Baby I'm Yours

by Rosie Praks

  “Oi, Clarice, come here. What’s the meaning of this?” Hunter shouted from above.

  Clarice, who was busy cooking her breakfast, stormed all the way upstairs.

  What’s with all the ruckus now? she wondered. She should’ve bonked his head way before he woke up. At least that way she could have some peace and quiet. But it wasn’t likely to happen now.

  “What?” she asked as soon as she got upstairs.

  “How can you let me sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly made bed here?” Hunter accused her.

  Clarice looked at the available bed in the guest room. She turned back to Hunter and said, “Not allowed.”

  “Why? I’m a guest, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re an intruder.”

  “So? You allowed me to stay.”

  “On the condition that you sleep on the couch, and you agreed.”

  “But that’s because I didn’t know you had an extra bed. Now I have a sore neck. I can’t move. I have to go to physio to get it looked at. It’s all your fault.”

  “No. It’s your own fault. You’re the one who invited yourself to stay here.”

  “That’s because I’m a man who owns up to his responsibility.”

  “Why are we arguing over something that can’t be changed? It’s already done. Go take your shower.”

  “Bossy!” Hunter muttered under his breath before heading into the bathroom.

  Clarice could only shake her head at Hunter’s childish antics. It was like she was talking to a five-year-old child. Complaining about having a sore neck just because he had to sleep on the couch. Boo-hoo. What kind of man is he if he can’t even take that much hardship? And here he says he’s a man who owns up to his responsibility. Shush. What a pack of lies!

  Clarice was about to turn and head back downstairs when another alarming shout from Hunter made her rush back into the guest room. And what did she see upon arrival but Hunter holding her father’s clothing in his hand, with a scolding look on his face.

  “Who are all these clothes for? Are you having an affair behind my back?” He accused.

  “What?” She was flabbergasted. That man! How could he accuse her of sleeping with another man? She was a virgin after all, until she gave him her prized possession. “Those clothes you’re holding belonged to my dad. He comes to visit me sometimes.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” Hunter managed to look apologetic, but then his eyes landed on brightly colored Spiderman boxers near the guest wardrobe. His eyes snapped back to Clarice and he gave her another accusing glare. “You are having an affair. Even your dad wouldn’t wear this.”

  “They’re Max’s.”

  “Oh.”

  “Any more questions?”

  “No, that’s all.”

  Hunter couldn’t help the grin that appeared on his face. When he saw the men’s clothing in the closet, he almost had a heart attack. He’d thought Clarice might have other men sleeping in her house. But now after her explanation, he realized she was the same innocent, sweet, but slightly spicy woman he’d come to know. Overcome by this joy, he abruptly hugged her.

  “Let me go, Hunter,” Clarice demanded, struggling within his hold. She didn’t like being hugged by Hunter. Her hormones were going haywire again and she must stop her body from reacting before it was too late.

  “Sure,” Hunter said casually, letting her go. But instead, he kissed her cheek and strolled off to the bathroom.

  “You!” Clarice was at a loss for words.

  “I’m having a shower, Avocado. But if you wanna join me, I’ll be more than pleased.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  Hunter watched Clarice stomp back downstairs, her lips pursed in a tight, thin line. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he closed the door behind him. That woman would be the end of him. He didn’t need another woman to entertain him ever again.

  As he was about to take off his clothing in preparation for the shower, he spotted something hanging on the shower rail. His eyes zoomed in on that particular article of clothing that clearly belonged to Clarice. Immediately, a large grin appeared on his face, stretching from ear to ear. And then he started laughing until his body was shaking.

  So that’s her size, he thought as he lost himself to another fit of laughter.

  Chapter 5

  It was only May, but New Zealand kissed autumn farewell quite early this year and welcomed winter this morning. Clarice shivered slightly and turned on the heat pump to full, emitting soft, warm air around the room. She had to tell herself it wasn’t because of Hunter, that he might be cold after his shower, but it was because she was cold.

  Since knowing she was pregnant, she’d begun to notice she was sensitive to so many things. Reacting to Hunter’s outburst was one of them. The chill down her spine was another.

  Thoughts of Hunter flittered through her mind. What was his motive for wanting to stay with her last night? Luckily, she’d locked her door so Hunter couldn’t get in. But she knew inside that it wasn’t Hunter she couldn’t trust. It was herself. Being pregnant in this state, she knew she was vulnerable to so many things, and Hunter was her biggest weakness.

  “So warm in here.”

  And speaking of the devil, he appeared.

  Clarice was shocked to see Hunter’s face cleanly shaven. He looked handsome. But the worse bit was…

  What was he wearing? Or rather, what was he not wearing?

  “Why are you wearing the bath towel around your waist? Go put on some clothes.”

  “No, it’s warm in here. And I like my skin to dry naturally.”

  “No, go put on some clothes now. I don’t want my neighbors to see a naked man parading around my house.”

  “You can always close the curtains. That would prevent anyone from seeing me.”

  Oh, she had just about enough of this man. She dragged Hunter all the way back upstairs and told him to stay put. She rummaged through his belongings to find him some suitable clothing to wear.

  For goodness sakes! What is he doing? Does he want me to have a heart attack or something? Why did he have to appear in only a towel? Does he not know I’m weak to his beauty?

  “Put on these clothes, then come downstairs.” She handed him a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.

  Hunter only grinned and saluted at her. “Yes, Madam Avocado.”

  She ignored him and went back downstairs to finish breakfast.

  “So what do you think this time? Do I look presentable now?”

  Clarice glanced up at the sound of Hunter’s voice and she almost had the wind knocked out of her.

  Why the devil does he have to look so hot? It’s a sin. No normal man could sport a pair of old faded jeans and a plain T-shirt like this.

  That plain white T-shirt hugged his body to perfection, showing of his flat, juicy abs and taut but muscular, lean body. And those jeans, my God! Hunter should just sign his name on the CK website and get advance payment because there was no denying those legs were to die for.

  Oh heaven, I’m in trouble now. I’m lusting over young Hunter. A cougar lusting over young Hunter. I should stop staring right now. I should really blink right now. But I can’t. Hunter just looks so… so…

  “So hot!” she blurted out.

  “What? Did you say I look hot?”

  “What? No. I’m referring to the room. I think I turned up the heat pump too high.” She lied and then made her escape to turn down the heat.

  “Oh. For a minute there I thought you said I looked hot.” Hunter chuckled and began rubbing his hair dry.

  “In your dreams!” she couldn’t help but retort.

  Clarice made quick work of their breakfast, chopping up the fried eggs on the chopping board, although once in a while she would steal a few glances Hunter’s way when she was sure he wasn’t looking.

  Hunter had to chuckle to himself. What was she pretending to be? A ninja? If she wanted to look at him, she should just look. His beauty was to be shared. He wasn’t stingy in tha
t aspect. In fact, he’d been around enough women to know when they looked at him like that, they were simply captivated by him. He guessed what she didn’t know was that he too was captivated by her. And right now, his eyes were zoning in. Not her face in particular, but another part of her anatomy.

  “So what are they made of?”

  “Eggs,” Clarice replied.

  “No. I mean your… um… your…” Hunter couldn’t say the word. He could only stare at them, mesmerized. They were so cute and adorable, so round and perfect, just like two soup bowls that would fit perfectly in his palms.

  Clarice was starting to get ticked off. What was Hunter referring to? And was it her imagination or was Hunter really staring at her chest? Upon further observation, she found he really was staring at her breasts.

  “Hunter!” she snapped.

  “What!” Hunter barked.

  “Stop staring at my breasts.”

  “Sorry. Just couldn’t help it. They just look so perfect.”

  “Hunter!” she growled.

  “What?” He chuckled.

  “Stop laughing. What’s so funny?”

  “I never realized you’re a C-cup.”

  “Hunter!” she warned.

  “Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop laughing now.”

  “And stop looking too.”

  “Yes, sure. I won’t look at your C-cup breasts.”

  “Hunter…” She gritted her teeth to prevent herself from yelling at him again. It wasn’t good for her health. But Hunter didn’t seem to care. He was outlandishly laughing right in front of her just to piss her off. “I said stop laughing at my breasts.”

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized after his fit of laughter. “I just never realized they were that big. You sure you didn’t get plastic surgery or anything? Usually, Asian women have small breasts.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  “Thought they were much smaller, what with all those clothes you’re covered in all the time.”

  “If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to send you home without breakfast.”

  “Okay, sorry, sorry. I’ll zip my mouth now.”

  Hunter gestured a zipping motion over his lips and tried to stay silent, but the grin on his face just wouldn’t disappear. Once or twice, he flicked his eyes to her breasts and wished Clarice would stop acting all tough so he could kiss her again. Trying to distract himself from thinking about her body any further, he turned his attention to the food at hand.

  “So what’re you making?” he asked, this time his attention on the food in front of him instead of Clarice’s anatomy.

  “Rice porridge.”

  “It looks like rice glue to me.”

  “If you can’t stomach that, then don’t eat it.”

  “Sorry, sorry. I’ll eat it,” he said. After another spell of silence, he opened his mouth again. “So do all Cambodians eat these kinds of breakfasts?”

  “I don’t know. I was brought up with rice porridge for breakfast. Plus, I like it.”

  “Okay. I’m very eager to try it, then,” Hunter said.

  When the food was cooked, he grabbed a bowl and spooned some for himself. “Mmmmm. Not bad. But it tastes a bit bland, don’t you think?”

  “It’s supposed to taste bland. You’re supposed to eat it with salted fish or eggs to help enhance the flavor. That’s why I’ve fried the eggs.”

  “Oh.” Hunter nodded, then went back to his chair.

  With a bowl of porridge in front of him, the plate of shredded fried eggs positioned at the center of the table, and Clarice sitting in front of him, Hunter couldn’t help that nostalgic feeling welling inside him.

  “Don’t you think we’re like a family already?” he asked Clarice while spooning the rice porridge into his mouth.

  Clarice eyed Hunter suspiciously. “How so?”

  “Like this.” He gestured to his surroundings. “You sitting in front of me, having breakfast, and I’m talking to you about random stuff like breasts and bra size.”

  Clarice wanted to drum Hunter’s head for bringing up that topic again, but he did have a point. Strangely, the atmosphere had somehow changed. Yes, she did feel it. It was a homey feeling. The only time Clarice had ever dined with anyone during her morning meal was when her parents were here, or whenever Max decided to stay over, but to have another man inside her house like this, sharing her meal, it did feel kind of cozy.

  Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!

  “Oh Shit. Sorry. My phone.” Hunter excused himself and picked up his phone. Pressing his ear close, he spoke. “Hello.”

  Fern’s voice came on the other end of the line immediately. “Hunter, how’s everything? Fern is worried. How’s Clarice? Did you get to talk to her?”

  Hunter flicked his eyes to Clarice who was eating her rice porridge. She wore a grouchy mask, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she was stabbing her spoon into the porridge every so often.

  Why was Clarice acting like that? Maybe she was having one of her mood swings again. All pregnant women go through mood swings like candy floss. So he dismissed the thought and turned back to Fern.

  “Don’t worry. I’m doing well.”

  “How’s Clarice, though?”

  “She…” He flicked his gaze to Clarice again. She still had on her grouchy mask. A sudden impulse to tease her washed over him. With a broad smile on his handsome face and his eyes still on her, he spoke. “Don’t worry. Everything is under control. I have it all sorted. It’s you, sweetheart, that I’m worried about. You have to take care of yourself. I’ve missed you like crazy.”

  It was like lightning was about to strike and a storm was about to erupt because once he said the word sweetheart, Clarice’s face contorted into a steaming volcano. The result far exceeded his expectation. Clarice was jealous. That’s why she had on that grouchy mask. And so, to end this charade with perfect closure, he said, “Bye for—”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence. The phone was literally snatched from his fingers and was now safely in Clarice’s pocket.

  “No talking on the phone while having meals. This is one of my house rules. Now eat.”

  “And my phone?”

  “I’m confiscating it for now.”

  Homey feeling. Clarice fumed. Homey feeling my backside. What a contradiction. Before, he was talking about feeling like a family and now, not a minute later, he was talking to one of his girlfriends. Tsk! What did she expect? He was a Casanova after all.

  Hunter only held a bemused expression as he watched Clarice shove more rice porridge into her mouth. In a flirtatious tone, he said, “You know I was talking to someone important. Why did you snatch the phone?”

  No reply. More rich porridge shoved into her mouth.

  “When can I have my phone back?”

  Still no reply. More rice porridge into her mouth.

  “By any chance are you jealous?”

  Clarice dropped her spoon, snapped her eyes to Hunter, and gnashed out, “Enough talking. Get out of my house.”

  “But I haven’t finished eating yet.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Get out. Now!”

  Hunter didn’t even get to put on his boots before the door was slammed shut behind him.

  “Oh, grouchy,” he muttered to himself. Next time, he would be sure to remember to never, ever play this trick on Clarice again. Especially during the early morning like this. Or else he’d suffer the consequences of having no breakfast. But it did please him to know Clarice held some sort of affection for him.

  Back inside the house, Clarice closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.

  That stupid Casanova! Why did he have to talk about his woman when she was starting to feel all warm and cozy inside?

  “Argh,” she growled in annoyance. “You’re a strong woman, Clarice. Wasn’t that your plan from the very beginning? You don’t need a man like him to look after your child.”

  To calm herself down, Clarice started cleaning the dirty dishes. Domestic work always helpe
d settle her nerves. Once everything was neat and tidy, she locked the door and departed for the grocery store.

  Was it just her imagination that she kept seeing Hunter wherever she went? Maybe she was really obsessed with him, and she kept seeing glimpse of him everywhere, even in this supermarket.

  Shaking her head to rid herself of his image, she picked up a bottle of milk and was about to put it in her trolley when she saw—

  Soy milk? She didn’t pick up any soy milk. So why were there three cartons of soy milk in her trolley?

  Shaking her head again, she went to put the three cartons of soy milk back in its place, but when she returned, there was another set of three soy milk cartons in her trolley again. And this time, there were also a bag of carrots and a bag of red tomatoes.

  Dear heaven! Had she lost her memory? Or had she gone senile already?

  She liked the carrots, so they could stay, but as for the tomatoes, no, she didn’t like them. So with the three cartons of milk and tomatoes in hand, she went back to return them to their original aisle. This time when she came back, she knew it wasn’t her mind that had gone senile. Someone was deliberately playing with her. And she didn’t like it one bit. In her trolley now there were a bag of tomatoes and yellow and green capsicums.

  All right! Who’s playing cat and mouse with me?

  She snapped up her head and surveyed her surroundings, scanning for any suspicious person that might be lurking behind the tall shelves.

  Clarice was right. Someone was playing a game with her, someone who was lurking behind in confectionery aisle. And that someone just happened to be Hunter, who was thinking he was doing an excellent job hiding his massive frame between the thin aisles, when in actual fact he was doing an awful job. His long, lean legs were visible to anyone who happened to walk across. When he saw Clarice going back to put the soy milk and tomatoes in their designated places, he got another bag of tomatoes and a carton of soy milk ready. When she was out of sight, he crept over, then deposited the items in Clarice’s trolley.

  “Hunter!”

  The voice trapped him mid-action.

  “Hey, Avocado.” Hunter laughed uneasily when he saw Clarice marching towards him. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t know you were shopping.”