by Rosie Praks
“It’s on the floor,” Darcy said meekly.
He crouched on all fours and picked up the two items of his boss’ lunch. Standing back up, he tossed a megawatt smile in her direction.
“Your lunch.” He presented the slightly smashed drink bottle and half-skewed rice roll.
Whitney had steam shooting out her ears. This was the last straw. She’d had no food since this morning. She was hungry. Her dress, which cost a few hundred dollars, was now ripped, and on top of that, Darcy might or might not have seen her naked. Her peace of mind was in turmoil. And now, no salad for lunch. Life had to be better than this.
“Darcy!” she screeched like a banshee queen. “You came into my office without permission. Yet you forgot my most important food source.”
“Your food source?” Darcy wrinkled his brows in confusion.
“Where is my salad?” she snapped.
Oh shit! So that’s what he’d forgotten.
“Would you like me to get it now?”
“What do you think?” She seethed.
Darcy looked at her blankly. And there was only one thought running through his mind. I think I want to eat you up, Whitney.
What the hell was that? Did he just think of eating his boss for lunch?
Darcy shivered. “Yes, Miss Madigan. Right away, Miss Madigan. I’ll get you that salad. I’ll be right back, Miss Madigan.”
And hastily, he made his escape through the door. Shutting the wooden barrier behind him, he didn’t realize his legs were shaking.
“Oh my shit!” He muttered under his breath. That was a close one. Not under any romantic light could he see himself falling for his boss, even when she was half dressed with her perfect breasts and that slim waist and those bare—
Holy shit! He was in deep shit now. Macy was right.
He did have the hots for his boss.
Chapter 6
Unbelievable. Absolutely and totally unbelievable. Whitney wished she could rewind the time so she could smack her assistant’s head. And this time with a witch’s broom, if she had one. Then again, the dust broom would do the job nicely.
Oh God, what was he thinking, barging into her office like that? Especially since she’d told him countless times she did not welcome anyone entering her lair without permission. And now it had happened. She was totally embarrassed. Her face was still red as she drove to her aunt’s house later that evening.
Upon entering her aunt’s house, she marched to her kitchen and rummaged through the pantry, looking for any snacks that might suffice her hunger and mood. Having found what she was looking for, she entered the lounge, slumped onto the first available couch, and shoved her persona out the window. Tossing off her glasses, she slung her leg on the coffee table and munched on the bag of chips, a complete contrast to her crisp and strict work personality.
Stuff those salads and rice rolls, she thought. I’m starving. I need real food.
“Who’s making my little Whitney upset. Binge eating on chips again?”
“Yep.” Whitney burped after drinking her full stomach of Coke, glancing at her Aunt Gerda, who’d come into the sitting room, carrying hot tea.
“Why don’t you be a dear and remove that leg from the coffee table? You know how your Aunt Beatrice dislikes the coffee table getting dirty.”
Whitney nodded, did as she was told, and resumed eating in her gloomy mood.
Aunt Gerda sat next to her and patted her shoulder. Pouring two cups of steaming green tea, Aunt Gerda passed one to her. She accepted it with both hands, but put it down on the coffee table again. She couldn’t drink tea. She was feeling too gloomy.
“Now tell me what’s got a bee in that bonnet of yours.”
“Everything,” she mumbled, eyes still sulky looking.
“Elaborate.”
“Yes, elaaabooraaate.” Aunt Jacinta came out of nowhere and started singing as if she were an opera singer in one of her favorite musicals.
Aunt Jacinta was very eccentric today. She was wearing her bright-yellow gown with blue, green, and purple feathers in her hair. She was singing opera, but she was dressed like she was one of the showgirls on a stage.
“Jacinta, do calm down. You’ll scare the neighbor’s cat away again. And you know how they hate when they have to chase their cat,” Gerda told her little sister.
“You mean I’m not good at singing?”
“Let’s just say you can’t be a singer.”
“Why? What’s wrong with wanting be a singer? Can’t an ambitious woman like me achieve fame, wealth, and beauty?” Jacinta pouted. “My voice is perfect. I’ve been practicing in the bathroom since I was twenty. That means I’ve practiced for twenty-five years already.”
“Yes, Jacinta. That makes you forty-five. You’re not young anymore.”
“What do you mean I’m not young anymore? Forty-five is the new thirty-five. And women in their thirties these days are like in their twenties. So essentially speaking, I’m in my twenties.”
How did her aunt deduce she was younger by twenty years? Incredible. So did that mean Whitney was in her twenties, too, since she was thirty-one?
Nah! Not possible. This morning she woke up and saw a strand of white hair on her head. That showed she’d aged, unlike her aunt Jacinta, who was blessed with blond hair.
“All right, enough, enough. We’re not arguing about your singing anymore.”
“Then what were you saying? That I’m not good enough for New Zealand Idol?” Jacinta pouted and turned away from her sister, obviously upset.
“Jacinta, that’s not what I meant.” Gerda placed an arm on her younger sister.
“Was my singing that bad?” Jacinta turned back to Whitney and her sister, all bright and happy again. “I’ll sing it again for you. You’ll be the judges. Here goes.”
Before Whitney or Gerda could say anything, Jacinta was already filling her lungs with air and releasing it with a loud screech. The glassware vibrated, and even the water rippled in her glass.
“What parrot is screeching at this time of night? Is it that noisy bird from next door again?”
Jacinta stopped her parrot screeching, and Whitney and Gerda just stared at each other. Then all three stood upon hearing that stern voice. It was Beatrice, Whitney’s aunt and the elder sister to Gerda and Jacinta.
“Whitney, you came home.” Beatrice spoke drily.
Was her aunt disappointed, as she hadn’t been here for a while? It had been some time since she’d last visited.
“Aunt Beatrice, I missed you.” Whitney went to hug her aunt.
“Yes. I expect you do.” Beatrice wrapped her arms around her one and only niece. “Since you’ve stayed away so long. Did something happen? Found a boyfriend to distract you? That’s why you hardly visit us.”
“What? No!” Whitney responded, sitting back on the couch. “No boyfriend. It was work. All work.”
“Good girl. Nothing is ever good with boyfriends.” Beatrice patted Whitney’s head and sat down, too. Gerda and Jacinta came to sit on either side of them. “Now let’s catch up on some news. How’s Clarice and Elise?”
“Those two are great. Clarice will be getting married soon. Elise is still the same, though. Secrets and flowers. I never know what that woman is hiding.”
“You know, sometimes some secrets are not meant to be shared among friends,” Beatrice said and then smiled. “And how is Clarice? Is she happy in her relationship?”
“Through my prediction, Beatrice,” Gerda interrupted, sipping her now cold tea, “I say she’ll live a prosperous and happy life with this man.”
“Not all men are good,” Beatrice advised again, thinking about her past failed relationships. “If you must choose a spouse, make sure he loves you.”
“And choose a funny one,” Gerda offered. “You don’t want to live with someone who can’t laugh. Life is too short not to have fun.”
“I say go for a good-looking one.” Jacinta added her opinion. “At least you don’t want to live with
a man who has a stale face all day, because that would be ugly.” Jacinta turned to her older sister and shivered. Yes, stale and ugly like her sister Beatrice.
“Please, aunties. Don’t pressure me.” Whitney stood just to get the suffocating feeling off her chest. She walked around the room and spoke. “I’m not interested in anyone. Right now I have enough on my plate. Work is really getting to me. And Clarice’s wedding, too.”
“What’s wrong with everything?” All three aunts chorused at the same time, concerned expressions on their faces.
“Well…” Whitney started, sitting back down. “I—”
“You fell in love?” Jacinta butted in. And then she gasped, looking at her other sisters with tears in her eyes. “Can you believe it? Our little Whitney is in love again.”
“No, Aunt Jacinta. Don’t make assumptions. Haven’t we all clarified I’m not going to fall in love again. It’s about today. An accident happened.”
“What accident?” Jacinta had her eyes glued on her.
“My dress got ripped. I ended up wearing a new one, but the zipper wouldn’t budge when I tried to take it off. My assistant came in just as I was taking it off, and he—”
“He ogled you?” Jacinta assumed, her mouth opening in disbelief.
“And he saw your map of Australia mole?” Gerda added.
Whitney was confused with all these assumptions. But by this stage, her Aunt Beatrice was having a fit.
“Goodness gracious. Did he broadcast it to the whole world?” She fanned herself with her paper fan to get some air back into her system. “I knew when you were born that mole would cause you trouble one day. And now it’s here. Gerda, get me my smelling salts.”
Oh God. What is going on here?
“No. No. No.” Whitney tried to calm all her aunts. “I don’t think he saw it. And even if he did, he promised me already that he wouldn’t tell a soul what happened.”
“Well, that’s helpful,” all three said again, calming down.
“Don’t worry,” Whitney said, thinking about her little assistant Darcy. “If he does tell a soul, I’ll blow up in his face.”
“She blew up in my face, Hunter. She literally blew up in my face. Just because I forgot her damn salad,” Darcy said animatedly, arms flinging about and face red in fury.
“She’s that bad, your boss?” Hunter took a sip of his beer, listening intently to his friend’s problem. His partner Clarice had gone to her ladies’ night get-together with her friends, and he was home alone, babysitting Conrad. Since Darcy had wanted a friend to talk to, he’d invited the man over to his house.
Two guys babysitting—surely nothing could go wrong. A quiet night with a beer in hand. Oh, how he thought wrong. Once again, Darcy spewed his problems to him, and Conrad just wouldn’t stop crying.
Hunter went to cradle his baby boy and cooed him back to sleep. And Darcy followed.
“More than that.” Darcy continued with his narration, his arms slicing through air to showcase his frustration. “That woman is a dragon, a witch. She should be burned alive at the stake.”
Darcy really didn’t want to inconvenience his friend with all his moaning, groaning, and bitching about his boss, but he couldn’t help it when it came to that witch. She was just—what is the words kids these days use?—stuffed up. Then again, was all this moaning and groaning just his denial of the truth? He did find his boss hot.
Oh shit! I have completely lost my mind. Stop it, Darcy. That witch is a prune, remember. She’s a prune. Your taste is a young plum.
“Hey, between a prune and a plumb, which do you like better?” Darcy asked Hunter, just to get this confusion out of his system.
And Hunter’s answer didn’t help his state of mind one bit. “I like prunes. Reminds me of an avocado. All soft and tasty inside.”
Shit, so Hunter is into old women.
“Well, I like plums,” he said, more to convince himself. “My boss is like a prune. Old, wrinkly, nasty, tough.”
“Well, bosses can be tough, you know. I supposed they have lots to manage,” Hunter said, patting Conrad back to sleep, but the boy just wouldn’t stop crying. What was wrong?
“Lot’s to manage?” Darcy scoffed. “All my boss does is boss people around. Including—” Darcy sniffed the air. “Hey, what’s that smell?”
Hunter sniffed the air, too. He shifted his eyes to his friend. “Did you fart?”
“No!” Darcy denied right away. “I’m a metro man. I don’t fart in public.”
“Then where’s the smell coming from?”
Just then the penny dropped. Hunter lifted Conrad from his cot and smelled his butt.
“Pewfh. That stinks,” Darcy commented when he did the sniff test, too. “You need to change your son’s nappy.”
“I know.”
Hunter took his baby boy to the changing area.
Darcy looked on at Hunter’s expert skill in removing his baby’s nappy. He’d always been around his nephews and nieces, so it came to no surprise how to handle a baby, but he couldn’t believe another guy like Hunter had that kind of capability, too. “Baby wipe?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Hunter wiped Conrad’s bum with care and applied baby powder. “Ah, shit. Forgot. Could you pass me a nappy?”
“Where is it?”
“It’s in the hallway closet.”
Darcy walked to the hallway closet and opened the door, and he gasped in disbelief.
“What’s with these packs of nappies? Are you planning to have five more babies?” Darcy yelled from the hallway, staring at the massive stacks upon stacks of nappies aligned in the hallway closet.
“I’ve learned to save money by buying things on sales. Plus, Clarice just loves stocking up on sales products.”
“Man, I can’t wait to see your partner.” Darcy came back with the nappy. “She sounds like my type of woman. Does she have a twin?”
“Sorry, buddy, she’s an only child. And she’s taken. And if I remember, you had your chance once.” Hunter hinted to Darcy at that one time when Darcy took his partner out on a date and then ran out on her when he found out she was thirty years old.
“I don’t recall,” Darcy said nonchalantly. Since he’d moved here, he hadn’t met any special girl that made his heart thump. Except maybe when he saw his boss dressing in that cute dress of hers and had mistaken her for some angelic woman who’d descended from the sky. God, he seriously needed to get laid more often.
When Conrad was sleeping again, the two men went back to their beers.
“Say, you’re so young. How did you end up with a baby anyway? You must have some commitment going there.”
Hunter laughed. “Twenty-four going on twenty-five is not young. I met my partner when I was twenty-three.”
“How’d you meet her anyway?” Darcy became curious.
“I knocked her up,” Hunter replied nonchalantly, and Darcy just hung his mouth open.
“Shit. That’s a cruel awaken,” he commented. He couldn’t imagine himself getting any woman pregnant. He was just not ready for that type of responsibility yet.
“No. I think it’s a blessing in disguise,” Hunter said, going up to throw his beer can out and check on Conrad in his cot. His baby boy was sound asleep. Turning to Darcy, he said, “She changed my life. I’m a converted man.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Darcy laughed loudly, the sound of his laughter like a broPreston choo-choo train, his arms swinging about, slapping Hunter’s shoulder many times. “Converted man. Hunter, you’re hilarious.”
“Quiet, Darcy.” Hunter hushed his friend. “You’re being too loud. If Conrad wakes up, I’m kicking your ass out the door.”
“Sorry.” Darcy apologized.
“You know, maybe you should find one soon. Settle down. You’re not getting any younger.”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t want to find a woman. I certainly have plenty in that department.” Darcy rubbed his neck. “But let’s just say I haven’t found the right one yet. Even my parents
were asking me when I would bring a girl around to see them. I think I’m just too caught up with all this shit with my boss.”
“Forget about her. Leave her at work. This is your life, man.”
“Well, my life is affected by my work. I literally live in it. I tell you, Hunter, if I didn’t have to pay for my student loan, I’d quit tomorrow.”
“You know what I think, Darcy?” Hunter turned to look at his friend.
“What?” Darcy asked, getting comfortable on the couch again. Maybe there was a benefit to coming to see Hunter after all. At least not just to help babysit his son and change the kid’s nappy. “I’m all ears.”
“I think you just need a break. Take some time out. Go to my wedding.”
“Go to your wedding?” Darcy asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah,” Hunter emphasized. “My wedding. In Queenstown. All expenses paid. That should be a good break from your boss.”
“Go to your wedding. In Queenstown. All expenses paid. Mmm. That sounds like fun.” Darcy suddenly liked that idea very much, especially when he wouldn’t have to see his boss for at least a week. Yeah, he liked that idea very much.
Chapter 7
“Go to Queenstown? It’ll be fun? This is so not fun.” Whitney dragged her many suitcases, huddled in a thick fur coat, as she was headed for the terminal in Auckland.
She just had a feeling something bad was going to happen today. Her Aunt Gerda had told her already that there would be a high chance she’d meet her soul mate. Or, more accurately, she had met her soul mate, but the time was not right for both of them to take it to the next level. And today, the next level would take place.
Next level my fudge. She wasn’t interested in meeting anyone. What she was interested at that moment was adding another level of thermal wear on her body.
It wasn’t cold in Auckland, since the weather here was quite milder in the North Island. But there was no guarantee the South Island would be the same. Last she heard, they had a snowstorm that ended with half the town in a blackout. No, she didn’t want to experience that. It was best if she came prepared.