Picturing Perfect (Meet the McIntyres Book 2) Page 9

  When my phone chirped, I nearly had a heart attack. Seeing it light up from across the room had me intrigued. Quickly I closed the distance and scooped it up.

  DrDolittle2.0: Merry Xmas.

  “That’s it? That’s all I get? Merry Xmas? What the fuck?” Just as I was about to lose my shit, another came through.

  DrDolittle2.0: I take it you’re having fun?

  Part of me wanted to make him wait for my reply just to punish him for torturing me. It took me way longer than it should have to realise he wasn’t torturing me. He was being polite. It was no wonder I didn’t recognise it. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy had actually been polite to me.

  ClickChick7: Yeah, a fucking barrel of laughs.

  DrDolittle2.0: What’s up?

  ClickChick7: Nothing.

  DrDolittle2.0: Oh dear. I know that tone…

  ClickChick7: Tone? How do you get tone from a text?

  DrDolittle2.0: You know what I mean. When a chick says ‘nothing’ or ‘fine,’ that’s code for hide. The apocalypse is coming.

  ClickChick7: Ha Ha. You’re a funny man.

  DrDolittle2.0: I think so.

  I didn’t want to be enjoying our banter but it was just so damn easy to get caught up in. Wherever he was, I pictured him, kicking back a beer in one hand and his phone in the other while a mischievous smirk tugged at his kissable lips. In my head, he was damn fine. All ripped and muscled in the right spots. Mmm, just imagining him had my blood heating.

  DrDolittle2.0: So, gonna tell me who pissed in your Weetbix?

  ClickChick7: My brother.

  DrDolittle2.0: What’d he do?

  ClickChick7: He’s a douche canoe.

  DrDolittle2.0: WTF is a douche canoe?

  ClickChick7: You don’t wanna know. Trust me. :P

  DrDolittle2.0: OK. I’m going with it’s not good.

  ClickChick7: Not at all.

  DrDolittle2.0: Brothers can be asses.

  ClickChick7: Sounds like you’ve got experience.

  DrDolittle2.0. I have 3.

  ClickChick7: WOW! Big family! 4 boys.

  DrDolittle2.0: And a girl.

  ClickChick7: It’s just me and the canoe.

  DrDolittle2.0: Sounds like you need a drink

  ClickChick7: Already finished the bottle. Now I’m just hanging in my hotel.

  Shit! I shouldn’t have said that. As soon as I watched the always reliable ‘delivered’ pop up, regret consumed me. I sounded like a bitchy alcoholic. Why couldn’t I just be the girl who asked how his day was? What he got for Christmas? Why did I have to be the one to declare I’d finished a bottle and was hanging out with all my friends like a loser in a hotel?

  Before my thoughts had a chance to shake me too much, my phone vibrated in my hand shocking me out of my shame.

  DrDolittle2.0: Alone?

  Okay. Not what I was expecting, but I’ll go with it. For now.

  ClickChick7: Why?

  DrDolittle2.0: Just asking.

  ClickChick7: Oh, okay. Yep on my own. Watching Die Hard.

  DrDolittle2.0: Yeah?

  ClickChick7: Best. Xmas. Movie. EVER!!! How ’bout you? Sipping Mai Tai’s by the pool???

  DrDolittle2.0: Something like that.

  DrDolittle2.0: Hey, can I ask you something?

  ClickChick7: Anything.

  DrDolittle2.0: Is it weird that I’d rather be talking to you?

  I did not see that coming. Not in a million years would I have guessed that was what he was going to ask. I thought for sure it would’ve been what colour panties was I wearing. Now wouldn’t that be an interesting answer!

  Even though it surprised me, I kinda liked that he was just so open. He had a thought and said it. Out loud. I admired the shit out of him for that. I couldn’t hold back the goofy grin. My family may not want to talk to me, but it seemed like DrDolittle2.0 definitely did! Unable to leave him hanging a second longer, I replied, giving him the same unfiltered honesty he gifted me with.

  ClickChick7: Can’t be worse than me. I’m sitting alone in a hotel room, the bottle of wine is empty, and the highlight of my day is talking to you.

  I hit send and stared at the phone.

  Nothing.

  Fucking nothing.

  Checking again, it showed that it had been delivered. Forcing myself to calm down, I got up, hung the wet towels back in the bathroom, picked up the empty chip packet and discarded chocolate wrapper and tossed them in the bin, before drawing the curtains closed.

  Unable to stand it a second longer, I looked again.

  Now it was showing as read.

  He’d read my message, but those three tiny dots, the ones that meant he was typing, were missing.

  Fuck it! If I thought I felt like shit before, then who the hell knows what this torture was. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit here and stare at my silent phone a second longer. As quick as my clumsy fingers would let me, I turned it off and tossed it in the bottom of my handbag before diving into bed and switching off the lamp. Tugging the sheet up under my chin, I closed my eyes and hoped when I opened them again, the misery of this day would be forgotten.

  I woke up feeling like ass. I don’t know if it was the sugar, the grease, the wine, or the combination that had my stomach rumbling and turning over. Deciding to skip the maple syrup bacon pancakes I’d been eyeing off last night, I dragged my tired body out of bed and got ready for the day.

  It was already unbearably hot. After I pulled on my shorts and singlet top, I slipped my feet into my sandals. I couldn’t stay here again today. There was no way in hell I could spend another twenty-four hours stuck in this room staring at the walls contemplating my navel. I’d drive myself insane. Grabbing my purse and the key card, I flipped the door hanger over, requesting housekeeping, I could not spend another night wrapped in sheets filled with sprinkles even if it was all my own fault. A minute later I was in the lobby waiting for the taxi I’d just ordered.

  Standing against the wall, I watched as happy families filed out of the elevators and out onto the street. When a group of twenty-something boys—I’d say men, but the way they were slapping each other on the back and were wearing low slung board shorts and thongs—shuffled past, I suddenly felt incredibly old. Shaking it off, I saw the taxi pull up and dashed outside before anyone tried to talk to me.

  I’d been shopping for five hours. Five very long, very exhausting hours. I looked like a pack horse carting around all the bags I’d managed to fill. I didn’t even dare to look at the wad of receipts filling my purse. I didn’t want to know. Every time I swiped my card, I felt a little better. It was a slippery slope. After the first purchase, I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. And usually I was the girl who hated shopping. Shoe shopping was, in my opinion, the greatest form of torture known to man, and should replace waterboarding immediately!

  Yet here I was. On Boxing Day, the most ridiculous day of the year to even step foot inside a shopping centre, and my credit card was melting. When I’d arrived I’d grabbed a latte and started wandering. There wasn’t anything I actually needed. Then I’d seen this amazing green dress hanging in the window, and the next thing I knew, I was staring at myself in the mirror admiring how damn good it looked on me. Twenty minutes later, I’d bought shoes to match. I was almost out the door when I spotted a pair of dark denim jeans hanging on the rack looking lonely. After bumping my way through the crowds, I wasn’t surprised to see only one pair. With my luck they’d be too small. I liked them, therefore they wouldn’t fit my fat ass. That was just how my life seemed to work. Today was different though. I grabbed them up and they were, in fact, my size. Heading back to the dressing room, I tried them on.

  “Holy shit!” I couldn’t contain my astonishment. They fit perfectly. Spinning around, I checked out my ass in the mirror. The moment I did, I knew no matter how much they cost, I was buying them. They made my ass look fantastic. They’d pay for themselves in drinks alone.

  “Are you all right in ther
e?”

  Damn it! I had hoped no one had heard me. “Fine, thank you.”

  “Well, just sing out if you need a hand.”

  “Actually…” I yanked open the change room door, hiding my bare legs behind it. “Do you happen to have any more of these jeans?”

  “In this size?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can take a look. We mightn’t have them in the dark blue, but I know I’ve seen them in black and a lighter denim with a distressed knee if you’re interested?” I could see her trying to calculate her commission as she spoke. Usually that alone would have had me high tailing it out the door empty handed. Not today. My ass looked too good in those jeans to give up so easy.

  “Sure. Bring me anything you have in that style and brand.”

  All it took was fifteen minutes and I walked out with six pairs of jeans. I had no idea when I’d wear six pairs of jeans, but that wasn’t the point. The point was I looked hot in them, and even more importantly, I felt fabulous in them.

  Needing a break, I ducked into a busy café and grabbed a table, stuffing my bags into the empty seat. After scarfing down a muffin and a juice, I was ready to brave the crowds again. This time though, I was on a mission. I was in search of a hairdresser who could fit me in. While I’d been stuffing my face, I’d been flipping through a magazine someone had abandoned on the table. When I’d seen the short, red style, I knew I wanted it. It was a part of the a whole new Carly. A part I couldn’t do without.

  I almost made it back to the hotel without having to declare myself bankrupt.

  I would have made it too, if there was a taxi in the area. Instead of waiting on the corner for one to arrive, I’d trudged down the street, making it three whole blocks before I needed to readjust the armful of bags I was hauling. That damn shoe shop was going to be the death of me. I know I only bought four pairs, but still.

  Leaning against the window, I just needed a second to cool down and get organised.

  I shouldn’t have stopped.

  My credit card was going to hate me.

  Or melt.

  Or even more embarrassing, decline.

  I just couldn’t stop my feet. Before I knew it, I was standing in the huge warehouse type store, my bags scattered around my feet basically forgotten as I pulled on the softest, sexiest and most badass looking leather jacket I’d ever seen. Tugging the collar, I adjusted the way it sat on my shoulders and zipped it up. I’d never felt so indulgent in my life. I hadn’t looked at the price tag, I didn’t want to. Nothing was going to stop me going home with this piece of pure perfection.

  “That suits you.”

  Whirling around, I came face to face with a woman who looked like she could kick my ass into the middle of next week. A tattoo peeked out the top of her collar, she had more earrings in her ears than I could count, and then there was the barbell in her eyebrow and tiny pink stone in her nose. Even though she looked intimidating, she had this soft, sweet smile that made me want to trust her.

  Dipping my head, I breathed in the new leather scent. I wanted to sleep in this jacket. Hell, I’d have sex in this jacket. Good luck to anyone trying to get it off me.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “We’ve only had it in a for the last week or so.”

  She could babble all she wanted. I just wanted to pet my new favourite thing. Sorry, Chanel bag, you just got bumped to second.

  “Did you want to try another on?”

  “No!”

  Wow! I hadn’t meant to sound like such a snappy bitch. It just happened. Probably didn’t help that I really was a bitch, but whatever.

  Instead of getting pissy at me, she just chuckled and folded her arms over her chest, almost pushing her boobs out the top of her tight black tank top.

  “Are you looking for anything else?”

  “No. I wasn’t even really looking for this but…”

  “I get it. Wanna head over to the counter?”

  I winced. I know I did. I felt every muscle in my face tense. This was going to hurt. I knew it was. Nothing that felt this incredible was ever cheap. Reluctantly, I undid the zip and slipped the jacket off, feeling naked without it. Draping it gently in her waiting hands, I watched her walk away with my jacket. Grabbing up my abandoned bags, I followed her, but not before grabbing a pair of kickass boots on my way to the register. If I was going to have a leather jacket and look tough, then I needed shoes to match. I doubted my hooker heels would work for me. Or maybe they would. Who knew what the hell guys were into these days?

  Fuck me sideways. I hated holidays. I couldn’t remember ever being this exhausted. Like bone weary tired. It was New Year’s Eve, and despite all the invites and a few pleading texts, all I really wanted to do was go home, shower, eat, and collapse on my bed, all the while hoping waking up in a new year would be the new start I was betting on.

  Christmas had been a clusterfuck. There wasn’t really any other description.

  After Mum had done her best to sabotage the whole day, Payton had ended up in tears thinking she’d broken rules I didn’t even know existed. Connor and Ryan ended up arguing over which woman Ryan was spending all his time with. Connor was adamant that Ryan should spill his secrets, and he bluntly and rudely refused. Even though I agreed with Ryan, his life was his, and if he wanted to keep it private, well then, that was his decision, I disagreed with the way Ryan confronted Connor. Some of the things said were mean and just down right bitchy.

  Dad went back to being the hollow husk of a man I recognised. All the progress he’d made, the fact he’d actually get out of bed and shower each day, had faded and now he was back to being the mean drunk I’d come to expect. It was fucking sad to watch.

  Then there was Holly. I had no idea what was going on with that girl, I just know when it came time for me to head home on Christmas night, her skinny ass was perched on my front seat while her arms clutched her overnight bag. She hadn’t left my side since.

  I wanted to ask Beau what the hell was going on. I’d already tried Connor, and he had no idea. Actually, he had less than no idea. His answer of ‘girl problems’ was completely useless. The problem was Beau was out of town. For Christmas he’d given Payton tickets to climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge and a couple of days in the City. I’d never seen someone so terrified and so excited in the same breath. The high pitched, ear-splitting squeal she’d let out made me wonder if there was more to it than we knew. I wouldn’t put it past Beau to have a few more tricks up his sleeve. I wanted to ask. I would’ve too if only I’d been able to get close enough without his shadow, Payton, overhearing.

  The biggest issue with the holidays though was work. Being the new guy sucked. I couldn’t wait ’til someone else took that title from me. Then they could be the one on call. Every. Single. Day. Not once since Christmas Eve had I been able to sleep in past six. I wasn’t someone who lounged around in bed anyway…well, not unless I had a good reason to, but I didn’t like being up at the ass crack of dawn either. I preferred to just wake up when I was ready and start my day. There was no quicker way to ruin the peace and quiet of the morning than to be woken by a panicking idiot who didn’t know their cat was pregnant or that their pet goat had been caught in the barb wire fence and shredded its legs.

  This morning wasn’t any exception. Five-fucking-twenty-seven my phone shrilled and I thumped it with my fist. It bounced and fell on the floor, but didn’t stop beeping at me. After shutting the thing up, I sat up and groaned, rubbing my eyes harder than I probably should. Trying to pry them open stung like a bitch. I needed more than a couple of hours’ sleep. I’d spent most of last night in the paddocks keeping my eye on a colicky foal while it’s pretentious owner, an uppity bitch I’d never met before and hoped never to again, got, in her own words, ‘her beauty rest.’ It was her damn horse!

  Cranky and tired, I fondled around ’til I found my phone and checked it. Another call out. This was getting ridiculous. We didn’t get this many calls usually, so why the fuck did they all d
ecide this week was the week to eat the shit they weren’t supposed to, or get into the paddocks they shouldn’t, or do something dumb and hurt themselves, I had no idea. I felt like every animal in a hundred kilometre radius had got together and made a pact to make my life as miserable as possible. At least that’s what it looked like from where I was.

  Quickly I returned the call and got to the bottom of the issue. A cow had been hit by a car. Like seriously. How the hell do you not see a cow in the middle of the road? Even if it was dark, it’s not like the cows around here are exactly tiny. And they don’t move fast. So it’s a safe bet that it didn’t just jump out in front of you. Quickly I noted down the details, pulled on some clothes, brushed my teeth, and kicked open my bedroom door.

  Surprised to find not only the light was on, but there was Holly, her hair everywhere wearing the cutest unicorn pyjamas ever. They looked like something a five-year-old should wear, not someone Holly’s age. We exchanged confused glances. Mine, because she was up and functioning. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever seen a teenager out of bed before six on their school holidays, let alone one who was willingly making coffee. Hers, I think because of the odd way I was staring at her.

  “Here you go.” She handed me a travel mug, kissed my cheek, and shuffled past me into the bathroom.

  I stood there completely dumbfounded.

  I had no idea what the hell just happened.

  I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and wait for her to emerge so we could talk. I wanted to cook her breakfast, or better still, her to cook me breakfast—after two days of her delicious omelettes I had no idea what the hell I was going to do without her—and force her to tell me what was going on. Here she was, living in my tiny cabin, sleeping on the world’s most uncomfortable couch, and she seemed fine with it. Some days she’d come with me when I’d been called out and not once had she gotten in the way. Others I’d come home to find all my washing done, dinner cooked, and Holly quietly sitting reading a book. I might not be a parent, and I might know squat about the female psyche, but I knew enough to know this wasn’t normal. When she didn’t appear straight away and I heard the water running, I knew I couldn’t wait. Grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair, I headed out.