The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

Chapter 4

  “I can’t feel my toes. You’re lucky you didn’t wear heels,” Josie moaned as she rubbed her feet. Holly yawned, it took over her whole body as she stretched and closed her eyes. They hadn’t got back to their apartment until 2am.

  “Lucky? Did you forget I still managed to trip and make a fool of myself?” Holly asked, pouring a drink.

  Josie eyed the steaming mug in Holly’s hand. “Is that a good idea?”

  “You’re right,” Holly said, lowering it to the counter. “I should just go to bed.”

  Her phone pinged as she trudged across the living room.

  “Huh. Interesting,” she said to herself. Josie got up and arched her back, it cracked, and she moaned.

  “That’s better,” she said, walking up to Holly. “What is it? Mr. Charles sending you messages so soon?”

  Heat rose to Holly’s face as she whipped her head up to look at Josie.

  “What?! No! He didn’t even ask for my number,” she blurted. “Why would you think that?”

  Josie pulled off her hairband and her dark wiry hair fell past her narrow shoulders.

  “We were all there, Holly. Everyone could see how he looked at you. Then you both went off alone… Tell me. Is he as good a kisser as he looks?”

  Holly dropped her phone and stared at Josie with disbelief.

  “We didn’t kiss! Nothing happened,” she said. Josie stooped down and retrieved the phone.

  “What’s this?” she asked, a smile taking over her face. “You’re looking at a matchmaking company? Oh Holly. This is desperate. Even for you.”

  Holly snatched the phone back and frowned. Sometimes she wondered if Josie was a real friend. Josie’s British sense of humor had got her into trouble more than a few times.

  Time with Josie had taught Holly that putting people down was a way of showing affection and love amongst friends in England. At least, that was what Josie said.

  “They’ve put out an open-call for models to attend an event tomorrow night.”

  “Right, sure. I’m sure you were just looking at the job opportunity,” she said, nodding along.

  “Why not? Find My Companion is doing a TV series and they want models to... stand in the background? I don’t really know.”

  Josie yawned and rubbed her arm.

  “Sounds perfect. And hey, you might bag yourself a rich boyfriend while you’re there.”

  Holly nudged her friend and the two of them chuckled as they walked down the hall.

  “Well, you’re going to need your beauty sleep,” Josie called out as Holly walked into her room.

  “Goodnight Josie,” she said. Then another mighty yawn took over and Holly collapsed onto her bed. She promptly fell asleep.

  The next day, Holly didn’t rouse from her slumber until almost noon. Her dreams were invaded by William, dressed as a pirate and taking her away on his boat to wonderful adventures. She couldn’t take her mind off him. If only he had asked her out. If only she had struck up the courage to ask him out.

  And maybe she would have, if she was dressed to the nines and hadn’t just shattered several hundred dollars’ worth of glass all over the floor.

  Holly liked to believe in signs. She liked to believe that the universe or some unseen force had a great plan in store, and that she would only need to look for the signs to know what to do next.

  So, when she received an email from Thatcher, saying he was going to be at an event at Find My Companion that night, she knew what she needed to do.

  “Thank you for your call Ms. Barratt. I have received your headshots and I’m pleased to tell you Ms. Stewart would like to hire you for tonight’s event.”

  Holly tried to keep her composure and act cool while the woman went over the particulars on the phone, but her feet had started to do an Irish jig.

  “You got it?” Josie whispered through her hands and then screeched with excitement. “You’re going to be on TV! You have to tell me everything. This is amazing.” She threw her arms around Holly and squeezed so tight Holly couldn’t breathe.

  Josie let go and her face turned serious.

  “Quick. Go take a shower and get ready. I’m taking you shopping.”

  Chapter 5

  Josie redeemed herself and Holly was reminded why she was her best friend. She took Holly to a spa and the two of them had the most relaxing massage Holly had ever experienced. They finished off with a blow dry at Josie’s favorite salon, and then enjoyed English tea in the city. Now ready for the day, Josie took them shopping on Fifth Avenue.

  They returned to the apartment as the sun set, arms full of designer bags. Holly felt lighter than a feather.

  Josie’s parents owned the apartment, which sat right in the center of New York. Her rich dad in England paid off her credit card bill each month, which Josie then used to shower her friends with gifts. Not that Holly was complaining.

  “Look at the time! You need to go,” Josie exclaimed, taking Holly’s bags off her. She leaned forward in the taxi and told the driver the address for Find My Companion.

  “Enjoy every second of tonight,” Josie said. She climbed out of the cab and turned around. “Remember. You look lush. You’ve got nothing to be nervous about.”

  Holly smiled at the word ‘lush’ and waved.

  “Thanks for today. You’re the best.”

  “I know,” Josie said with a flick of her hair. She closed the door and stood on the sidewalk; arms laden with bags as she waved over zealously. The taxi pulled away and Holly grew nauseous.

  “It’s just another job. I’m not going to do anything embarrassing,” she said to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “Besides, Thatcher will be there. What can go wrong?”

  Everything, a small voice in her head whispered.

  Holly stood in a line of beautiful looking young women, waiting to sign in. Another day, another mixer. Only this time, she was wearing a figure-hugging yellow dress, and her long, blonde curls fell to the small of her back. No flat, black shoes. Instead, she wore delicate sandals and carried a bedazzled clutch.

  Holly recognized more than a few of the other models from other jobs. She watched as the group in front of her talked.

  “They’re calling the show ‘Billionaire Bachelors’ and I heard they’re going to choose one of us to be paired with a billionaire.”

  “How exciting,” one of the women squealed.

  She moved aside, and Holly stepped up to the desk, where a petite woman wearing a dark suit and horn-rimmed glasses gave her the once-over before looking down at a clipboard in her hand.

  “Name?” she said dully.

  “Holly Barratt.”

  The woman scribbled on the clipboard and pointed in the direction of the other woman.

  “Go wait there for someone to collect you––Next!” The woman barked the last word, and her voice rang like the bells of Notre Dame inside Holly’s ear drums. She recovered, cradled her clutch, and stood beside a ficus plant, keeping a distance from everyone else.

  There was a buzz of excitement in the air as the entry hall filled with models. Not a male was in sight. Holly craned her neck searching the sea of faces for Thatcher, but he was nowhere to be seen either.

  “Welcome ladies. Thank you so much for coming. You all look wonderful. My name is Emily Stewart, founder of Find My Companion.”

  Holly turned and laid eyes on the most dazzling woman she had ever seen. She was petite, with a figure to die for. Long, sleek, black hair reached her waist and she wore a beige Gucci dress. Emily Stewart had a reputation in the city. She was a British sweetheart, and had set up shop in New York as the most talented matchmaker in the East Coast. Not only that, but she was also well-connected and had impeccable taste.

  “Right. We have cameras all set up and they will start rolling as soon as we enter the reception room. So, talk amongst yourselves, smile, and act natural. Remember, we already have your dates, so your job is to have a few drinks and just look like you’re having a great time.”


  Emily beamed at the crowd. “Any questions?” she asked. No one made a sound. Holly noticed that half the models were shooting daggers at Emily, while the other half were gazing at her like they had just stumbled on a rare unicorn.

  “Come on then. Follow me.”

  The models crowded Holly, pushing her forward as they erupted into millions of conversations. Meanwhile, Holly walked along like an island floating in the sea.

  The reception room was actually a big hall with lots of small tables and comfortable chairs scattered around. A bar stretched along the entire room and shelves of bottles adorned the walls.

  Holly perched on the edge of a bar stool and one of the bartenders handed her a drink.

  “Thank you,” she said, picking up the stem glass. If Emily knew about her record, she would have banned Holly from being anywhere near glass. Holly smirked at the thought as she took a sip.

  “We have our three bachelors here, and this room full of gorgeous, single ladies. Now we’ll let our singletons mingle and see which one of these beauties catch our bachelors’ attention.” Emily posed in front of a camera crew and delivered her lines perfectly. She stood less than six feet away from Holly. She was so close Holly could smell Chanel No.5.

  Three men entered the room and strolled through the groups of women, like a pride of lions observing their prey.

  One of the men had burly arms; his biceps were bursting out of the seams of his jacket. The second man had a scruffy beard and a mane of wiry brown hair, which he had pulled back into a bun on the back of his head. Despite his smart shirt and suit pants, he looked completely out of place in the setting.

  Holly leaned back to catch a glimpse of bachelor number three. She choked on her drink and almost fell off her stool when she saw that it was William.

  Holly lunged forward and grasped a menu from the bar, propping it up to obscure her face as the bachelors walked by. The cameras followed their every move and Holly didn’t dare take a breath. She peeked over the top of the menu and watched William engage in a friendly conversation with one of the women across the room.

  Good. He didn’t see me.

  Then Holly inwardly laughed at herself. Here she was dolled up; fake lashes and hair flowing free. There was no way William would recognize her.

  Seeing him talking to other women sent her stomach into knots, though. She slinked off the stool, smoothed out her dress and edged away, heading for the exit.

  “Where are you going?” murmured one of the camera crew. She was a small woman. Holly was head and shoulders taller. And all that was standing in the way of her freedom was this camerawoman. She figured if she needed to, she could take her down.

  “I have to go to the restroom,” Holly whispered, pretending to be desperate. She hopped from foot to foot, and the camerawoman rolled her eyes.

  “It’s down the hall to the left,” she whispered, stepping aside. Holly could have punched the air and given the woman a hug. Her faith in humanity was restored.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed and hurried out of the room.

  Holly’s brisk walk slowed as she returned to the entrance hall, and she took a deep breath to steady her nerve.

  “Holly. What are you doing? Get in there.”

  Thatcher rushed to her side and grabbed her arm.

  “Oh! I didn’t see you,” Holly said, eyeing the massive camera in Thatcher’s hands. “I was feeling sick, so I came out for some fresh air.” It wasn’t a total lie. Seeing William again did make her feel nauseated. And she couldn’t figure out why. Thatcher’s frown faded and he glanced over his shoulder.

  “I’ve got to go and take some pictures, see you in there?” He clapped Holly’s shoulder and she gave him a nod.

  Leaving the hall was not the best idea. Now Holly was stuck in the empty entrance hall with no idea what to do next. She could dash for the door and make a break for freedom, never looking back. Or she could pull up her big girl pants and go back inside.

  So what if William was there? Even if he did recognize her, he was on the show looking for a match, and Emily had made it very clear that the models were off-limits.

  All she had to do was fade into the background, get the job done and pick up her check at the end.

  It wouldn’t look good for her if she bailed in the middle of a job. With Thatcher moving to Paris, she needed to build bridges. Not burn them.

  With a deep sigh, Holly resolved that she needed to go back inside. Time to grow up and step outside of her comfort zone.

  On Holly’s return, she noticed the three bachelors seated in different areas of the reception hall. Each one was surrounded by gorgeous young women. All cameras were focused on them, so Holly was able to slip into the room unnoticed.

  Meanwhile, Thatcher hovered in the background, taking pictures from every angle.

  As with most modelling jobs, there was a lot of standing around bored. The other models participated in chit-chat, but Holly hated small talk more than awkward silence. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried to fit in and make small talk. It was just that she was terrible at it.

  During her very first shoot, she had tried to engage but it all went horribly wrong. The other girls were talking about a celebrity who had been photographed with a twig in her hair. Which reminded Holly of a funny story, about the time she went to a Halloween party with a big spider in her hair, and no one told her because they thought it was just part of her outfit. When it crawled down to her shoulder, she panicked and emptied the bowl of punch over herself. She finished the story with a hearty laugh at herself. But the other models looked at her blankly, without even a hint of a smile. Then they had turned back to each other and continued their conversation.

  It was one of the reasons Holly had never made friends in the modelling world. No one talked about anything Holly was interested in.

  She didn’t fit in. But her naturally skinny frame and angular face photographed well. And Holly figured Thatcher had always been able to pull some strings to get her on the same jobs he did.

  The chatter in the room became more animated and Holly realized she had been staring out like a zombie for several minutes, buried in her thoughts.

  Josie’s right. I’m bad at being present in a situation.

  “Hey there.”

  Holly stiffened and blinked at the gentleman with the man bun who was standing less than a foot away from her. His musky cologne was stifling, and it took all of Holly’s resolve not to pinch her nose.

  “Uh. Hi,” she said, glancing around the room. Why was one of the bachelors talking to her?

  Then Holly noticed the camera crew were taking a break.

  Holly fiddled with her gold bangle and tried to ignore the angry stares from the jealous models standing nearby.

  “You must be tired,” the man said, batting his thick lashes at her with a smolder.

  Holly froze. Was this man at the mixer last night too? She forced a smile. Not sure what to say. The man leaned in to whisper in her ear. Humid heat radiated from his cheek and Holly inwardly recoiled.

  “Because you’ve been running around in my mind ever since I got here.”

  He leaned back to flash her a grin. His words sat in the pit of Holly’s stomach and began to effervesce. Her hands balled into fists, and her false nails dug into her palms.

  “Is that supposed to be a chat up line?” she blurted. The man roared like a predator and dragged a heavy hand across his jaw.

  “You’ve got attitude too. I like it.” He grazed his knuckles along Holly’s arm, they left a burning trail behind.

  “What do you say we get out of here later, and go somewhere… private?” He added a not-so-subtle wink and licked his bottom lip.

  “I’ll be busy… washing my hair,” Holly said dully. The bachelor chuckled and grabbed her hand.

  “I’d love to help. A princess like you deserves to be pampered.” He leaned forward, lips pouted and primed to make contact, but instead collided with Holly’s clutch.

  “I’m not fee
ling well; I think I need to leave.” She sidled away and made for the exit. The women began twittering to each other, but Holly paid no attention.

  Being hit on was a common occurrence for Holly. But it never stopped making her feel like she needed to take a hot shower afterwards. She had just made it to the door when a hand grabbed her arm. She turned and with a thwack, her clutch purse hit her attacker over the head. Only, it was not the creep she had been talking to.

  “Ouch.”

  Holly bit her lip.

  “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that,” she said defensively. The dark-haired man was bent over, rubbing the side of his head.

  “My bad,” he said. When he straightened and looked at her, his clearwater-blue eyes widened with recognition.

  “You!” they both said at the same time.

  Holly’s insides squirmed and a flurry of excitement flew to her chest as she stared at the man who she had attacked twice in the last twenty-four hours.

  William Harrington.

  Chapter 6

  “You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Holly said to William. The whole room was quiet, and all eyes were on them. Holly glimpsed Emily standing on the other side of the room. She was staring at Holly like she was a deer in headlights.

  “I know. Next time we talk I might end up with a concussion,” William said with a laugh. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Me? I didn’t get hit over the head,” Holly said, her face flooding with color.

  “Right? What do you keep in that purse? Rocks?”

  They shared a laugh. Someone coughed but Holly didn’t care.

  “I’m so sorry. But the good news is, you’ve still got a handsome face. No marks.” Holly touched his cheekbone as she inspected the side of his head. William’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas.

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  Holly’s heart fluttered as she reciprocated his grin. The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, then someone started clapping.