
This wasn’t so bad: my own dad said ‘Shit’ quite a lot—usually over the football results, but he still said it. What my own dad didn’t do was start to undress in front of strangers!
‘Oh God!’ I squeaked as Mr. Holliday started to undo the belt on his jeans.
‘Dad, no!’ Roman cried.
‘Pete, we’ve got guests.’
‘Hey?’ he said, one finger waggling his ear, while the other one undid his jeans and allowed them to drop to the floor.’
My mortification was complete when I realised that Mr. Holliday evidently liked to go commando!
‘Dad, for fuck’s sake!’ Roman bellowed. ‘Summer cover your eyes.’
‘Oh bloody hell,’ I muttered, and then started to giggle, as I turned away, and placed one of Mrs. Holliday’s cushions in front of my face.
This scene was nothing like anything that would go on in my family home, but I couldn’t help but find it amusing. Add to that Roman’s obvious discomfort and amusing turned to hilarious.
‘Twink, can I move please? I’ve got something up the crack of my arse that is moving, and I’d like to extract it as soon as possible.’
The snort of laughter that burst out of me must have sounded like a sob, because suddenly Roman was crouching down in front of me, gently lowering the cushion.
‘I’m so, so, sorry, Summer,’ Roman said, rubbing at his temples. ‘I’ll take you get your car?’
‘No,’ Mrs. Holliday practically screamed before I had time to answer. ‘She’s staying for tea.’
I bit down on my bottom lip, desperately trying not to laugh, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as Roman’s parents continued their chat behind us.
‘Pete, Roman’s right, you do stink. What exactly is it?’ I heard Mrs. Holliday ask.
‘It’s geese shit. The little bastard was herding the geese, just like we thought.’
‘This gets worse,’ Roman groaned. ‘I did warn you about him.’
My shoulders were now shaking as I buried my face into the cushion.
‘I managed to get hold of him and put his lead on, and then one of the geese ran towards the park lake, so Doolittle followed him, dragging me in with him. I didn’t realise he was so strong.’
‘He’s not that strong,’ a disgruntled Mrs. Holliday responded.
‘Well, he is when he’s after a geese, or is it goose? What’s the singular for goose, Twink?’
‘Goose, isn’t it? Should I google it?’ she asked distractedly.
‘No,’ Roman cried. ‘Just get him out of here, please,’ he pleaded desperately.
As Mr. Holliday continued to grumble, I heard something plop onto the carpet, followed by a scream from Mrs. Holliday.
‘Ugh, what’s that?’ Mrs. Holliday asked.
‘Don’t know,’ Mr. Holliday replied, ‘but my arse feels better now.’
Roman let out a pained whimper, and I let out a loud bark of laughter, doubling over because my sides ached.
‘I’ll give you a pay rise if you never talk of this again,’ Roman muttered. ‘In fact, I’ll give you the damn company.’
Roman was driving me straight home, rather than back to the office for my car. Over our dinner of waffles and sausages, Mrs. Holliday had insisted on me drinking almost a bottle of wine. Every time I took a sip, she filled my glass back up to the top. I tried to tell her that I was driving home, but she asked why I’d need to drive when Roman had his truck with him.
‘But I’ll need my car in the morning, Mrs. Holliday.’ I just couldn’t form the word ‘Twinkle’ without laughing. ‘I need to drive to work.’
‘It’s Twinkle, and don’t give me that rubbish.’
‘What’s rubbish about that?’ Roman had asked. ‘Summer doesn’t live within walking distance of the office, so she’ll need her car.’
‘Whatever,’ his mum scoffed and nudged Mr. Holliday who was busy scratching his backside.
‘Can I apologise again about my parents?’ Roman said as he pulled into my neighbourhood. ‘I know tonight must have been a nightmare for you.’
I grinned into the darkness. ‘I actually found them quite amusing,’ I replied. ‘Admittedly, your dad’s bottom was a little disconcerting, but your mum was lovely.’
‘Well, that’s a positive. Even I come away from there feeling defiled at the best of times, and I’ve had thirty-one years to get used to them. I’m just so sorry I had to take you there. I never even asked if you had any plans for the evening.’ He let out a sigh, and indicated to turn into my parents’ road.
Disappointment hit me. I was almost home and had actually had a pleasant evening. I really didn’t feel ready to leave the warmth of Roman’s truck—or him for that matter.
‘Well, I guess this is you,’ he said, as he pulled up at the bottom of my parents’ drive and turned off the engine.
‘Thanks again for the lift home.’ I unbuckled my belt, and turned back to him. ‘And please don’t worry about your mum and dad, or what I saw, it won’t go any further than that your dad doesn’t wear undies.’
Roman groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
‘Oh God, he’s a nightmare, but I did try and warn you.’
He looked at me with an arched brow and a smile twitching at his lips.
‘I know, but seriously—it was fine. Plus, it was quite nice to see you aren’t just miserable with me, but with everyone else too.’
I laughed and was surprised when Roman joined in.
‘Yeah, it’s not just you that drives me nuts, my crazy parents do too.’
He was smiling, and it was a really beautiful smile that I wished I saw more often.
‘Not sure how I should take that, being called as crazy as your parents.’
‘I didn’t say you were as crazy as them, just that you drive me crazy,’ he corrected, glancing quickly out of the windscreen. ‘To be honest, you’re right most of the time, and I only do it to yank your chain.’
‘Oh my God, really?’
I probably should have been mad, but I liked this teasing Roman. He was much more relaxed.
‘Hmm,’ he said, wincing. ‘I probably shouldn’t have told you that, should I?’
‘Maybe not. But as a matter of interest, why were you offhand with me on your first day? You were really nice at the meeting you had with Mr. Barlow, and then that day you came to the office, you were like a different person.’
Roman cleared his throat, and rubbed a hand over his stubble, contemplating me closely. His eyes on me sent a thrill throughout my body, and I could feel my bra tightening with my reaction.
‘You may want to punch me when I tell you,’ he said quietly. ‘It really is stupid.’
My breath hitched, worried about what he was going to say. Almost immediately, the thrill his gaze was giving me was replaced with a cold worry.
‘It was your name,’ he said, tilting his head and eyeing me carefully.
‘My name?’ I twisted in my seat and pushed back against the door. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I told you what my mum said about a girl called Summer.’
‘And because I was called Summer, you thought you’d be an …’
I trailed off. After all, he was still my boss.
‘I know, I know,’ he cried. ‘But I thought you were called Sarah, and then I found out you were called Summer, and it felt … well, weird.’
I had no idea what to say to him, other than ‘you stupid dickhead’, but even that seemed inadequate.
‘You’re a grown man, Roman,’ I snapped. ‘A businessman, and you’ve been argumentative and cantankerous with me because your mother thinks your destiny is with a woman called Summer? You are joking?’
Roman bit on his lip and shook his head.
‘I know, it’s pathetic. But in my defence, I only did it because I was so attracted to you.’
The air rushed from my lungs, and my stomach did its own little disco dance. Never did I expect him to say that. Maybe my reaction was a little over the top, after all, he’d only said that he was attracted to me. Amidst the shock, a little smile pushed through. I was a woman, and what woman didn’t want to be told by a sexy, hot guy that he was attracted to her
‘Oh.’ That was all I could manage: ‘Oh!’
Roman’s tongue flicked out and wet his lips, as he shifted in his seat.
‘Yeah, very,’ he replied softly. ‘I’ve tried keeping you at arm’s length, but it’s getting more difficult each day, Summer, especially after that damn kiss at the club.’
Looking into Roman’s bright eyes, I took a deep breath and edged a little closer to him. I could hear my heart hammering in my eardrums, and wouldn’t have been surprised if Roman hadn’t heard it too.
‘Summer,’ Roman whispered.
‘Yes.’ My voice was breathy as I struggled to take in any air.
‘I really am sorry for behaving like a prick. I shouldn’t have behaved so badly, just because I liked you and my batty mother has some weird ideas. Please will you forgive me?’
His scent was intoxicating and my desire for him was buffering against all my reason. I knew that I should probably make him work harder for my forgiveness, but I was so attracted to this man, I didn’t see the point in wasting the time that could be spent getting to know each other.