Louise Bentley is a feisty, wild, 'let's-go-to-Capri-for-the-weekend-yeah?' kind of girl. She spends her days working at a party-planning company. Oh, and she never wants kids. Ever.
Ben Langford is a studious, quiet, 'I'm-busy-reading' sort of man...
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This, Ben thought, had been a terrible idea.
He looked around the garden. Children sporting fairy wings chased each other, knocking over cupcakes and face paint. Vienna was balancing on a stool, whacking another child over the head with a plastic wand. Her small face was contorted with glee.
Ah, well.
At least the birthday girl was happy.
Ben cracked open a cider. He spotted Louise standing by a group of mothers, swirling around a clear liquid that he suspected was mostly vodka. Imogen Sanders was rattling on about her trip to Paris and saying the word cw-oissant in a terrible French accent. Louise caught his eye and gave him a look that very clearly said, Help me.
Ben smiled.
Waved.
He hadn't forgotten about the frozen pickles incident. This was payback.
He crouched down, gathering up the face paints. To her credit, Louise had done a great job with the party; she'd hidden little silver notes all over the back garden — in the knoll of a tree, or under a rock — and told Vienna that fairies had visited. The toddler had been so excited that she ran into the garden in her pajamas.
"It's Ben, right?" a voice asked.
Ben turned. A blond man in a camel-coloured coat held out a hand, a bottle of red wine tucked under his arm.
"Yeah."
The man smiled. "Nice to meet you, mate. I'm Sebastian."
Ben shook. "Are you a parent?"
"Oh, no." Sebastian set the wine down on the table. "No, I'm Louise's boss. Didn't she tell you I was coming?"
Well, no.
She didn't.
Ben dropped his hand. Whenever Louise had spoken about her boss Sebastian, he'd assumed that he was a pudgy, middle-aged man with a penchant for gambling. But he wasn't. Ben's grip on the face paints tightened.
"Bent—" He caught himself. "Louise didn't mention how young you are."
"Ah," Sebastian said. "But she has mentioned me?"
"Only briefly."
Sebastian's smile didn't waver. "She hasn't spoken much about you either."
Ben shrugged. "Don't see why she would mention me to you. You're her boss."
"We're friends."
"Funny," Ben said. "I don't recall the two of you hanging out much."
Sebastian stuck his hands in his coat pockets. His shoulders were relaxed, his smile pleasant. But Ben was a lawyer, and he'd learned to find signs that people were irritated. And there it was: a muscle in his jaw twitched. Ben matched his smile. Got you.
