Baby I'm Yours

by Rosie Praks

  “Hunter, you—”

  Clarice didn’t complete her own retort, as Hunter surprised her with a kiss on her cheek.

  “Hunter… you… you… opportunist,” Clarice growled, her face growing red again. “Stop kissing me or I’ll kick you out of the house.”

  “You don’t have time to kick me out of the house now.”

  “Oh, yes, I have time,” Clarice argued, her eyes glaring at Hunter, but her cheeks were still red.

  “Tick-tock, tick-tock.” Hunter waved a finger in front of her face. “The hand on the clock is moving. You’ll be late, very late. Bye-bye now.”

  “Oh, dear heaven. My 8:30 patient. Surgery.” Clarice suddenly remembered her surgical case and rushed away to the car, her arms flinging around just like a chicken. If Clarice had feathers, Hunter was sure they would have fallen off by now, what with the amount of flapping she was doing.

  “Don’t forget our appointment later on today at the clinic. I’ll see you there,” Hunter shouted as Clarice climbed into the car.

  “I know,” Clarice yelled back, her head poking out of the car to put in her last words.

  Hunter only chuckled as he watched Clarice drive off. He guessed Clarice was almost at her breaking point too.

  He wondered how long they were both going to pretend they weren’t attracted to each other. But he would make it his mission that Clarice would be the first one to cave in. And when that time came, he’d be the first one to jump on the marriage wagon.

  Chapter 12

  If Clarice were the chicken, then he was the rooster, Hunter concluded as he tried to navigate all the files in the computer database. If he continued to flap his arms around like this any longer, he was sure to be wingless.

  After the debriefing with Anton, Hunter confirmed that he would act as Anton’s secretary, following in his cousin’s footsteps until he got the ropes of how the company ran.

  Except following in Anton’s footsteps and acting like his secretary started at the very bottom of the chain. That included work such as organizing files and imputing documents into the database, a task he found so mundane that he tended to nod off.

  Tasks like these really wound him up and flared his temper, especially when coupled with interruptions. And interruption number one came in the form of an unexpected phone call. As Hunter wedged more files into the back drawers because the surface was too messy to look, he heard his phone ring.

  Hunter had been neglecting his phone these past few days, since he started courting Clarice, so he hadn’t a clue as to how many messages had accumulated through his absence.

  Picking up his phone, he snapped, “This is Hunter.”

  “Hunter. Is that you?”

  Didn’t I just answer with my name? Why the need to confirm? Hunter wanted to scold that person. Instead, he growled back, “Who’s this?”

  Hunter disliked strangers calling him during work hours. In fact, it was all hours. Period.

  “It’s Caroline.”

  Caroline! That woman! The one that slapped my beloved Clarice on the cheek at the pre-conference ball. The once innocent maiden that somehow, with a flick of a finger, transformed into an evil witch. He still hadn’t had a chance to break even with her yet. The gall of this girl, calling for him.

  “What do you want?” he lashed, a little too rough around the edges, just for her to get the hint that he didn’t want to talk to her. Caroline, though, didn’t seem to get the message.

  “Where are you?” she asked. “I’ve been calling you and texting you nonstop, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

  What’s this? Hunter speculated. Is she my girlfriend or something? Calling and texting me? That’s just super creepy.

  “I’m not available. What do you want?” he hurled back.

  “I was wondering if you have some time to have lunch today.” Caroline continued. “Your father wants me to talk to you about some things regarding the company merger.”

  “I’m busy. Anton would be more suited to have this discussion with you. Book an appointment with him.” He shut the phone before Caroline could say another word.

  Not a second later, the phone rang again.

  “Shit!” Hunter hurled another curse when he saw the same phone number. He gnashed his teeth in disgust and snapped his phone shut.

  What’s with her? Hunter shook his head, angry that all his concentration had been drained because of that single phone call. Cursing again, he stared at the work piled on his desk that he had to complete before four. Clarice’s checkup appointment was this afternoon, so he didn’t want work to hold him up.

  Keeping to his appointment with Clarice was a sign of his commitment. Even working here in the office was a way to prove to Clarice that he was a man worth gold. Although, if he had a choice, he would rather learn about the ropes of negotiation instead, but since he’d made a fool out of himself back in the States some time ago, Anton had cautioned him to learn about filing before attempting his next deal. But at this stage, with the amount of interruptions, he wasn’t sure if he could get anything done at all.

  And not a minute later, after his concentration began to resurface again, the door to his office had to open, revealing interruption number two in the form of his very own cousin, Anton.

  Now what?

  Hunter twisted his head, knitting his brows together to show his irritation.

  “Now that business talk is done, I want to talk to you about a personal matter.” Anton came to sit on his desk.

  “Yes.” Hunter lounged back in his chair, waiting for Anton to continue.

  “Where were you these past few days?” Anton got straight to the point.

  Shit. What’s going on here? Why are people so interested in my whereabouts? Can’t I have some freedom here?

  “Oh. Here and there,” Hunter said, swaying the topic so as not to give a direct answer.

  “And where is here and there?” Anton probed, wanting specifics.

  “Oh, hotels and motels,” he said, not giving any specific locations.

  He hadn’t been in his apartment.

  “You do know we have our very own hotel here. You’re the heir to this company. You do have the right to stay here. Yet you never checked in. You also have an apartment in Herne Bay, but instead, you went to sleep at other people’s hotels?”

  “Come on, Anton. We’ve talked about this already. You’re the heir and I’m not. I don’t want to talk about this anyway. Now go back to work,” Hunter shooed him off his desk. “I’m busy here.”

  “Hunter,” Anton reprimanded. “I’m not talking about the heir thing again. I’m here to talk about why you’re not at home. Where were you?”

  “I told you, hotels and motels.” Hunter swayed the topic again.

  “And where are these hotels and motels?” Anton probed further.

  Hunter had never lied to his cousin before, but this one would be deemed exceptional.

  “Our competitor’s hotels. I was only doing research. Knowing what our competitors are up to would be beneficial to our company.” He made up the lie on the spot.

  “Okay, then. And what did you find out from our competitors?” Anton asked, folding his arms, testing Hunter, interested to see the type of answer or lie his cousin would come up with.

  “That the couch was hard to sleep on. It strained my neck.” Hunter stated, rubbing his sore neck.

  “You went to our competitor’s hotel to sleep on their couch?” Anton asked in disbelief.

  Shit. Hunter realized his mistake. It was Clarice’s couch that strained his neck.

  “The couch was hard to sleep on, but the bed was comfortable.” Hunter laughed drily, correcting his mistake.

  “And how is that research going to help our hotel grow?” Anton asked with a straight face. God, my cousin is so bad at lying, he thought.

  “Not to invest in hard couches,” Hunter pointed out. “Only go for the soft ones. One you can sleep on too.”

  If Anton’s behavior was anything like Hun
ter’s, he would have face-palmed himself by now. Instead, he just sat there and stared at his cousin in bafflement.

  “Okay, then. Next question. Can we talk about Clarice? You ran after her that night at the pre-conference ball. I’ve wanted to ask you about this, but you always seem to disappear on me.”

  Shit. Is Anton still pining for my girl? Hunter thought, fretting. If that were the case, if he knew Clarice was pregnant with his child, wouldn’t Anton strangle him alive? Or worse yet, cut their blood ties?

  Anton wasn’t like his dad, whose behavior was seen as carefree. In fact, his dad would encourage him even more if the old man knew he’d made Clarice pregnant. No, Anton was more of the silent brooding type, the type that would punish him if he did something bad. At this point, though, Clarice had agreed to let him live with her, but she hadn’t admitted that she loved him. So what if she changed her mind? What if she went back to Anton? Hunter didn’t want to think about it. Just that thought alone frightened him half to death.

  “No, Anton. No time to talk about Clarice. It’s working hours here. I don’t want dad to say I’m incompetent at the task you’ve given to me,” Hunter answered, pretending to shuffle all the documents around his desk, trying to look busy when in fact he hadn’t a clue as to what he was doing. God, I am so out of touch. Should I go back to business school and start from scratch?

  “It’s good that you can identify your weakness.” His cousin’s voice made him snap up his head, his demon temper returning again. He made a grouchy face and turned to give Anton a nasty look.

  “I’m trying my best here.” Then he turned back to enter more data, typing furiously on the computer to show his cousin he was annoyed.

  Anton only shook his head and headed out the door.

  I should have agreed on the spot to go on that date with Fern, Anton thought to himself. Now no amount of pleading with his cousin would leak any information regarding Clarice.

  Flipping his phone open, he punched in Fern’s number, his last resort, and breathed uneasily as he heard the ring tuned to his own heartbeat.

  “Anton. Why, hello.” Anton heard her sugary voice through the phone. “How unexpected. You’re not the type of person to call someone like me. What can you be after? Oh wait, can I assume you need my help.”

  “Yes. I need your help.” Anton got straight to the point, ignoring the furious beat in his chest.

  “And how can I help today?” she replied.

  “I want to talk about Hunter. He’s not talking to me. He’s shutting me out.”

  “Oh. Well, what can I help you with? You did turn me down the last time I suggested we go out.”

  Damn this woman. Anton ground his teeth. She was blackmailing him again.

  “I’ll go,” he struggled to say.

  God, he knew he must stay away from her because he liked her, but he was too bloody scared that she might catch on to his feelings. But in this case, he had to agree. Hunter had been acting so strange these past few days. And it had him worried. He’d even asked his uncle, but all the man said was, “Just go ask your cousin yourself.” And he did, but the boy just wouldn’t budge, only giving him vague answers and lying to him about sleeping at some hotel. He knew his cousin was somehow linked to Clarice, but he didn’t know how. Now the only way to find out would be to go through Fern. Again.

  “You did turn me down last time. What made you change your mind this time?” Fern’s voice taunted, bringing his mind back to the present.

  “You don’t want to go? We could just cancel the whole thing,” Anton threatened her back.

  “No. No. I will go. Tonight, then. 6:00 p.m.”

  “Sure.” And he snapped his phone shut.

  Oh, dear Lord, that was too much already. Anton rubbed his face in weariness. He just hoped by tonight he would be calm enough to speak with the woman civilly without his forehead breaking out in sweat.

  If he didn’t want to bite the bullet and collect information about his goddamned cousin, then Anton wouldn’t be here right now facing Fern, sweat pouring down his forehead like a damned waterfall, in the most expensive restaurant he’d ever dined. But it was too late now. And he was never one to shy away from a challenge anyway. And this was one of the challenges he was facing—not stuttering like a fool or glaring at Fern like he was a block of ice.

  Fern, though, didn’t seem to notice Anton’s lack of comfort or his internal battle. All she did was smile at him like a girl gushing over her first love, to the point it was almost overflowing, fluttering her eyelashes furiously.

  “Finally, you have time for me,” she said, smiling.

  Anton nodded and gave a grunt, then turned to look at his menu. He ordered his meal when the waiter came over and sipped his water, refusing wine when Fern poured one for him.

  “Such a gentleman,” Fern commented, hand underneath chin, looking up at Anton in that weird way again, which only made Anton’s heart beat like horses’ hooves on an open field.

  Anton coughed to hide his discomfort. Before long, the food was put in front of them and Fern still didn’t utter another word, apart from her first two comments. She continued to smile in that weird way of hers, flicking her hair back once or twice.

  Anton cleared his throat again. Then once the waiter left, he took action. He asked, “You have some information regarding Hunter. Any idea where your friend went to? He hasn’t been home lately.”

  Fern flicked her seductive gaze at Anton. But instead of answering him, she went to cut up her medium-rare steak into little bite-size pieces. Once satisfied it was in perfect immaculate squares, she pressed her fork into one and popped it into her mouth, chewing it ever so seductively so as to lure Anton into her charm. Her goal was successful, as Anton couldn’t stop staring at her mouth.

  “Anton.” Fern eyed Anton beneath her lashes after she swallowed that small piece. “If you were to ask me, who am I supposed to ask?”

  “You’re his best friend. I’m sure he might tell you something.” Anton tried ignoring those red lips chewing the steak, but it was getting really hard.

  “Unfortunately, Hunter did not say anything,” Fern said as she tried to chew another little piece of meat.

  When trying to swallow it, she found the piece was still too big and too tough, and it got caught in her throat. She thumped her chest, but it wouldn’t dislodge. Her eyes went glassy through tears and her face went red.

  Help. I’m choking. And it has to be in front of the man I like. What a way to die. These were Fern’s last thoughts as she continued to thump her own chest.

  Anton, immediately judging the situation, automatically went to her side and wacked her on the back. With a thud, the piece of meat flew out of her mouth like a tiny red UFO, all the way across the room, until it landed perfectly in a random man’s champagne.

  Oh the humiliation, Fern thought after she recovered. Her plan would’ve been successful if not for that stupid meat.

  “You should have chewed it properly.” Anton scolded her, worried, as he sat back on his seat.

  “I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked properly,” she snapped back, refusing to look at his face.

  Why is he so mean? Fern grumbled silently. She was almost choked to death a minute ago and here he was yelling at her in front of everyone like she was a child.

  “You asked for medium-rare. That’s why it’s not cooked on the inside,” Anton yelled even louder.

  “I… I… umph.” Fern bit her lips, trying to stop a retort from escaping. Tiny crystals of tears were already forming at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Instead, she jabbed at her red steak, pouring all her stress and anger into it.

  Anton was also jabbing at his own piece of meat. He chewed it roughly before swallowing, not tasting the succulent beef because all his attention was focused on Fern.

  She’s even worse than a child, he thought. What was she thinking getting choked on a piece of meat like that?

  “You sure you don’t have any other inform
ation regarding Clarice or Hunter?” he asked in annoyance, jabbing yet another piece of meat and plopping it into his mouth.

  “No,” Fern replied brusquely, giving her own steak another small stab to relieve her anger.

  This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, Fern thought sadly. All of her good mood was demolished because of that one humiliating accident, and now Anton was angry with her because she’d embarrassed him. Does he really like Clarice that much? Going on and on about Clarice. Asking about Clarice this, Clarice that.

  The atmosphere during dinner was colder than arctic. With both glaring at each other like mortal enemies, they continued to chew on their food until they finished their meals. Anton finished first and started packing up.

  Fern suddenly realized she didn’t want to depart with Anton feeling this way. Worrying he might disappear right after their meal, she feigned a stomach ache. Anton, who hadn’t a clue, thought it was food poisoning. Fern was only happy that Anton showed some consideration for her. Maybe he does care a bit about me, she thought. So with both parties misunderstanding the situation, Anton led Fern to Auckland’s hospital.

  “First, you didn’t chew your food properly, and now, you have a stomach ache. What am I going to do with you?” Anton muttered as he drove her to the hospital. “If someone were to be your boyfriend, they would have grey hair by their next birthday.”

  Fern was fuming when she heard this. At first she thought he cared for her when he led her into his car. She lashed back with her own retort. “At least they would be old enough to look after me. Unlike someone who’s always yelling at me.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Anton said sarcastically, flicking his cold gaze to her, “you do need someone who’s old to look after you, what with the way you’re always acting like a child. First, you didn’t chew your food properly, and now you’re sick. I think you’ll need an old man who has all the time in the world to look after you.”

  Fern was furious. Why was Anton so mean to her?

  “Forget it. Just forget it,” Fern said, tugging on her seatbelt to release it. “Take me back to the hotel. I want to go back to the hotel. I’m no longer sick.”