I follow Callie’s gaze around our suite, and I gotta say, it’s not bad. My mood shifts slightly into more positive territory. This hotel has “bridal suite” locked down. A few bouquets of flowers brighten the surfaces and, is that a gift basket? Callie is already investigating.
“I’m not sure when we’ll have time for summer sausages, but it’s a nice gesture,” she says. I can see the thank you note to the hotel staff already forming in her head.
“It’s probably for later. They know we’ll need our strength for tonight’s workout,” I tease, wrapping my arms around her from behind. She giggles from my scruff against her neck.
“Nice try. Because first…” She twists around and ruins any hope I have of sexy time with a peck on the chin. “Welcoming Dinner.”
So I might grunt at that… or pout… whatever. “Fine. Can we at least shower together quick? Just a little innocent fun, I promise.”
Her expression is encouraging. The way her fingers dig into my biceps—definitely a good sign. I’ve just switched on the full-charm when—
“Eek!”
I spin around to track her death stare. “What?” I ask.
“Right there!”
“Where?”
“Right there!” She jumps back a good five feet.
“What’s right there? A ghost? Burglar? What?”
“On the wall!”
I squint at the wall, as if the new perspective will give me some insight into chick-brain.
“Babe, I don’t see anything.”
“Next to the picture.”
She’s pressed against the foyer wall now, finger pointing with all the foreboding of the Ghost of Christmas Future. “Spider,” she whispers, eyes full of impending doom.
“Cal, I don’t…” I take a few steps toward the wall. Maybe there’s a black spot to the right of the frame?
“This?” I point at the pin-prick of tiny legs.
“Yes!” She covers her mouth and takes more steps toward the exit. Soon she’ll be in the hall.
I turn back to the intruder who’s now ruined any chance I had of getting lucky. “Dude, you’re so screwed,” I mutter, slipping off my sneaker.
“No!” This scream is more hostile than the initial shriek. I turn, weapon suspended in mid-air.
“What?”
“Don’t kill it!”
“Um…”
“It doesn’t deserve to die!”
I glance at the bug. At my shoe. Back to Callie. “So you don’t want it gone?”
“Of course I do!”
“You do want it gone?” I raise the shoe again.
“Gone, yes, not dead! Put it outside or something.”
I swallow and pull in a deep breath. “Okay…”
“Here.” She darts forward and disappears into the bathroom. Does she think spiders can jump twenty feet in one shot? I keep my research questions to myself as I wait.
She emerges seconds later and tosses me a cup from the bathroom.
I catch it against my chest. “Nice thought, but how do I get it in here? I doubt he’s aware his options are the cup or death.”
“Um…” She bites her lip, scanning the room. “Oh, got it.” Grabbing the channel guide brochure, she legit slides it across the floor in my direction. It goes all of a foot.
We both stare at it for several seconds before I sigh and cross the room to pick it up.
“Love you, babe,” she says with a grin. “Eek! It’s moving! It’s moving, hurry!”
How she can see that speck of dust move five millimeters in the dark from that distance, is beyond me. Must be some radar or sixth sense or something. I quicken my pace because I’m thinking there’s nothing worse for a relationship than losing visual of a spider. On closer inspection, I guess it could be an entire centimeter closer to the frame on the wall? Lunging forward I trap the little dude with the cup like the superhero I am. After shoving the brochure between the cup and the wall, I verify I’ve won the battle and press the brochure on top to secure it.
“Okay, I have it trapped. Can you open the window?”
She nods slowly, clearly not wanting to move but knowing she’s out of options with me on Spider Guard Duty. “Just stay there until I open it,” she warns.
I try to keep a straight face and fight the ten-year-old in me who wants to pretend to throw it at her. Mom would be proud when I manage to stay put.
She pulls open the blinds and studies the glass. “I don’t think it opens.”
I scan the frame as well. “It probably doesn’t. Hotel windows usually don’t.”
“Crap.”
She crosses her arms and commits way more brain cells to this dilemma than can possibly be healthy.
“It’s fine. I’ll just flush it,” I say, moving toward the bathroom with my prisoner.
“No!”
“Huh?”
“Casey, you can’t!”
“Why not?”
“You’ll kill it!”
“Well, yeah?”
“You can’t kill it! It wasn’t hurting anyone.”
Shit, is she going to cry? Over a damn spider she hates? Even worse, it’s the freaking cutest sight ever.
“Okaaaay?” Cute or not, I’m still at a loss. “What do you want me to do with it then?”
“Um…” Her teeth sink into her lip again as she considers. “I guess you’ll have to take it down to the lobby and put it outside.”
“What? No fucking way,” I mumble.
“Language.”
“Sorry, but come on. You want me to carry this thing down four stories, through the lobby, and out to the parking lot?”
“Well, not the parking lot. It might get run over. Maybe the flower bed? There’d be lots of places to build a web and plenty of food and maybe some friends…?”
Her grin is because she knows I’ll follow her orders. Maybe one day I’ll be able to resist her, but it’s not looking good for this century. At least she has the courtesy of looking adorable when she bosses me around.
Even so, I’m pretty sure I’m growling on my way to the exit. She maintains a wide arc as I move across the room. Once I’m safely in the corridor, she hoists her suitcase onto the bed and starts unzipping it.
“You’re not coming with me?” I ask.
She glances over, clearly surprised. “Are you kidding? Lock myself in a small moving box with that monster? Not a chance.”
∞∞∞
“Hey, Case.”
“Hey, Luke.”
I glance at his cup as I step off the elevator. “Coffee?”
“Kind of. Some soy milk thing for Holland.” He glances at mine. “Spider?”
I nod.
He nods back.
“Well, good luck,” he says, moving past me into the elevator.
“You too, man. See you at dinner.”
“Yup.”
∞∞∞
I navigate the lobby like it’s totally normal to walk around with a spider in a cup covered by a channel guide. I’m a firm believer that not showing fear is half the battle. The staff at the door seem a little more suspicious than the others I’ve passed, though, possibly because after saying hello I beeline for the flowerbed.
“Can I help you, sir?” A security guard asks before I reach the promised land. By help he clearly means send you back where you came from and sir is crazy man with a spider in a cup.
“Nope. Just taking care of business.” Well, that certainly didn’t help.
He raises a brow. “Sir, there are restrooms in the lobby.”
I force a laugh and shake my head. “No, no. Not that kind of business. I have a spider.” I hold up the channel-guide-cup-trap because… yeah.
“Sir, we’d ask you not to release wildlife on hotel property.”
“Oh it’s not wildlife. Just a spider.” I bend down to get to work. This conversation is going nowhere.
“Sir, for the safety of the guests, please do not release your pet on our property.” He’s got a hand on
the radio, ready for action. I already see the headlines. Rebel Rocker Unleashes Killer Spider Dot.
“Ha! No. It was on the wall in our room. I wanted to flush it but… never mind. Here, look.”
He steps back when I approach with the cup out-stretched. Still, he can’t resist a peek and leans to unsafe levels in order to inspect my contraband. By his look, he’s not impressed.
“Sir?”
I pull the cup back and—shit. “Um… Well there was a spider in here.”
He nods, his expression shifting from irritation to pity. “Of course there was, sir. Have a nice evening.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and trudge back to the entrance. I’m careful to toss the empty cup in the trash bin. The last thing I need right now is a litter citation.
3: WEDNESDAY 7:04PM, 3 DAYS
People say marriage requires total honesty. Those people clearly aren’t including the fate of spiders in that advice. So maybe instead of the truth I tell Callie her spider is happily nestled in a garden palace amidst an endless buffet of seasonal insects. Maybe she believes me and thanks me with a sweet kiss and promise to make up our intimate time the very first chance we get. Maybe it all makes me a terrible person, but we don’t have time to find a new hotel if she learns the spider could still be haunting these hallways. Maybe that’s why I’m now following her through a maze of resort amenities to the Crescent Moon Banquet Room where she’s worried about being late and I’m worried about being a spider-killer. None of this helps my attitude toward Rita’s Welcoming shit, and I do my best to suck back any remaining protests.
Yep, still skeptical this is actually a thing.
Callie reaches back and grabs my hand as we approach the ornately labeled Banquet Room, as if fearing she’ll be entering alone in a second. I squeeze her hand, and she flashes a smile that melts my resistance. It’s my family in there. My friends. My life she’s trying to accommodate, so the least I can do is not be a dick.
Applause breaks out when we enter. Legit cheers and catcalls that seem several days premature in my opinion. That’s right people, we made it all the way from Suite 1401 to the banquet room!
Callie is more generous with a shy wave, and I tuck her against me.
“’Sup, everyone,” I call out, plastering my own welcoming grin on my face. Everyone’s here, my brother Nate and his family, sister Molly, my other siblings, the rest of the wedding party. Hell, is that Uncle Nestor and his lady friend? Yep, dude doesn’t even turn from the buffet to say hi.
Soon we’re wrapped in a huddle of hugs, handshakes, and backslaps. Everyone wants to know if we’re “ready for the big day,” “having any second thoughts (har har),” or whether there will be an open bar at the reception. Kind of jealous of Uncle N who gets to enjoy his olive tapenade in peace. Judging by the obscene pile in front of him, he really, really intends to enjoy olive tapenade.
“Congrats, bro,” Nate says, yanking me in for a hug.
“Thanks, man.”
“You chose a good one.”
“I know.”
I glance over at Callie who’s handling the knot of welcoming relatives like an all-star. They’re my people, for the most part. Her estranged family wasn’t on the guest list, although I’d love an opportunity to punch her dickhead father after the hell he’s put us through over the last year. A story for another time. My blood’s already heated.
“Where’s Luke?” Molly asks, joining us.
“Of course you care more about him than me,” I quip at my sister. She gives me a snarky look but throws her arms around me anyway.
“I’m so, so happy for you, Case,” she says, squeezing me. “Callie is amazing.”
“She is. Not sure why she agreed to marry me. Someone must have paid her off.”
Molly snorts a laugh and shoves me. “Whatever. You’re not such a bad catch either, big bro.” She leans in again. “Did you see Uncle Nestor brought his girlfriend?”
“Hard to miss,” I say. They’re back at the buffet, even though their table is already covered with plates stacked with food.
“What are they doing?” Molly asks. As if I’m the expert on Uncle Nestor’s psyche?
“No idea, but do me a favor? Can you keep an eye on him? You know how he can be.”
She nods, not looking thrilled about the assignment. “I’ll do my best. Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask.” She bites her lip, and I do not like the direction of her gaze. “Is Eli still single?”
“No,” I lie.
“Really? He’s dating someone?”
“No.”
“So he’s not dating anyone?”
“Molly, I love you. My answer to inquiries about Eli will always be no.”
Her attention starts to wander again, and I gently twist it back to me. “No.”
She crosses her arms in the signature Barrett pout I’m pretty sure I’ve demonstrated at least five times since arriving at the hotel. “He’s so fun though.”
“Which makes him a hard no.”
She has more protests queued up and ready, but Callie rescues me by slipping her arm around my elbow. “Hey, Molly!”
“Hi! It’s so good to see you.” My sister gives me a discreet glare to make it clear that’s meant for only one of us. I smirk and leave the ladies to chat. I thought I saw Jesse come in and want to ask him about his new IEMs. I’ve been thinking about another pair for a while.
“Oh good! You’re here.”
How the hell does Rita manage to materialize out of nowhere like that? There was carpet, relatives, Nestor’s feast, and bam. Wedding planner.
“Yep.”
By her look, she considers this a huge, unexpected win.
“Did you know there are spiders in this hotel?” I ask because it seems necessary to re-balance the universe.
Horror spreads over her features. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope. Found one in our room. Don’t worry, Callie made me rescue it.”
“Rescue it?”
“Yep. I built it a little condo, gave it a back massage, you know, the usual spider-rescue stuff.”
She arches a brow, clearly having no clue what to make of me. I don’t feel badly. She should understand by now that we both live to rain misery on each other.
“I’ll talk to management,” she says, somewhere between serious and annoyed.
“Thanks. Do you know which menu items are the gluten free options?” I add, eyeing the buffet for effect. I glance back quickly to catch her reaction.
“You’re not gluten free, are you? You’re gluten free? No one told me! Oh my gosh, it’s not a serious allergy is it?”
Okay, maybe that’s enough punishment for now. I release the charm, including a smile that even works on Rita. “Nah, I’m just kidding. That garlic bread looks great.”
She offers a stiff smile—a truce, I guess—but any victory for either of us gets interrupted by a wave of excitement. I don’t have to see the door to know who just walked through it. Personally, it’s a relief, because I’m hungry and could use a break from the show. We finally have an actual chance at food consumption now that Luke and Holland have shown up to steal the spotlight. Thank god your best friend is a superstar. I catch Callie’s attention and nod toward the dinner spread while the crowd shifts their enthusiastic welcoming to Luke.
“Luke’s here,” she says dryly.
I smirk and grab a plate. “Yep.”
“Should we rescue him?” Callie picks one up as well.
“From what? Being an iconic rock idol descended from the gods?”
“Don’t be mean.”
“I’m hungry. He’s fine.” As if sensing our conspiracy, Luke’s exasperated gaze crosses to mine. His face is dressed with his patented stage smile, but I read the discomfort. It’s supposed to be your thing, dude, his frown tells me. I raise a brow, saluting him with the Caesar salad tongs. If looks could kill… I snicker and toss some grilled chicken concoction on my plate.
“At least your family’s accep
ted him back into the club,” Callie says, still supervising from afar.
“I don’t know. Bet he wishes they hated him right now.”
“Wait, is your cousin asking him to sign her napkin?”
I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. Callie’s already on the verge of being mad at me.
“Just enjoy your chicken, babe. Luke can handle Chrissy.” Is the whole week going to be like this? Callie fretting over every one of our four hundred guests? Making sure her wedding is their fantasy? My jaw ticks at the thought, protective sparks steeling through my limbs. Not a chance. My family, my problem, and starting tomorrow, I’m confining my girl to the spa. I have no doubt Holland, Mila, Silvina, and Luke will support my executive decision. It’s a fair plan. At the very least, sincere.
If only I’d known this would be my last night as a happily engaged man.
4: THURSDAY 8:23AM, 2 DAYS
“Casey! We have a problem.”
We have a problem. Four words no self-respecting groom wants to hear days before his wedding. The glass door of the shower flies open, and I shiver at the blast of air. Or is it the look on my fiancée’s face?
“Can you narrow it down for me, babe?” I ask, turning off the water.
Damn, it’s stuffy in here. Hate hotel bathrooms—unless Callie’s naked in one… hmm… I read her expression again. Nope
“Rita just called. The Rose Chateau is gone.”
“When you say gone…”
Sexy hazel eyes bore into me as I reach through the mist for a towel.
“I mean gone. Burned to the ground. Charred rubble. Gone!”
It takes a lot to rattle Callie, but right now my girl is all kinds of frantic.
“So no princess ball is what you’re saying? Does that get us out of the Welcoming bullshit at least?”
“Casey!” She snatches the towel from my grip and slings it at me.
“Ouch.”
“This is serious!”
“Totally.” I hook the towel over my shoulder and steeple my fingers in front of my lips. Seems like the serious thing to do. Her expression though…
“Argh, you’re impossible!”
An NSB Wedding Page 2