Three Day Fiancee

by Marissa Clarke

  Slowly and deliberately, he extended his hand, pausing long enough to give her opportunity to pull away or say no. But she didn’t say no. She met his eyes, breaths coming in shallow pants. Gently, he ran his fingers over the smooth skin of her neck and across her bare clavicle, and she trembled, gooseflesh rising in the path of his touch. He liked this dress. Really liked it.

  Soundlessly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat, and she sighed, just like she had the first time he’d kissed her. A sigh that sounded like coming home. Grams had been right, there was something real between them. He was so relieved; he was finding it hard to breathe.

  “Caitlin, I—”

  Light streamed in from their left and they both flinched. “You were supposed to be snagging Alastair,” a woman’s voice whispered. “Not playing grab and tickle under the table like a couple of horny high schoolers!”

  Caitlin snorted, then giggled.

  “No more wine for you,” Fiona scolded.

  “How did you find us?” Caitlin asked.

  “Your legs sticking out like the Wicked Witch of the East when she was smushed by Dorothy’s house was my first clue.” She gave Caitlin a hand up while Taylor backed out and rose to his feet.

  Only a few people at nearby tables were watching them. Most had their attention on the stage, where Jane was reading from cards in front of a slide show with pictures of animals interspersed with charts and graphs.

  “I have no idea how the animals are escaping their cages, but I’m still missing a kitten,” Fiona said. “Alastair headed through that door.” She pointed to a narrow open door in the back corner. “You are still assigned to Alastair. Don’t worry about picking him up. He’s super sweet, and the people at the shelter told me that he’s never bitten anyone. Just don’t grab his feet or his tail. He evidently hates it.” She shot a worried glance at the stage. “We need to find him before Jane stops talking. She plans to direct people to check out the animals, and I had a request from a man to meet Alastair as a possible present for his wife.”

  “Nothing says I love you like a weasel,” Taylor said.

  “He’s not a weasel,” Fiona replied. “Same genus. Different species.”

  “Fiooooona!” came from the animal room.

  “Crap.” She ran a hand through her dark hair. “Just find him, okay? Less shenanigans. More ferreting.” She shoved something into Taylor’s pocket, and in a flurry of fluffy pink fabric, she sprinted to the animal room.

  …

  Caitlin glanced around to find quite a few elegantly dressed people watching them. Hopefully nobody had seen her scoot backwards out from under the table. Thank heavens the tablecloths went all the way down to the floor so nobody saw her Mardi Gras boobs-for-beads moment. Heat traveled up her neck and over her face just thinking about it. And then he’d touched her. Kissed her.

  She huffed out a breath. “Let’s go,” she said, striking out toward the door in the corner. She shot a look at him over her shoulder and caught him staring at her butt. “You heard Fiona. No shenanigans.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” After several steps, he added, “I take that back. I dream of shenanigans all the time. Nonstop.”

  It was as if all the air had been squeezed out of her as his words reminded her why the near miss under the table was not a good thing. She strode through the narrow door into what looked like a storage room, but all it contained were empty shelves. She closed the door and turned to face him. She needed to put a stop to this before she made another mistake. One more night with him, no matter how amazing, would only compound the hurt she already felt. His coming here could be terrible if she wasn’t careful. Shit, she’d almost gone for an under the table fun and games session.

  “Look, Taylor. I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t really get to say goodbye properly and I was kind of rude when you dropped me off, but what happened under the table was…” She shifted her weight foot-to-foot uncomfortably. Why did he have to be so good looking?

  “Awesome?” he supplied. “An epic wardrobe malfunction for the ages, leading to what could have been some of the most spectacular shenanigans on record, were it not for a cantankerous non-weasel?”

  And now he had to be funny, too. She straightened her shoulders. “About that… I think it’s best that we not go for a repeat.”

  His brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak. He just did that unnerving look-into-her-soul thing he’d done before.

  She took a deep breath. “I mean, you’re going to be in another city and you’ve got other women.”

  “I do?” He arched an eyebrow, but he looked more amused than upset.

  “I told you what happened with Gary. There’s no way I can…”

  A loud scraping noise came from the corner of the room, followed by that weird chuffing sound Alastair had made when they were under the table.

  “Hey, buddy,” Taylor said, taking a few steps toward the animal standing on an empty shelf. “Let’s make this easy because I really want to talk to this woman without you interrupting us again. Cool by you?”

  Alastair hopped off the shelf to the floor and stood up on his hind legs, nose twitching. Caitlin held her breath as Taylor crept closer. If he caught the ferret, they could all get out of this room. They could go back to the main area where tough conversations she wasn’t ready to have would be impossible.

  Jane had called her a chicken. She wasn’t wrong.

  Alastair did an odd hopping kind of walk closer to Taylor, nose up in the air, whiskers twitching.

  “I wonder…” he said, patting his pocket, and then reaching in with a smile. “Well, what do you know?” The ferret made a couple of hops as Taylor pulled something from his pocket. “How about a treat, weasel?”

  He held it out, and Alastair moved closer.

  “Oh, you’re not a weasel, you say?” he said, arm outstretched. “Come closer and tell me about it.”

  To Caitlin’s amazement, Alastair wiggle-walked all the way over to them and put his front paws on Taylor’s knee as he gently took something from his fingers. When the ferret stretched up to sniff his pocket, Taylor gave him another treat, then wrapped his hands around Alastair’s rib cage and picked him up, cradling him in his arms like a cat.

  Taylor grinned at Caitlin and then down at the ferret, who was wiggling to get closer to his tux pocket. “Hang on, buddy. You’re like holding Jell-O.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out another treat, and Alastair settled down. “We should get him to Fiona before he contorts right out of my grip.”

  Caitlin opened the door, and they emerged triumphant, but the scene that met them put an immediate stop to their two-person, one-ferret victory parade.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chaos and feathers. Not like a pillow fight amount of feathers, but a sparse, distinct trail of them leading out of the animal room in two directions. Caitlin gasped as a fat, gold chicken streaked past followed by a delighted puppy, who at top speed was having trouble keeping his front and back end in sync, which sent him barreling along on a diagonal. Occasionally the pup would get close enough to the irritated chicken to nibble tail feathers.

  “Grab Maude!” Fiona cried from the other side of the room, where she dove for the other chicken, Hortensia, and missed her by a mile. The three puppies who had been chasing Hortensia stopped to lick Fiona’s face as she struggled to get to her feet. She took the opportunity to scoop them up with the help of two guests.

  Poor Maude trotted back by from the other direction, and with the ferret in one hand, Taylor scooped her up in his other and headed straight for the animal room. As it turned out, Alastair and Maude must not have been besties, because they immediately started wiggling and scratching and squeaking and squawking. Taylor was by the table closest to the animal room door when Hyah streaked out and flew a circle through the huge space, causing applause from some and screeches from others.

  At this point, the epic fowl vs. ferret battle being waged in Taylor’s arms came to a hea
d, and Alastair shot free of Taylor’s hold, straight into the lap of a woman wearing a white chiffon dress, flashy jewelry, and an elaborate hairdo held in place with gemstone combs.

  It wasn’t a scream, really. The noise the woman made was more like a cross between a car alarm and a train horn—a sound Caitlin had never heard a human make before. The woman seated next to her, though, gave a bona fide scream when the ferret launched across her cleared place setting and onto the shoulder of an elderly man doubled over with laughter who clearly found the entire situation hilarious. Which it was, Caitlin supposed, as she covered her mouth to hold in laughter.

  The people at the table next to them did not find it hilarious, however, when Alastair executed a perfect swan dive to the center of their table, knocking into the centerpiece and sending it airborne before he leapt off and disappeared under the table where Grams and the Andersons were seated.

  The glass centerpiece globe hit the floor with a shattering crash right as Hyah landed in the car alarm/train horn woman’s ornate hairdo, which, of course, revved up her piercing howls.

  No longer able to contain her laughter, Caitlin grabbed her stomach and doubled over with shrieking giggles. Too much. The whole thing was way too much. Chickens and ferrets and puppies and…she wiped her eyes and sucked in a deep breath… And Taylor. All of it. Way too much.

  She wasn’t the only one laughing. And the woman with the bird on her head wasn’t the only one shrieking, though only a few people had left their places, hovering near their chairs as if ready to bolt if necessary. And as she looked around, Caitlin noticed some of the guests were holding kittens and puppies. All of the babies must have participated in the prison break.

  At the microphone, Jane was encouraging everyone to remain calm while fighting giggles of her own. A cool hand touched her shoulder, and Caitlin turned to find Fiona, who had dropped off her puppy and circled around to join her.

  “I guess I should go rescue that woman before she hyperventilates,” she whispered with a smile, which set Caitlin off into another bout of laughter.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I shouldn’t be laughing.”

  “Typical stress reaction. People sometimes laugh when in intense situations.” Fiona was always analyzing. Being so shy had made her more of an observer than a participant. Once you got to know her, though, she’d open up. She never had problems communing with animals, like the parrot, who seemed happy to see her when she strode over.

  Hyah hopped onto Fiona’s arm, and the woman in the white dress settled down. She was quiet, listening to Fiona’s profuse apologies, but her face was still red as she smoothed her tangled, matted hair into something that looked more like a wig from the show Hairspray than the elegant coiffeur she had come in with. Just as Fiona was turning to take Hyah away, the bird stretched and snagged a sparkly comb from the woman’s hair in its huge, black beak. “Pretty bird!” it squawked.

  Caitlin shook her head. Not a stress reaction. She was sure she was laughing because it was funny.

  Taylor emerged from the animal room, tux jacket covered in fur and feathers, right as Hortensia made a break for it from under one of the empty back tables. Taylor grabbed her two-handed, much to the dismay of the puppy playing chase with her. The puppy got over it, though, when Caitlin picked him up and scratched his belly, wiping a stray feather from his lip.

  A crash happened near the front of the room as another centerpiece became a casualty. Alastair was doing a wiggle dance in the middle of the Andersons’ table. One look at Jane, still at the microphone, revealed she wasn’t amused anymore.

  Caitlin passed the pup off to a man at the table nearest her and struck out to put an end the ferret fiasco once and for all. Taylor fell into step behind her, Hortensia squawking in protest with each of his long strides.

  Yeah. And after she dealt with Alastair, she’d have to deal with Taylor, too. Her heart constricted. It had to be done, no matter how much she dreaded it.

  “Okay, weasel,” Caitlin said, eyes narrowed on Alastair. “Playtime is over.”

  Alastair wasn’t troubled by her serious tone and fell into a series of barrel rolls across the now centerpiece-less table. Instead of freaking out, as she’d expected from this VIP table, everyone looked highly amused, except for Grams, who had backed her chair up as if ready to run if need be.

  Chicken held firmly to his chest, Taylor stood near his grandmother, watching Caitlin with a grin.

  Caitlin kept her voice soft and low as she spoke to Alastair, who was lying on his back playing with a napkin, not paying attention to her at all. “Soooo, I need you to cooperate with me here.” She was pretty sure that ferret and cooperation were an oxymoron, but she continued on in her smooth, hushed tone. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

  When she reached, Alastair wiggled to the far side of the table and everyone around it chuckled…except Grams, who scooted farther away.

  “Hey, Weasel Whisperer,” Taylor said. “Want some help?”

  He circled the table to stand next to her, and even with all that was going on, her body reacted to his closeness, dumping adrenaline that kicked up her breathing and heartbeat.

  “Reach in my jacket pocket,” he said in an authoritative tone.

  And there it was. That irrational irritation at commands.

  “Do it,” he ordered.

  When she met his eyes, she was surprised at the look of pleading on his face, like it was important to him that she do as he asked. And then she remembered what he’d said out in the snow that day. “Please” was always implied, he’d told her. It was about trust and enhancing each other. He wasn’t bossing her around in front of all these people to make himself look like a hotshot or to make her look stupid. He was helping her.

  Giving Hortensia’s sharp-looking toenails that hovered right over the coat pocket a skeptical look, Caitlin reached in and pulled out a little square training treat and grinned. When she looked up, Taylor was grinning right back. “I passed that test,” he whispered in her ear, lips so close they brushed her skin, but she didn’t get to enjoy the bolts of thrill from it because Alastair bounded to the edge of the table, chirping loudly.

  She was ready, though. She caught him midair, pulling the wiggly ferret against her tightly, so there was no way he could squirm loose.

  After a round of cheers and applause that caused her skin to heat to the point she was pretty sure she was blushing purple, the lights dimmed and the band started up with a slow, relaxing tune. After a moment, she could breathe again.

  “I’ll take him,” Fiona said, pulling Alastair from her arms. “I discovered how the animals got out.” She adjusted the squirming ferret higher on her body. “Hyah was unlatching the cages every time I left the room. She was probably bored and a new puzzle was exciting.”

  Caitlin shot a worried glance in the direction of the animal room.

  “She’s in her carrier now,” Fiona said. “Everyone except Maude is out of their crates anyway.” She grinned hugely. “Almost every one of them has found a home tonight, thanks to the critter coup.”

  Jane joined them and relieved Taylor of the puffy chicken, who looked like she had been about to fall asleep in Taylor’s arms. And with a sharp pang, the memory of what it had felt like to sleep in Taylor’s arms knifed through Caitlin. She wondered how long it would take before memories like that stopped bombarding her.

  Never. He was the kind of guy you never forgot. Never got over.

  Jane and Fiona left with their charges, and two of the Anderson couples got up from the table and wandered to the dance floor, hand in hand, to join other pairs already in each other’s arms, swaying to the music.

  Grams scooted her chair back to the table and signaled a server passing by. “Do you have any of that champagne from dessert left?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Good. We’ll need a bottle for the table.” Frowning, Grams looked from Taylor to Caitlin and back again. “Make that two bottles.”

  He was staring at he
r in that peculiar way again. The one that made her feel exposed and raw. Then, he took her hand and introduced her to Will and Claire Anderson, who shook her hand and grinned at her in an odd, knowing way that made her a little queasy. Before she could dwell on that or try to figure it out, Taylor leaned down and kissed Grams’ cheek. “You know my grandmother, of course, but I want to introduce you to her longtime friend and my downstairs neighbor.”

  The older woman with the big glasses and short-cropped hair grinned up at her.

  “Caitlin,” he continued. “This is Felicia. Felicia Lawrence.”

  After a brief hiccup, her heart kicked into high gear. Felicia. The texting, panty-losing Felicia? She shot a look at Grams, who was pouring a glass of champagne the server had delivered.

  “Nice to meet you, Caitlin,” the woman said. “Taylor told me all about you this afternoon while I waited for my clothes to dry.”

  Caitlin gripped the back of the empty chair in front of her for balance. Her hammering heart was making her a little light-headed.

  “Felicia’s washer broke a couple of weeks ago, and she’s waiting on a new one to be delivered,” Taylor said.

  “I’m sure you’ll be relieved when it arrives.” Felicia looked up at him, her eyes appearing huge behind her thick lenses. “You must be sick of me losing track of my socks and unmentionables in your dryer.”

  Grams handed Taylor a flute of champagne, and he passed it to Caitlin.

  She glanced at Taylor, not sure what to make of him or any of this.

  “As for Deborah, she was a one-time date that ended after thirty minutes because my job called me away,” he said, shooting Will Anderson a look. “She texted me about going out again the day we met, but you knew that.”

  Champagne was passed to Claire Anderson and then Felicia.

  “What you don’t know is that I told her no.”

  Caitlin set her champagne down on the table so her trembling wouldn’t be obvious.