Trouble's Wedding Caper

by Jen Talty

  Devin was all about the bottom line, and he saw this as an opportunity to schmooze with his client while sipping a cocktail on the beach, staring at all the bikini-clad beauties.

  “Hey, babe,” Devin said. “I’m going to head over to the resort. I’ll see you there later.”

  “That’s fine,” Annabel said. She half-wished she’d never pushed to have him attend. She might still love him and maybe a little piece of her always would, but she didn’t want to hold on to a near-dead relationship any longer.

  “Oh, can I hitch a ride with you? I really don’t need to be here for these pictures, and I could use a drink.” Quinn lowered her chin and batted her thick eyelashes.

  “Quinn, I’d like—”

  “Honey, we’ll do our engagement picture another time.” Quinn kissed Ethan’s cheek and practically ran out of the church, Devin only one step behind.

  “We need you two for pictures,” Rosie shouted.

  “Shall we?” Ethan extended his elbow, leaning in and kissing Annabel’s cheek as if their significant others hadn’t raced out together.

  The second Annabel turned, the photographer had raised his camera. This was not something she wanted documented, so she hoped that little peck didn’t make the wedding album.

  Her face heated as she glanced over her shoulder, hoping her jerk boyfriend had seen the sweet gesture, but Devin was long gone.

  “The faster we get this over with, the faster I get to have a drink,” Annabel said.

  Annabel watched as Chip carried his bride from the lobby of the hotel to the limo waiting for them in the front of the resort. Rosie blew her a kiss just as Chip set her down.

  Annabel raised her fingers to her lips and smacked, sending it right back.

  She glanced over her shoulder, searching for Devin, who had disappeared about an hour ago. He probably had gone to bed since he’d been complaining about how bored he was because he knew almost no one and his client had called it a night a while ago.

  As she made her way through what was left of the guests toward the elevators, she noticed Ethan sitting at the outside bar.

  Alone.

  Part of her wanted to go join him, but what good would that do?

  She stepped into the elevator, tucking her clutch purse under her arm, and kicked off her heels. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was fall fast asleep. She probably shouldn’t walk barefoot down the hallway, but her feet ached.

  Just as she rounded the corner toward her room, she saw Dawn, the wedding planner, step through the door, stuffing something into her purse.

  Annabel paused midstep, counting the rooms to the one she shared with Devin when he popped his head out, his hands circling Dawn’s waist, and yanking her to his naked chest while he shoved his tongue down her throat.

  Before she could be seen, Annabel ducked into a side hallway, holding her breath, her lashes fanning over her tear-stained eyes.

  Dawn glided down the hall, primping her hair, walking right past the corridor where Annabel hid. Anger boiled in her gut like a firecracker waiting for the flame to hit. When she heard the elevator ding closed, she stomped her way to her room. Waving the key card over the dark mat, she barged in.

  “You jerk,” she said as she slammed the door shut. Staring at him fumbling to make the bed, she dropped her shoes. “You seriously were going to have me sleep in that bed after you had… you had…” She raised her purse and tossed it at his head. He ducked, and it hit the wall with a thud before dropping to the floor with a crack.

  “I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” She went about gathering her things. Thank God she was a light packer and not one of those idiots who basically didn’t unpack, so all she really had to do was collect her belongings in the bathroom and stuff them in her suitcase. “The only thing you’re going to do is pick up that phone, get your credit card, and get me a new room with clean sheets.”

  “Annabel. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Nothing to talk about.”

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “None of your business.” She went to toss the suitcase on the bed and thought better of it. “Make that call, now, before I go nuts and start cutting off your protruding body parts.”

  Ethan shoved his phone in his back pocket and signaled to the bartender for another shot of Jameson and another beer. It wasn’t totally unheard of for Quinn to shut her phone off when she went to bed, only she hadn’t said she was leaving. She mentioned she was ready to go home, but Ethan wanted to wait until his sister and Chip had left. She’d muttered obscenities under her breath and walked away.

  She had the car keys, which was good since he was too drunk to drive, though not so drunk that he’d been able to get the horrible image of his future wife draping herself all over Devin out of his mind.

  And then there was Brett, who had come with some random mutual friend of Quinn and his sister. Brett had eyes for Quinn, always had, and it did bother Ethan that she didn’t seem to mind.

  He tipped his head back and let the dark liquid burn his throat before crash-landing in his gut, churning over all the bad feelings he’d been having since he’d popped the question to Quinn just three short weeks ago.

  Hell, if he were being honest, those bad sensations had been present for the past year.

  “What are you doing out here alone?” Annabel’s sweet voice took him by surprise as he spilled his beer all over his tux shirt. He turned his head and smiled at the pretty sight gracing his vision. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top that showed off her tight stomach and cute belly button.

  Yep, he was trashed. Totally plastered, based on those drunken thoughts.

  He glanced at his watch. The glowing of the digital numbers blurred and danced across his wrist. “Quinn went home.” He only suspected that to be the case, but either way, he was going to be taking an Uber. Stuffing his hand down his front pocket, he checked to make sure he had his house keys.

  “So has half the party.” Annabel propped herself on the stool. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

  “Make that two rounds,” Ethan said, willing the corner of his mouth not to tip up in a dumb smile. “Since when do you do shots?”

  She tossed her head back and laughed. “Since my senior year in high school when Rosie and I stole a bottle of Jack from your parents’ liquor cabinet.”

  “I had forgotten about that.”

  “That was my first hangover.” She held up her shot glass. “Here’s to having another one.” She tossed back the shot like it was water and waved to the waiter.

  “If I have another shot, you’ll be dragging my coma-toasted body out of here,” he said.

  “Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do then.” She swiveled the seat, nursing her beer. “Why didn’t you go home with Quinn?”

  Annabel had always been a blunt girl, like his sister, which often got the pair into trouble.

  “She didn’t want to wait to see my sister and Chip off. Where’s Devin?” If Annabel went there, then so could he.

  “In bed.”

  He wanted to ask her if she was so sure about that. A few times, he’d seen her boyfriend chumming it up with Quinn and the wedding planner. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to being jealous as hell, but of what? Deep down he knew his sister was right, and he didn’t belong with Quinn. That the only reason he’d proposed was that he’d been afraid he would lose her and that would mess up his well-laid plans.

  And make him look like a fool.

  Laughter filled the ocean air as a couple of people took their drinks to the beach. A bright light flashed across the night sky as the photographer appeared out of nowhere, snapping a few more pictures.

  “God, he’s annoying,” Annabel whispered.

  “He takes great pictures though.”

  “So, you’ll hire him to do your wedding?”

  “That’s the plan,” Ethan said as the bartender poured an
other round before he had a chance to say no. “Can we have the check?’ He figured that would make sure he quit now before he forgot how to order an Uber.

  “Do you really love her?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course I love her.” His heart tightened. At one time, Quinn was the sun to his earth. The water to his plant.

  The only woman he had eyes for.

  Now his eyes kind of really liked Annabel. So did his nose since she smelled like lavender mixed with the salty ocean breeze.

  “I’m sorry. I had no right to ask that. I’m just pretty pissed off at Devin right now.”

  “I’m probably going to get slapped for this, but you can do better than him.”

  Annabel laughed. “You’re probably right about that.”

  “Your boyfriend has a wandering eye.” Now who was being blunt? “But relationships ebb and flow and hell, I checked you out last night. You took every man’s breath away the second you stepped into the room, so looking means nothing.”

  Or it means everything.

  “Wow. You’re really drunk.”

  “So drunk I’d do this last shot out of your belly button.”

  Annabel burst out laughing. “I so dare you.”

  “Bartender?” What the hell was he thinking? This had to border on the dumbest thing he’d ever done next to streaking across the football field in broad daylight his sophomore year.

  “By all means.” The bartender cleared off the countertop.

  “I was sort of kidding,” she said, taking his hand.

  He helped her to the counter as she lay down on the top. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her tanned skin.

  “I haven’t done this since college,” he said with a sharp laugh as he lifted Annabel’s shirt and tugged at her loose-fitting jeans, exposing more of her taut midriff, which wiggled in unison with her sweet giggle.

  The bartender lifted the shot glass. Ethan’s mouth suddenly became dry. The chatter of people’s conversations in the background turned into static noise. His chest tightened.

  “Ready?” the bartender asked.

  Ethan managed to nod.

  The auburn liquid filled the tiny nook and trickled out onto her skin, coating it like a fine mink coat. He bent over, licking up the drizzle before diving, covering his mouth over her belly button and sucking out the juice.

  “Real nice, Annabel,” a dark voice boomed in Ethan’s ears.

  He jerked up right, wiping his mouth, staring at Devin who stood at the end of the bar, hands on his hips, shaking his head.

  “Hey, look man, I meant nothing by that. Just old friends reminiscing—”

  Devin interrupted Ethan. “Mind giving us a minute?”

  “Not at all.” With a shaky hand, Ethan helped Annabel off the bar top. “It was good to see you again.”

  “You don’t have to leave. Devin and—”

  “It’s time for me to go.” Ethan sidestepped Devin, not once glancing over his shoulder. Regret filled his heart. Any man would find Annabel attractive, but a man madly in love with another woman wouldn’t lick her stomach. Mentally whipping himself, he tried to focus on his phone. His sight was so blurry, he could barely see to find the Uber app.

  Three minutes away. He tapped the accept button and made a mental note of the make, model, and color of his ride.

  Headlights brightened the pavement. That was fast. He squinted as the car approached. Laughter caught his attention and he turned his head toward the beach.

  A couple stood at the entranceway. The woman held her shoes in one hand as she…damn.

  Ethan clenched his fists as he watched his fiancé lock lips with Brett Henderson.

  “Well, that sucks for you,” a male voice said.

  Ethan didn’t know what was worse. The guilt stabbing the pit of his gut over mutilating Annabel’s stomach or the humiliation of being taken for a fool by Quinn.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “I can snap a picture if you’d like proof,” the photographer said.

  Ethan let out a sarcastic laugh. “Thanks, but I won’t need anything like that.” He pulled open the back passenger door of his Uber ride. “I need to change my destination.”

  Chapter One

  Four months later…

  “Are you ready, Trouble?”

  My new human mate, Annabel Wilder, scoops me up, mind you a little too eagerly, and scratches the top of my head.

  With a sophisticated purr that only the most refined cats can conjure, I let her know that I approve of the delicious scratches. I tilt my head, so she can properly get behind my ears.

  “This is going to be the one. I can feel it.” Her excitement over visiting the Public Storage facility piques my natural curiosity. I’ve never heard of anyone purchasing the contents of an abandoned storage unit filled with someone else’s belongings. While I find it highly unlikely that humans in England do such things, I believe that the remarkable Sherlock Holmes would find it an utterly fascinating opportunity to study human nature.

  Annabel’s racing heart beats against my body as she glances between the elevator and me. She taps her foot, too, as if that will make the doors open more quickly. At least her touch on my fur is still gentle. I find I rather like this energetic young woman.

  I’ve quite enjoyed my stay thus far in Jupiter, Florida. It’s a quiet place, not like other parts of Southern Florida. Once you cross the bridge over the Intracoastal, the sea of cars clogging the roads magically disappear, and the sense of urgency to be in the right place at the right time slips away. My owner, Tammy Lynn, told me I’d have a nice, relaxing, drama-free time with her friend’s niece while Tammy Lynn boarded a yacht for a remote island to examine a few rare books with a dear friend.

  I’m rather glad she didn’t take me. I doubt I’d appreciate the boat, surrounded by a salty ocean, no matter how good the fish might be.

  The second the doors ding open, Annabel dashes through the modest lobby and races across the parking lot to her bright-red, hardtop Jeep. I’m thankful that, so far, she’s only taken the very back part of the top off. Unlike a dog, I do not like to stick my head out the window with my tongue lolling out.

  Such an unrefined species!

  Annabel settles me on the pink, plaid cat bed she bought the morning she agreed to take me in for a few days. The bed is comfortable, and it was very sweet of her to procure it, but pink is no color for a male cat of my stature. Here in the US, pink may be the new masculine color, but I prefer more dignified tones.

  After kneading the appalling bed for a few moments, I settle in for the ride. Annabel hops into the driver’s seat, amped up as though she’s drunk an entire pot of coffee, even though I know she hasn’t touched a drop. As she pulls out onto the road, her fingers tap constantly on the steering wheel, and she fidgets in her seat.

  Her restlessness is bad enough, but her attire is even more distressing. I have no problem with a woman wearing denim shorts, but hers are frayed and full of holes, as though they’ve been chomped on by wild creatures. And her tight, red-sleeved T-shirt bears the words SALTY CREW. Whatever can that mean? In other circumstances, the origins of the phrase SALTY CREW might be worth investigating. But right now, I’m on vacation.

  However, I shall make it my mission to help her wean herself away from wearing her rather grubby baseball cap backward on her head. With her sapphire eyes, high cheekbones, and flawless skin, she could be a fashion model. She has a devastating smile that can turn even the cloudiest mood to a sunny one. The cap makes her look like a troubled teenage delinquent.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  Ahead, the Intracoastal drawbridge on Indiantown Road that allows tall boats to ease through the waterway signals that it’s about to lift. Annabel slows the Jeep to a stop.

  “Crap. I can’t be late. I can’t be late,” she mutters.

  I press my paws against the dashboard to get a look at the rising bridge. My earlier experience with the bridge tells
me that it will take ten minutes to cross. Because we’re one of the first few vehicles in line, we’ll be on our way quickly enough. I recall her saying the facility is ten minutes away, and she has to be there by 9:30. I remember because I have a superior memory. It’s only 9:05. We shall make it.

  When we finally reach the other side of the bridge, Annabel, her fingers still drumming, soon pulls the Jeep into an establishment containing acres of metal buildings and a rough gravel parking lot. We park in a spot near where a crowd of people have gathered.

  “Want to come with me?” Annabel gets out, leaving her door open. She smiles at me.

  No way am I going to sit in this heat and wait for her. She might do something foolish. She’ll need my help and advice.

  I raise my paw and reach out, tilting my head. I’ve seen many a cat pander to humans in this manner. After all, Annabel doesn’t know I’m a superior cat with intelligence and wit. Not yet, anyway.

  She lifts me from the car seat, and I settle myself in her arms. I could walk, but why? This pavement is cracked, and twenty-two people stand right outside the office door, waiting impatiently, tapping their feet. I have no desire to be anywhere near that.

  Being as smart as I am, with more than impressive detective skills, it’s hard for me not to take a look-see around. There is a four-door sedan parked in front of the gate at the entry to the storage facility. I note an outstretched arm fiddling with a keypad before a fist bangs against the door of the vehicle. A man, wearing a short-sleeved white dress shirt, pink shorts, and a baseball cap steps from the car.

  A young boy, no more than twenty, based on his complexion, races from the main building toward the unhappy man.

  My human scratches my head, reminding me I am indeed on vacation and being aware of every detail around me is not necessary, though, out of the corner of my eye, I continue to watch the heated discussion.