September Theme: Forced proximity
Winner
The Short Straw
by Fern Leigh Forbes
Pulling up the faux fur-lined hood of the oversized anorak, I twirled around, fancying that I looked totally “Antarctic Chic”. A grumpy shout stopped me mid-twirl.
‘Oy, Loz, stop buggering around, get in and sort out the cold room.’
‘Yes, Chef!’
Propping the door to the back cold room slightly open, as the entire kitchen crew knew that the temperamental latch could trap you inside, I set to work. Rotating stock and cleaning dubious stains off the icy floor was the most hated job on the roster, and I’d drawn the short straw.
Sniffing at a tub of little bocconcinis floating in salty water (fine, I decided) I grimaced as I recalled exactly why the short straw had come my way. Playing a prank on the new waiter last night, that in itself was harmless enough. Playing two pranks, questionable. But, three?
I sniffed a tray of grey-looking meatballs (nope, straight into the bin) and shook my head within the depths of the hood. Nick the new waiter had laughed once he discovered the first prank, and wow what a laugh it was. Full-bellied and infectious, bringing high colour to his olive cheeks and making his denim-blue eyes shine.
Roughly I rearranged the fruit and vegetables, a single lemon rolling away towards the door. Could I really be blamed for wanting to make Nick laugh that spectacular laugh again?
A squeaky heave of hinges as the cold room door opened more fully. A dark shape bending down, then moving towards me. Everything happening at once.
‘Hey, do you need this?’
Nick, holding out my errant citrus.
‘Wait, don’t let the door—’
The temperamental latch closing us in.
The light flicked out.
A warm hand found my chilled one and pressed the waxed fruit into it.
‘Lauren, what just happened?’
‘You locked us in, is what’s happened. Please tell me you’re just pranking me back, and someone is out there ready to let us out?’
His hand fell away and I could hear his cautious, shuffling steps. From the sound of his shouts and thumping on the insulated door, there was no co-pranker waiting out there.
‘Hey, Nick, honestly, if I’m not back at my station in five minutes then Chef will be coming to find me. Find us. So just focus on staying warm, ok?’
Scuffling sounds as he moved around.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Star jumps. I’m only in a tee shirt and shorts, I wasn’t expecting to be—wait, what did I see you wearing?’
I giggled. ‘It’s the special cold room anorak. It’s Chef’s so it’s a bit like a faux fur-lined tent on me.’
A hint of that laugh, just a chuckle really, but I could work on that.
‘Lauren?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is there room in that tent for two? Just for five minutes?’
‘As long as I’m forgiven for yesterday. Now, can I interest you in a snack? Bocconcini?’
We were both still laughing when they found us just before dinner service.
A Girl for an Earl
by Shannon Frances James
“Would you stop with that accent? It’s awful,” Philip Hazelby muttered, glaring at the uninvited occupant of his carriage.
“I don’ know wha’ you’re talkin’ abou’,” Olive replied.
Philip rolled his eyes at the pitiful attempt that sounded like a strangled mix of cockney and Scottish.
“You know, I have heard you speak before.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks reddened. “You might have said so earlier.”
He couldn’t fight his smile. “This way was more fun. Well, it was until my ears had to suffer a battering for half a day.”
A small crease formed between her brows. “It’s your fault that I’m here.”
“How is that?” He quirked a brow in her direction. “I don’t recall launching you into my carriage or tackling you to the floor.”
He rubbed the tender spot on his temple where her head had hit his.
“If you weren’t so determined to stop your brother’s wedding, I wouldn’t have had to resort to such means.”
“If you and Amelia had told the truth, I wouldn’t have to stop their wedding.”
She stiffened.
“And what exactly is that truth?”
He regarded her for a brief moment. The hint of fear evident in her voice.
It would be quite indecent to lecture her on the sins of lying and then commit it himself.
He sighed, the sound filling the silence between them.
“You are not a poor seamstress.”
She drifted closer to him, and he was certain that the movement had been an unconscious one. Still, he didn’t pull away.
“You are Olive Forley. Daughter of the late Baron Esher and Lady Esher.”
Her mouth popped open, but she recovered quickly. “Is that what you think?”
“I never forget a voice, even one as tortured as yours has been for the past few hours.”
She scowled, the sight almost making him laugh.
“What I don’t understand,” he continued, “is how you came to live in a hovel and work for London’s most esteemed modiste. A woman who would have no doubt dressed you only a year ago.”
Olive huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the seat.
Philip took the opportunity to clear his senses with a deep inhalation. She might look like a beggar in those rags, but she smelled of soap and a floral scent he couldn’t name.
It was hopeless. His carriage was filled with the delicious scent, and he’d just forced a lung-full deep into his chest.
“Does the modiste know?”
Her gaze slid across to him through narrowed eyes.
“You cannot deny it,” he said.
“You cannot prove it.”
He hesitated. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was in love with her and had been looking for her face in every woman he’d met in the past year.
Not when they had at least four more days in a carriage together. And the journey home.
He might not be happy about her interference, but he wasn’t going to abandon her in the middle of the countryside.
Trapped
by Elouise Tynan
“My God, can you move over! There’s a tyre jack trying to fuse with my spine and you’re really helping it along,” I snapped at the guy squeezed in the trunk beside me.
He let out a low grunt, lost beneath the rumble of the car engine. He shifted, his head hitting the roof, and swore.
The universe is really testing me today.
Being shoved in a trunk was an aggravating experience on a good day, but being locked in with a six-foot plus stranger made of what felt like pure muscle was a whole other kick to the crotch.
How the hell had they even fit us both in here?
I was still salty that those meatheads managed to jump me.
I’d been distracted, enjoying one of the best bagels this city had to offer. Mid-bite, explosions of ecstasy ricocheting around my body as I chewed, and the idiots had chosen that moment to snatch me off the street. Notorious contract killer, Calliope Pope, brought down by a pastrami bagel.
I’d be making them pay for it. Just as soon as I worked out how to get me and the Hulk the hell out of here.
“Quit hogging all the space!”
“What space?” his deep voice cut back in the dark. “I don’t know what secret section of this trunk you think I’m hoarding, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
I’d sliced men open for less.
Shame my favourite switchblade was buried in my boot where I didn’t have a hope in hell of reaching it right now.
The Hulk shifted, his knee coming up between my legs, and a spark of pleasure ran through me.
That was… different.
Normally men made up of ninety-percent protein shake and ten-percent personality weren’t my vibe, but this guy…
Why the hell didn’t I hate it?
It had been a while for me, sure. It was hard to attract men when you could end them with your bare hands.
I’d almost done it once by accident when I’d hooked up with an idiot (albeit, a smoking hot one) who was into breath play. He’d asked me to choke him out while we were going at it, only the sex had been so mediocre up to that point that my mind had wandered to what I was going to wear to dinner with the girls the next night. I’d pressed too hard and hadn’t noticed he was turning from a sexy, erotic red to an oxygen-thieving blue.
He’d survived though.
“This isn’t working,” Hulk grumbled, shifting closer. His large palm gripped my waist, tugging me against him.
My heart thundered in my chest, which was just plain annoying.
When our faces came together I could feel his warm breath against my skin.
“You smell like pastrami,” he murmured.
I pressed my lips together.
He inched closer, and I leaned into him.
“Lucky it’s my favourite.”
His mouth brushed mine in a delicious kiss.
Then the trunk popped, burning my retinas and blinding us both.
That Seat
by Diane Anderson
That Seat.
Laura crossed her fingers hoping the seat beside her would remain vacant. As the cabin crew locked the front entry doors she sighed with relief.
“Looks like we’re in luck buddy, no one is going to be forced to sit near us for the flight.”
Appearing from behind, a tall well-dressed man in a suit, sat in that seat. Laura nearly cried!
At take-off, trying to be as discrete as possible Laura lowered Toby so he could latch at her breast. After a successful lift-off without his ears popping, he’d had a good feed.
Toby was now bouncing on her lap. He hadn’t cried once since boarding; he was such a happy baby.
Then Laura gasped in dismay. Toby stilled; his little face turned the brightest shade of red.
She smelt the explosion before she heard it. Then, he bounced, smiling and giggling again as though there was no putrid smell wafting around them.
“Oh, Toby no. I can’t even change you, because the fasten seatbelt signs are still on.”
Laura turned to face the good-looking guy who was unfortunate enough to be seated next to them.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered red-faced. “As soon as the seatbelt light goes off, I’ll go change him.”
“No worries, these little guys need to go when they need to go! My sisters take great delight in leaving their babies with me, knowing that while in my care there will be a smelly nappy that needs changing.” he chuckled kindly.
The seatbelt light finally flashed and turned off; Tim stood so Laura could take Toby to change him.
When she returned to her seat, he had removed his suit coat and tie and was now wearing a blue pullover, the colour matching his stunning eyes, he put his arms out and spoke hopefully.
“Here I’ll hold this guy while you get yourself sorted; he looks like he’s ready to sleep.”
Relief overcame Laura.
“Um, are you sure? He does smell better. I’m Laura and this is Toby.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance Laura and Toby. I’m Tim. No one travelling with you?”
“No, it’s just us. We’re flying to London to see our only family, this one’s great grandma it will be their first meeting.”
“Oh, that’s special. I’m staying in London as well. I’ll be happy to help you on the flight over with this little fellow. Maybe we could even catch up once we’re all in London. I’ll be working there for a while.” Tim continued, “So, since I’ve already got Toby and he’s sound asleep, why don’t you rest, then you’ll be ready for him when he’s wide awake later.”
Laura smiled gratefully at Tim.
“Are you sure? My shoulders are aching! I haven’t been able to put him down much today.”
“Absolutely, and I could even massage your shoulders for you after. It’s a long flight, you might even have time to massage mine as well.” Tim smiled animatedly.
Laura glanced over. Gosh! Toby looked good on him.
Weather the Storm
By Kylie Maguire
“Guess we’ll just have to wait it out,” Braden announced as he climbed back into the cab of the Hilux. Water dripped off his hat onto his shoulders. His shirt damp from the steady rain outside.
Carly nodded.
Wait it out? For how long exactly?
The storm didn’t look like it was going to ease up anytime soon. Thunder rumbled overhead. A streak of lightning cut across the sky and lit the ground up momentarily.
Scowling she stared at the foggy front windscreen. Large rain drops splattered the glass. The wind howled outside.
“Sorry about this,” Braden offered, his voice deep. “Tyre has a puncture but I’m not changing it in this weather.”
“Of course not,” she replied. “I didn’t expect the storm to get this bad so quickly.”
“I should have,” he muttered gruffly.
Was he blaming her for being caught out in this weather? If she hadn’t of stayed in town for the weekend, they wouldn’t be stuck here now.
“Sorry you had to come and get me, if I had any idea, I would have …”
He cut her off, “Stayed? Someone would still have to get you sooner or later.”
Now she felt chastised.
Like she was an inconvenience.
“Sorry it had to be you.” She grumbled.
Braden may have been her boss but he could be so arrogant and sullen sometimes. No people skills.
A cold draught filtered through the cab and she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m fine.”
His big bulky frame leaned forward as he rummaged under the seats. He pulled out a blanket. Awkwardly Braden manoeuvred himself from the drivers’ seat to sidle up next to her.
Braden was now in the middle of the seat, taking up space. “Shuffle closer so we can stay warm.”
Shuffle closer. To him.
Swallowing she moved a fraction closer until her thigh was resting against his. Instantly the warmth of his body spread to hers. He shook out the blanket and covered them with it.
Her hand brushed against his and she jerked at the unexpected touch. Liking the feel of his touch.
This is your boss don’t forget.
Millionaire, bachelor boss.
The one who thinks you’re a pain in the rear end. City girl taking a job on a cattle station.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Heart hammering, she uttered “What?”
“Exclusive time alone with me.”
She exhaled, “I’d rather be indoors, by the fire with a hot coffee.”
His deep chuckled was unexpected, “Fine. This is what I wanted.”
“What you wanted?”
“Yes. How am I supposed to get to know you when you make sure never to be alone with me?”
“I don’t understand?”
Her skin prickled with awareness as Braden picked up her hand, his fingers lacing with hers. “I like you, that’s why.”
“Like as in you’re not going to fire me anytime soon?”
“I’ll make sure the contract won’t let you leave anytime soon.”
He dropped a kiss to her lips.
“Now do you understand?”
“Perfectly.”