Page 164 of Pretty Mess

“You’d have been here for a while, but just think, you could have had another super chat with Lachlan.”

“Don’t say that.” At the sound of my boss’s name, I look around as if he’s going to pop up like Candyman. When he doesn’t appear, I relax. “I think it’s better that Inevertalk to him again.”

“Surely not. How on earth will he cope without hearing your thoughts on weekend boat trippers that segued seamlessly into a charming account of you inadvertently flashing a group of women on a hen do.”

I grimace in despair. “I don’t know what happened. It was just that he was looking at me like I was going to say something intelligent.”

“That was his first mistake.”

“And I kept telling myself to stop and not say another word, but my lips weren’t listening.”

“It wasvastlyentertaining.” He smirks. “How was your paintball bonding course?”

I look around and whisper, “They should get done on the Trade Description Act.” He laughs. “I’m so glad to be back. It’s been more like three days of armed warfare, bruises, and angry words.” I wink at him. “Sounds like your sex life.”

He rolls his eyes, and I stand up and grab my messenger bag. It’s a leather one that Mac bought for me in a little shop in Paris when I got the news that I’d landed this job after finishing my master’s. I work at a very prestigious forensic accountancy firm that had been my top pick out of the ones I’d applied to. The work is hard, but I absolutely love it, and the sugar topping on the doughnut is that Julian got a job here too.

We start down the corridor.

“I bet paintballing wasn’tthatbad,” he muses.

“I’ll remind you of that when it’s your turn to bond with the executives.”

“I’d rather bond with a bunch of hyperactive giraffes. Anyway, you’re probably exaggerating, as usual. Hyperbole should be your middle name.” He pauses as he presses the button for the lift and gives me a sly look. “Instead of Wilfred.”

I gasp. “Shut your foul mouth.”

“Wesley Wilfred Archer. Why, it justrollsoff the tongue.”

“You’d better not tell Mac that. We’ve somehow got through two years without him finding out that my mother was a maniac in her naming choices.”

“I make no promises.” He smirks. “He’ll know in your marriage ceremony anyway.”

I sigh. “I keep telling you that’s never going to happen.”

“And I keep on replying that I know I’m right. He’s going to pop the question.”

“You think you’re right about everything.” I shake my head. “I think the only question he’ll be popping is why I’m covered in bruises and smell of paintball paint.”

“It doesn’t have a scent.”

I thrust my arm under his nose. “Smell my jacket.”

“I’ve had better offers.”

“You lie.”

He sniffs. “It just smells of fresh air, which is bad enough.”

“Evening, gentlemen.”

We spin around, and I swallow hard as I see our boss Lachlan and his husband, Joe. Lachlan is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He’s also rather intimidating until you see him smile at his husband. Unfortunately, that smile doesn’t extend to junior accountants who set the work kitchen on fire.

As if on cue, Lachlan says, “Going home? Has anyone notified the firefighters they can stand down for the weekend?”

I snort and go to nudge him. He raises his eyebrow, and I think better of it, but his husband just laughs. “Stop taking the piss, Lachlan. It could happen to anyone.”

“Anyone with a memory span shorter than a goldfish,” Lachlan replies, but his eyes twinkle at me. At least I hope they’re twinkling at me rather than at the thought of handing me my P45.