Flirt With Me

by Kristen Proby

  She climbs off my lap and hurries into the bathroom.

  “Way to fuck that up, Meyers,” I mutter and clean myself up. I hear the toilet flush, and then Maeve returns to the sitting area.

  “Look, you can forget it for now. We can revisit—”

  “It’s funny,” she interrupts, “because you always hear about the girls who have been planning their wedding in their heads for their whole lives. The flowers, the white dress, all the frills. My brothers all had gorgeous weddings. And it was nice, don’t get me wrong. But that was never me. I don’t need all the trappings.”

  She paces and then grins at me.

  “You know our families will insist that we still have a big party to celebrate.”

  “Of course.”

  “My dad…” She turns to me with worried eyes. “He’d want—”

  “I already talked to him,” I assure her. “He gave me his blessing without hesitation.”

  She runs at me and launches herself into my arms. “Holy shit, we’re getting married!”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She kisses me long and hard, and then giggles. “That’s a hell yes! But your fight is tomorrow night. Do you want to do it before or after?”

  “Before.” I set her on her feet. “I want to do it right now.”

  She blinks at me again. “We don’t even have rings.”

  “Then we’d better go shopping.”

  Four hours later, I cross the threshold of the suite, this time with my bride in my arms.

  “You’re so old-fashioned,” she says with a grin.

  “That’s me.” I kick the door shut with my foot and carry Maeve straight back to the bedroom. But when I toss her on the bed and get ready to join her, she laughs and puts her hand up, stopping me.

  The rock I bought her at Cartier sparkles in the sunlight.

  “Wait. Before we do anything else, we have to call our families. Especially Rachel.”

  “You’re right. Okay, Mrs. Meyers, let’s call our girl.”

  I sit next to her on the bed as Maeve FaceTimes Rachel, who answers quickly.

  “Hi, guys! Are you having fun? Is it hot there? Have you seen any famous people?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m famous people,” I remind her and watch with humor as she rolls her eyes.

  “Real famous people.”

  “You’re grounded for that.”

  Rachel laughs, knowing full well that I’m kidding.

  “How’s work?” Maeve asks.

  “It’s good. Grandda says he’s going to teach me to play chess sometime. And the baby is finally sleeping better for Izzy.”

  “Rach.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We haven’t been gone that long.”

  “What? She asked. Anyway, I have tonight off, so I’m going to Charity’s house for dinner and a movie. But I’ll be home at a decent hour.”

  I’m glad that she found a new best friend, one who’s sweet and isn’t obsessed with sex and finding beer.

  It’s been a nice change.

  “We have news,” Maeve says with a smile as she holds up her left hand.

  “Oh, my God! He asked!”

  “That’s not all.” I hold up my left hand, as well. “We went ahead and sealed the deal. Elvis performed the ceremony.”

  “Who’s Elvis?” she asks. “Never mind. Yay! I’m so excited! Please tell me we can have a big party to celebrate. I can totally help with it.”

  “We definitely need a party,” Maeve agrees.

  “Awesome.” Rach is running through the house, making me seasick. “Grams! Gramps! Dad and Maeve got married!”

  We spend the next hour on the phone, calling all of the family and telling the story over and over again. No one is mad about us eloping. I thought maybe Maggie would be sad about it because she and Maeve are so close, but she was only excited, just like the others.

  “Okay, that’s done.” I push Maeve back onto the bed after she tosses her phone aside. “Now, it’s time for me to make love to my wife.”

  “Wow, I’m your wife.” She grins and cups my face. “You’re my husband. I’d rather not call you my hubby, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Honey, you can call me whatever you want.” I nip at her bottom lip just as the room phone rings. “Damn it, will I ever get you naked?”

  “It could be something important,” she points out and crawls to the side of the bed, retrieving the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Meyers speaking.”

  She winks at me, and I grin like a loon.

  “Oh, sure. Okay, I’ll let him know. Can it wait, or—? I see. Thanks.”

  She places the phone back in its cradle and sighs.

  “They have something for you at the front desk. She said you’re supposed to come down and get it.”

  “Why can’t they just send it up?”

  Maeve shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m not psychic. She said that it’s important, and you have to go down right away.”

  “That’s weird. Since when does that even happen?”

  “Maybe it’s perishable,” Maeve suggests. “Maybe someone sent food or flowers. That’s probably it. I bet my parents—or yours—sent something over in celebration.”

  “You’re right.” I rub my hand over my face and then stare at my gorgeous bride for a minute. “You’re stunning.”

  “I’m not even in a wedding dress,” she says with a laugh. “I guess jeans and a white blouse is the new wedding wear of the season. So chic.”

  “I think you look great.” I crawl over and kiss her squarely on the mouth. “I’ll be back in five minutes. When I get here, I want you naked and ready for me.”

  “That’s not how wedding night sex works,” she informs me. “Haven’t you seen movies?”

  I laugh and walk toward the door. “I’ll see you in just a few.”

  I shut the door behind me, then walk down the hallway, whistling. My life is as good as it gets. Sexy wife, great kid, awesome home. I don’t know why I’ve been so intent on this fight. On proving something to myself and the rest of the world.

  Maybe it’s because Danny basically called me a pussy on national television.

  Of course, we all know that I’m no pussy.

  But the image of Danny with his hands on my daughter just played over and over in my head, and I know that I can’t let him get away with that.

  I turn a corner toward the elevator and am suddenly struck on the back of the head, falling to the floor.

  I’m in and out of consciousness as a blurry face stands over me, a bat in his hands.

  “Fuck you,” he growls and hits me across the shoulders, kicks me in the stomach, and then strikes my head once more.

  Everything goes black.

  Chapter 18

  ~Maeve~

  I’m married.

  I stare at the monster rock on my finger and grin.

  I didn’t expect to come to Vegas and get married pretty much the minute we landed. But what a fun surprise.

  I’m also relieved that I talked with Hunter about how I’ve been feeling. I could see in his eyes that he didn’t mean to distance himself from me. He’s just so dedicated to winning this fight, it consumed him.

  He more than made up for it.

  I hurry into the bathroom and freshen up, trying to decide what I should put on for when Hunter gets back when the phone rings again.

  “Did he forget something downstairs?” I wonder aloud.

  I hurry over to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “This is the front desk. Is this Maeve, Hunter Meyer’s companion?”

  “I’m his wife,” I reply with a frown.

  “I’m sorry to inform you, but Mr. Meyers is being tended to by the EMTs on your floor at this time.”

  I hang up, not needing to hear another word. I rush out of the room and run down the hall, coming to a halt when I see at least six men in uniform standing around Hunter.

  “What happened?” I demand and rush to them, but someone holds me ba
ck. “What happened to him?”

  “Who are you?” the one holding me asks.

  “I’m his wife. Who hurt him?”

  There’s blood. Too much blood.

  “We don’t know,” he replies. “Another guest found him here, and we were called. We’re going to take him to the hospital.”

  “Let me just grab my purse and I’ll come with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I run back to the room, grab my phone, Hunter’s phone, my purse, and shoes, and then run back to where the EMTs already have Hunter on a gurney, lying down, his neck in a brace.

  “He’s not conscious,” I’m told as I walk quickly next to him, holding his hand. “Someone beat him up pretty good.”

  “Jesus.”

  Everything moves quickly yet in slow motion at the same time. We’re rushed down the elevator and out to the waiting ambulance. Paparazzi are already waiting, their cameras up, photos snapping, but we’re quickly hidden in the ambulance. With sirens blaring, we zoom toward the hospital.

  The medics start an IV in Hunter’s arm and hook him up to other wires and monitors.

  “His pulse is strong,” someone says. “Good blood pressure.”

  “He’s going to have a hell of a concussion,” someone else says, and I feel my stomach lurch.

  The doctors warned him that he might not survive another concussion.

  Oh, God.

  I cling to Hunter’s hand and pray, with all my might, that he makes it through this. That he regains consciousness and doesn’t have any trauma from this injury.

  What did they do to him? And who?

  I have so many damn questions.

  We arrive at the hospital in minutes and are rushed through the ambulance entrance to a small room where doctors and nurses are waiting.

  “You can stay,” I’m told briskly as they immediately get to work evaluating him, “but I need you to stand back out of the way.”

  I nod and huddle back in the corner, watching as they evaluate Hunter thoroughly.

  “Ma’am?”

  I turn to see a policewoman gesturing for me to come with her.

  “While they do their thing, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Of course.” I follow her to a chair and sit next to her. “I don’t know how much I can help.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she says. “Tell me what you know.”

  I shake my head. “We got married this afternoon. We came back to the hotel to call our families and then got a call from the front desk. They said they had something downstairs for Hunter, and that he was to come get it right away. So, he did. That’s the last time I saw him. The next thing I knew, they called to say that he was in the hallway, hurt. And then the ambulance arrived.”

  She nods, taking notes.

  “Who would do this?” I demand. “He has a fight tomorrow night.”

  “We have a suspect,” she says. “There is a security camera in each of the hallways and elevators in the hotel. We caught it on film.”

  “Holy shit, that was fast.”

  “He’s Hunter Meyers,” she reminds me. “The hotel was very cooperative. We don’t think it was actually the front desk that called up to lure him down. We’re still investigating, but I’ll keep you posted. Here’s my card. Feel free to call me if you remember anything else, or if you have questions.”

  “Thank you, Detective Perry,” I reply, reading the name on the card. “Who is the suspect?”

  She presses her lips together. “I can’t tell you that until after we’ve made an arrest. I have men coming to stand guard. I don’t want him—either of you, really—unprotected until we wrap this up. Which should happen in the next few hours.”

  “That’s fast, too.”

  “This wasn’t the crime of the century,” she says. “I’ll be in touch. Oh, and congratulations.”

  I hurry back to Hunter’s room, just in time for the doctor to finish typing in his computer and look up at me.

  “Are you family?”

  “I’m his wife,” I reply as I walk on stiff legs to Hunter’s bedside. His head wounds have been dressed. He has bruises on his face and neck. Even on his arms. “What in the hell happened here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing. From what I can tell, it looks like he was caught off guard and hit from behind. The head wound would have happened first. Then, when he was down, they kicked him around some more and did some damage to his face. The good news is, nothing is broken. He must have a damn hard head.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” I link my fingers with Hunter’s. “What’s the bad news?”

  “I have previous records here for your husband. He’s been seen in the same health system many times, mostly for head trauma due to his profession.”

  I nod and bite my lip.

  “Even though there are no skull breaks, he suffered a pretty severe concussion.”

  “And his head was already fragile,” I finish for him.

  “It is. If he regains consciousness today, that’ll be a very good sign. Unfortunately, the brain is still very much a mystery. Recovery, healing, is going to be up to him. But he’s a fighter, and his vitals are strong. My money’s on him. We’re preparing a room for him upstairs, and we’ll move him as soon as it’s ready.”

  He nods and leaves the room. I’m left with relative quiet, just listening to the hustle and bustle outside of the room.

  I kiss Hunter’s hand and press it to my cheek.

  “You’d better wake up,” I say and feel tears drop onto my cheeks. “Damn it, Hunter, you’d better wake up. I didn’t get married today just to turn around and be widowed. I need you. Rachel needs you. Our life doesn’t work without you.”

  I kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

  “I know you can hear me. I need you to fight, goddamn it. That’s what you do best. You fight.”

  I hear a buzzing in my handbag. I reach over and pull out Hunter’s phone which is buzzing with a call from his agent. Just as I’m about to answer, the medical staff comes in to move us upstairs, so I send the call to voicemail.

  The move is quick, and once we’re settled, I drop all of my things on the couch near the bed and scoot a chair over so I can sit with Hunter.

  I have both his phone and mine on the bed next to me.

  I don’t know who to call first. I need to call his parents so they can talk to Rachel. I really want to hear my dad’s voice.

  But before I can make any call at all, Hunter’s phone rings again.

  “Hello,” I say into the phone.

  “What’s going on?” Hunter’s agent demands. “I saw media footage of Hunter getting loaded into an ambulance.”

  I give him a rundown of everything that’s happened over the past couple of hours.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he growls.

  “There’s footage,” I inform him. “The hotel has security footage.”

  “Good. I’m going to make some calls. Keep me posted on his condition. I didn’t want him to accept this fight. I tried to talk him out of it.”

  “Do you think the attack has something to do with the fight?” I ask.

  “It has everything to do with it. I’ll call in a bit to check on him.”

  And then he hangs up.

  I sigh, reach for my phone, and call my da.

  “Well, hello there, my bonny lass.”

  “Da.” I brace my head in my hand and hear the tears in my voice.

  “What is it?”

  I tell him everything I know in between bouts of sobbing and sniffling.

  “Maeve, turn on the tele.”

  “What?”

  “Keegan just turned on ESPN. You’re going to want to see this.”

  I find the remote and turn on the TV, fumbling through channels until I find a news station covering the story.

  “They’re showing the security footage,” I mutter, watching closely. “Oh my God, Da, that’s Danny.”

  “Aye, it i
s. You need to call Hunter’s father. You don’t want Rachel to hear of this from the news.”

  “I’m calling him now. I love you, Da.”

  “I love you, too, me sweet girl.”

  I hang up and dial Jay’s number, relaying all of the information once again.

  “Jay, it’s all over the news. It was Danny. It’s plain as day on the footage.”

  “I have to get Rachel from Charity’s,” Jay says, urgency in his voice. “I’ll get her and we’ll get to Vegas as soon as we can.”

  “Give it a couple of hours to see how he does,” I suggest. “I know you want to get here. But I’m hoping that we’ll be headed home in a couple of days.”

  “I’m coming,” Jay replies, no room for argument in his voice.

  His son sounds exactly like him.

  “Okay. Thank you, Jay.”

  I hang up, ignore both of our phones as they go crazy, and stare at the television screen as the news shows the footage over and over again and then cuts to the scene where Hunter and I are being loaded into the ambulance.

  “Turn that shit off.”

  I spin without turning it off, surprised by the sound of Hunter’s soft voice. His swollen eyes are open, and I reach for his hand to gently kiss his cheek.

  “You woke up.”

  “You threatened me,” is his only reply. “That fucker tried to kill me.”

  “He won’t get away with it.” I tell him about the evidence and then I hear from the television, “Breaking news. An arrest has been made in this case.”

  We watch as Danny and Carla are both led to police cars in handcuffs.

  “This was maybe the busiest day of my life,” I say and turn off the TV. “We got married, and then all of this.”

  “We got married?” he asks.

  “Oh, God. Did this mess with your memory?”

  Hunter tries to grin, then winces. “Kidding. I remember making you marry me.”

  “You didn’t make me.” I kiss his cheek again. I can’t seem to stop kissing him. “I love you so much, babe. So, so much.”

  “Love you,” he whispers. “Really tired.”

  “Let me call in the doctor.”

  I ring the bell and then watch as he’s evaluated. The doctor smiles, then nods at me.