Page 3 of Daddy Down Under

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Alright,” Oliver finally said, his tone unconvinced. “If you’re sure. Just…take care of yourself, okay? Melbourne’s a long way from home.”

I swallowed hard, touched by his concern even as I bristled at the implication that I needed looking after. “I always do, Oliver. You know that.”

“Cash,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “Make sure to take time to relax. You’ve been working nonstop for months.”

I felt a flicker of irritation, but I quickly tamped it down. Oliver meant well, but I didn’t need coddling. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. This deal could be huge for us.”

“I know, but your well-being matters too. When was the last time you did something for fun?”

The question hit closer to home than I cared to admit. I slammed my suitcase shut, locking it with more force than necessary. “I have plenty of fun,” I lied, thinking of the nameless hookups that left me feeling emptier than before.

“That’s not the fun I was talking about,” Oliver said dryly, reading my mind as usual, even over the phone.

“Well, that’s the only kind I know.”

“Go sightseeing. It’s supposed to be a gorgeous city. You can do a day tour of the Great Ocean Road and see some amazing sights. Or take a winery trip to the Yarra Valley, do a visit to the zoo to see Australian wildlife —”

“How do you know all this?”

“I did research. That’s my job.”

“You see it as your job to make a list of things I need to see in Melbourne?”

“I see it as my job to take care of you, and making a list of things for you to see in the vain hope that, for once, you’ll heed my advice is part of that.”

The kid was like a freaking dog with a juicy bone. He would not let go. “I need to finish packing and get a few hours of sleep before my flight.”

“Thomas will be there at five a.m. sharp.”

I checked the time and sighed. Great, another short night. “Can’t wait to spend twenty-four hours on a commercial airplane.”

“It’s only twenty-two since we’re not counting your layover in Sydney. And cheer up because most of the plane will be sitting cramped in economy while you’re living the rich life in first class.”

The sharp edge in his tone didn’t escape me. Few people had the ability to hold up a mirror like Oliver could. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Go get some sleep, Cash. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He ended the call before I could respond, leaving me strangely guilty. Why was he on my case to have fun anyway? Didn’t he know me better by now?

Despite my impulsive decision, this was still a business trip and nothing else. I needed a change of scenery, but my goal was to close the deal with… Shit, what was the name of the Australian company I was interested in buying? I’d better do some research to prepare myself. After all, I wasn’t sure I’d have Wi-Fi when flying commercial.

When I finally crawled into bed at two in the morning, I fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of Oliver being angry with me.

CHAPTER TWO

In which the universe gifts me a most unexpected gift, delivered straight into my lap. Goodbye, boredom.

So far,traveling to Melbourne had not miraculously cured me of my ennui—not that I had expected it to.

Here I was, sitting in the relatively comfy first-class seat of an airplane, the seat next to me empty since Oliver had purchased them both to guarantee me privacy, and all I felt was a tired bleakness. Plus an unhealthy dose of annoyance that I was forced to fly commercial.

The first leg to LA hadn’t been too bad, and I’d mostly slept on the second stretch to Sydney. But now I’d switched from a massive, comfortable plane to a much smaller one—was this what people called a puddle jumper?—where first class didn’t exist and business class was a joke. Even with the empty seat next to me, it was cramped.

On a call that morning—wait, or was it yesterday? God, my sense of time was messed up now—Oliver had assured me it would be good for me to mingle with normal people. The implication that I wasn’t normal hadn’t been lost on me, but subtlety had never been Oliver’s strong point. If he hadn’t been so damn good at his job, I would’ve fired him for being an annoying know-it-all ages ago.

After which, I’d probably have fucked the living daylights out of him because, hello, that ass. But alas, he’d somehow made himself indispensable to me, and I hated and respected him for that in equal measure.

“Prosecco, Mr. Sullivan?”

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