Read Miss Impractical Pants Online
Authors: Katie Thayne
Katie
PS: Remember to call the Peninsula Hotel and confirm the Peninsula Suite. The hotel also has a Rolls-Royce Phantom on hold. You need to tell them whether you want it with or without a driver. I suggest taking the driver. I also suggest having the Waverlys do the following:
Hike the Dragon’s Back trail to Shek O Beach. Do this on a weekday—it won’t be as busy. (Don’t worry about sending them on a hike. I promise it’s just that touch of adventure Lady W is hoping for.)
Temple of Ten Thousand Buddhas (a long walk, but worth it)
Hong Kong Museum of History. Plan on a full day (Lady W will want plenty of time to experience the Hong Kong she remembers from her father’s stories).
Victoria Peak. Do this on a clear day and in the late afternoon so they can watch the scenery change with the dusk.
Recommend they take early morning walks to the parks. They’ll see people doing their morning exercise—various types of Tai Chi, including ladies with large red-cloth fans and people with swords (very old-school Hong Kong-y).
I hope that helps! Good luck!
***
Lottie dug into her purse, trying to locate her ringing mobile. “Hello Charles, darling!” she greeted her husband enthusiastically. “You’ll never guess where I am!” A look of disappointment flitted across her face. “Huh, that was quite a good guess.” The line moved swiftly, and Lottie’s expression seemed to become increasingly bothered. When they were next, she covered the mouthpiece of the phone with her tiny manicured fingers, and instructed Katie, “See if there’s still room on the flight. I’ll catch up with you at the gate.”
Katie gave her a confused glance.
“You sure?”
Lottie nodded and waved a few people ahead of her while she finished the call.
After a brief exchange with the ticket agent, Katie turned and gave her the “thumbs up” sign.
As soon as Katie was lost amid the sea of travelers, Lucas approached his mother.
“Hiya.”
“Charles, I’m going to have to call you back.” Lottie disconnected the call and dropped the phone back in her purse. “Ooohh, you’re a cheeky monkey!” she chided, smacking his arm. “I suppose this was your doing, having your father bribe me with a shopping spree at Harrods and
first-class seats if I postpone me travels
a day?”
He didn’t try to hide his smirk. “I need to talk to Katie.”
“It’s too late, she’s already through the gate—you can’t stop her.”
His eyes flashed with determination.
“And I’ll run you through like a shish kabob if you try.”
“Then I’ll go with her.”
“But you’ve not one thing packed!”
His shrug was indifferent.
Her eyes sparked as her lips spread into a thin smile. She ducked under the ropes and exchanged places with Lucas. “Why are you chasing after her?”
He hesitated. “I don’t know. Lots of reasons, I suppose…Uncle Avery told me to look after her.”
Lottie narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “That’s the reason then, is it?” she said flatly, unconvinced.
Lucas shifted on his feet. “I guess it’s more than that. Olivia got me thinking—“
“Bloody hell, this ought to be interesting.”
Lucas ignored his mother’s quip. “Olivia was right about one thing: Katie is the strongest link we have to Uncle Avery—she’s the closest thing to a cousin I have.”
Lottie began to argue, but Lucas, taking a guess at her thoughts, cut her off. “Andrew doesn’t count—he’s no more a blood relative than Katie—and he’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me.”
She sighed impatiently. “That’s your only reason then?”
Lucas shrugged again, and Lottie zeroed in on him with her omniscient mother stare. He studied the toe of his shoe for a long moment,
then
spoke to the floor. “I guess I’m also being selfish. I enjoy her company. She makes life fun—even when it’s not. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course, Chicken, I know what you mean.” Her face beamed with hopefulness. “I support you in everything you’ve said, except for one thing,” her voice took on a hard note. “Katie is no closer to being your cousin than I am to being a Pussycat Doll.”
He snapped his head up to meet her eyes,
then
shuddered. “Mum, please, the visual is burning my brain.”
She donned her mischievous grin. “Oh, all right then, but unless you want another one,” she said,
gyrating
her hips, “you’ll stop calling that girl your cousin.”
Lucas shook his head. “Let me get this straight—you call her your niece, but I’m not allowed to think of her as a cousin?”
“You are such a brilliant boy!” she patronized.
“Explain to me how that makes any sense.”
Lottie sighed with annoyance. “I’m allowed to think of her as family because I don’t want to shag the girl.”
Lucas’s eyes shot up at her innuendo, and much to his chagrin, his mother’s voice was not quiet. He could feel the appalled stares and the heavy judgment raining over him from those nearby.
“Mother!”
“Don’t you ‘Mother’ me!” she warned. “I’m saving you from shagging a cousin and the years of therapy that follow.”
One of these days I’m going to wake up and know where I am,
Katie reassured herself. She waited for her eyes to focus, which seemed to take extra long on account of the dull throb at her temple. Then she heard the sound of splashing water, rhythmic and peaceful. Soon, the moon came into view, not quite full, but still bright enough to spray light through the curtains, allowing her to make out shapes and figures around the tiny room: a small television with a rabbit-ear antenna, a kitchenette, a deep armchair, and a two-person table.
She heard a man’s deep, ragged breathing next to her and froze. Then she spotted Lucas sitting on the floor with his head lolled against the bed. His hand was clasped tightly around hers.
“Hey,” she whispered, gently nudging his arm. “What are you doing here?”
His head bolted upright. “Katie, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Where are we?”
“Croatia.”
“How did we get here—in this room? Where’s your mother?” she yawned.
“
Shhhh
.
Go back to sleep, I’ll explain in the morning.” He was on his knees now, stroking her face. She was still tired, too tired to protest, but too aware to leave him sitting on the floor. She scooted over and patted the bed. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. There’s plenty of room—I don’t mind.”
Something akin to panic flitted through his eyes. He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him.
“Don’t be gallant. You’re exhausted and I’m exhausted, and I don’t need this whole bed to myself. Now get in before you piss me off.”
Lucas laughed, though it seemed in spite of himself, and crawled in beside her, careful not to make body contact. Katie was asleep within seconds.
When she woke again, the sky was still dark, but with the light of the moon, she watched the ripples in the bay until her finger twitched, then her entire body. She couldn’t lie still any longer. Paying careful attention not to wake Lucas, she eased herself out of bed and tiptoed to the glass doors. Opening them quietly, she stepped out onto the veranda and savored a long breath. The temperature was perfect. A warm night breeze licked at her face and she had a sudden rush to feel the wind across her entire body. She shed yesterday’s clothes down to her bra and panties and stretched her limbs, enjoying every sensation.
The rhythmic lapping of the waves was like a siren call for her to dive in—also
a siren call
for her bladder. She crossed her legs and crouched into a squat—boy, she really had to go. As quickly as her legs could move without unflexing her bladder muscles, she padded back into the room and dashed toward the bathroom, sparing a look over her shoulder to check that Lucas hadn’t stirred. Before she knew what was happening, something grabbed her ankle and then—WHOMP!
***
Lucas shot up in bed and looked around anxiously, panic filling up to his eyeballs. Then he caught sight of her disrobed figure sprawled face down across the floor, tangled in her backpack straps, and burst out laughing—loudly. He scrambled off the bed to kneel
beside her. His hands hovered tentatively over her bare skin, not knowing where he could touch.
“What are you doing? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay,” Katie huffed. “I’m all tangled up, I have to pee, and Bartholomew is raging furiously.”
“Bartholomew?” His eyebrows rose.
Grabbing onto his forearm, she pulled herself to a seated position. She lifted her hand to the level of her head and poked her pointer finger toward her goose egg.
Her glare challenged him to laugh. He refrained—barely.
“And your clothes?”
Even in the semidarkness, she knew he could see her turning red. She felt like Violet Beauregarde in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,
only instead of turning into a blueberry, she was morphing into a tomato.
“On the veranda.”
“Of course.”
“Would you stop teasing me and help me up!”
As soon as she was on her feet, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to the veranda.
“See how beautiful it is?” She pointed out into the bay. “Now stay here so you can’t hear me pee,” she ordered, and was gone before he had time to respond. She stole one backward glance and noticed him contemplating his palm. She wondered if he still felt their touch zinging his skin, like she did.
Yeah right!
“I’m pretty sure it wants me to go play in it,” she announced upon her return.
He turned, startled out of his reverie. “You’re going out there alone?”
She giggled, looking dramatically to either side of her to emphasize a lack of people. She had a vague awareness of her semi-nakedness, her boldness, her impulsiveness—but she couldn’t snap out of it. Was it the exhaustion?
The delirium from the pain?
The giddiness at being in a foreign country with a handsome man?
Um, okay.
“Yes, unless you’re coming with me?”
He stepped back from her, surprised—frightened, maybe—by the invitation. Then a slow, impish grin scooted across his face and he tore off his shirt, discarding all but his boxer-briefs into a heap next to Katie’s clothes.