Baby Love Me Read online

  Anton almost forgot. So giving Hunter a final glare, he took Fern by the hand and went off to their rendezvous.

  On Hunter’s way out, he saw his father.

  Clinton took his son into his office to interrogate his whereabouts.

  “So tell me. How’s it going with this woman of yours?” Clinton went straight to the point. “Have you proposed? Has she accepted? When are you planning to get married?”

  “Hold it, Dad. Don’t fire all your questions all at once.” Hunter held up his hand to stop his father from asking any more questions. “Firstly, I’m not getting married yet. Secondly, I haven’t even proposed to her.”

  “You bastard of a son.” Clinton smacked his son’s head. “Here you are living with a woman and you haven’t proposed to her? What will her parents think? Are you even serious about this woman?” He fumed at his son.

  “Dad, calm down. Your blood pressure isn’t too good right now.” Hunter led his father to his seat and sat him down. He started massaging his father’s shoulders to relieve the tension. “She’s the one, Dad. I know it. But I need some time first. I want to make sure she fully has her trust in me.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, there’s also the fact that I want to hear her say she loves me.”

  “Why do you have to hear her say it? Why can’t you just propose?”

  “It’s very important to me. I love Clarice, but I want to know if she feels the same way about me.”

  “Are you sure that’s all you’re waiting for?” Clinton calmed down a bit.

  “Totally sure, Dad.” Hunter confirmed. “So when she says it, you’ll be the first to receive a wedding invitation.”

  “I look forward to it.” Clinton grinned. Then on the subject of Clarice, he asked, “So how’s life for you with this woman?”

  “Her name’s Clarice. She’s a periodontist. She’s half Cambodian. I think you would like her. She’s very nice. As for my life, Dad, I’m enjoying it a lot. I might not be home for a while. Gotta look after my woman.” Then he leaned closer to his father to bear hug the old man. “And just for your information, you’ll be a grandfather soon. So look forward to my baby coming in three months’ time.”

  Clinton couldn’t react fast enough as those words sank into his brain. He could only blink, and by the time he recovered, Hunter was already out the door, laughing.

  “I expect you to propose to my daughter-in-law by the end of this year, with or without her saying she loves you,” Clinton yelled. Then he smiled, ringing for Winton to come into his office immediately.

  “Winton!” he demanded once the man walked through his door. “I want you to look up where my future daughter in-law lives.”

  “Daughter-in-law, sir?” Winton asked tiredly, trying to stifle a yawn.

  “Well,” Clinton said proudly, his chest puffed out, “soon I’ll have a daughter-in-law. But for now, look up where she’s living.”

  “And who is your future daughter-in-law, sir?” Winton asked, uninterested in his boss’ personal affairs.

  “Ummm.” Clinton didn’t even know. He got quite flustered because of this. All his life he’d waited for his son to keep one girl, and now that he’d showed an interest in this girl, he hadn’t a clue as to what her last name was nor where she lived. He felt quite shameful as a father for not keeping up to date with his son’s affairs. Ahhh. Yes. He remembered what his son told him about the girl. “Her name is Clarice. I don’t know her last name, but she’s a periodontist, and she’s half Cambodian. I think I told you once before to investigate her. She’s that same one Hunter was interested in at the pre-conference ball.”

  “Oh. You mean Clarice Mason, the periodontist?” Winton asked, eyes twitching from lack of sleep.

  “That’s the one, Winton,” Clinton said. “Now back to work. And tell me when you get her address.”

  Winton only yawned, nodded, and went back out as ordered.

  After Winton left, all Clinton could do was smile. He really couldn’t wait to meet his future daughter-in-law. It was high time he paid his future daughter-in-law a visit.

  Chapter 4

  Hunter couldn’t focus on which hairstyle to choose. Now that he was here in the salon, all his attention was focused on the man next to him instead, a mug of steaming coffee at his lips.

  Hunter eyed the man up and down. Something in the man’s face looked familiar. But honest to God, where the hell did he see such a face? Surely, one as boring as this wouldn’t leave such a deep impression on his mind. Then, like a lightbulb lit above his head, he yelped, grinning in glee, remembering who this man was.

  The dude with the pink rose. The dude that had that blind date with my Clarice.

  Hunter scoffed and eyed the man up and down again with an undeniable jealousy. That man looked to be about the same age as Hunter. He looked nothing special. What did Clarice see in that dude anyway? His long brown hair was so boring, unlike Hunter’s very own blond tresses. Not to mention he wore glasses, whereas Hunter had perfect eyesight.

  Hunter scoffed again, shook his head, and turned back to look at the hairstyle magazine, but his concentration was long gone. His wrenching jealousy pushed him to get in trouble. And by God, he’d teach this dude a good lesson for hanging out with his partner back then.

  “What hairstyle are you going for?” he asked, interrupting the man, already formulating a plan for his revenge.

  “Ah!” The man dropped his gaze from the magazine and looked at him. His square-frame glasses slipped down his nose in the process. He wedged them back up and then apologized hastily. “Sorry, you startled me.”

  Hunter gave a lecherous smile and apologized. “Sorry, man. Just asking what kind of hairstyle you’re going for. I’ve been sitting here for a while, deciding on the best cut. What are you going for?”

  “I’m not sure. There are so many to choose from.” The man chuckled. “And you?”

  “I don’t know, man. Might just go for my regular.” He laid out his playing card.

  “Your regular?” The man drew his eyebrows in confusion.

  “Oh, you know, the one all the girls lust over.” He played coy, when in actual fact, his heart was brimming with excitement.

  “What hairstyle is it? Can you suggest one?” the man asked.

  There was a look of interest in the man’s eyes, and Hunter knew right then that he had the man hooked. He grinned slyly. “I say for your facial structure, you should go for the full mohawk.”

  “Mohawk?” the man squeaked, looking slightly unsure.

  Did the man just squeak? Oh, how he loved to get his hands dirty.

  “Yeah, a mohawk,” he said casually, leaning over in his chair. “You would definitely suit the mohawk style. You have the jawbones for it.”

  “You think?” the man asked, really excited. And then he spewed all his secrets to Hunter. “You see, I’m an only child. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I lived at home all my life. I’ve just graduated. I’ve been thinking about getting a haircut for ages now, just to change my look. But I just can’t muster up the courage. I don’t know anyone and have no one to consult with. Man, I’m glad I met you. I’m Darcy.”

  Hunter was left speechless. His jaw dropped to the floor. And when Darcy held out his hand for a manly handshake, all he could do was mutely nod and shake Darcy’s hand.

  “Hunter’s the name, man,” he responded once he got his act together. He cracked his neck and got back into position. “You just moved here? Where you from?”

  “Wellington. Just got here about four or five months ago.”

  “Ah, Windy Wellington,” Hunter commented sourly, remembering that one particular incident when his private jet landed in Wellington and he almost vomited all his food on the tarmac because of the turbulence. “So what’s with the new hairstyle?”

  “I’m going for this interview, and I want to look my best,” Darcy whispered like it was a secret that could only be shared with his best friend.

  “Oh!
” Hunter hid his devious smile with a fake cough. What a perfect opportunity to exact my revenge on Darcy. “What kind of interview is it?” he asked slyly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

  “It’s a magazine company. I’m really nervous. That’s why I want to make sure I look my best. Just in case I fail my interview, at least my looks might get me the job.”

  And I thought I was sly. This Darcy dude is even slyer than me, Hunter thought.

  “Magazine company, huh?” he asked, pondering. “Which one is it?

  “E Magazine.”

  “Isn’t that the most popular magazine in Australia and New Zealand?” He slapped the bench in enthusiasm.

  “Yeah.” Darcy laughed. “I really want to work there. Lots of hot chicks around, you know?” Darcy winked, like they were speaking in secret man code.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re getting at, man.” Hunter winked back, nudging Darcy’s shoulder, his own secret man code.

  And who the hell would have thought Darcy had the same mindset as he did when he was back in his old Casanova days? But no more. He had to teach this guy a lesson for hanging out with his beloved Clarice.

  “So then…” he announced, “my suggestion is the full mohawk.”

  Half an hour later, Hunter emerged from the salon with a new haircut. It was a short hairstyle, but it was perfect. And with the right amount of styling, he was sure Clarice would be eating out of his hands.

  His new archenemy-slash-friend came out with a new haircut too, and Hunter couldn’t restrain himself from laughing.

  “You think I look good in this hairstyle?” Darcy asked, still unconvinced.

  “It’s the way to go, man. Look at you. You look cool. No woman in the office could resist you.”

  “Are you sure my hair doesn’t resemble a bird’s nest?”

  “Nah. Just style it properly with the gel, and you’ll be a hit with every girl in your workplace. But one word of advice. Ditch the glasses. Wear contacts. You don’t want your glasses to fog when you’re nervous. It’s not a good look.”

  “I’ll take your advice on that. And just in case I need any more advice, let’s exchange numbers.”

  “I’m all for it, man,” Hunter said, typing his number in Darcy’s phone. And then they parted ways.

  Hunter chuckled at his mischievous behavior as soon as he got in his car. God, he was a bad boy, just what Clarice said about him. But it just couldn’t be helped. Darcy did go out with his partner and he must pay. On the other hand, he wished to God Darcy would get that job just to redeem himself. He supposed he could call the guy up in a few weeks for a drink and check up on that interview. Happy with the thought, he drove off to the supermarket for groceries.

  When Hunter said he’d call Darcy up in a few weeks’ time to check on the progress of the interview, he didn’t expect to see the man standing in front of him, selecting capsicum from the vegetable stand right now. He wanted to be alone when doing his grocery shopping. But before he could even make any attempt to escape from those square-framed glasses, Darcy already saw him and waved him over.

  “Hey, surprise seeing you here,” Darcy said, holding a red capsicum.

  “Yeah.” Hunter chuckled a dry laugh. “So what are you buying? Why are there so many capsicums in your trolley?”

  “It’s on sale. Got to get the lot while it’s still in stock.” Darcy laughed maniacally, pleased at his own sales slogan.

  “You like buying things on sale?” he asked.

  “Yeah, man. I don’t have a lot of money on hand. That’s why I have to think twice about buying anything. But when it’s sales time, they call me the Bargain Boy.”

  Hunter laughed at his new friend. Darcy the Bargain Boy. Now that is fascinating.

  “So what kind of bargain can you get me?” he asked Darcy.

  “Mmmm.” Darcy buried his face in his sales catalogue. He spent some time assessing it and then a little while later, glanced up at Hunter with a grin. “Are you in need of some detergent?”

  What kind of devil has possessed me to buy this many detergent bottles? Hunter ran his fingers through his short hair in frustration. On the countertop back at Clarice’s home were eight detergent bottles, all neatly stacked.

  It’s that devil Darcy, that’s who. Did the man think of giving him a payback since he conned him into getting that mohawk? It was highly unlikely, but he couldn’t change the fact that he did buy all those detergent bottles of his own accord.

  Hunter shook his head and recounted back to when they were in the shop.

  “Buy two and get the third one free or buy one and get the second half price. Which do we go for?” Darcy had asked.

  “I don’t know. If I want something, I just buy it. I don’t really think about the price.”

  “Tsk.” Darcy clicked his tongue at him in disapproval. “You should only buy things when it’s on sale. Think of all the money you can save. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “I have a partner and we’re having a baby soon,” he said proudly, his chest thrust out.

  “Congratulations, man. All the better for getting detergent. My cousin has three kids and she goes through detergent like water. The more the merrier, I say,” Darcy said, stacking the many detergents in his trolley.

  And that was how the story unfolded.

  Hunter’s mind blinked back to the present. He glanced at the time. It was high time he started cooking. Clarice would be home soon. Putting all the groceries away, he started on his one true job, his Cambodian fried rice.

  Hunter had never done one before, but surely it couldn’t be that hard. He got out his new secret cookbook. He started reading the instructions and then chuckled to himself.

  “Easy.” He smirked, feeling confident of his ability to dish out that fried rice. Only a mere male could make this simple colorful dish into a black slop.

  Chuckling at himself again, he followed the instructions. He cracked the eggs, dumped the mixed vegetables, threw the onion, and tossed the fried garlic into the wok. It crackled and spit, just as it said in the book, but he didn’t anticipate some of the hot oil spitting on his skin too.

  “Shit!” he cursed, jumping back a mile to dodge the grease. And when a few more droplets managed to attack him, he cursed, turned off the stove, and ran to the sink, dipping his hands under the cold running water to appease his burnt skin.

  The hell! How did cooking become so much of a chore? It was like sculpturing a model with clay. Not that he hadn’t done that before. That sculpture was a complete disaster. This was also a disaster. And he took back his word. He was a mere male through and through, because when he was done, what was supposed to be the most amazing dish in the whole century turned out to be nothing but black slop.

  This doesn’t look like healthy Cambodian fried rice. Hell, nothing in the wok resembles the picture of the traditional fried rice in the book. The fried beef in the wok had turned all charcoal black. And the rice was so soggy in soy sauce it looked like black mud swirled with charcoal beef.

  Jesus! This is frustrating. But seriously, how hard can it be to cook Cambodian fried rice?

  Hunter thwacked the tea towel against the kitchen bench. It made a thudding sound, but at least that was enough to rid himself of the welling frustration radiating from his chest. He tossed the beautiful disaster of their meal into the bin and tried it again. For a split second, he felt bad for wasting food, since there were people in Cambodia who would be starving right now, but he obviously couldn’t serve Clarice this poisonous food. She might get sick, not to mention their baby might be at risk too.

  Putting a clean wok on the stove, Hunter started fresh, determined to prove to Clarice he was the househusband made for Clarice.

  Again went the eggs, mixed vegetables, and all the other ingredients, but this time, he made sure he stood at least one meter away. He was glad he wore his bathrobe, shower cap, and eye goggles too. Otherwise, his fresh scent and new hairstyle would be ruined with the smell of garlic. Not to mention that
hot spitting oil.

  Hunter chuckled at his smart move. And just then, the hot oil made a spit at him again. He escaped just in time.

  “You’re not getting me this time,” he yelled at the wok, dishing the ingredients around in the wok with vigorous force. “I’m wearing goggles, so don’t even attempt—”

  Hunter didn’t get to finish his sentence when the hot oil surprised him with another spit. With his flexible agility, he escaped in time. “Ha! You lose!”

  Hunter knew he looked stupid in this outfit, dodging left and right to escape the spit from the wok and especially talking to his food, but it wasn’t like Clarice would see him in this state anyway. She was away at work. He had a good hour up his sleeve to do as he pleased.

  But, man, was he sweating like a pig underneath that bathrobe. It was winter in New Zealand, so no shop sold summer robes. He had to resort to buying the thick winter one instead. Darcy had followed him and asked why he was buying a bathrobe, since a towel would do. Hunter didn’t want to tell Darcy this was his plan for not soiling his clothing when cooking.

  After more dodging, throwing more vegetables, and pouring soy sauce into the wok, Hunter completed the dish. He removed the goggles to rest on top of his head and stared at his dish.

  NOT AGAIN!

  Suddenly, he felt a touch on his arm. He was so startled by that touch that his soul almost jumped to heaven.

  “What in the Jack and the beanstalk?” he shouted, swirling his head to meet the intruder.

  Turning around, he came face to face with Clarice.

  “Baby! You’re here already,” he exclaimed in surprise. Had an hour passed by that quickly?

  Clarice nodded. “Were you cooking?” she asked, trying to peek over Hunter’s side to see the dish.

  Hunter blocked her way, preventing her from looking at the beautiful disaster of their dinner.

  “Yeah,” he said sourly, disappointed in his task of mastering cooking for Clarice.

  “You look nice,” Clarice teased, eyeing Hunter up and down, trying to cheer him up when he looked upset.