Chapter 8
Chapter 8
I SPENT THE NEXT week in Parker Bliss Mode, now officially my favorite brain setting, the one I hoped would stick around for the rest of my life. And it really was spectacular. We talked and kissed, strolled through the park, kissed, ate, and kissed, and kissed some more. It was pure, unadulterated, dating nirvana.
By the time my interview for the Regional Sales Manager’s job rolled around, I felt completely ready. I had been blessed by Lady Luck: how could I not get this job, the icing on my already sizeable cake?
I collected my compendium from my desk and headed out the door and up the flight of stairs to the twelfth floor, trying to steady my nerves with each step. At the top, I pulled the stairwell door open and came face to face with none other than “Poop Boy” himself, Will Jordan.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dunny Dunhill.”
I nodded at him, my mouth terse. “Hello, ‘Poop Boy’.”
He chuckled. “What are you doing up here on the exec level? Been a naughty girl, have we?”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I have an appointment, actually.” My air was defiant. And what was it with this “naughty” rhetoric? Couldn’t he think of anything new, for crying out loud?
He raised his eyebrows. “An appointment, huh? Intriguing.” He tapped his fingers on his chin.
“Not really. Now, if you wouldn’t mind?” I gestured at the door he was currently blocking.
He stood back for me and bowed. “Of course, Duchess Dunny. I am, as always, your most humble servant.”
I rolled my eyes. I wish .
I approached Rottweiler slash Spoodle Brian’s desk. “Morning, Brian.” I smiled at him when he looked up from his computer.
“Cassie. What, no treat for me today?”
Totally thrown, I bumbled, “I . . . err, no. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I hardly need it.” He patted his protruding belly.
He was totally correct, but I wasn’t about to say anything about it. “Shall I just wait here? I’ve got an appointment to see Laura at ten.”
He held his finger up, telling me to wait. He stood up and knocked on her door, and I watched as he poked his head through a crack. A moment later, he turned to me and told me to go in.
I took a deep breath and walked through the door. I was met by Laura and Hugo from Human Resources, both sitting on those plush leather sofas I covet, notepads on their knees. They both stood and greeted me with handshakes.
We took our seats, and the interview began. And I nailed it. I was completely prepared for everything they threw at me. They complimented me on my successes, including the recent Nettco win, talked about my leadership potential, and even laughed at my jokes.
Afterwards, I sailed down the stairs, my head filled with the interview and the possibilities it offered, back to my desk in the sales department.
“How did it go?” Marissa asked eagerly, almost before my butt hit the seat.
I grinned at her. “It went well. Really well.”
She perched her aerobicized butt on the edge of my desk. “Oh, I really hope you get it. Then, I can get your job!”
“That would be so great!” I had an image of Marissa and me working together, her my star Account Director, me her gracious and magnanimous boss.
“When do you find out?”
“They told me they’re putting their short list together over the next couple of weeks. I’ll know if I’m on that list soon. Oh, I hope I am.”
Marissa brushed my momentary doubt aside with her hand. “You will be. No worries.”
I smiled at her as my excitement rose once more. Marissa’s confidence was impressive. She was one of those people whose self-belief was unshakeable, who always believed things would work out, despite having a sizeable dollop of cynicism thrown into the mix.
“Now, are we going in your car on Tuesday to Napier or do you want me to drive?”
I felt a sudden stiffness in my neck. The sales team retreat. I’d forgotten all about it in the wake of everything that had been happening with Parker and at work. We did it annually at the end of the financial year. Kind of like a reset for the upcoming twelve months. This year, Richard had arranged for the sales team to spend a few days in Napier, a city in the beautiful wine-growing region of Hawke’s Bay. The idea was that we would take some time out to talk about our sales strategies, how to improve the team, and to have some much-needed fun.
“I’m happy to drive.”
Marissa grinned. “Road trip!”
I shook my head. “You’re funny. It won’t be the same without Paige, though.”
“It’d be great if she could come. We’ll have to get her to change her career to sales.”
I smiled. “Just so she can go on the retreat?”
“Exactly. Then, she won’t have to miss out on anything. Have you told Parker?”
“That Paige is not in sales?” I asked, a cheeky grin on my face. “Yeah, I told him I had to go away. We’re seeing each other once I get back.”
“So?” Marissa lead, her eyes sparkling.
“So, what?”
“Have you done it yet?”
If I’d been drinking coffee, I would have choked on it. I felt my face warm. My eyes darted around the room. No one appeared to be listening in. “We, ah . . . I think that will happen after the Napier trip.”
Marissa smirked at me. “Wow. Big night.”
I smiled back at her as my tummy did a flip—out of excitement and nerves. “Yeah.”
“And?” She raised her eyebrows at me.
“And what?”
“Have either of you dropped the L-word yet?”
“No,” I replied in a quiet voice as Marissa leaned down to my level. “It’s too soon.”
She scoffed. “Too soon for your plan ?”
I shrugged. Of course, she’d hit the nail on the head. In my plan we didn’t say “I love you” until we’d been on a minimum of twelve dates. Any sooner and it may just be lust talking, any later and I might be wasting my time.
You see, my life plan worked on both a macro level and a micro level. My macro plan was career, home, marriage, kids. My micro plan mapped out when each step to achieve these larger goals took place. In the romance stakes, Date Twelve was “I love you,” and meeting one another’s parents needed to happen by Date Twenty at the very latest. And a marriage proposal? Well, I could be a little more flexible with that, although it needed to happen before a full year of dating was done. Because otherwise? Well, let’s just say I was on a tight schedule with this.
Our eleventh date was just around the corner.
“The date after next is the big twelfth date. It’ll happen by then.” I glanced at the ginger cat, sitting next to my computer screen. A smile teased at the edges of my mouth as a sense of peacefulness pervaded my chest. “I have no doubt.”
Marissa smiled back at me. “Look at you. You’re already in love.”
I blushed. “Maybe.” I thought about all the things we’d done together, about the kind of man Parker was, about how he seemed to feel about me. He was as close as anyone I had ever met to being my perfect man. Was I in love? Well, if I wasn’t, I was very well on my way to being so.
Marissa and I drove through the entrance gates of the beautiful old Monastery Estate Winery late on Tuesday afternoon. We’d had the classic road trip experience: eating junk food, singing along to our favorite playlists, talking about anything and everything, and stopping to shop whenever the whim took us. So maybe it was more of a girls’ classic road trip experience. Girl road trip heaven, even. Just the way we liked it.
“I need to be your maid of honor,” Marissa insisted as she searched her phone for our next pop-tastic music compilation.
“Well, I have to think of Paige, too. I know, how about I make you both maid of honor?”
Marissa laughed. “I’m not sure it works that way.”
“It can if I want it to. It’s my wedding, you know.” Or it would be, once Parker had asked me to marry him. Which I knew was on the cards. We had been on our eleventh date on Saturday night, and he had told me I was unlike any other girl he’d dated and that he really, really liked me (his words). With the all-important twelfth date coming up on Friday night, I knew that was about to turn into the big L-word.
“Okay. That’s fine with me, but you have to let me choose the bridesmaids dresses. I don’t want Paige and her kooky hippy ideas anywhere near it.”
I laughed. “Sure. Ooh, look. There’s that place we stopped at last time we were at Lake Taupo. I call a shopping stop!” I pulled the car over and parked. And so began the third shopping expedition of our road trip. So far, the trip to Napier had taken twice as long as it ought.
As I said, it was girl road trip heaven.
An hour and a half later, we drove through the suburban streets of the city of Napier, looking for the winery. Marissa looked out the window. “The sat nav is saying it’s two blocks away, but this looks too much like suburban paradise for there to be a winery here.”
Sure enough, two blocks later the suburb came to an end and we were faced with a magnificent view. We looked up a hill to a large, white colonial building, nestled amongst established gardens, looking out over the valley stretching out to the bay below.
“Wow, this place is amazing.” I drove up the long, tree-lined driveway. I took in row upon row of vines, stretching as far as the eye could see across the flat and up over the rolling hills.
Marissa read from her brochure. “It says here it was built by the Catholic Church in the eighteen hundreds for European monks to grow grapes to make wine.” She looked back up. “This place is magical.”
The dappled sunlight danced on the windscreen as we wound our way up to the main building, bright in the famous Hawke’s Bay sun. I pulled the car into an angled parking spot and peeked out the window at the impressive colonial building before us. “I can’t believe we get to stay in this amazing house. It’s how old?”
“Very. Like, older than your nana.” Marissa opened her door, climbed out of the car, and stretched. “That’s Will’s car. He must have beaten us here.”
I closed the car door and put my sunglasses on top of my head. “Marissa, I think a team of elderly grandmothers on a Sunday drive would have beaten us, we took so long getting here.”
She shrugged, playing with her newly acquired bead necklace slung around her neck. “Important things to do.”
“Welcome, ladies.” Will, dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, walked out the entrance to the grand old building. Accompanying him was Sally Saunders, another member of our team, wearing a pretty sundress and floppy hat.
“Hey, guys,” Marissa said. “Not a bad spot here.”
“I know, right?” Sally replied. “You should go and have a look at the view from the restaurant through there. It’s incredible.”
Will sidled up to me. “Glad to see you made it, Dunny. We were worried about you.”
Sure you were. I shrugged. “We had things to do.”
He peered in the window of the backseat of my car, taking in the shopping bags and discarded junk food wrappers. “I can see that. Where did you go?”
“Places.” I deflected his line of questioning. “I can’t wait to see our rooms. This house is amazing.”
“Actually, we’re staying in the old monks’ quarters out the back.” He nodded his head toward the hill behind us.
I raised my eyebrows. “Monks’ quarters? Are you serious?”
“Yup. It’s not bad. A bit like a boarding school, I guess, but nice enough.”
“Shared bathrooms. You need to tell her that part, Will,” Sally added.
“Oh.” My heart sank. I had been swept away by the romance of staying in the main house, imagining myself taking tea on the terrace, playing croquet on the lawn. Now I get a dormitory where monks, who weren’t exactly known for their lavish luxury, used to sleep.
“Don’t worry, Dunny.” Will punched me playfully on the arm. “We each get our own room, it’s not like we’re bunking or anything. And our meeting room is in the main house. We’re having dinner there tomorrow night.”
“What are we doing tonight?” Marissa asked.
Will wrapped one arm around my shoulder and one around Marissa’s. “Tonight, my minions, we’re going bowling.”
I grinned, pushing the image of us as little yellow people in dungarees from my mind. I gave Marissa a sideways smile. Bowling? Oh, yes.
Bring. It. On.
“I need three people to volunteer for team captains,” Will said as we were seated on the coach, transporting “his minions”— don’t get me started —to the bowling alley.
Marissa nudged me in the ribs. “Volunteer! You want to be the boss, right?”
I needed no further encouragement. I shot my hand up.
“Great, thanks, Sally and Raj. Anyone else?”
I pushed my hand as high as I could. If I’d added, “ooh, ooh!” I could have been on a school bus on a trip to a museum. Yes, I had been a bit of a nerd in school.
“No one?” Will asked.
I shot darts at Marissa. “Is he seriously doing this?” I hissed at her.
“Maybe you should stand up.”
“I’m not that short! My hand does reach above the top of the seat, you know.” With a huff, I stood up, and said with a clear voice, “I’ll do it, Will.”
“Great. Didn’t see you there. Thanks. So, we have our team leaders. Now, I’ll number you off from one to four.”
I looked around at Sally and Raj, then back at Will. “Why four?”
“You, Sally, Raj, and me.”
Silly me.
Will pointed at each of us, giving us our team number. He then proceeded to walk down the bus pointing at each and every person, giving them a number. When he was finished, he announced which number went with which leader. I hoped I had a good team but knew it wouldn’t be clear until we were off the bus.
“Oh, Cassie. You’ve so got this,” Marissa said.
Marissa was right. I had virtually grown up at the bowling alley. My dad used to take my big brother and me there every Thursday evening from when I could walk. It was my favorite time of the week: Dad Time. We’d eat junk food, laugh, and bowl. Dad was the king and taught us all he knew, which was a lot.
I narrowed my eyes at Will as he took his seat at the front of the bus. Yeah, I’ve got this.
My phone beeped. My heart gave a little squeeze when I saw it was a text from Parker.
Missing you! xx
I smiled. I texted back.
Me too. Going bowling! xx
A reply came within seconds.
Lucky you.
My smile broadened. I didn’t know Parker liked to bowl. This would be another thing we could share together.
Once we all had our rented bowling shoes in hand, I sized my group up. I didn’t get Marissa, but that was okay since she had bowled precisely twice in her life and had taken the prize for Worst Player with her persistent gutter balls in our last match. She wasn’t what could be called “a natural.” I did get Big Jake, however, one of The Cavemen, as we referred to the gang of back-slapping, loud, trash-talking men from the sales team. And he was good. Really good. He and I had been on the same side a couple of years back when we beat Richard’s team in the final. It was an epic victory. Would history repeat itself tonight? I certainly hoped so.
The bowling began. My team was good. We all either had strikes or spares nearly every bowl. I congratulated them all. We were on fire!
I eyed the other teams’ scores. We were ahead of all but one of them: Will’s team. I ground my teeth. He was not going to beat me and my team.
It was down to Big Jake’s last bowl. He’d managed so many strikes and spares, no one dared doubt his ability. And then he bowled his worst bowl of the night, hitting only the four middle pins, creating a huge gulf, right down the middle. Big Jake knitted his brows together. He was determined, he was focused, but we all knew that was one tricky bowl.
“You can do this!” Prue shouted, followed by “Yeah!” and “Come on!” from the rest of our team.
I watched as Big Jake’s shoulders tightened. He was feeling the pressure. He lifted his ball. He eyed his target, appeared to glance to the heavens—with the scores this close, we needed all the help we could get—looked back at the pins, and then bowled that ball.
We all watched in agonizing silence as it scuttled down toward its target. It smashed through the pins, making that satisfying clank, only hitting the three pins on the left, missing the ones on the right entirely.
Our team’s collective hearts sank.
Big Jake slunk back to us and plunked his large frame down on his seat.
“Don’t worry about it,” Prue said kindly as she patted his back.
“Yeah, man. It could have happened to any of us,” Tim reassured. “It’s up to you now, Cassie.”
I took a deep breath. Will’s team had finished, posting a final score of 198. That meant I needed to get a strike to win. Nothing less would cut it.
“Come on, Dunny. Let’s see what you’ve got,” Will goaded from across the tables.
I glared at him. He had that self-satisfied smile on his Poldark face I so dearly wanted to wipe off. With a piece of sandpaper. Or a chainsaw.
I raised my chin. It felt so important to win this, like my future depended on it. Win this and I would win the job. And then I could wipe that irritating grin off his face once and for all.
I collected my ball from the rack, slotting my clammy fingers into the holes. I eyed my target. Ten pins, waiting for this ball to knock them over.
“You’ve got this!”
“Come on, Cassie!”
I stepped up to the edge of the alley, eyeing my target. I could hear my dad’s voice in my head, telling me to stay calm, block out any distractions, and bowl like I meant it. I took a deep breath, swung the ball behind me, and bowled. It shot down the alley. I could barely look, my heartbeat loud in my ears. Within seconds, it hit the pins with a PAWOCK! sending them clanking in all directions. I held my breath as the last pin on the right wobbled precariously.
Drop! Drop! Drop!
It wobbled from side to side, as if on a string commandeered from above. Eventually, painstakingly, it fell to the floor.
We had won.
My teammates whooped, erupting from their seats and crowding around me, congratulating me and themselves on our epic win. Big Jake lifted me up onto his shoulder as though I were a bag of feathers. Despite potential vertigo—you don’t get the nickname “Big Jake” without being one large, tall guy—I beamed at my teammates below. I was on top of the world, not just Big Jake’s shoulder.
“You were lucky, Dunny,” Will said, once I was back on terra firma .
I squared my shoulders. “Luck had nothing to do with it, actually. It was skill, pure and simple.”
He smiled. “Well, you’ve certainly got that.” He turned to the rest of my team. “All right, Team Dunny. Victory drinks are on me at the bar!”
Everyone cheered and drifted over to the bowling alley bar to claim their prize.
“Where did you learn to bowl like that?” Will asked as I sat, slipping my bowling shoes off.
“I used to bowl as a kid.”
“Me, too! My dad used to take us most weeks. My brother and I got pretty competitive.”
Knowing Will as I did, I commented, “I bet you did.” I stood up, bowling shoes in hand.
He punched me playfully on the arm. “Well, it takes one to know one. You’re pretty good. Remind me to organize a different activity next team retreat.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You think you’ve got this job in the bag, don’t you?”
“Maybe. Why, have you applied?”
I pursed my lips. “What’s it to you?”
He shrugged. “Just asking, that’s all. It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
My hackles rose. Was he really writing off my chances of getting the job? “Actually, Will. I did apply. And I think I have a pretty good chance of getting it.”
He nodded, studying my face. “Game on?” He raised his eyebrows as he extended his hand.
I crossed my arms, ignoring it. I nodded, my jaw set. “Game on.”