Page 49 of Short Stack 3

“I’m always that with you.” I draw him to me, loving the feel of him in my arms. “That’s a brilliant idea.” I kiss the end of his nose. “You’re always full of surprises. I’m betting when we’re in our eighties, you will still confound me at every turn.”

“And is that good?” he whispers.

I grin at him. “Oz, it’s thebest.”

And I mean every word. I always want him to know how special he is to me. How extraordinary that this wonderful human crossed my path and was the perfect match for me. My person. My Oz.

I kiss him and then nuzzle into his hair. “Let’s go and test that mattress,” I whisper, and he starts to laugh.

“You should write the verse in cards, you sweet-tongued devil.”

I groan. “I’m never going to be allowed to forget this, am I?”

“Your display of green eye?” He sighs in a dramatic fashion. “It was so thrilling. Like a Georgette Heyer novel. If I’d left you any longer, you and Rob would probably have been getting out the duelling pistols on the lawn.”

“I think I hocked them to pay the gas bill.”

His eyes are alight with laughter. “My hero.”

“Just yours,” I say, but then he kisses me, and my words die away. They always do when I have Oz in my arms.

Freddie and Darcy

My Darcy

The Prize

This is a short story that was written for my newsletter subscribers. It’s set a few months after the events ofMy Darcy. I adore writing Freddie and Darcy, and I have other adventures planned for them.

Freddie

We stagger down the hotel corridor, gasping for breath. “Why is this man so heavy?” I groan.

Darcy huffs. “You’ve only got his feet, Fred.”

“Well, they’re heavy enough. He must have cast-iron toes.”

“I’ve got his torso and head. Do you know that the average human head weighs about eleven pounds? That’s heavier than most newborn babies.”

I smile at him affectionately. His dark hair is ruffled, and he has a flush on his cheeks from the exertion of carrying one of our passengers. “I’m glad you’re doing a PhD. It’s so useful at times like these.”

He rolls his eyes. “Lift his left foot a bit. You’re setting our balance out.” I flail a little, and we all tilt to the side. “Shit!” Darcy gasps, righting us with a hand to the wall. “Why do these thingsalwayshappen to us?”

“Let’s stop. I need a break.”

“This isn’t intermission.”

“So snippy,” I marvel. “Why are you saying things always happen to us? I think we run a very tight ship.”

“Only if that ship was the Lusitania. Have you forgotten last week when someone left the luggage hold door open on the bus, and all the suitcases fell out?”

“That could have happened to anyone. And by someone, we both know you mean me. Next time, don’t give me a blowjob when the group is in Stonehenge. You know how it muddles my brain.”

“We do seem to have more than our fair share of fuckups.”

“It happens to all the tour bus partnerships. Philip, on the Darling Buds of May tour, reversed his bus into an oast house last week. At least you’ve never donethat.”

“Thank you for your touching words of support. Linda’s tours are fine.”

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