Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(15)
“I’ll get you a drink,” I decide. “Then I can shower.”
“Could I not just sip from the hem of your trousers?”
“Kinky.” I look down at my trouser legs. “I think the right one is pina colada.”
“And the left?”
“Hard to tell, but I’m leaning towards a coconut mojito.” I grimace. “It’s gross either way.”
“So, what happened?”
I head into the kitchen aware of him following me. “What do you want to drink?” I ask as he casts an appalled look around.
“Oh, whisky if you have it.” He peers into the cooker. “Is there… is there mail in your oven?”
“Yes. I keep it there.”
“An unusual filing system.”
“Well, it’s not in any danger there. I don’t cook.”
“Never?”
“It’s not good for my continued survival, and I happen to think the world is a sunnier place with me in it.” I hold his glass out. “Do you?”
“Think the world is a sunnier place with you in it? Of course. I’m basking in your rays.”
“Don’t step left or you’ll be basking in last week’s takeaway bags.”
“Oh my god,” he says faintly.
“Well, I do apologise. I don’t have a housekeeper. But I’m betting you almost certainly do.”
“I hate to be predictable in life, but you’re right.” He fishes a manilla folder out of the bread bin. “I also have an assistant who deals with my mail and very rarely files it in the kitchen.”
“How the other half live. I guess I’ll take that shower now.” I step out of the kitchen.
“Wait,” he says. “I need to know why you are covered in cream-based cocktails.”
“The bridegroom and the bride’s mother do not get on.”
“Did they have a fight?”
“Not at the point where my story starts.”
His mouth quirks, and he seats himself at my small bistro table. He moves aside a stack of menus and gestures for me to carry on.
“They managed to avoid their mutual animosity until it came time for the bride and groom to leave. They got into their vintage car, with the tin cans duly attached to it, and were toasted with cocktails and a great deal of waving and cheering before they drove off.”
“Surely this is a happy ending?”
“Not for the mother’s foot. The groom ran over it, and in the middle of the medical emergency, rather a lot of family business was aired.” I gesture at my shirt. “And also, rather a lot of cocktails.”
His laughter bursts out of him like a big, happy beast that’s finally broken free of a cage. And I’m glad to be the one to help Lachlan’s amusement escape.
Finally, he controls himself. “I would pay to have seen that.”
“You’d have behaved very urbanely, I’m sure. Unlike some of the banshees dancing around shouting about private business that even Jeremy Kyle would have hesitated to air in the old days.”
He grins at me. “You lead an entertaining life.”
“Entertaining or quite barmy? Who knows.”
“And yet you like it?”
“I do.” I grin at him. “I’m going to shower. Where are we going, so I can dress appropriately?” He names a very exclusive restaurant, and I whistle. “I happen to know that’s booked up for months in advance.”
He shrugs. “I know someone.”
“So do I. Please contact me if you ever need a deal on wedding stationery.”
“That is as unlikely as me marrying Prince William, but thank you anyway.”
“Okay. I’m off to press my ermine robes in anticipation of that happy occasion.” I wink at him. “Want to wash my back?”
He cocks his head to one side. “Is this a date or an assignation?”
“Oh, poo. Who says it can’t be both?”
He stands up, shrugging off his suit jacket and loosening his waistcoat. “You speak a great deal of sense.”
“I know. Last one to the shower is a rotten egg.”
“I’m afraid I simply cannot shag anyone who sounds like Jeremy Irons.”
I strip my clothes off and stand unabashedly naked. “Why don’t you give it the old British try?”
“Tally ho,” he shouts, and I shout with laughter as he chases me.
A few hours later, he stirs. “I think we’ve missed the booking.”
I snuggle into his wide, hair-roughened chest. “That’s a shame,” I say sleepily.
“I wanted to woo you.”
His tone is self-deprecating, but there’s an element of truth there that startles me. “Did you really?” I ask, sitting up.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t ask me. I don’t want to examine my recent life choices.”
I tweak his nipple. “That was a nice thought, though. Shame you had to give up on impressing me and had to settle for shagging me.”
“I combined the two,” he says in a lofty voice. “Weren’t you paying attention?”
“I was thinking of England.” I sketch a salute. “God bless the King.” I laugh as he shoves me and then his stomach rumbles loudly. “Someone’s hungry.”