She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed herself away, tugging at her shirt as she stepped back. Nothing was easy, ever. And if it seemed easy, it was a lie.
Kissing Hudson Proxly, like a damsel in distress on the side of a dusty highway, would be dangerously easy. She leaned against the car door and crossed her arms on her chest.
If Robin understood anything about the world, it was that nothing good was ever easy.
Chapter 10
Mrs. Davies hated it when Delia brought the dog to the office. Was it possible for her spine to be any straighter? When the dog showed up, she proved that it could.
Hudson silently mouthed an apology as she peered over her glasses, her fingers never pausing on the keyboard as she glanced from Delia’s purse to Hudson and back again.
Dotty poked her tiny bald head out of the purse, sniffed, and retreated as if dissatisfied with the aroma.
“Dotsy-poo,” Delia crooned, digging her hand into the purse and extricating the tiny animal. “Comes out and say hello to the peoples.”
Hudson put down an armful of folders and walked toward Delia with his hands out like he was about to football tackle her. He grasped her by both elbows and kissed her lightly on the forehead. There were rules about lip kissing, but the forehead was usually a worry-free zone.
“Let’s just take Dot outside, Delia.” He tried to turn her toward the door, but she shrugged her way out of his grip to approach Mrs. Davies’ desk.
“Dottsy wants to say hello to Mrs. D,” Delia said, planting the dog directly on top of the folders. Dotty cringed, making congested snorting noises from the back of her nose. She had a giant pink ribbon around her tiny neck and Hudson wondered if the dog’s eyes were bulging because of fear or because it knew it was a fashion disaster.
“Delia.” Mrs. Davies’ voice was clipped. “Please remove that animal from the very important paperwork it is standing on.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard and Hudson wondered if she was typing curse words one after the other.
“Oh Mrs. Davies, you know you love her.” Delia turned the shivering dog to face Mrs. Davies. Dotty trembled and looked very much like she was about to either vomit or collapse. Either action was equally unacceptable.
“I do not love it,” Mrs. Davies said dryly. “Get it off my desk.”
Delia lifted the tiny creature off the desk with a huff. She placed the dog on the floor where it crouched like a naked rat, eyes bulging in anticipation of imminent death.
“I don’t think Dotty is very happy.” Hudson crouched down and ran his hand gently down the dog’s spine. He was rewarded with a tiny tail wag and a quick lick on his knuckles by a miniature tongue. “I think she probably needs a little less stimulation.”
“She lives in a purse, Hudson,” Delia said, hands on her hips. “She’s just neurotic.”
“She’s not the only one,” Mrs. Davies said quietly.
Hudson stood up, watching the dog take tentative steps around the desk, sniffing delicately with each step. “You’re early for lunch, Delia,” he said, hoping he could send her on her way before Mrs. Davies expressed her feelings even more clearly.
“I came to offer my support of your decorating plans,” she said, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I know you’ve hired that woman, but really darling, we both know I have impeccable taste when it comes to interior design. I don’t know why you didn’t just hire me.”
Her laugh tinkled like ice into the silent room. Mrs. Davies pushed her glasses up her nose and continued typing ferociously. Hudson wasn’t sure her keyboard would survive many more visits from Dotty and Delia.
“I have decided on several shades of pink and lavender to be the main theme of this office space, merging into a burgundy and plum for your father’s office.” Delia moved around the room, waving her arms at the walls as if to transform them at will. “And I really think...” She pulled Hudson toward the wide windows, whispering loudly as she turned their backs on Mrs. Davies. “That we should move that eyesore of a desk into the entryway. This sitting room would be so much more sophisticated without the secretary glaring at everyone all the time.”
Hudson glanced over his shoulder to see Mrs. Davies glaring at him.
“Mrs. Davies isn’t going anywhere, Delia,” he said. “She is the heart and soul of this office, and we couldn’t function without her.”
Delia opened her mouth to argue, but the door to the office opened and Robin walked in carrying several large bags and boxes, with Izzy skipping at the end of her free hand. Hudson rushed forward and relieved her of several bags.
“Mister Hudson, I’se been shopping and theys tolded me I was the bestest!” Izzy chirped, leaping onto Hudson’s leg like a monkey. He staggered slightly to keep his balance as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
“Of course, you’re the bestest,” he smiled, winking at Robin.
“She picked out the color of the hand towels,” Robin said, gently removing Izzy from her new climbing apparatus. “And the salesclerks all wanted to adopt her on the spot. Shopping with a three-year-old is a non-stop rollercoaster of fun.” She rolled her eyes and pretended to wipe her brow.
“That child is in charge of the color scheme?” Delia asked icily. “Hudson, what are you paying this woman for?”
Hudson saw Robin’s eye narrow and her mouth set into a thin line.
“I likes your sweater,” Izzy wandered over to Mrs. Davies, reaching out to gently touch the embroidered flowers on her cardigan. Mrs. Davies smiled at her and lifted her onto her lap.
“I’m sorry if she’s a bother, Mrs. Davies,” Robin said. “We’re only staying for a minute to drop off these supplies.”
“She’s no bother at all, dear,” Mrs. Davies crooned. “She’s the most pleasant company I’ve had all day.” She shot a piercing glance at Delia.
Hudson held his breath, but Delia didn’t seem to be listening. She watched Robin with an ugly set to her chin. Hudson knew that look. It didn’t bode well.
“Delia, this is the interior decorator I’ve told you about—”
“The color scheme is chosen,” Delia interrupted, lifting a dark blue towel out of one of Robin’s shopping bags. “And this. Isn’t. It.”
Robin turned around slowly to face the smaller woman. She brushed a loose curl off her cheek. She had a smear of paint on her hand, and a band aid on her thumb. He was pretty sure she had paint in her hair too. Way more attractive than Delia’s hundred-dollar manicures.
“You must be Delia.” Robin waited patiently for Delia to respond. Hudson loved Robin’s stillness, her ability to completely stop and focus intensely on the moment at hand. It was both intimidating and inspiring. He usually spun off half-cocked at the slightest provocation and Robin’s calmness drew him in like a cat to a warm sunspot pooling on the floor.
“I said—” Delia ignored the pleasantries. “—wrong color.” She waved the towel in the air before dropping it carelessly on the floor.
“I’m sorry.” Robin tilted her head to the side and touched her chin with one finger. “I was under the impression that I was hired as the designer here. You’re just the girlfriend, am I right?”
“Fiancée.” Delia lifted her chin and thrust her breasts out.
“Whatever.”
Mrs. Davies made a choked sound that she covered up by tickling Izzy who erupted into giggles.
“Does it always make that much noise?” Delia rubbed her temple with one perfectly manicured hand.
“Her name is Isabella,” Robin said, her voice very close to a snarl. “And the color scheme is blue.”
“Hudson.” Delia turned to him petulantly, hooking her fingers inside the buttons of his shirt. “Blue is so boring. You know you like my ideas better. Just tell this worker to take back all of this horrid depressing blue and lets you and I go shopping for something more appropriate.”
“Delia, the designer chooses the color scheme.” He untangled her fingers from his shirt. “Pink is for little girl
s’ bedrooms, not law offices.”
Delia took a step back. She was about to launch into a tirade that would call into question not only his fashion sense and business skills, but also his manhood and existence as well. He was only too familiar with the drill.
“Oooh,” Izzy squealed, and everyone turned to see her crouching on the ground beside the filing cabinet. “A mousey!”
Hudson leaped toward her just as she reached out her small hand. She grabbed Dotty’s paw before Hudson could close the distance between them. Izzy dragged the bewildered dog out from its hiding place, the pink ribbon drooping around its tiny neck.
“Look Mumma.” Izzy giggled and gently lifted the quivering dog onto her lap and tugged the ribbon off. She stretched her legs out in front of her and cuddled Dotty. The dog seemed to sigh as it curled up against her belly.
“Am I imagining it, or are her eyes bugging out less?” Hudson asked.
“Don’t let that child hurt my Dottsy!” Delia cried, flapping her hands uselessly at Hudson’s back.
“He likes me,” Izzy said, beaming as she looked up at them. “We’s bestest friends.”
She ran her hand gently over the dog’s head. It wagged its tail eagerly with each stroke.
Robin knelt beside Hudson, shaking her head.
“What is that thing?”
“It’s a dog, apparently.” He smiled, ignoring Delia hovering directly behind him. “A very expensive, very unhappy dog.”
“Do you think it will bite?” Robin stroked the tiny head. The dog closed it eyes and sighed. “Izzy, you have to be really, really gentle with her, ok?”
“I is being gentle, Mumma.” Izzy rubbed her face on the dog’s side, grinning as it licked her nose.
“Hudson. Rescue my dog this minute, before that child injures her.” Delia stomped her foot. When Hudson merely moved aside, she pushed past him and reached down to gather up her pet. Dotty cowered and growled, pulling back her lip to show her tiny teeth. Delia lurched backward.
“She don’t like you,” Izzy said seriously. “I’m gonna call her Moonbeam.”
“Her name is Dotty,” Delia snapped. “Hudson. Get my dog back, immediately.”
“Izzy,” Robin said gently. “Moonbeam belongs to this lady. We have to give her back.”
“She’s too angry,” Izzy whispered, lowering her head over the dog on her lap.
“I am not angry,” Delia snapped, then seemed to think better of it and she lowered her voice, speaking with the same falsetto trill she used when she talked to the dog. “Dotty needs to have a nap now, in her purse. Be a good little girl and give her back.”
Delia tentatively lifted the dog off Izzy’s lap and tucked it into her purse.
Izzy’s eyes filled with tears and Hudson resolved on the spot to buy her a puppy.
“You’re not buying her a puppy,” Robin whispered fiercely as they watched Delia swing around and storm out of the office without saying goodbye. “I can see it in your eyes, and it is not happening.”
Mrs. Davies brushed at the dog hair drifting over the folders on her desk. “I think blue is a lovely color scheme, Robin. Perhaps Miss Wentworth will be so put off by it that we will not be graced quite so often with her uplifting presence.”
Robin knelt on the floor comforting Izzy. Everything he wanted in his own life was right there. Love, a family, trust. He had to take a step back to stop himself from lifting them both in his arms. That life didn’t belong to him. He had never felt this kind of longing with Delia, and the more time he spent with Robin the emptier his life felt with the woman he had intended to marry.
It hit him like a diamond studded dog purse to the head.
Had intended to marry.
Past tense.
He picked up the blue hand towel from where Delia had dropped it on the floor and folded it thoughtfully. He looked up to see Mrs. Davies watching him with her usual ability to see directly into his heart.
“I like this better too.” He gestured with the towel.
“I know you do.” She glanced at Robin who now had a sniffling Izzy on her lap quietly discussing how fish would make a much better pet than a puppy. “You silly boy. It’s taken you long enough to figure it out.”
Chapter 11
“This just feels so wrong,” Robin whispered. The moment seemed to call for whispering. Even though she had agreed whole-heartedly to the plan, the whole situation now felt ridiculous; hiding in Hudson’s car across the road from Two-if-by-Tulips, looking like characters from a cheap spy novel. Hudson wasn’t whispering.
“Why are you whispering?” he asked.
“Because you’re wearing a trench coat and hiding behind the steering wheel,” she hissed. “It’s freaking me out!”
He grinned at her, raising his paper coffee cup for cheers. He had insisted that a stakeout required paper cups of coffee and a box of donuts. The coffee was cold, and the donuts were gone. He slouched down in his seat, peering out as the rain sluiced down, making it hard to see.
“They won’t be able to see us, will they?” She craned her neck to check out the entrance to the flower shop. ‘They probably won’t even show up in this weather.”
“Never fear, my dear Watson.” He spoke with a bad British accent. “The elder Mr. Proxly is a creature of habit. Nothing will keep him from his Monday morning routine of purchasing fresh flowers for the desk of his intrepid administrative assistant, the lovely and beguiling Mrs. Davies.”
He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as if he had a pipe clutched between his teeth. She fought the urge to find it charming.
“You’re a chucklehead,” she said.
“And you told Rosalee to be here at nine am sharp?” he asked, ditching the accent but remaining scrunched behind the steering wheel.
“I said it was absolutely essential that she pick up the flowers at nine,” she said. “I made up a story about a really demanding client who insisted that roses had to be purchased before nine am if they were to be fresh.”
“Look!” Hudson folded himself lower in his seat. “There’s my dad. I told you. Like clockwork.”
They both squinted through the rain streaked windshield as Mr. Proxly came striding down the sidewalk under an enormous black umbrella. The wind off the harbour buffeted his long coat against his legs as he walked purposefully through the rain.
“Oh!” Robin squealed. “It’s Auntie!”
Auntie’s car appeared around the corner and sluiced through a huge puddle that sent a wave of water cascading over the sidewalk. Mr. Proxly had to sidestep to avoid being drenched.
Hudson rolled down the driver’s side window.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “They’ll see us!”
“They won’t, and I can’t see through all the rain,” he said. “Look, the magic is about to happen.”
They watched as Rosalee climbed out of the car, holding a sheath of newspaper over her grey curls.
“Seriously? You sent her out without an umbrella?” He whacked Robin in the arm. He made a tsking noise and shook his head. “That poor woman needs a boyfriend, since you don’t seem to be taking very good care of her.”
“We’re tough women,” Robin growled. “Little rain never hurt no one.”
They held their breath as Bernard stopped at the florist’s door to shake and close his umbrella.
“This is where he holds the door for her, and she almost trips but he grabs her and saves her, and they fall into a passionate embrace and—” Hudson stopped. “Oh, Dad, come on!”
Bernard shook off his umbrella without noticing Rosalee delicately tiptoeing through the sidewalk puddles toward him. He let himself into the florist’s and the door closed behind him just as Rosalee reached the awning.
Robin let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She giggled, and punched Hudson on the arm.
“This is ridiculous, you know that, right?” She straightened up in her seat. “Love at first sight is a myth, as is swooning into a passionate
embrace and whatever other drivel you just made up.”
“Is not!” he said, unwinding himself from under the steering wheel. “Happily Ever After, man. That’s the dream.”
“Exactly, a dream.” She smiled at him. A chucklehead, for sure, but a sweet one. “At least they’re in the same room together. We’ll have to wait for the report from Neil.”
“Call him.” Hudson gestured at the phone on her lap. “Get him to put us on speaker so we can hear them. They won’t know we’re listening.”
“You’re a stalker,” she laughed. “I had no idea a lawyer could be such a criminal master mind.”
“I prefer to think of myself as diabolically brilliant.”
She picked up her phone.
“And you promise I won’t lose my job because of this little matchmaking game, right?” she said. “He won’t find out until it’s too late and he’s passionately in love with Auntie and then he’ll be so thankful he’ll want to adopt me... I am quoting you, directly.”
Hudson smiled.
“Certainly.” He resurrected the British accent. “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.”
She groaned and dialed Neil’s number.
“FRIGHTFUL WEATHER.” Rosalee stepped into the shop and shook her newspaper fiercely. “I don’t mind telling you that running errands in this weather is for the birds. The birds, I say.”
Neil smiled at her from across the counter. “It’s good weather for a duck, Mrs. Martin.”
“I beg your pardon?” She looked shocked for a moment, jiggling the hearing aid in her left ear and squinting at Neil. She was used to mishearing things. It was her usual policy to simply carry on as if she had missed nothing, but every now and then a word would trip her up and she would have that horrible feeling of losing her place on the page, as if someone else were turning the pages before she could finish reading the sentence.
Growing old was such a bother.
“Never mind.” She brushed the damp off her raincoat and looked around the shop. No wonder Robin liked it here. So bright, so delicate. She wondered what it would be like to live forever in a room full of flowers. “I think it would be like waking up in a garden every day. That smell makes me believe there could never be a storm on any horizon.”
Love by Design: A Heartswell Harbour Romance Page 6
