by Lili Valente
“But we should talk later,” she continues. “After the party. Do you want first shower or can I go ahead and jump in?”
I nod toward the other side of the cottage. “Go for it. I’ll probably just change. I showered this morning.”
“Okay, I’ll be quick.” She moves out of my arms, crossing the space without looking back over her shoulder. When she reaches the bathroom, she closes the door firmly behind her, making it clear I’m not invited in to chat while she gets ready the way I was yesterday.
I stand in the middle of the quaint room where I first made love to Penny, feeling alone even though she’s in the next room, fighting the ugly feeling that unless I do something soon, my new lover may become my ex-lover before the night is through.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
From the text archives of Sebastian “Bash” Prince and Penny Pickett
From Bash: My client asked what your favorite flower was today and I realized I didn’t know. It made me think I probably need to get some background information on my fake girlfriend.
So what’s the favorite flower, buttercup?
From Penny: Stargazer lilies. Even though I’m allergic to them.
Bash: Tragic.
Penny: It really is. Ours is star-crossed, star-gazing love.
Bash: Lol. Favorite food?
Penny: As if you need to ask. Ice cream. Always and forever ice cream.
Bash: I really should have known that.
Penny: You really should have.
Bash: Favorite book, movie?
Penny: I have a hard time picking favorites with things like that, but I love anything sad with a happy ending.
I like to have my heart broken a little before it’s healed up again.
Bash: Hmmm…
Me too, I guess. Though I’ve never really thought about it that way before. I also enjoy films that mix jokes and blowing things up.
Penny: Of course you do. It’s the testosterone.
Bash: Guilty as charged. So what about music? Any guilty pleasures?
Penny: Ukulele. I can’t get enough. Especially if there’s a punk rock influence.
Bash: I think I just fell in love with you.
Penny: I figured it was only a matter of time.
Bash: Seriously, I love ukulele punk rock. I have every album Uke-clear Attack ever put out.
Penny: Me too! That’s so incredibly weird.
Bash: Maybe we’re soul mates.
Penny: Maybe. But if we are, you should probably know some of my uglier secrets, too.
Bash: Lay them on me. I can take it.
Penny: I’m afraid of birds. It’s not a full-blown phobia anymore, but when I was little, I used to have a panic attack every time seagulls flew over my head on the beach.
Bash: I can see how birds could be scary. I mean, with all the feathers and those beady little alien eyes.
Penny: And the claws. Don’t forget the creepy clawed feet.
Bash: Totally creepy. Agreed.
Any other dark secrets?
Penny: Not too many. Though I do have a hard time keeping my thoughts to myself sometimes.
Bash: No. No way. You?
Penny: You’re so good at sarcasm. Like, a professional really. You ought to give workshops.
Bash: Thank you. But you know what they say—those who can’t do, teach.
Penny: Indeed. And you certainly do.
Bash: I do.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The only thing worse than being forced to go to a bachelor party where you know no one except your maybe-soon-to-be-ex-lover’s ex-boyfriend is being close enough to hear your maybe-soon-to-be-ex-lover and her friends laughing it up while you try to play nice with slimy Hollywood types and a dozen overgrown frat boys.
The bachelorette party is taking place out in the garden at Penny’s childhood home while the bachelor party has been confined to the large basement, AKA Phillip’s “man cave.”
The moment I hear the term pass his lips, I decide to arrange to have myself shot if I ever have such a thing in my home. After the briefest “thanks for having me, congrats on your impending marriage” exchange possible, I disappear to the far corner of the room to play pool, as far from Phillip and the group of men watching the Yankee’s season opener on the big screen as possible.
I’ve just beat my third douche named Matthew along with one Kip and a Baxter Sloan—two names, don’t use just one or he’ll remind you that there are two—and am considering throwing the next game to have an excuse to sneak outside to spy on Penny when Phillip materializes from the shadows, a blond nightmare in a salmon polo.
“I hear Francis and Edna had a great time with you today,” he says, taking a pool cue from where they’re mounted on the wall.
“They’re easy to have fun with.” I silently curse myself for waiting a few too many minutes to make my escape. “They’re good kids.”
“They are,” Phillip says. “I don’t see as much of them as I would like, what with filming in the city and flying to the west coast for auditions. But we’re close. I’ve known them since they were babies. Penny and I used to take turns burping them when they were newborns.”
“Bet you had no idea you would be their stepfather back then, huh?” I ask with a shit-eating grin. After Penny’s performance yesterday, I’m feeling free to fuck with Phillip a little, now that’s it’s clear he has no power over his former flame.
He meets my shit-eating grin with a seemingly easy chuckle. “No, I didn’t. But love tends to surprise you. I bet it was like that for you and Penny, right? I mean, she’s that kind of girl.”
“What kind?” I take my time racking the balls, hoping he’ll get bored and leave before I’m forced to start a game with him.
“The kind that sneaks up on you,” he says. “She’s so friendly and easy to be around that you let your guard down. And then all of a sudden you realize that girl, the sweet, funny friend you used as an excuse to sit at Tawny Regis’s lunch table, is the one you really want to be with.” He smiles, his gaze going soft and distant as if he’s watching sepia-colored memories of high school aged Penny flit by in his mind’s eye.
“Not really,” I say, determined to derail this trip down memory lane as fast as possible. I’m not going to fucking reminisce with him, and I’m sure as hell not going to admit that Penny snuck up on me, too. The only thing I want to share with this prick is a knuckle-crushing handshake when I tell him goodbye. “But I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to discuss how I fell for Penny with you. No offense.”
“None taken.” His green eyes hone back in on my face, serpent-like in the dim light above the pool table. “But you have to admit she’s an acquired taste. I mean, the way she just says whatever she’s thinking. It’s like there’s no filter.”
“I find it refreshing,” I counter. “I’m pretty sick of all the bullshit in the world. It’s nice to be with someone who doesn’t traffic in it.”
He laughs beneath his breath. “That’s another way of looking at it. Though when you factor in the ornithophobia it’s easy to think there’s something more serious at work than eccentricity.” His grin hardens. “You know, if you didn’t know better.”
I nod, still smiling.
I see what he’s up to now. He thinks he can scare me away and prove that he knows Penny better than I do, all in one fell swoop. But if there’s going to be a “who knows Penny best” pissing contest, I’m going to win it.
I prop my cue on the floor and lean one hip against the pool table. “The fear of birds is pretty common, really. I was more concerned about her perpetually cold feet. It’s not normal to wear two pairs of socks to bed in the summertime.”
Phillip’s lips part, but I rush on before he can speak.
“And then there’s the ice cream addiction, but considering I suffer from the same weakness, I consider that one of the more adorable things about her. Kind of like the way she names things that get on her nerves, how she carries granola bars around in h
er purse to give to homeless people, and how excited she gets about camping out in the living room with her sisters.”
Phillip smiles. “I remember when we were in high school, one weekend we—”
“And then there’s her taste in entertainment,” I continue with a happy sigh. “I never thought I’d meet another person who loved ukulele punk rock as much as I do. Let alone another adult under the age of sixty who finds the Earth Channel riveting viewing. I can’t tell you how tired I was of watching reality show shit with my ex-girlfriend.”
“Well, Penny is a cultural anthropologist,” Phillip says dryly, his grip tightening on his pool cue.
“She is!” I agree enthusiastically. “And I love that about her. I love that she’s so interested in what makes humanity tick that she spent years studying it. I love how smart she is and compassionate and eager to learn new things.” I pause, holding his gaze, feeling like we should be clutching something more dangerous than pool sticks. Though if it comes to it, I’m confident in my ability to take him in cue-to-cue combat. “But my favorite thing about Penny is how ready she is to laugh.”
Phillip lifts his chin. “She does have a lovely laugh.”
“It’s more than that,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not the sound or how pretty she is when she laughs, it’s the way she looks at the world.” I step closer, forcing him to tilt his head even farther back to maintain eye contact. “No matter how fucking low I am, she always knows the perfect thing to say to make me laugh. She gives me perspective and never lets me forget how lucky I am to have all the things I have. To have her.”
To have her.
It’s so true and suddenly I have to see her. I have to see her and tell her that we can talk when we get back to the cottage, but we’re not going to be talking about putting an early end to our friends with benefits status. We’re going to talk about how we move forward. Together. I don’t want to let Penny take a single step away from me. I want to keep her close and make her happy and memorize another few hundred things to love about her.
Because I do love her. I love her. Maybe I’m even in love with her.
I don’t know for sure, but I know I can’t stand to waste another second in Phillip the scum guzzler’s company.
“So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find that wonderful, one-of-a-kind person you were too stupid to hold on to and show her how grateful I am to be the man in her life.”
I drop my stick onto the table, too eager to get to Penny to relish the stunned, angry expression on Phillip’s face.
Fuck, Phillip. I no longer give a shit about getting revenge on this bastard. All I care about is making sure I’m not the next name on the list of Men Dumb Enough to Let Penny Go.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I’ve just stepped out onto the patio and started up the stairs toward the pool and the garden beyond when my phone begins to ring. I tug it free from my back pocket, hoping it will be Penny saying she’s ready to leave, but it’s a number I don’t recognize. Local.
I tap the green button. “Bash speaking.”
“I was hoping you would answer differently,” a familiar, female voice says. “I wanted to see if you could say Magnificent Bastard Consulting without laughing.” The woman chuckles. “I can’t believe Penny had the guts to hire an escort, but good for her. Good for her.”
“Who is this?” I pause at the top of the stairs, my stomach dropping.
Another throaty laugh drifts over the line. “Your future mother-in-law.”
Fuck. Anastasia. Pretty much the last person I want knowing my secret identity. This could ruin everything, absolutely fucking everything.
“I’m calling for help with your client,” she continues before I can respond. “She can’t handle her liquor any better at twenty-five than she could at fifteen. Would you meet us in the library, please? Penny may need some help getting to the car and I haven’t been able to carry her for quite some time.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up without saying goodbye or offering any explanations.
I don’t know how Anastasia found out about MB Consulting, but this isn’t good. If she tells Phillip, Penny’s victory will be ruined. It’s already half screwed to hell—proving to her mother that’s she’s moved on was almost as important to Penny as proving it to her ex. Judging by Phillip’s behavior tonight, I seriously doubt Anastasia has spilled the beans yet, but if her pattern of ruining things for her daughter holds true, it’s only a matter of time.
I have to do something, have to figure out a way to cut this off at the pass.
I’m so busy plotting what to say to Penny’s mother that I pass the library by and have to retrace my steps. By the time I push through the heavy wooden door into a room that manages to be both grand and cozy at the same time, Anastasia is thumbing through a book in a leather armchair and Penny is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is she?” I turn, scanning the floor to ceiling bookshelves and the portrait wall covered in elegantly framed photographs.
“She went to the restroom,” Anastasia says, smiling as she points toward the ceiling. “Upstairs because apparently I give her bladder performance anxiety.” Her laughter is warm and rich, like a hug from an old friend. “That girl. I worry about her inability to hold her liquor, but she’s funny when she’s drunk.”
“You don’t have to worry about her tonight,” I say. “I’ll get her home safe and make sure she’s hydrated.”
“Is that one of the many services you provide?” She sets her book down and stands, crossing the room with her lavender dress swirling around her ankles. “Revenge against the people who wronged Penny and water and ibuprofen by the bed when she wakes up with a hangover?”
“Not usually, but Penny’s special.”
Anastasia arches a blond brow. “Is she?” She studies my face intently. “Does that mean you’re sleeping with my daughter?”
My jaw clenches. I’ve worried about being exposed—that’s one of the reasons I’m looking to hire new consultants like Aidan; I know I can’t play the game myself forever—but this is worse than I imagined. If only it had happened with any other woman. “That’s none of your business.”
“I think it is,” Anastasia counters. “Penny may be an adult, but if she’s hiring male prostitutes, as her mother, I have a right to be concerned. Cheyenne said you don’t have sex with your clients, but I’ve seen the way you look at my daughter. The way you touch her. And I’m not so sure she’s right about that.”
Cheyenne. Damn it. Social anxiety sufferer or not, I make a mental note to sue her for breach of our nondisclosure agreement. “Penny is my friend. She isn’t paying me to be here.”
“But you are here in your Magnificent Bastard capacity, correct?” She folds her arms across her chest. “I didn’t ask Penny. She doesn’t know that I’ve discovered what she’s up to. I thought it was best to get more information from the source before I confronted her with all of this.”
Thank God. Penny doesn’t know.
Which means there’s still a chance to un-fuck this whole thing.
“There’s nothing to confront her about,” I insist. “I’m here as her date. That’s it.”
“Right.” Anastasia’s lips twist. “Honestly, I don’t know whether to be amused or disturbed. With a company name like yours, at first, I was inclined to laugh, but Cheyenne assured me that you’re very good at your job.”
“Cheyenne should have kept her mouth shut. And if my lawyer has anything to say about it, she’s going to be sorry that she didn’t.”
Anastasia’s eyes narrow. “Right. I understand that you have a nondisclosure agreement. Cheyenne knew she was taking a risk, telling me who you really were, but she’s been my interior decorator for almost a year. She cares about the girls and me. When she saw the pictures from the luncheon on my profile page, she felt she had no choice but to warn me that you might be here to cause trouble.”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “Like I said, this is about being
here for Penny. Nothing more.”
She tilts her chin, silently taking my measure. “So you aren’t planning to ruin Phillip? You don’t have a skeleton to pull out of his closet before the wedding on Saturday? Or maybe something for me, some punishment for stealing my daughter’s boyfriend?”
“She asked me not to,” I say, a sour taste filling my mouth. I curse myself for listening to Penny. I should have made sure I had something on both Anastasia and Phillip, just in case. It would be nice to have leverage at a moment like this.
Anastasia nods. “She’s kind. It’s one of the best, and worst, things about her.”
“I don’t see anything bad about being kind.”
“It makes her weak,” Anastasia says calmly. “She tries so hard to make everyone happy that she ends up turning her anger in on herself. If she doesn’t learn to fight back soon, she’ll spend the rest of her life getting shit on by the entire world.”
“Including the people who should have her back the most,” I counter, unable to hold my tongue. “You know who teaches us we’re worth standing up for, Anastasia? Our parents. By loving us and fighting for us before we’re capable of fighting for ourselves.”
She laughs, an uglier sound than her movie-star laugh from a few moments before. “You think I had parents like that? My father was a drunk, my mother was a coward, and both of them couldn’t wait to get rid of me. The second I started to show with Penny, they put my suitcase at the end of the driveway and changed the locks.” She taps two elegant fingers to the center of her chest. “I was seventeen and I had no one. Nothing. I had to fight for everything I have. No one handed me happiness or safety or a career or anything else. I had to fight for it all, all by myself.”
“But I’m assuming your mother didn’t fuck your boyfriend. Did she?” This woman needs a wake-up call and it looks like I’m the only one around willing to give her one. “But you did. You did that to Penny, and then you insisted that she be in the wedding or you would cut her off from her sisters: two little girls she loves more than anything else in the world.”
