Baby Love Me Page 6

  “Fern didn’t know Hunter was about to open the door. Fern is sorry.”

  “Jesus! Fern! Just… Shit! Sit down. I’ll get my bearings first.”

  Fern came into Hunter’s office and made herself comfortable.

  “What do you want, Fern?” Hunter asked when he came right again.

  “Fern wants to invite Hunter and Clarice on a date.” Fern beamed up with excitement.

  “What, are you going to be the third wheel, then?”

  “No!” Fern smiled cheekily. “Fern wants to catch up with Clarice.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Hunter asked his friend, who was avoiding eye contact with him. He knew Fern was very mischievous in her ways. With that expression, he knew she had something up her sleeve.

  “Well, no.” Fern finally gave out the truth, thumbs twittering together in nervousness. “Fern wants to dine out with Junior Silverton.”

  “Didn’t he take you out to lunch just a few days back?”

  “Yes, but Fern wants to go out again.”

  “Well, go ask him, then. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

  “But Junior Silverton says he’s too busy. No matter how many times Fern asks, Junior Silverton always says no. Please help Fern.” His friend begged him.

  Hunter shook his arm free and went to sit on the couch. “You know, you’re turning out to be the nagging girlfriend.”

  “Really?” Fern asked, coming to sit beside Hunter too.

  “Yep.”

  “Does Clarice not nag Hunter at all?”

  “No.”

  Come to think of it, Hunter thought, Clarice had never nagged him. Apart from bonking him on the head for his mischievous behavior sometimes, she would always refer back to his Casanova ways. Will there ever be a day when my past reputation doesn’t come back to haunt me?

  “It doesn’t matter if Fern comes off as a nagging girlfriend,” Fern said, bringing Hunter out of his reverie. “Fern likes Junior Silverton, and Fern wants to spend as much time with him. Isn’t that what people in love do? Plus, Fern wants to surprise Junior Silverton with something.”

  “What’s that? Is it some sort of anniversary or something?”

  “No, Fern wants to tell Junior Silverton she loves him.”

  Love, huh? Wouldn’t it be nice if Clarice said that to me?

  “Hunter!”

  Fern’s chirpy voice brought his mind back to the present. What was wrong with him lately? He always tended to lose his thoughts. He shook his head and glanced at his friend.

  “No problem. I’ll tell Anton. I’m seeing him in a bit anyway.”

  “Thank you. Fern will wait for Hunter’s text, then.”

  Once Fern made her departure, Hunter hurriedly went to search for his cousin, just in case Caroline came back.

  He hated to admit it, but that woman was like a parasite, one that could burrow into any crevice and take charge, like she was doing to their company now. He wasn’t looking forward to when her and her father officially joined with his family’s company.

  Strolling into his cousin’s office, again without permission, he did as Fern suggested.

  Anton was a bit skeptical at first, thinking he would be the third wheel in Hunter and Clarice’s relationship, but when Hunter mentioned Fern was invited too, his face lit up immediately.

  Hunter smiled. Now that was all sorted; he got back to work. Time flew at a fast rate. Well, that was what he thought anyway, because he soon was overcome with tiredness.

  Maybe a little nap, he thought before departing for their dinner double date tonight. He’d texted Clarice already, so they would all be meeting there. Glancing at the time, he had a good hour.

  Smiling to himself, he went to lie down on his couch and closed his eyes, not before noticing a dark figure entering his office. But he was too tired to think of anything at that moment, assuming it must be Winton again, coming to rearrange his files.

  Chapter 9

  Hunter woke up with a jolt, his heart racing with adrenaline. Something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t have time to dwell on that matter since he knew he was now running late to their date night. Clarice had called him, informing him everyone was already waiting for him at the restaurant. Hunter quickly made a dash and went straight to the restaurant

  “Baby, I’m sorry I slept.” He greeted Clarice by kissing her on the lips, then sitting himself down.

  “You should be working, Hunter, not sleeping.” She gently scolded him. “Anton, if you see your cousin sleeping again, just fire him.”

  “Clarice is right on that one,” Anton added while sipping his red wine. “I should definitely fire you for sleeping on the job.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Anton. But if you want to point the figure, then Clarice is to blame.”

  “What?” Clarice asked, aghast, staring at Hunter blankly. “What has that got to do with me?”

  “Well, for one, you made me overwork. And now I’m too tired to think straight.”

  “Me?” Clarice asked. She couldn’t believe his gall. “I made you overwork. How? Please elaborate.”

  “Well, last night, you made me work overtime. Remember our midnight snack?”

  Clarice was about to take a sip of her water when she choked. After recovering from her embarrassment, she glared at Hunter. “You’re getting it tonight, Casanova,” she warned.

  “I’ll be waiting like a good little boy, Avocado, with a bowl of whipped cream for another midnight dessert,” Hunter teased.

  Clarice almost choked on her water again once she understood Hunter’s implication. Instead, her face bloomed red.

  Why is that man always spouting out such embarrassing lines? Does he want the whole world to know our sex life?

  Food was brought out just when they were about to settle into another topic. Fern, who was feeling rather brave, chuckled and flirted with Anton the whole way through, feeding him food and wine.

  Hunter was feeling a little jealous of his cousin getting all that attention from Fern when he only got the cold shoulder from Clarice after accidently exposing their sex life. Feeling quite glum, he lightened the mood again and pleaded Clarice with the best puppy dog eyes he’d learned from Max and said, “Clarice, feed me too.”

  “You have hands and fingers. Feed yourself,” came Clarice’s curt response.

  Hunter grumbled, and stabbed his fork into the fine piece of steak, then deposited it into his mouth, chewing it without tasting the flavor. Suddenly, an idea emerged.

  “Fine, if you don’t feed me, then I’ll feed you instead.”

  And before Clarice could put in a word, he already jammed her mouth full with food.

  It was late when they got home. Clarice went up to their room, and Hunter towed right behind.

  “Come on, baby, I want my avocado dessert tonight.”

  “You’re not getting any avocado dessert tonight. Go wash up and go to sleep. I’m tired.”

  “Then untie my tie for me like a good partner should.”

  “Spoiled child. When I was young, I had to learn how to do everything myself. There was no one to tie my shoelace for me.”

  “When I was young, I—”

  “There’s no need to explain, Mr. Silver Spoon-in-the-mouth.” Clarice shook her head and undid the tie.

  Then she stopped.

  She looked up at Hunter still smiling his dazzling smile. Her hand still gripping his tie.

  “Hunter,” she spoke. “You would never lie to me, right?”

  “Never, baby.” Hunter smiled wholeheartedly, still in his own little dream world full of kisses and sex.

  “Then whose red lipstick is that on your shirt?”

  “What?” That was all it took for his lust to dissipate. “What lipstick? Where? Where?”

  “Here.” Clarice pointed it out.

  Right there near his breast pocket of his crisp white shirt was a smear of red lips.

  “Shit! Where did that come from?” Hunter furrowed his brows, then turned h
is attention to his partner.

  “That’s the answer I want to know too.”

  “I don’t know, baby. I fell asleep, and when I woke up I was in such a hurry to get to the restaurant.” Hunter said truthfully. Through clear azure eyes, he looked at Clarice, afraid the fragile trust Clarice had bestowed upon him would somehow break. “You know I love you, right?” He asked for reassurance. “And nothing in the world could change that.”

  The minutes ticked by so slowly that Hunter was afraid to even breathe. Had his dream life been shattered already just because of one little measly lipstick stain. Blast to hell, if he knew who’d done it, he’d wring their neck for sure.

  Finally, Clarice smiled. “I wouldn’t doubt you one bit, Hunter.”

  Hunter finally let go of the breath he was holding and hugged Clarice’s small form tight, too afraid to let go.

  “I really love you, Clarice,” he said into her hair.

  Clarice broke the contact and pushed him back. “Then if you really love me, go take a shower and go to bed. Take off that shirt and give it to me. I’ll put it in the laundry basket.”

  Smiling like he owned the world, Hunter swiftly undid his shirt and all but ran into the bathroom, not before stealing a quick kiss from Clarice’s lips.

  Clarice only smiled and went into the laundry room. Her lips were smiling, but her heart was wavering. She felt a cold sensation creeping up her spine.

  These days, more than ever, she felt their age gap had been playing a major part in their relationship. She was getting older, whereas Hunter was only reaching his prime. Would she wake up one day to find Hunter had stopped loving her and wanted be with someone else?

  But Hunter loved her. He promised her so. There was no way he would break her heart. Plus, she loved him. And more importantly, she trusted him.

  Shaking the negative thoughts from her mind, she discarded the shirt with the red lipstick stain into the washing machine and went back to find Hunter already asleep.

  How long was she lost in her own thoughts? Definitely long enough that now she felt the weight of the whole day’s work. She did her night routine: washing her face and brushing her teeth. Feeling more refreshed, she headed for bed.

  Tugging herself next to Hunter, she gazed at his sleeping form. He was beautiful. No woman could ever resist him, including herself and her crazy hormones. Parting his blond locks, she kissed his cheek and whispered words of love into his ear before falling peacefully asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 10

  It was a Friday. The day was dreary, with troubling clouds on the horizon. Clarice was glad she didn’t have clinic today, because the weather made one just want to stay at home and sleep. Hunter was at work so she didn’t really have anything to do except finish reading her book. Just when she got settled in, the doorbell rang. Thinking it must be the postman here delivering her new book, Falling for Sakura, by Alexia Praks, which she’d bought online, she didn’t expect to open the door and see two bulbous men standing on her front doorstep.

  Clarice had never thought about Hunter having a father, until she had that very man sitting across from her in her very own lounge. She didn’t know what she should be feeling right then. Should she be happy or afraid? Had she been too selfish that she’d forgotten the man living under the same roof as her actually had a family?

  The men were assessing her like they were assessing a little rabbit. A sense of nerves ran through her body. She took a deep breath and calmed down. She gave a smile. “Would you like some tea and cake?”

  Clinton’s eyes grew bright in an instant and he flashed a megawatt smile, whereas Winton just shook his head, his eyes opening up in alarm.

  “Yes!”

  “No!”

  They both answered in unison.

  Clarice looked from left to right at the two men, a perplexed look on her face.

  “I’ll have the cake,” Clinton announced, giving the final word.

  “No, you will not, sir,” Winton told his boss. “If Master Hunter knew about this, he wouldn’t be happy.”

  “Why, that boy isn’t even here,” Clinton whined at his secretary.

  “All the more reason you should look after your health. If Betty were here, she would have said the same thing too.”

  The two men argued back and forth, and Clarice was starting to get a headache. “Excuse me,” she interrupted their bickering. “May I ask why you can’t have cake?”

  “Master Hunter said for Mr. Clinton not to eat too many sweets. It’s not good for his health.”

  “Oh,” Clarice responded. Would it be too personal to ask? But Clarice didn’t need to ask because Winton explained the whole situation to her.

  “He is borderline diabetic, plus his cholesterol isn’t too great either, so Master Hunter makes sure he doesn’t eat too many sweets, but Mr. Clinton is always on the lookout for sweets,” Winton explained.

  Clinton wouldn’t have any of it. He gave Winton a scoff. “I told you that boy isn’t even here.” He then moved his gaze to Clarice and politely said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. So cake would be great.”

  “Sir!” Winton argued again.

  “I said I’ll be fine,” Clinton growled.

  Before both got into another argument, Clarice interrupted them again. “I’m sure a little cake and refreshment should be fine. Plus, my cakes are all healthy. They’re full of nuts and carrots.”

  “You sure know how to get a man to smile,” Clinton responded. “Yes, my dear, I’ll have some of that nuts and carrot cake, then.”

  While Clarice disappeared into the kitchen, Clinton turned to Winton, the man who accompanied him in secret to meet Clarice.

  “Don’t tell Hunter we’re here. Otherwise, he’ll get mad at me,” Clinton instructed Winton.

  “I will not, sir. Please rest assured. But I can’t guarantee about the cake, though.”

  “Are you looking at having a severance package, Winton?” Clinton threatened his secretary. “If you tell my son, I’ll arrange for the package sooner.”

  “Did I say I’d tell Master Hunter?” Winton shrank back at the blackmail. “I mean Master Anton actually.”

  “Anton as well. Don’t even mention anything to him.”

  Winton only grumbled to himself. Just as well, because at that moment, Clarice came back carrying a tray of cakes and an assortment of drinks. Winton stood up to help. And so did Clinton.

  “My dear, pregnant women shouldn’t be carrying heavy stuff like this,” Clinton said, ordering Winton to help Clarice with the tray.

  “You know I’m pregnant?” Clarice asked in surprise, then mentally thumped herself on the head. Of course Hunter’s father knew she was pregnant. Right now, she was the size of a humpback whale.

  Clinton chuckled. “You look just like Hunter’s mother when she was pregnant,” he said softly, remembering his previous wife. “She was a wee bit older than you, though, when she conceived Hunter. I worried about her because we were already in our early thirties when we had him.”

  “Sir, I’m already thirty.” Clarice laughed at Clinton’s implication.

  “Really, my dear. You’re pulling this old man’s leg.” Clinton laughed too.

  It had been a while since he’d this much fun. Guess he really missed having a young woman in his life. He really couldn’t wait for Clarice to marry his son so he could visit his daughter in-law anytime. But then again, what’s stopping him from visiting her now? Except if Hunter were to know he was visiting her behind his back, he wouldn’t be too happy.

  “Ahh, you look really beautiful this close,” Clinton commented, sipping his tea as they got settled into conversation. “My son made an excellent choice. Isn’t that right, Winton?” Clinton wedged his elbow into Winton’s stomach.

  “Yes, yes, sir.” Winton answered. “Master Hunter made a really good choice.”

  “Indeed,” Clinton nodded his head, smiling at the thought of his son marrying off with this young girl. She was everything he wanted in
a daughter-in-law. She was well refined, even the way she spoke; it showed she had good breeding.

  “So tell me a bit about yourself, my dear,” he asked Clarice.

  She should have felt uncomfortable at the interrogation from Clinton all of a sudden, but all she felt was a sense of comfort radiating from the old man. She had her fair share of being in the company of the older gentlemen, especially since her workplace required her to have this skill, so handling Clinton was a piece of cake.

  “I was born in the refugee camp in Thailand. It’s hard to identify myself sometimes,” she told him. “I always get asked where I’m from. I always reply I’m Cambodian-Kiwi, since I’m half. Dad’s Kiwi. Mum’s Khmer. So I’m not Thai as most people assume. Mum and Dad fell in love in the refugee camp and conceived me.”

  “That’s some story you got there.” Clinton agreed. Somehow he felt such a strong bond with this girl.

  After pleasantly chitchatting for a while, their conversation turned to more interesting matters.

  “So did my son talk to you yet about getting married? When will you be moving to our house?” Clinton asked.

  Clarice dropped her smile. Hunter did mention proposing before, but that was during—

  Oh dear heaven, she could feel her cheeks growing hot. This was so embarrassing. Why did Hunter have to say such things while making love to her? She could feel her body throbbing already.

  “Well, my dear? Did my rascal son talk to you yet about it?”

  Well, he did, but… this—Clarice, you stupid girl. You can’t tell Hunter’s father you talked about it during sex.

  “I like my independence,” Clarice said instead.

  The truth was Hunter did say he would propose to her, but he wanted her to say she loves him first. She did want to tell him, but there was never a good opportunity. He always asks me when we’re making love. How can I answer him in that state?

  More often than not, when sitting in a quiet spot somewhere, reflecting on life, she found she would very much liked to be called Mrs. Hunter Silverton. Wouldn’t that be nice, to be able to live with Hunter like this, with their child, growing old together? Wasn’t that what she’d wished for when she blew the candles on her thirtieth birthday?