Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) (18 page)

He opened his eyes and yelped, “Feck!” I giggled. It was exactly what Marian would say.

We dashed part of the way down the beach and crossed the final distance by walking on the driftwood. We were a little wet and a lot sandy by the time we made it back.

“What happened to you?” asked Taylor as she saw us walking up the veranda steps.

“Tide,” I answered. We hurried along to our room, intending to rinse off and change.

“The Easter egg hunt starts in half an hour!” Taylor called after us. Her cautionary voice caused Liam to give me a lascivious look. I giggled again, shaking my head no.

When we arrived back on the veranda, the Clarkson family was assembled, along with Thomas’s girlfriend, Claire Montgomery. Perched on Faith, Taylor, and Claire’s heads were beautiful bonnets. They were each holding a basket. Taylor had been serious.

“Charlotte, where’s your bonnet?” Faith Clarkson questioned crisply.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I didn’t bring one. You ladies look lovely, though,” I offered as I extended my hand to Claire, intending to introduce myself and Liam. Except Liam was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did Liam go?” I asked no one in particular.

“I have no idea. He was right behind you one moment and gone the next,” Marcus declared.

Soon we heard the clatter of shoes on the hardwood floors announcing Liam’s return. “Where’d you go?” I asked, then continued to introduce him to Claire.

“Lovely bonnet,” Liam nodded as he greeted her.

Liam quickly turned to me and pulled a hand out from behind his back. In it was a gorgeous hat box. “My mistake, actually, Ms. Clarkson,” he explained. He made quite the show of presenting me with the gift. I took the box with great trepidation.

I loved the bonnet that Liam had made earlier but wondered how the elegantly-crowned women would react to one like that. I raised my chin a notch, opening the box to gaze inside. A wide grin crossed my face as I looked up at Liam. “Thank you, Liam,” I said excitedly. Inside was a lovely Marc Jacobs creation.

I was given a moment to place it properly on my head before Mr. Clarkson declared, “Let’s get this hunt started, shall we?”

Jeff, ever ready, reviewed the rules of the hunt:

1) We hunted in couples

2) We couldn’t snatch an egg out from underneath someone’s hand

3) No arguing over who got there first

4) The eggs were to be shared evenly at the end

5) There were thirty-two eggs total

“Remember, all eggs will be found in this area only,” he said, using his hand to direct our attention to the formal garden at the entry of the house. Liam and I stifled smirks and giggles. We were looking at a quarter-acre of elaborately landscaped land. When Jeff glanced at us, there was carefully veiled humor in his eyes.

Taking us off guard, Jeff rang a small handbell. Off we went in different directions. Taylor, Marcus, and Thomas had the advantage, having done the egg hunt before. Once we found our first egg and had some idea of what we were looking for and how deliberately hidden they were, Liam got serious.

The competition was clearly between the men. Taylor, Claire, and I were pulled, dragged, boosted, and prodded, and not necessarily in the pursuit of eggs.

The hunt lasted twelve minutes. The winners were Claire and Thomas who had found thirteen eggs.

“Thirteen! That’s impossible. Clearly you knew where they were hidden. Were you out here sneaking around while Jeff hid them?” Liam accused them good-naturedly.

“Would you like a rematch?” Thomas offered.

“I would,” Liam accepted, as did Marcus. That meant that Taylor, Claire, and I would be traipsing through the shrubbery again.

“Ladies, if I might impose, would you please take your men and distract them at the back of the house while I hide the eggs again?” Jeff inquired. I was impressed that he was able to keep a straight face.

We went to the veranda where we’d had cocktails the previous afternoon and gulped down water and mimosas while we waited. The guys really had a go at each other while the rest of us were dumbfounded by their absolute competitive nature.

Round two found us standing inside the main entrance to the house, all eagerly awaiting the ringing of Jeff’s bell. With a clang, we were out the door. Liam dragged me in the direction of the hedge that ran the perimeter of the formal garden. A heavenly scent wafted off small, creamy white flowers found among the large, glossy green leaves of the shrub.

“Did you notice that Jeff smelled just like these flowers?” Liam asked.
Ah
!
That was why we were here
.

“You’re part bloodhound!” Looking at the hundreds of plants that made up the hedge, I asked, “So, what’s the strategy?”

After telling me to crawl on hands and knees to look for eggs, I looked at him like he was insane. “There’s no way I’m doing that. Next year, I’ll bring a pair of sweatpants. This year, that will be up to you!”

Already squatting to survey the possibilities, Liam ran a hand up my bare leg, which disappeared at the knee of my pale blue Armani dress. Not distracted, he said, “Sweatpants would be better.”

“I won’t take that personally,” I answered with a laugh. The man was invested.

“Okay, I’ll take the hedge. You stick close by and check out all the planters and trees as we pass them.” I had to hand it to him: he could scamper along the ground faster than I could survey pots and plants. We found four eggs in no time at all.

Minutes later, I was the keeper of the basket while Liam stood on tip-toe, dislodging egg number seven which had been nestled between the neck and shoulder of the Grecian goddess standing on a knoll, overlooking the pond.

“We’d better get cracking. No pun intended,” Liam said excitedly.

“Quick!” I spotted Marcus making a mad dash toward us. Pointing excitedly, I cried, “Look, there’s a purple egg the size of a football next to the rock pillars.”

Unfortunately, Liam looked for a soccer ball, so we lost that egg to Marcus. There was potential for conflict over the confusion, so I apologized to Liam, and we agreed to use strictly American terminology. All the negotiation was done while I tried to reach an egg on top of an arbor.

“I can’t reach it,” I squawked, straining my arm almost out of its socket as I leapt up and down trying to find something to grab a hold of.

Putting his hands on my shoulders, Liam gently pushed me aside so he could assess the situation. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he said, “Kick your shoes off and stand on my shoulders.”

Just as I kicked one Manolo off, a moment of clarity struck. “Are you freaking crazy? I’m not going to shimmy up onto your shoulders. What if I fall?”

The two other teams were approaching quickly. “Look, Charlotte, our combined height has us at a slight disadvantage. If we don’t get it now, either Taylor or Claire will. Now, go!”

I realized I still wore my bonnet as I kicked off my shoes. I gently, but quickly, pulled the hat off my head and handed it to Liam. “Careful with it,” I said. I was devising a plan when I saw Liam flick the hat to the ground. “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Stand still!”

The next thing I knew, he was squatting behind me and sticking his head between my legs. Then, with powerful legs, he pressed to his full height, carrying me upwards.

I grabbed the wooden post for stability while Liam shouted encouragement up to me. I hoisted myself to my one foot and then the other, praying the whole time I wouldn’t fall and kill myself, or embarrass myself horrendously. I looked down and saw his feet spread apart for stability.

“Okay, I’m going to hold your legs so you’re more stable. Quickly now, get that egg!” Liam coached. With his hands up my skirt, holding tight to my legs, I dared to stretch to my full height.

Giving up when they realized that Liam and I had a significant head start, Marcus and Taylor called out encouragement. I felt around and soon the ruby red egg was safely in my hands.

Once back on the ground, Liam kissed the inside of my knee as he backed out from between my legs, then gave my backside a gentle pat. Once the egg was in our basket, he gave me a huge hug, clearly flying high from our circus act.

Marcus called to us, “Now that’s what I call a trust exercise! Amazing!”

Back to the business at hand, we did a quick tally. Liam and I had ten eggs, Marcus and Taylor had eleven. Which meant there were eleven out there. Either the eggs were in Thomas and Claire’s basket or still to be found. We quickly parted ways.

“It’s going to be close,” I said to Liam.

“Have you been watching them? Is there anywhere no one’s looked yet?” Liam asked me quickly, his Irish accent growing thicker from the excitement. He was standing with his hands on his hips atop the baluster on the landing.

“Liam, get down. What will Ms. And Mr. Clarkson think?” I found myself panicking.

“It’s their bloody egg hunt. What did they expect?”

“I dunno. A little decorum, maybe!” I said. “Now get down.”

The only reason he got down or, rather, leapt down was because he’d spotted a green egg lying in the rough grass where the lawn met the meadow just beyond the knoll where the statue stood. He swept it up just as Thomas started to run toward it. Marcus slammed into Liam with some force. I found myself wondering if a smashed egg counted. As I jogged over, Marcus sat up while Liam lay on the ground, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sorry, man! Are you all right?” Marcus asked, looking at Liam’s grimacing face.

I cried a loud, “
Woo-hoo
!” when Liam looked up triumphantly, gently cradling the egg between his thumb and forefinger. Marcus called him something I couldn’t quite hear as he helped Liam to his feet. Liam walked over and placed it in our basket.

Taylor had been watching the whole thing from a little distance. I hoped we were tied with Taylor and Marcus.

It suddenly occurred to me that they had probably followed us. Certain they would hear me, I said loudly, “Liam, they’re following us. That can mean only one thing. They’ve run out of places to look! Cheaters!”

Taylor, having none of it, said, “It isn’t cheating. It’s called using your brain.”

“That’s right, you’re using our brains. Go use your own,” I trash talked her as best as I could.

Fortunately, just then, Thomas and Claire came around the knoll, surprised to find the rest of us there. We needed to find out how many eggs they had found. I snuck a peek into their deep wicker basket.

“Liam, there’s one more egg,” I whispered into his ear after double-counting their eggs.

“Be seeing you, then,” Liam said, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me away. “Where the bloody hell is the last egg?”

“Hang on, I have an idea.” Still holding his hand, I pulled him along with me as I ran toward Jeff, who sat in a bright yellow Adirondack chair in the sea of manicured green lawn, reading the paper. He’d been there the entire time we’d been racing around the property.

Looking up at me as we approached, he smiled. That was all. Liam and I searched carefully around his chair. Just as I saw the yellow egg nudged between the chair leg and Jeff’s leg, Taylor swooped in and grabbed it.

“Foul! No fair!” I called out. “You followed us again!”

“No way. I found it fair and square,” she argued.

“The rules say you can’t steal it out from under someone’s nose,” I countered.

“No! The rule is you can’t take it out of their hand,” she huffed.

We turned to look at Jeff, who was surrounded at this point by Liam, Marcus, Thomas, Claire, and the Clarksons. Jeff pulled a paper out of his pocket and read, “Rule number two states that you cannot snatch an egg out from underneath someone’s hand. Rule number three states, that there is no arguing over who got there first.”

I looked at Jeff and said very excitedly while poking my finger in all directions, “You know who was here first, and you know that we spotted the egg first.”

Jeff took me in, head to toe. There were grass stains on my feet, leaves sticking out of my hair, my clothes were rumpled, and my shoes and hat were missing. I looked like I had been wrestling. Realizing what I must look like, I burst out laughing.

“You certainly are a feisty little thing! In fairness to all, and since it is Easter, I suggest a rematch!”

There were a few minutes of arguing, but then all relinquished, not coincidentally, just after Jeff suggested another round of cocktails. This time we diverted ourselves on the beach.

Sitting on driftwood logs with legs outstretched, Taylor and I examined our limbs and clothing for wear and tear. “I wish I had pictures of you standing on Liam’s shoulders. Never in a million years would I try a stunt like that,” Taylor said as she pulled wisteria petals out of my hair.

Nearby, Marcus and Liam stood trash-talking each other good-naturedly. “I say we find twelve eggs in eight minutes,” Marcus bragged.

“Jaysus, you only found the eleven you did because you followed us. Need me to teach you anything else, son?” Liam taunted.

Thomas and Claire, shyer and less competitive, stood off to one side, laughing.

Marcus was suggesting a list of issues he could help Liam with when Jeff appeared. Liam walked over and hauled me to my battered feet. I winced just a bit but decided I’d had enough. “I think I’ll root from the sidelines. The FEHC is too much for me,” I declared.

“Feck?” Liam asked.

“The Federation of Egg Hunters Championship,” I translated.

Drawing me in to his embrace, he unabashedly patted my bum while raining kisses down on my hair and face. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to wear you out so early in the day. Put your feet up while your man goes and defends the family name!”

I laughed out loud as he strutted away, his chest puffed out ridiculously.

“Oh, thank you! Twice was more than enough,” Claire owned up.

“Yeah, for me too,” Taylor agreed.

From the sidelines, we enjoyed the sight of the men running around the back garden, a much less groomed and wilder habitat. The environment and lack of female participation added a level of testosterone not yet seen. At one point, Liam tossed his basket aside before slide-tackling Marcus as they spied an egg at the same time. Then, when he spied Thomas pilfering his eggs from the abandoned basket, a friendly round of wrestling took place between the three men.