Side Order of Soulmate (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 1

"OK, OK, calm down. What's happened?" was all Chrissy could ask before Waverly's sobs at the other end of the phone drowned out any further conversation. After a long pause, Waverly was able to tell her best friend why she was calling so late at night:

"I can't stay here any longer. They hate me. I just want to leave. There's nothing here for me," as she resumed her crying.

"You're obviously upset," Chrissy replied. "Look, don't go back to the house just yet, it'll only make the situation worse."

"Go find a bar that's still open and have a drink."

Little did Waverly know, but Chrissy's suggestion would turn out to be the best advice she would ever be given by her friend.

Waverly had been restless for some time. Her job at a UK national newspaper was going well and she had a very active social life, with emphasis on the 'very.' But, for all the buzz of London, she yearned for something, somewhere beyond. Unable to contain her wanderlust, she had decided to quit her job and go travelling. Anywhere, as long as she got to see more than office walls. She had asked her best friend Chrissy to go with her, but Chrissy had declined explaining she was happier travelling in her head than on some rickety old bus in the back of beyond.

Travelling took Waverly to the other side of the world, where she stayed longer than intended. Working at a ski resort in New Zealand, driving camper vans across deserts, crewing yachts around the Fiji Islands, her horizons and worldview had been expanded by her experiences. Three years later, with more than a few adventure stories to tell and an incredible suntan, she returned to London to take up where she had left off. Only a few months back into her old life she still hadn't settled, her itchy feet telling her she needed a new adventure. She had met someone while travelling who worked for a major airline and was loving the freedom, plus free travel, such a job offered. The idea had stuck with Waverly and as she sat gazing out of the window of her office, she couldn't help but feel this could be a good line of work for her to pursue. Her application had been successful and she was put on the waiting list to be interviewed.

There was just one tiny problem. She had applied when the airline was only employing crew for its short haul European flights, not long haul which Waverly would have preferred. All short haul crew were required to know a second European language. Waverly didn't know a second European language, but small details like that wouldn't stop her, reasoning she had got out of trickier situations while travelling. Chrissy had suggested she go stay with their mutual friend Shae on the outskirts of Paris for a few weeks to learn French, a suggestion that was batted away quickly by Waverly.

"No way, I can't stand Shae's partner Robinet. He's too Parisian for my liking."

"True," Chrissy agreed. "So, what's your plan if you're not going to go to Shae?"

"So, I've been looking at nanny jobs in France. I can work for a family, learn French and hopefully that'll be enough to get me the job."

"Right, OK. Sounds like a plan," Chrissy replied, realising this girl was on her way again. "How long will you be gone?"

"Couple of months, I'm guessing. That should give me enough time to have some fun."

Chrissy knew exactly what Waverly meant by 'have some fun.' Waverly had never been shy in meeting people. In fact, that had always been her superpower, her ability to make friends easily wherever she went. Chrissy, in contrast, was more reserved, letting Waverly do all the socialising while she sat back, watching the room gravitate towards her pretty, brunette friend with the sparkling eyes. Waverly had ended a long relationship with Charlie Hardy just before setting out on her first round of travelling. Charlie, or Champ as he was known to his friends, had been good to Waverly but their relationship had fizzled as Waverly's desire to see the world took hold. She had had a few flings while travelling, but seldom stayed in one place long enough for anything to become serious. In many ways that suited Waverly. She didn't want to be tied down to anyone, or anywhere, preferring to keep moving, keep searching for that special someone.

Within a few weeks Waverly had secured a position working for a family in a French ski resort. She was excited at the prospect of being on the move again, although a little daunted by the task which lay before her. Still, in for a penny in for a euro she thought as her plane left the ground on its way to France. The job had started well. She adjusted quickly to living in a French-only speaking household, albeit she had little idea what was being said around her on most occasions. The resort was small and pretty, set high in the French Alps, not far from the Italian border. She began lessons with a local language teacher and things seemed to be working in her favour. But, a few weeks into living with the family she realised this cosy idyll was in reality a cauldron of contempt, boiling over most evenings into explosive arguments between the husband and wife. This trickled down to the two children, whose behaviour was becoming increasingly hard for Waverly to manage. When you live in a household where people hate each other everyone suffers.

It was on one of those nights, when the husband had been drinking and the wife was screaming at him that things turned nasty. Recognising her husband was too drunk to argue, the wife had turned her anger on Waverly for supposedly leaving a window open while she had gone to get supplies. The vitriol directed at Waverly had sent her running out of the house and had been the reason she called her friend Chrissy to tell her she had had enough. She took her friend's advice, for once, finding a hotel in the village whose bar was still open. She sat down at one of the small wooden tables, her eyes still red from crying. The bar was empty, which suited Waverly as she really wasn't in the mood for conversation. A waiter took her order of a hot chocolate and a bowl of fries. Chrissy had meant for her friend to have an alcoholic drink to help her calm down, but she wasn't in the mood for getting drunk either. She just wanted something warm and comforting to take the raw edge off how lonely she was feeling.

Gazing at the menu, practising her French, she hadn't noticed the person approaching her table. It was only when a steaming mug of hot chocolate, with extra cream on top and a bowl of fries were placed in front of her that she looked up. There standing before her was the most beautiful woman Waverly had ever seen. The surprised look on Waverly's face probably gave away more than she would have liked in that moment. This tall, red-haired goddess was staring down at her, her black chef's uniform showing off her long slender legs and perfect curves. Exquisite, deep-brown eyes scanned Waverly's face in confusion, attempting to figure out why someone this pretty was out alone on a cold night with tears in her eyes. The chef spoke first, her soft French accent sending shivers down Waverly's spine:

"Ça va?" she asked, the tenderness of her voice reassuring Waverly, who could still hear the raised voices of the family she had fled ringing in her head.

Waverly, unable to get any words out in response realised she hadn't taken her eyes off this woman since coming over to her table. She also realised her mouth had fallen open. Collecting herself, she nodded managing to get a few words out. "Oui. Yes, bien. Merci. The hot chocolate looks delicious." She really needed to do a lot more work on her French.

"You are British, yes?" the gorgeous chef enquired, as she began wiping away the hot chocolate she'd accidently spilt when putting the mug down.

"Yes, British," Waverly offered, still unable to take her eyes off the woman.

"On holiday?"

"No. I'm working here to learn French. Your English is very good."

"Not good. Bad, very bad," Nicole corrected, smiling at Waverly, revealing her adorable dimples. "I learn in America from the TV. J'ai travaille, pardon. Sorry, I work in hotel in New York, but I was very lonely. Now I am here. "

"Now you are here," repeated Waverly.

"You stay. I come later?" the chef asked, "I get off one hour. We drink, yes?"

Waverly's mind suddenly conjured up images of what this woman might look like in the full throws of an orgasm. She shook her head in an attempt to remove the sexy thoughts that had just entered her mind, especially about someone she'd only just met. "My name's Waverly," she offered as the chef turned towards the kitchen.

"I'm Nicole. Nicole Haught," the woman replied, the silent 'h' making her surname sound even more sexy.

Nicole disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Waverly to her hot chocolate and her thoughts. Perhaps I'll stick around for a while longer, she contemplated, running her finger through the thick cream, before bringing it up to her lips to taste for the first time.