by Taryn Quinn
Because it wasn’t a game. These were real people and real lives being shattered.
But if Dex was willing to take on additional cases, why not ask him if he wanted to wade into the fray? I’d just have to get him drunk enough to feel amenable. It shouldn’t be too hard. Mary and Harvey’s estate was valued in the high seven figures, and she claimed the fucker—her term not mine—was hiding even more funds offshore. Dex would be more than handsomely paid for his trouble. I just didn’t want the hassle.
I fed Smoky and gave him fresh water and futilely tried to get him to sit on my shoulder like he did with Ryan. The only thing that made him warm marginally toward me was an extra helping of Chunky Beef Tips—and my lie that Ryan would be home soon. At that, he gave me a head bonk and an actual rumbling purr.
It lasted approximately thirty-eight seconds, but I wasn’t choosy.
On my way to the bar, a text came in.
Miss Moon: My mom found my dildo.
I almost drove off the road. Since I was in the dealership’s SUV for a weekend test drive, that would not have been good.
I waited to respond until I pulled up next to Dexter’s sleek vintage Stang at Lonegan’s.
PMS: Did you tell her it was ornamental?
Miss Moon: Like ur fountain?
PMS: Sure. Both utilize moisture.
Miss Moon: U r an actual pig. A cute one, but a pig.
PMS: You should see if she could knit you a sock for your moon.
Miss Moon: Actually, that’s a good idea. She does sleeves 4 the rl thing. They r a hot ticket item.
PMS: WHAT?
A picture came through of a knitted cylindrical-ish pouch in hot pink with a bulbous bottom…head in lime green.
PMS: That’s worse than a Pussy Papa. Also, who the hell buys that?
Miss Moon: You’re sure you don’t want one? Pretty please?
PMS: No.
I pocketed my phone as I walked into Lonegan’s and bumped fists with my brother.
No women were in sight. At least anywhere near Dexter.
“Well, well, look who has a big-ass grin on his face. Is all fixed on the path to insanely fast true love? Did I mention insanely?”
I slid onto a stool beside him at the bar and motioned to the bartender, our old friend Callahan Brinkley. Tossing a towel over his shoulder, he smiled and held up a finger before gesturing to the customers he was serving.
“We’re making progress.”
Dex put a hand next to his ear. “Is that bells I hear?”
“Jealous?”
“I’m happy for you. You deserve a good woman, Pres. I mean that.”
I clapped his back. “Thanks, man.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Plus, she’s imminently fuck—”
At my arched eyebrow, he smiled smoothly. “Fucking fantastic.”
“Mind yourself.”
“Minded. Sorry, not used to you settled down, since it’s only been a week and all.”
Callahan chose that moment to slide up to us and start pulling my usual Harp. “Did someone say settled, Pres? In a week?”
“We are getting to know each other.” I thanked Callahan for the beer I intended to nurse all night, unlike my brother who already had two empties being taken away and it was just past seven.
“In a settled way,” Dex added. “Can I get another, my man?”
“Of course, if you intend to hang out here tonight.” Callahan tossed back his shock of dark hair, and the studs along the curve of his ear caught the light. “Otherwise, you know you’re reaching your limit.”
“Why am I surrounded by boring bozos?”
Callahan just crossed his beefy arms and waited. Dex knew the rules when it came to the tight ship that Cal ran at Lonegan’s. Dex just liked to bitch about them.
Added to that, Cal was a friend, so he was even more strict with Dex for his own good. Not that he usually crossed the line, but that was the thing with my brother. Occasionally, he tried to shimmy under them as if life was one big hokey-pokey.
“Yeah, I’ll be hanging out with Preston for a while. His woman’s on safari.”
“What?” I had to laugh. My brother was an idiot, but he was amusing.
Sometimes. Especially when I was riding on a Ryan high.
“Should we do your bachelor party tonight for expediency? I heard flights to Vegas are dirt cheap right now.”
Callahan’s brows lifted as he ran his fingers up and down the suspenders he habitually wore with his T-shirts. “Whoa, are you serious, dude? Last I knew you didn’t even date.”
“We aren’t getting married.” I knocked back some of my drink.
I saved the yet for my head.
“He was damn near a virgin. You know how it is the first time you get a taste of—”
I slapped him in the back of the head, and Callahan laughed before moving on to another customer.
“No beer?” Dex sighed, but he didn’t seem to annoyed at having to wait for his next drink.“Seriously, man, did you guys work it out?”
“Working on it.”
“She’s talking to you at least?”
“Yeah. We talked all last night and part of today.” I smiled as I curled my wrist around my glass. “In our way anyway.”
“Jeez, you really are like a teenager in love.” He shook his head. “I’m curious and mystified and a little horrified.”
“Good. Then you’re in the perfect frame of mind to talk business.”
He groaned and dropped back his head. “Didn’t you quit? Aren’t you ever off the clock? And you never told me what the hell happened to Stone.”
“He’s in Fiji.”
“Still?” He held up a hand. “Let me guess. He fell in love in a week too.”
“Actually, I think he did.”
“Man, whatever you guys are taking, do not give me any. I will never settle for the daily special when I can have the whole damn buffet. Yo, Brinkley.” Dex cupped his hands over his mouth as he called down the bar, catching the attention of many of the other patrons with varying results. Some amusement, some interest, some irritation—the usual responses to my brother. “I need lubrication if I gotta talk biz shit with the older bro.”
Five minutes later, he had his beer, and partly against his will, we were discussing the Donnelly case in much more depth than we had previously. We spoke in hushed tones and with many abbreviations so as not to be overheard.
Not that anyone in the raucous bar gave one whit what we were talking about. The Yankees were far more entertaining.
Dex knew the basics, but when I told him exactly the kind of compensation on the table, he got a whole lot more interested.
Time went by quickly as we rolled through a few of my other larger cases. Dex drank just that final beer as we went over some of the high points, and then we circled back to Donnelly vs. Donnelly. His mind was definitely operating on all cylinders once that payout was on the table.
We sat on those stools long enough that my ass went numb.
My very pinchable ass, if scuttlebutt could be believed. I was good with just Ryan taking advantage of me.
Hopefully soon.
“I’ve been eyeing this place on the lake,” my brother mused much later, nursing his glass of ice water as if it was another beer. “It looks like a damn chalet. Has a couple levels and an outdoor hot tub and boat launch and shit. Can you imagine the pool parties? It’d be like summer all year long.”
“You do remember we live in central New York. Half the year it’s practically like Antarctica.”
“But a hot tub, my man.” He turned to vigorously clap my shoulder. And Dex worked out a hell of a lot, so he had some grip. “With enough room for like six.” He smiled dreamily, picturing things in his mind’s eye I did not want to guess at. “Maybe eight if it’s near bikini season.”
“That can be yours and more if you take lead on this.”
“You really don’t want it anymore?”
“No. I really don’t.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I dragged it out to see a picture of a sliver of moon and a sprinkle of stars in a dark blue sky over what appeared to be rolling hills in the distance and a long ribbon of road. Makeshift campsites covered the land off to the side.
Before I could text, another picture came in. This one had flares set upon the road and bright orange traffic cones arranged behind what looked like a large Airstream slightly tipped to one side. That might have been an optical illusion.
Or not.
Miss Moon: Our shitty luck. Had to move camp & we hv a flat. We’re gonna see if 1 of our new friends in the nearby camps has a towing membership or whatever. If u text and I don’t get back, that’s y.
PMS: No. What? No. Is that safe?
Miss Moon: Of course. Ttyl. Hope your ass is still virgin.
There had been way too much talk about my virginity tonight, in inappropriate, non-applicable ways. But that wasn’t important right now.
PMS: No, don’t do that. It looks like a hippie commune. They could be on drugs or a sex brigade or I don’t even know. And it’s dark out. Shelter in place until daylight.
Miss Moon: They knit, PMS, among other things. And there’s nothing wrong with a lil recreational ganja.
PMS: You work for a lawyer, Miss Moon.
Miss Moon: I quit, remember? And I didn’t say I was smoking any. I’m too busy trying these neat lil shrooms I found…
I pressed a finger to the pulsing vein in my temple. I knew I was overreacting. I could feel that I was drifting into pure ridiculousness, but I could not seem to stop myself.
Was this love? Or maybe I really was insane.
Possibly they were actually the same exact thing.
Dexter moved his face close to mine. “You all right, Pres? You look like you’re going to stroke out.”
“No, I am not.”
“What did she do now?”
I wanted to defend her, and yet at this instant, all I could think was that she could be three or more states away and I would not know. I couldn’t swoop in and save her because she was wandering around in the dark, probably barefoot, making friends with strangers and sharing questionable items with them that could be smoked or imbibed in other unknown ways.
Potentially criminal items to boot.
“She left me to do needlecrafts and take drugs and now she’s stranded in the desert.”
Twenty-Seven
Ryan was not in the desert, and I would have realized she wouldn’t have had time to reach one in the time allotted via wheeled transport had I not been on the verge of manful terror.
Instead, it took Dex to remind me of that little logistical tidbit before he drove himself home, now sobered up after hours of dry business talk and copious amounts of water.
She was actually not all that far away. Not all that close either. I had to look up Bear Mountain Park on my GPS, and from Kensington Square to there would take about three hours if I did not get lost.
Tomorrow I had that meeting with Mrs. Donnelly first thing. Our many times rescheduled meeting.
But technically, she wasn’t my client anymore. So, Dex could handle her if need be. And I simply couldn’t care when I knew Ryan needed me.
Even if she couldn’t admit it.
Miss Moon: DO NOT COME HERE. WE R ALL SET.
PMS: I’m coming, baby. You don’t have to be strong.
Miss Moon: Be strong? It’s a flat. I’m not afrd of the dark & everyone is perfctly nice.
I was driving so I didn’t reply. A short time later, another text came through.
Miss Moon: U called me baby.
Even in my darkened car, I flushed. I tossed my phone aside and ignored it. It also was not safe to text and drive.
Then she called me.
Reluctantly, I took the call through the in-dash system.
“Yeah?”
“You called me baby.”
“You misread. I typed bubby.”
“Preston, I’m serious. We’re fine. The flat isn’t even an issue anymore thanks to Brock. If you come here, my mom will give you half a dozen of her hook holders that didn’t sell and then what?”
I frowned. “Hook holders?”
“I mean, penis warmers.”
I started to laugh. “Baby, if my penis gets warmed any more, it will be a medical emergency. The humidity is insane. And yes, I did say baby, and you can just deal with it. It may be heat stroke.”
In the background, I heard a feminine voice say loudly, “Oh, penis warmers! Yes!”
Ryan sighed. “I need a vacation from my vacation.”
“You should have thought of that before you completed not even one full week of work. Wages of sin and all that.”
“A week was all I was scheduled for, if you recall. Because April is your actual assistant. I was just a fill-in.”
“I believe actually I filled, but you came through in the clutch admirably. Until you left without permission. Now let me alone so I can traverse these twisty as hell back roads in the dark and come rescue you.”
“Even though I expressly asked you not to?”
“Has anyone ridden to your rescue before, Ryan Genevieve Moon?”
“How do you know my real name?”
“A handy tool called the internet. I do like Goddess though.”
Rustling noises came over the line and then she was in a quieter environment. “I don’t want you to miss work for me. Honestly. We’re fine. A lot of the people here are senior citizens and empty nesters. Definitely not the rough crowd your way overactive imagination is picturing.”
“I’m not anymore.”
“No? You seemed rather…incensed. In full Esquire mode.”
“It’s a bad habit. I’m new to being a boyfriend and very not new to being a lawyer.”
She hissed out a breath. “I don’t do relationships.”
“Me either, since I’m still a recent virgin, apparently.”
“Wow. I did not guess that. Did you learn from YouTube?”
“Another sort of You video site, but close enough.” I squinted into the darkness at a huge, looming shape. “I think I just saw a damn moose.”
“What? No. Holy crap.”
“Or it was otherworldly. It scampered into the night. There is that road around here with the dead bride ghost. You’ve heard that tale? Anyway, we’ll have to look for it someday.” I didn’t shudder, but boy, it was close. “In the daylight.”
“Yeah, we’ll revisit that at another time. If you insist on coming—”
“I do.”
She sighed. “Then be careful, okay? No texting or phone calls. Those back roads have a lot of hairpin curves.”
“Then get off my phone.” I smiled. “Baby.”
She hung up.
I got lost. Three times.
By the last one, she was texting me. Dare I say frantically.
I wouldn’t say I grinned as the in-dash system read them to me but—
Okay, yes, I was.
Broadly.
Miss Moon: PMS, u shouldn’t be reading these. But if you are, I just want to say that u’re a pain in the ass. But I like it. I like u.
Miss Moon: I shouldn’t. We don’t fit. But we do. Y do we fit?
Miss Moon: I’m sure u’re prob just trying to find u’re way in the dark. I’ve been lost on these roads too. But I have faith in u. That’s y I sent Grant to u. U won’t let him down.
Miss Moon: Just like u won’t let me down. U damn idiot. I told u to stay home but u won’t listen.
Miss Moon: U won’t stay in the spot I want to put u. Y won’t u, dammit?
Miss Moon: TG u won’t. Bc I’m already getting used to it, u big dolt. Used 2 u. Even if it makes no sense.
Miss Moon: Dammit, Preston Michael Shaw, u better not be hurt! If you are, I will kick your ass so badly that u’ll be in traction.
Miss Moon: After I kiss your smug, stubborn face off.
Miss Moon: Ugh, I just need you to be okay. Please. You can call
me baby if you want. You can call me anything.
I saw the signs for the fair first. It took inching around a few more curves past endless buses, vans, trucks, and other moving settlements that were temporarily in one place to get my bearings enough to figure out where I was.
Then I saw her.
She was standing off to the side of the road near the Airstream in the picture she’d sent. If I hadn’t seen her, I wouldn’t have recognized it because there were a few of them in various configurations.
But I could’ve recognized Ryan anywhere. Especially when she was one of the only people out milling about in this particular area, since it was after two am.
I’d gotten really lost those three times, and that was with GPS. Go down one wrong back road and you ended up in a whole other county.
And then if you just kept going, not being sure of the difference between south and not south in the dark in an unfamiliar area…
It was a problem.
She was gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked to a small blond woman. Was that her mother? She looked tiny. Ryan’s exact opposite.
Her mom. Christ. I couldn’t do the first meet and greet with the parental unit in the middle of the night. I wasn’t even wearing a suit.
Ryan had her armor, and I had mine.