Cashing Out

by Pierce, Nicolette

  I glanced at the floor near the bedroom door. Yep. My fuzzy slippers were adhered to the floor. “Tell me he wasn’t one of your victims.” I attempted to pry out my shoe. It didn’t budge.

  “When a man marries me, he’s not a victim; he’s damn lucky.”

  “And I suppose that makes me lucky when you take over my apartment and destroy it.” I attempted to jump, nearly toppling over when my shoes remained planted.

  “Damn straight. You have an open-concept apartment because of me.”

  “It’s a hole in the wall with exposed wires.”

  “You have wood floors.”

  “That I can’t walk across, and now the door is stuck open. I’m supposed to have dinner with Caleb in a half hour. I have to shower and change.”

  “Shower at Frankie’s.”

  “What about my clothes? I can’t go in a hoodie, shorts, and bare feet.”

  “Hang on. I got this.” She ducked back into the bedroom. I heard drawers open and slam. She poked her head out. “I’ll throw them to you.”

  “Wait!” I hollered as she threw the first item, which kamikazed three feet in front of her. I covered my eyes. “Muffin, those were my best panties.”

  She looked down at the panties now permanently adhered to the floor. “Be thankful it’s your good pair. It’d be embarrassing to have your old holey undies plastered to the floor. And you’ve got lots of those. When was the last time you went shopping?”

  “I don’t have money to shop.”

  “Good thing you’re seeing Caleb tonight. He’s got money. Skip the panties and go commando. Know what I’m saying?” she said with a dramatic wink.

  “I can’t go out with him in these clothes.”

  She snapped her fingers. “I got it!” She ducked into the room.

  “Muffin, forget it. I’ll cancel.”

  Muffin poked out her head. “Get ready to catch.” I blinked at the contraption she readied. It was a bra hooked on both ends of a hanger. A wad of clothing was held in the bra, ready to be catapulted. She held the hook in one hand and pulled the bra back with the other.

  “Noooo!” I cried as clothes tumbled through the air and plopped unceremoniously on the ground between us.

  She looked from the clothes to her makeshift catapult. “Huh. I thought for sure it would work.”

  “Just forget it. I’ll head to Mya’s. She’ll loan me clothes.” I carefully stepped out of my shoes and into the hallway.

  “Wait!” Muffin called. “How do I get out?”

  “I have no idea, but you better fix this floor before the cops find you trapped.”

  “That’s cold. And after I saved your life.”

  “Just fix the floors. I have an anger-management problem I’m working through, and this isn’t helping,” I gritted.

  “Ever since I met you you’ve had an anger problem.”

  “Gee. I wonder why,” I said dryly, heading downstairs.

  “Hey!” Muffin yelled. “Order me a pizza. I don’t have a phone in here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Gus. You get to stay with Uncle Frankie tonight. He has that velvet duvet you like to fur up.”

  I was halfway downstairs when I realized he wasn’t following.

  “Come on, Gus,” I called in a cutesy voice.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t have any hot dogs,” I explained. “You’ll have to come downstairs without bribery.”

  He sunk down on his haunches and settled in. We stared at each other for a moment until my phone rang. I blew out a breath and answered.

  “Are you ready?” Caleb asked. “Should I pick you up?”

  “I’m far from ready.”

  “You’re not thinking of canceling are you?”

  “No. But I’ve stepped into a sticky situation.” Quite literally. “I have to go to Mya’s first.”

  “I’ll take you there.”

  “No need. I’m heading there now.”

  “Good thing I’m here,” he said in stereo. I whipped around to find him two steps below me.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, pocketing my phone.

  “Just checking on you. I cashed out early.”

  “Afraid I wasn’t going to show?” I asked.

  His lips curved. “You’ve been hard to catch.” His eyes flickered past me. “Why is Gus in the hall?”

  “I’m trying to get him to Frankie’s apartment. He’s being stubborn.”

  His smile turned wry. “Just like his mother. So, why is Frankie cat sitting? Are you planning on staying out late?” His eyes delved into mine.

  I blinked, clearing the trance. “Muffin turned my floors into a human fly strip.”

  “Is that why you don’t have shoes?”

  “Yes,” I muttered. “They’re stuck in the doorway.”

  He chuckled and skimmed past. He bent to pick up Gus, glancing at my felled shoes.

  “He might claw you,” I warned. “He gets testy when he’s not on the couch or baited with a hot dog.”

  Caleb gathered Gus and carried him downstairs as if he weighed no more than a feather. As he passed, Caleb said, “All kittens like me.”

  “I wouldn’t say he falls into the kitten category.”

  Caleb shrugged, placing Gus at Frankie’s door. He turned to me and tapped my nose. “No. But you do.”

  * * *

  “Caleb, stop looking at my feet,” I said, curling my toes to hide them.

  “I can’t help it, kitten.” He pulled them onto his lap. “You’re wearing a hoodie and shorts. All I can see is your smooth legs and adorable toes.”

  Dangerously, I had let him talk me into going to his place for dinner. Mya wasn’t home to lend me clothes, and without shoes, my options were limited. As we were waiting patiently on his couch for Chinese delivery, Caleb had taken up a fascination with my feet.

  His fingers lazily played and tickled. Contracting muscles arched through my back. I swatted him away and curled my legs underneath me.

  “You know, if you take away my toys, I’ll find something else to play with.” He grinned.

  I grinned back. How can I keep running from Caleb when he’s so . . . wonderful? Why should I run? I can’t deny our attraction. If I allow myself to relax, it could be a fun and an easy relationship. I should be ecstatic that he wants this wager with me. He wants me for a year. A year! My pulse kicked up to turbo.

  A year is a long time. There are so many what ifs.

  “You’re thinking about the wager, aren’t you?” Caleb asked.

  I nodded. “A year is such a long time, and a million is so much money. Maybe we should change the stakes. Three months versus a quarter million.”

  “There’s no point in wagering if there isn’t risk.”

  “There’s still risk involved.”

  “Not the kind that steals your breath and makes your body hum with anticipation for the final card. The one card.” His fingers brushed through my hair, curling around the back of my neck. He pulled me in until I could feel our breath mingle. “You’re a gambler. The stakes are set. What’s your next move?”

  Before I could answer, his lips closed on mine. All thought vanished as long-suppressed desire pooled and swirled. A rush filled my ears, drowning all coherent thoughts. A nip to my lower lip made me groan, knowing he could take all that he wanted. My defenses crumbled. My mind was numb. There was only Caleb.

  Chapter 11

  Through dry, blurry eyes, I handed Remy a stack of postcards.

  “You look like shit,” he noted. “You’re even wearing the same clothes.”

  “I was working at the chapel all night,” I said.

  Thankfully, Frankie had me working at the front desk instead of traipsing around Vegas with the rest of the crew. I think he took pity on me since I was shoeless.

  “You’re lucky I’m here at all. I nearly had an accident trying to get these cards from my apartment.”

  “Sit down,” he ordered. “You’re starting to sway. Forg
et exercising this morning. Do you need a ride home? I don’t think I trust you to drive yourself home.”

  “I’ll grab some coffee on my way out. Let me know if you figure out the postcards.” I turned to leave. I had to get home . . . and soon. The room seemed to tilt, my eyes were dry slits, and my stomach started protesting from a lack of food. I just wanted my pillow . . . that Muffin was sleeping on. I whimpered.

  I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders. “Come on. I’m taking you home. You need a bed and a change of clothing . . . and shoes. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

  “They’re glued to my floor. Don’t worry. I’ll just sleep in my car. Muffin is in my bed anyway.”

  “Glued to the floor,” he muttered. “If anyone else said that, I’d be wondering about their mental stability. Somehow, coming from you, it’s normal.”

  I shuffled through the door and down the hall before my feet slipped out from under me and I was upside down. My cheek pressed against Remy’s back.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked.

  “You walk too slow. I don’t have all day.”

  “I’m not exposed, am I?” I asked, feeling a breeze in my shorts from being tossed over his shoulder.

  “I don’t know, and I’m not looking.” He shifted my weight to speak into his radio. “Bourne to Straitlan. Bring a rollaway to my office as soon as possible.”

  “Your last name is Bourne? I didn’t know that,” I mumbled. The motion of being carried was lulling me to sleep . . . even if I was slung over his shoulder like a bag of manure.

  * * *

  I listened to voices. They were too muffled and too far away to hear. I listened closer. I felt sure they were saying something important. My eyes cracked open, blinking against the light.

  Remy paced the office, talking in muted tones to a security guard who glanced at me. From Remy’s pinched facial expression, something was wrong. He spotted me tracking his movements and stopped with a jerk. He motioned for the security guard to leave.

  “Go back to sleep,” Remy urged. “You’ve only been asleep for a few hours.”

  I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and sat up with a heavy head.

  He sighed. “Can’t you follow one simple request?”

  “I’ll be fine. What’s going on? Did you figure out the postcards?”

  He sat in the chair next to the rollaway. “If I had to guess, I think these postcards indicate Ian is in trouble, and David walked right into it without knowing.”

  I blinked, shaking the lingering sleep from my head. “What do the postcards mean? Why were they only sent to me? What do we do?” I rolled out of bed, holding on to Remy’s shoulder to steady the spinning.

  He pushed me, sending me back onto the bed with an ungraceful flop.

  “Take it easy. I’m working on it. Have you heard from Mya?”

  “No. I haven’t heard from her. I tried yesterday, but she wasn’t around. And she didn’t show up for work at the chapel.”

  “She’s working there?”

  “Only for a week so we can beat the Fairytale Chapel.”

  “I don’t like this. I can’t reach David or Mya. Do you have Ian’s phone number?”

  “No. I don’t have his number or address.”

  He took a calming breath before directing his eyes at me. “You married the guy.”

  The simple statement of fact lit a fuse, burning through my facade and blowing through all barriers until it reached my very core of anger. “I know that! I’m an idiot! A big, giant idiot!” I barked. “Every time a Miller walks into my life, it comes back and bites me in the ass! I’m sick of them! I don’t give a damn what happens to them. It’s their fault! They can deal with it! I’m sick of sticking my neck out and getting trampled.” As a string of curses flew, I knew Remy was right; I didn’t sleep nearly enough. I couldn’t stop the words. Remy just sat back with one eyebrow raised and lips that twitched as he tried not to smile. After the last curse catapulted, I drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head in wonder. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “What? We’ve already established that I’m an idiot.” And now I sounded like one too.

  “Not that. I had a pretty good inkling about that.” He smirked.

  “Then what?” I asked, annoyed.

  “I’m glad you’re angry.”

  “I’m not glad. I’ve been trying really hard to control it. It’s consuming and flares up at the worst times. I should’ve never yelled like that.”

  “Jet, you’re only human. The Millers haven’t given you a break between rounds. This one is on me. I’ll find everyone.”

  “Thanks, Remy.”

  “Do you want to go home or sleep some more?”

  “I’ll head home. I have a floor that needs attention.” Or a miracle.

  * * *

  I knocked on Frankie’s door. He hesitantly peeked out.

  “Muffin isn’t with me,” I said.

  “Where is she?” he whispered as if she might be hiding behind a corner, ready to spring.

  “Probably still sleeping.”

  He widened the door enough for me to squeeze through.

  “How’s Gus?”

  “He hasn’t moved from my duvet. There’s probably an inch of matted fur stuck to it.”

  “I’ll have it cleaned. Can he stay here a little longer? At least until I fix the floors?”

  Frankie plopped down on the couch with a darkened brow. “I don’t care,” he muttered. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, making me wonder if he’d been to bed yet.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked.

  “I can’t sleep. I keep trying to think of new ways to attract business.” He glanced out the window. “They’re going to win, and I can’t do anything about it. Every day we get further and further behind. Their staff is ten times bigger than mine. They have three chapels in their building while I only have one. I can’t compete with them.” He shook his head.

  “Would it really be so bad if we lost?”

  His eyes sliced through the air. “Yes.” He dragged out his phone and tossed it. I caught it and glanced at the picture on the screen.

  “Oh! I see he’s changed the billboard design.”

  Frankie glowered and crossed his arms with a huff.

  “It’s not too bad,” I offered, cringing inwardly.

  “Not too bad?!”

  I looked at the photo again and read the caption. Who would you trust with your special day? Handsome and polished Charming was paired with Frankie, decked out as a drag queen who apparently forgot to shave. A fairy was paired with Lenny. Unfortunately, the fairy was sweet looking, and Lenny was scratching an exposed portion of his hairy belly. I was placed next to a princess. My wild eyes glared.

  “Did I really look this crazy when I was in the ring?” I asked, looking at the media shot of the fight.

  “You looked possessed. I thought your eyes were going to turn red with brimstone.”

  Delightful, I grimaced.

  “Frankie, I’m sure by the time the contest is over, he’ll have a different photo.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better. How the hell did he get this photo? It was taken before I opened the chapel five years ago.”

  I glanced back at the photo. He did look slightly younger. “Why were you in drag?”

  “Prior to opening the chapel, I worked for Celebrity Mash one night a week.”

  “I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”

  He gave a disgruntled snort. “I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of it. It’s a vaudeville act with celebrity impersonators. A complete mess.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  After a small shrug, he said, “It paid a little. The experience was worth it and led me to opening the chapel.”

  “How far behind are we?”

  “We’re nearly one hundred couples shy.”

  “That’s not as bad as I thought. We can still win.”

  He s
hook his head. “There’s no way. They pull more into the lead every night. I was able to bridge the gap for a little bit, but then they changed their tactic.”

  “Then we need to change ours.”

  “We don’t have the manpower.”

  “I know you’ll think of something. You’re the most imaginative man I know. If there’s a way to win, you’ll figure it out.”

  “I do have an amazing imagination,” he admitted, unfurrowing his brow.

  “You do. Design our billboard and send it to him.”

  He grinned. “That would set him back a little.” He stood with a stretch then slumped over. “I should get started.”

  “First, go to bed,” I ordered, heading to the door.

  “I have too much to do.”

  “You’ll think better after some good sleep,” I said. When he didn’t look convinced, I added, “It will get rid of those dark circles under your eyes. They’re going to turn into bags soon.”

  His hand flew to his face, touching the dark circles. “You’re right.” He dashed into the kitchen for cucumber slices and shooed me out the door.

  I trudged upstairs, knowing a hazard waited . . . and the floor too. My shoes greeted me at the entrance, propping the door open. I swung it wide open and gasped. A trail of clothes led from the door to the kitchen, down the bedroom hallway and stopped at the bathroom.

  My clothes!

  Not having many clothes to begin with, I was sure there was nothing left.

  “Muffin!” I growled, following the trail to the bedroom to find her sprawled on my bed. Her face was buried into the pillow, squishing her cheek like an aunt squeezing a child’s cheek. She was no cute child, and she was drooling.

  “Muffin!” I shouted, shaking her awake.

  She awoke with a snort. “Whacha want?” she grumbled, swatting me away.

  “You ruined my clothes!”

  “I had to get out somehow. The panty disaster gave me the idea.”

  “Did you use all my clothes?”

  “Nah. You have an outfit left.”

  One outfit. Great. “You’re buying me new clothes!” I stomped to the closet and flung open the door.