Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hayden
I look at the two women sitting on the floor of the shop with their backs against the wall. There’s an empty bottle of wine lying on its side, and Mel still has a little in her glass, but Cara’s is empty. They’re probably going to be sorry tomorrow—especially if Cara didn’t eat anything after work.
She probably didn’t, based on the way she keeps looking at me and giggling. And Mel looks like she just realized she sat in a pile of shit left by a four-legged customer.
At least Cara looks happy to see me.
“I was driving past and saw the lights on.” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets and feeling awkward. It’s not something I’m used to. “It’s late, so I—well, I was afraid maybe you were staying here because Gin threw you out or something.”
Mel laughs, holding up her glass. “That’s actually sweet, even though you’re still an asshole. But Gin can’t throw Cara out. She’d starve.”
It’s been a long time since somebody other than my brother has called me an asshole to my face, but I let it go. Mel was Cara’s best friend in high school, so I would expect her to hate me even more than the Gamble family does. Holding grudges is in the best friend job description.
“She wouldn’t starve,” Cara says, frowning. “But she’d probably freeze during the winter.”
I’m not sure what Cara has told Mel, but I’m guessing since the two of them have knocked down a giant bottle of wine sitting on the floor of a dog salon, our upcoming wedding’s probably not a secret.
I hope she’s sober enough to remember everybody in our lives has to be told the whirlwind reunion lie.
No exceptions. And not only because Gin has to believe it.
I didn’t really stress the legal aspect to Cara, but if Gin decides to come after me for taking her house by fraudulent methods after the divorce and buyout, I need for everybody from my brother to Cara’s best friend to be able to swear under oath we married for love.
I’m going to take Marcus Gamble’s house, and I don’t want his widow to have any grounds for taking it back.
“My car’s out front. Let me drive you both home so I don’t have to worry about you.”
Cara sits up straighter, her face lighting up. My ego swells, enjoying her reaction to the idea of spending even a few minutes with me. Sure, we’ll also have Mel with us, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Is Penny in the car?” she asks, and my ego deflates like a popped balloon.
“She’s at my mom’s. I asked her if she wanted to go for a ride, but she’d found a comfy spot in her bed and didn’t want to leave it.”
Mel nods. “The doggy equivalent of dammit, I just took my bra off.”
“Yes.” Cara looks at her friend as if she’s said something incredibly wise. “Penny had put her comfy jammies on and wanted to be left alone.”
“Men never understand.”
I hold up my hands. “I just asked her if she wanted to go for a ride. She usually likes going in the car with me.”
“Read the room,” Mel snaps. “She just took her bra off, Hayden.”
Cara giggles and tries to take a sip of wine from her empty glass.
They’re well past the point of me leaving them here to walk home.
Sumac Falls is a small town and they’ve lived here their entire lives, so I don’t think they’ll get lost. But I also grew up here, so I know if they hurt themselves or decide to do something rash, they’ll be the talk of the town for who knows how long.
“The wine’s gone, so let me take you home, sweetheart.” The endearment makes her eyes widen, but I’m hoping it’ll remind her that, as far as everybody else is concerned, we’re wildly in love. “We’re going to town hall for the marriage license in the morning, remember?”
“Tomorrow?” Mel looks at Cara, holding up her hand in a sloppy what the hell gesture. “You just got engaged.”
“We wasted so many years,” Cara says dramatically, as though she’s performing Shakespeare on stage, and I wince. “We don’t want to waste another single day together.”
Mel snorts. “Are you knocked up?”
“No!” Cara looks shocked. “If I was pregnant, would I do this?”
Then she tries to drink more wine from her empty glass.
“Time to go home, ladies,” I declare, because somebody has to take charge and it certainly can’t be either of them.
“Are there snacks in your car?” Mel asks.
“Only Penelope’s doggy snacks.”
She considers that for a few seconds. “Are they peanut butter flavored?”
“Cheese, I think.”
“Ooh, cheese,” both women say at the same time, and I see I’ve made a crucial mistake.
Two weeks ago, I was a boring but successful businessman with a plan to execute a real estate transaction. Now I’m a guy who’s got to get two very drunk women—one of whom I’m marrying in nine days—into my car and home while fending off their attempts to eat my dog’s artificial cheese snacks.
I see a roll of doggie waste bags and take a couple in case one of them throws up. It’s not a perfect system, but being proactive can’t hurt. I slip them into my pocket just in case.
“Cara, he’s stealing your poop bags,” Mel says in a really loud whisper.
“Once we get married, they’ll be our poop bags,” Cara replies in a ridiculously dreamy voice.
“See!” Mel elbows Cara, who falls over. “He’s only marrying you for your poop bags. I knew it!”
“Do you have video cameras in here?” I ask Cara as she pushes herself back to a wobbly version of upright. I hope she does, because I’d love to have a copy of this video.
“Why?” Mel’s eyes narrows. “We don’t need video. I’ll testify against you in court. And everybody will believe you stole the poop bags because you’re a Reilly.”
Ouch. She’s probably not wrong, but it’s not a pleasant thing to hear. I don’t bother explaining the video question because she’s probably too drunk to listen. And I don’t tell them I want the poop bags in case they vomit because I don’t want to manifest that mess.
Luckily, I’m parked right outside the shop.
Mel makes me carefully wrap the empty wineglasses before putting them in her tote.
Based on their giggles and difficulty navigating the act of standing up and looking natural, I’m surprised to find only the one empty wine bottle. I’m guessing neither drinks very often.
I end up putting them in the back seat together rather than having Cara sit in front with me. One, Penny’s car seat is still buckled into the shotgun seat and two, if anybody’s going to be sick, I’d rather not have the wine’s reappearance splashed on my dash and center console.
“Drop Cara off first,” Mel commands as I pull away from the curb, poking the back of my shoulder.
“You live closer.”
“She has to pee.”
I sigh, digging deep for patience. “We literally just left her shop.”
“I didn’t have to go then,” Cara says.
I surrender because it’s easier than arguing with two intoxicated women. It’s not as though I’d be having quality conversation with Cara anyway. She’s currently telling Mel all about my dog and how gorgeous Penelope Louise is.
“We should steal her as payment for the poop bags,” Mel says, again in that really loud whisper.
“I can’t. It’s in the prenup,” Cara says, and when my eyes flick to the rearview mirror, I see her put her finger over her lips.
“Prenup?” Mel shrieks, just as I pull up to the curb in front of the Gamble house.
“I have to protect my ass,” Cara says. “No, wait. My assets. Okay, have to pee. Love you, Mel. Thank you for the ride, Hayden. Five stars.”
I manage to get out and around my car in time to help her climb out of the backseat thanks to her fumbling with the seatbelt release.
I make sure she navigates the curb and the sidewalk okay, but I can’t bring myself to step onto the property.
I wait until she’s on the porch and going through the front door before I turn back, hoping Mel isn’t stealing my car or rummaging through my glove box for doggy snacks.
She’s snoring, which is best case scenario as far as I’m concerned.
I drive back into town and pull into her driveway.
I see a man I vaguely remember looking out the window and wave him out.
After a brief re-introduction and an explanation of the night’s events, I leave it to Lucas to shake his wife awake and get her into the house.
As I’m looping the handle of her tote over his free arm, I see the little bag of doggy snacks tucked in between the wrapped wine glasses.
I just wave and get in the car. As I back out onto the street, I imagine her finding them in the morning and smile. A little payback for the crack about the waste bags in my pocket.