Page 2 of The Puck Stops Here

Gotcha!

Weaving like a bat-out-of-hell carry-on case losing its wheels, Astrid made a run for it. And all was going swimmingly until a waitress appeared in her path with what looked like a tray of chemistry experiments topped with candyfloss.Holy shiiiiitttttttt.Like a movie in slow-mo, Astrid took a giant leap for mankind – aka her beloved aviator jacket – and flew straight into the back of the chair she’d been aiming for. Crotch first!

‘Fuckity-fuck!’ she swore at the ground, face screwed up, eyes squeezed shut. When she eased them open it was to find three pairs of hands gripping the other chairs, the same pink leaflet scrunched in each.

She swiped her riotous mane out of her eyes and glanced around at her would-be table competition.

A sophisticated blonde with grey eyes as sharp as her clothes.

Another blonde, blue-eyed, softer in every way.

And an edgy-looking redhead, hazel eyes as electric as her hair.

Theyallwanted this table. Andbad.

‘If none of you are with anyone else,’ the redhead said, ‘we could share?’

Astrid was about to say, ‘Thank fuck for that,’ but she’d dropped the F-bomb twice already and she wasn’t Hugh Grant enough to say it a third. Not among strangers at any rate.

Especially those close to her own twenty-six years and unlikely to understand the wholeFour Weddings and a Funeraladdiction. Her mother had started it, nurtured it over a gazillion rewatches, and now she couldn’t shake it. Much like the PMDD, though theFWAAFhand-me-down brought giggles not gloom.

‘I’m game.’ Astrid threw down her bag and case. Coats were surrendered. Introductions were made.

The sophisticated blonde, Bella, was a posh New Yorker, a socialite through and through. Astrid’s gran,theLady Ashford, would totally dig her.

The doe-eyed blonde, Sienna, was from small-town Massachusetts.

And Paige, the redhead, was a fellow Brit.

‘What can I getcha?’

Astrid glanced up at the waitress who’d appeared as if on cue and gazed longingly at the brightly lit bar with all the alcoholic beverages and all the sugary carbs… It was ten in the morning, but this was an airport. Normal rules didn’t apply, right?

‘Would you think me a terrible lush if I got a glass of prosecco?’ Paige asked.

Astrid grinned. The redhead was her kind of woman.

‘Oh God no.’ Sienna heaved a sigh of relief. ‘I hate flying and waiting around in airports even more. Let’s get a bottle. I’ll help you.’

Turned out the soft blonde was Astrid’s kind of woman too.

‘I’ll have a glass,’ Bella chimed in.

Make that both blondes.

Astrid glanced at the wall of clocks mounted above the bar, each displaying times from different capital cities around the world. ‘It’s five o’clock in Berlin.’ She grinned at the waitress. ‘Make it four.’

Because Astrid was settling in for the ride… work could wait a while.

* * *

Two bottles and two hours later…

Yup, that’s right, two on both counts!

Funny how bubbles and bavardage could easily make one forget they were supposed to be doing a spot of typey-typey on the tappy-tappy thing still stowed away between one’s feet.

But Astrid was too busy scrolling through Paige’s business account on Insta, her friend’s Virtual Assistant biz was crazy impressive. And entirely Paige’s own doing too. ‘I can’t believe you have your own VA business. That’s awesome.’

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