by Ash Harlow
“And he won’t say a word. Trust me. Sex doesn’t embarrass him. I’m unlocking the door. There’s a bathroom through there if you need to use it.” I kissed her soft mouth.
“You taste of me,” she said quietly.
“And you taste beautiful.”
Darcy had just gone into the bathroom when Luther wandered in.
Thirty-Four
Darcy
Yes, despite Oliver’s words of assurance, I was embarrassed. No, Luther never said a word, nor batted an eyelid. So little seemed to affect him that by the end of the evening I’d decided he was an android.
The week was beyond hectic. In the midst of being in the process of pulling an epic event together, we were dealing with Oliver’s exposé with Jason Cameron. Oliver didn’t need schooling on media presentation, he was a natural, but Luther spent every night running through scenarios with him as if he were about to take the witness stand.
Pearl. What can I say? She was fabulous. Oliver went to the island and met up with her and Reuben. Not only did she say she would back Oliver all the way, she even agreed to do a phone interview with Jason to lend her support. Luther, of course, had spoken with the police and seemed to have come to some arrangement whereby they agreed Oliver couldn’t be charged with any drug offenses. That was a whole different piece of sorcery, too complicated for me to get my head around.
Sunday night, I cooked dinner, making sure I was needed in the kitchen when the piece went to air. I was nervous. Darting in and out of the room where the giant television and entertainment center live. Oliver’s story was the lead and I stood just outside the door as the opening sequence played out.
“Come in, Darcy. You won’t be able to see your handsome boyfriend through the wall.”
“I’m not even here,” I called back to Luther.
Oliver appeared beside me. “Come on. This is all of your hard work. Come and watch with me.”
I let him lead me into the room which had not much more than large screens and leather sofas. Oliver tumbled into one, pulling me with him.
“Where’s your drink?” he asked.
“In the kitchen. I’ll go and get it.”
“You won’t come back. Share mine.” He lifted his glass to my mouth and my nostrils filled with the peaty aroma of scotch. “Open up.”
“It’s starting,” Luther announced as my mouth filled with fiery alcohol.
What stunned me was how quiet we all were through the segment. Even Luther. Oliver was a star, adding the right amount of emotion as Jason led him through his story. He looked beautiful. Hurt, angry, and determined at all the right moments, because what we saw was genuine. They played a small piece of audio from Pearl, who said she supported Oliver and was proud to have been invited to sing at the fundraiser. Waitapu was shown wearing its glistening coat that was gradually peeled off to reveal a dirty underbelly, yet, by the finish, came out triumphant.
When the segment ended and they cut to an ad break there was a loud, collective exhalation.
“You’ve beaten her, Oli,” Luther said, raising his glass. “I have it on good authority that as of 0900 hours tomorrow, Annabelle is officially unemployed. It’ll probably be a good idea to wear a bulletproof vest this week.”
We finished the night by drinking far too much champagne, and with Luther sleeping over. He and Oliver were up early in the morning to go for a run together. They invited me to go with them, but my head was pounding enough when I walked. Running would have made it explode.
I spent the day fielding calls from other media outlets and organizing more interviews for Oliver. The producer of the national morning talk radio show called because the station’s phones were running hot. Most people supportive, or telling their own stories, with a few saying the only reason Oliver got away without further scrutiny from the police was because of privilege. I expected to hear more of that opinion than we did.
By the end of the week, it seemed as if Rob and Annabelle had vanished.
The next two weeks were a blur of phone calls, lists and running around. Each night I arrived home and collapsed on a chair in exhaustion. Oliver was working just as hard, but his stamina seemed greater than mine, and he treated me to a nightly bath and massage.
I engaged Ginger’s help when I discovered you really couldn’t be in four, or even two, places at once. She was fantastic to work with, cheerfully taking laborious tasks off me.
“Your job is fun,” she said. “Much better than cleaning.”
We’d spent the morning in the boardroom checking every item donated for the auction, making sure we had clients’ sign-off for the advertising copy in the catalog. Reading the catalog again to check for typos, or misplaced logos, or the hundred other things that could go wrong. Gail had organized lunch for us, and we’d just stopped for a break.
“I want to thank you, Ginger, you’ve been an amazing assistant. I have worked with graduates incapable of a quarter of the things you’re doing. Having your artistic eye has been such a help with the catalog. Plus, the clients really like you. Honestly, you’d be great in this sort of job.”
She picked at a piece of pickled ginger that was lumped in the corner of her sushi box. “I don’t know. I’d have to get qualifications, which would mean going to university. Mom’s not fond of…”
“Who’s life is it, Ginger?”
She dropped her chopsticks and stared out the window. “She’s not well. She needs me. I don’t know. She’s been through a lot in her life with Nessa and everything.”
“I’d like to hear about Nessa some time.”
“She’s dead.”
“Oh, hell, Ginger, I’m so sorry.”
She picked up a chopstick and dragged the wasabi paste in pale green streaks, making a sunburst on the base of the container. “It was a long time ago. She was wild, and a bit of a fuck-up by all accounts. It’s okay, but Mom’s never been the same. She has this fear that if I go away, the same thing will happen to me. Plus, she needs looking after. She’s frail, emotionally.”
Despite my sympathy for a mother losing her daughter, the relationship between the woman and Ginger didn’t sound at all healthy. “Perhaps your Mom needs a different sort of help.”
Ginger nodded. “Of course she does, but she won’t hear of it. I’m trapped. It’s not that I’m desperate to get out of Waitapu, but I’d love a decent career, and some independence. Sure, I’ve got my sodas and things, but working for you has really opened my eyes.” She gave me a direct look. “It’s been a blast, and this might sound crazy, but it’s made me feel worthwhile.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be shackled to a parent that way, and I really did enjoy working with Ginger. “Oliver claims there are a number of businesses in the area that could do with my help. Let’s get this fundraiser out of the way, and if anything comes up, you’ll be the first person I’ll call on.”
She beamed her gorgeous smile at me. “Does that mean you’re going to stay in Waitapu?”
“No decision made yet, but—”
“You and Oliver are the perfect couple. You have to stay, Darcy.”
I laughed and changed the subject. “Come for dinner tonight. We’re getting takeouts and going to relax on the patio. Tomorrow will be a much easier day. All of the paperwork is done so we’ll be up at the Lodge overseeing the setup. Lots of running around, but there shouldn’t be too much office stuff.”
We finished up for the afternoon and I went through to Oliver’s office to see if he was ready to leave.
“I’ve invited Ginger to have dinner with us,” I told him.
He laughed. “This will be interesting. I’ve invited Luther.”
“Like Luther needs an invitation. He’d just turn up if he wanted to, anyway.”
“He’s picking up the food. I should ask him to collect Ginger on the way.”
The look Oliver gave me was completely serious, so I matched it. “Okay, good idea. What time shall I tell Ginger to be ready?”
“Half-past thirteen, because he’ll never agree.”
Oliver had pushed back from his desk, a blatant invitation to sit on his lap. I straddled him and flipped open the top two buttons on his shirt. His eyes went wide.
“Ginger told me about her Mom,” I said, stroking his chest. “That made me sad.”
“It’s a pretty fucked-up situation, to be honest. It’s a shame she has that crush on Luther. She deserves a good man who can ease her away from her mother’s stranglehold.”
“She’s an excellent worker, Oliver. She’s been the most amazing assistant, and the clients really like her.”
“Stay,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Stay in Waitapu. Start your own business. There is so much work here for you. Hire Ginger as your assistant.”
“Ginger has her own plans.”
“Amalgamate them. Soda and marketing.”
I laughed. “Possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Nope. That accolade goes to my marriage proposal.”
“Oh, right.”
I finally pinpointed what was holding me back. I wanted Oliver to ask me to stay for him, first and foremost, not for the advancement of the businesses in the town. Maybe it was silly. It was probably too soon in our relationship, but I wanted him to want me. Perhaps he thought he’d scare me off if he asked me to stay with him, but how would I know unless we talked about it?
“Oliver, I need to make plans for—”
His phone rang and he held up his hand to silence me. “Sorry, sweet, I’ve been waiting for this call. It won’t take long.”
I climbed off his lap and went back to my office to tidy up, trying to assess our relationship as I stacked papers and shutdown my laptop. I’d gotten myself into this mindset that he’d flip when he found out about Rob. Instead, he rescued me, and continued to support me. Between Rob and Annabelle, we’d endured a lot in a short time, and worked our way through.
I made a mental list of what I liked—loved?—about him. Our physical attraction to each other, and the sex, was off the charts. There was no denying that. He was all the good things: kind, honest, sincere, generous. I’d probably find he donated to the local animal shelter if I dug deep enough. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be with him, but what if I failed? What if I couldn’t make a go of a business in this town? What if we ended up like Rob and I, and he was careless with my love?
Deep down I was scared to trust and love a man again. I didn’t want to be in the position of losing my self-respect, of not recognizing when it was over, and clinging too long to something that had died. And, if I was thinking of how our relationship would end, was I really fit to be in one in the first place?
I went over to the window. On this side of the building I could see the sweep of the river more than the marina. That was Oliver’s domain. Even thinking of his presence made me shiver.
“Deep in thought over there, Miss Darcy?”
I blinked slowly and let his voice wash over me. “Yes, I am,” I said, still addressing the view.
“Do you want to tell me what’s up?”
I turned, and our eyes locked in that way they had many times before. I’d never fallen into a gaze the way I did with Oliver. He drank me in, pulled the very essence of me into his body when he looked at me like that. I didn’t want this to end one bit. I wanted to open my heart and let him have that, too. I wanted to crave him the way he craved me.
“Two days to go, Oliver, then we’ll know what sort of job I’ve done for you.”
“I’m predicting a wild success.”
He believed in me, and trusted every decision I’d made would benefit his cause. To the best of my ability, it would. “I was thinking about what would happen when it was over.”
“Did you come to a decision?” He’d closed the distance between us and placed his hands on my shoulders.
“No. I was weighing things up.”
“This is a big conversation, and we need to have it. I’m not blowing you off, but now isn’t the time. We have guests arriving.” He kissed the top of my head, turned and picked up my laptop and handbag. “Come on, if we hurry we can have a bath before they arrive.”
Thirty-Five
Oliver
I wanted Darcy to understand that she could trust me, because I was sure that was the thing holding her back. I’d do everything to convince her to stay, but I felt as though she needed to reach that conclusion herself.
She was quiet in the car.
“Let’s get the event over, and then we’ll have some time alone. I don’t think we can devote ourselves completely to this sort of discussion when we’re constantly distracted.”
“You’re right,” she said. “And, tonight’s going to be one big distraction.”
As I turned onto our street, Darcy asked me to stop at the cottage.
“I haven’t checked the mail for days.”
I drove right up to the mailbox so that she could lean out of the window and check it.
“Ugh, probably all bills,” she said, tucking the envelopes into her bag.
I pulled into my driveway as the automatic gate slid open.
Darcy groaned. “I don’t believe it. Luther’s here already.”
“Raincheck on the bath.”
“I know. But I really wanted Ginger to be here first so that she didn’t have to walk in on us. Is Luther going to be nice to her?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he behaves himself.”
Luther was sitting on the patio, talking on his phone. Darcy said she was going to change into more comfortable clothes, and I headed into the kitchen to pour drinks.
Luther joined me a few moments later. “Is there any more of Darcy’s Ring Sting Chutney? I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” I said. “Have a look in the pantry.”
He returned triumphant and was eating it straight from the jar with a teaspoon when Darcy turned up.
“Good evening, Luther.”
“Evening, Darcy. Have you made any more of this stuff? You’re almost out.”
“Maybe after the weekend once I’m jobless.”
She seemed on edge. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Sure. Can I borrow a car? Ginger’s just called me. She’s broken down.”
“She’s probably forgotten to fill her gas tank,” Luther said, scooping out more chutney.
“It involved a loud noise, so I don’t think it’s gas.”
I passed her the keys, but Luther stopped me.
“I’m due to pick up our dinner,” he said. “I’ll pick her up.”
“Are you sure?” Darcy asked, but he was already leaving the kitchen. “She’s on Governor Lane.”
“Anything else you need?” he called from the front door.
“No,” we replied in unison.
Darcy swung around to me. “What the heck?”
“You know Luther. He’s protective.”
“But, that’s Ginger. He even has a special scowl, specifically for her.”
“Deep down, he thinks she’s okay, in a big brother, annoying little sister sort of way.”
“I doubt she’d want to hear that.” She went to her handbag which was sitting on the counter. I watched her pull out the mail, flick through the envelopes and flyers. “Electricity bill, lost cat, store catalogs for Sara.”
“You can probably return any of Sara’s mail.” I slid Darcy’s wine across the counter to her, and tasted my beer.
“Oh, this is exciting. An invitation to an art exhibition.”
“Everyone gets those.”
She held up one finger. “This one’s special. All the paintings are done by dogs. They’re raising funds for an animal shelter.”
“Give them a donation,” I said. “They do it every year and the paintings are what you would expect.”
“Doggy?”
“Yep.”
At the next envelope she paused, frowned, turned it over to check the blank back, t
hen tucked it behind the other envelopes and shoved them all back into her bag.
“Mostly bills,” she said. “I wonder what it was like in the old days when you actually received letters from friends. I had a pen pal when I was seven, but it didn’t last. Life is small when you’re a kid, so I guess we just ran out of things to write about. She lived on the west coast, and she had a pony. I think she despised me for living in the city. Funny how judgmental she was for such a young girl. It’s humid tonight, isn’t it? Feels like we’re going to get rain. I wonder how long Luther and Ginger will be. I hope her car’s okay.”
She was rambling. Darcy didn’t ramble. “What’s happened?”
She gave me an odd smile that I couldn’t quite interpret. “Nothing’s happened. I guess it feels strange that after Saturday, I’m unemployed again. Well, except for the aftermath of the gala, and wrapping up the loose ends.”
As far as I was concerned, she wasn’t going anywhere. “There’s plenty for you to do here, Darcy. You’ll never be unemployed in this town.”
She looked at the envelopes in her bag again, then zipped it closed. “I’m not sure. I haven’t had time to give it much thought, and suddenly the gala’s here and then, it seems, a void.”
I crossed the kitchen and laid my hands on her shoulders, pressing my lips to her forehead. “There’s no rush. You deserve a break. You’ve worked damned hard since you arrived.”
“I’m used to working hard year-round, like most people with full-time employment.”
“You’ve done a year’s work in three months.”
“I have to keep pushing forward, Oliver. There isn’t a limitless supply of good jobs.”
“But there’s me and you, and there are opportunities in Waitapu. Tell me what’s happened to make you insecure, and we’ll fix it together.”
She kissed me quickly, a shut-this-down sort of kiss, and before I could dig any deeper the front door opened.
Ginger appeared in the kitchen with Luther behind her. “Car’s faarked,” she announced.
Darcy snorted. “Five minutes in his company and you sound exactly like Luther.”
