Never A Dull Moment

by Donna McDonald

  Georgia laughed at the dry summary. Henna glared back at her. “Stop. You know it’s only Vassal—the other youth you forced into a life of crime tonight.”

  “Life of crime?” Hollywood asked, looking concerned.

  “Good for you,” Georgia said to Henna, ignoring his question.

  Beside them Hollywood sighed. Georgia turned and patted his arm. “Henna’s fine, Hollywood. Vassal’s a decent guy. And that fancy tile in your hallway will clean fine with a shop vac. You might need to paint the walls in the foyer later, but they needed it anyway from what I saw.”

  He snorted as he looked at her. “I still don’t know why the sprinkler system decided to drown everyone. Tomorrow I’ll have to have the system checked.”

  “That’s okay, Dad. I’ll take of it. You can focus on the foyer repairs,” Henna said quickly, glancing guiltily at Georgia.

  “Maybe tonight was the result of divine intervention,” Georgia suggested, looking as innocent as possible. Henna was starting to fidget. That girl had no talent in covering her ass. “I thought the whole thing was funny as hell. The torrential downpour saved you from kicking your ex-wives out and looking like a social bad guy, didn’t it? They can’t say you made them leave, which frankly is what they deserved.”

  Hollywood shrugged, then grudgingly nodded. “True. No one but them seemed overly upset. Most thought it was a lark that they got drowned by sprinklers. I’m sure the comedic write-up in tomorrow’s paper will only bring more attention to the charity I was supporting tonight. I suppose I’ll need to send formal apology notes out to everyone with assurances to most they can return next year if they wish. That will probably smooth any ruffled society feathers.”

  “I’ll send the notes for you, Dad,” Henna offered. “Vassal wants to help and I think I’ll let him. He’s also offered to take Georgia home later if you want. No need keeping Leonard parked in the driveway all night.”

  “Good point, Henna. Are you going home, Georgia?” Hollywood asked, looking at her with pleading eyes.

  Georgia swallowed hard. What was she supposed to say in front of his daughter? Did he expect her to announce she wanted to sleep with him? Her irreverent attitude only stretched so far.

  “Dad, don’t be silly. Georgia can’t leave yet. Her suit is drying. Are you intending to send the woman home wearing your pants and my house slippers? One cell phone shot of her hitting social media and you’d never live it down,” Henna declared.

  Georgia’s eyebrow lifted at the elaborate rationalization which was weak, but quite inventive for a woman with so little practice. Hollywood turned away from them both to hide his pleased smile, so Henna’s explanation had obviously sufficed, as most any excuse for her to stay would have with him. Cutest of all, Henna used that tiny moment to wink at her.

  Oh, the games father and daughter played in order to be polite.

  “Have you become callous after all those divorces, Hollywood? Your reputation as womanizer might turn sour if you send me away. What would happen if word got out that you’d sent a woman home right after she got into your pants?”

  Hollywood’s twinkling gaze met hers. “Aren’t you worried about your reputation if you stay here with a womanizer like me?”

  Georgia snorted. “Dating you is more of annoyance than an actual problem. Well, except for the fact you made sure I got wet again. Next time, just pour a bucket of water over my head. It won’t be as much trouble to clean up.”

  “The first time you got wet doesn’t count. You made yourself that way. I just got to enjoy the benefits of it, which I’m trying my best to do this time.”

  “You two do realize that I’m still in the room, don’t you?” Henna asked tersely, but grinned at her father. “I’m going to go split a bottle of wine with Vassal who has far more couth than you two do. If you need anything from us, send a text before the wine’s gone. My helpfulness has an alcohol limit.”

  “Thank you for taking care of Georgia, Henna.”

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, honey,” he answered.

  And then she and Hollywood were finally alone.

  Georgia blew out a nervous breath when Brent stepped closer to her. “Didn’t you say something about having to help with the cleanup?”

  “Crap,” he said. “Yes. It’s being handled, but I need to be there.”

  “Handled?” Georgia asked.

  “Henna and I have live-in housekeepers. They see to the day-to-day upkeep of the place, but mopping up after a sprinkler system gone crazy is not part of their duties.”

  Georgia chuckled and shook her head. “Got a shop vacuum in your garage?”

  “Probably,” he answered. “Why?”

  “It sucks up water.” She grinned when Hollywood looked pained by her answer.

  “That would certainly be useful in this situation,” he said.

  Rolling her eyes at his cluelessness, Georgia turned him around and pushed him toward the bedroom door.

  “Take me to your foyer,” she ordered.

  Hollywood stopped and linked his fingers with hers, glancing down at her doggy-slippered feet. “Are those really comfortable?”

  “Incredibly so,” Georgia replied. “If all your clothing fits like this, I can see why you’re so spoiled.”

  “I don’t call it spoiled. I call it blessed.”

  “Same difference,” Georgia said, happy when he snorted.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The foyer wasn’t in terrible condition, but water had pooled a couple inches deep toward the front door. That would be bad for the wood trim around the edges if it didn’t get dry soon. An aging couple who had at least a decade and a half on her age-wise were struggling to mop up the mess with towels and buckets. Guilt swamped her. Then she got a little mad at Henna and Vassal for drinking wine instead of helping. The younger woman had few real survival skills.

  Well, she had no such excuse and guilt was driving her to get involved. She wasn’t adverse to cleaning up any mess she helped create. Sighing, she slipped out of Henna’s slippers so she wouldn’t get them wet, and knelt to roll up her pant legs to keep them dry.

  “What are you doing?” Hollywood asked, standing at the edge of the foyer.

  “What does it look like? I’m going to go help,” Georgia said, and started wading over to the couple in her bare feet.

  “Georgia…”

  “Hush. I got this, Hollywood,” she said, wading on. “I’m Georgia,” she said to the couple. “Do you have a shop vacuum somewhere?”

  “Probably one in the garage. Now why didn’t I think of that,” the man said. “I’m Henry. This is Maggie. We’ve been with Brent since before Henna was born.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” Georgia said politely.

  “Were you a guest here tonight?” Maggie asked. “We totally missed what happened because we were calming the caterers when the trouble started. They were upset over no one eating the food. We tried to explain it wasn’t the duck pate that ran people off, but they wouldn’t listen to us. Apparently, some woman in a cream suit had a gagging fit over it. No one would touch the pate after that. Out of the fifty things they prepared, forty-nine got eaten in healthy amounts. You wouldn’t think they’d be so anxious about the one thing that got snubbed.”

  And her guilt just got worse and worse.

  Georgia put a hand over her mouth to stifle her nervous laughter. She was never going to fit in Hollywood’s life. Had she really been thinking that after he’d kissed her in front of his exes?

  God… she needed therapy, but real therapy. Someone other than her well-meaning daughter. Getting comfortable in Hollywood’s duck pate filled life was simply too crazy to contemplate.

  “You’re right, it wasn’t the duck pâté, Maggie. Henna liked it. Everyone abandoned the food because no one wanted to miss the cat fight going on in the foyer fountain,” Georgia reported, pausing to let them laugh. “Now don’t get me wrong, I have no room to talk. I pushed through the crowd until
I had a front row seat for the festivities. Apparently, I was the indirect cause of the lunacy. You see… I was Holl—uh, Brent’s date for the evening. We met through a dating service.”

  “A dating service? Seriously?” Henry asked.

  Georgia grinned. “Yes. Now normally I’m not a mean person, but it was fun watching his exes chasing each other through the water. Dr. Colombo sure knows how to show a woman a good time. I’m going to put that in my review of the evening. Brent’s been nothing but kind to me despite all the excitement.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Nobody kinder than the Doc Colombo. We love him like a son,” Henry said.

  Laughing, he disappeared to go look for the vacuum. Georgia chatted with the woman while they waited for Henry to return. The older couple were wearing matching rubber boots. She still towered over their heads in her bare feet.

  In the middle of chatting, Maggie suddenly looked over at Brent and shook her finger. “No, Brentwood. You stay right where you are. This is being taken care of. You’re not going to hurt your hands mopping up water. Henry and I will take care of this mess.”

  Georgia’s eyebrows raised over the chastising, but they went higher when Hollywood obeyed her. Hands… of course. Hollywood was a surgeon. His hands were his career. They were probably insured or something.

  “Wow, that’s quite amazing. Brent actually did what you asked. Does that work with all men and can you teach me that trick?” Georgia asked.

  Wanting to take the sting out of her teasing and out of Maggie ordering him around, she winked at Hollywood across the room. He rubbed his nose and stared at the floor like a ten year who knew he was in big trouble. She’d always heard of men being called boyishly charming, but it was astounding to see it being acted out in a man over fifty.

  What was more astounding was her urge to run and hug him for wanting to help.

  Henry came back dragging a twenty gallon monster version of a shop vac. Rolling her eyes, Georgia’s mouth twisted into a smirk. She splashed over and grabbed the long hose and various accessories freeing up Henry to roll it across the floor.

  “Well, the good news is that we’ll probably get it all sucked up in one go in that bad baby. The bad news is that we may have to call for help to get it back outside when it’s full. We’re going to need to put a few fans in here as well to make sure the floor trim dries.”

  “There are two box fans in the pool house. I’ll get them.”

  “Do that Henry,” Georgia said. “I can hook this sucker up. It’s just a bigger version of the one I own.”

  “Do you clean houses for a living?” Maggie asked.

  “Only my own,” Georgia replied, connecting the parts. “I was a military wife for twenty-five years. You get real resourceful when you’re home alone with kids in a foreign country. There’s not much I can’t do after twenty years of that.”

  “I imagine not,” Maggie said. “You seem real comfortable with your skills.”

  Georgia nodded and grinned. “Gonna get noisy for a few minutes.” She flipped a switch on the vacuum and ten minutes later all the water was inside the canister. She and Maggie laughed, and pushed the big thing around the foyer until they were convinced they gotten every last drop.

  Henry had the fans in place by the time they’d stopped vacuuming. He was standing next to Hollywood whom she’d nearly forgotten was there.

  “Now that’s enough help, Georgia,” Maggie said. “Henry and I can get the rest. We’ll drag the vacuum out and empty it tomorrow. You and Brent go on with your evening.”

  “I think the date ship may have sailed out the front door with the initial flood earlier.”

  “Nonsense,” Maggie whispered. “My money is on you. It’s still early.”

  Georgia had no idea how early or late it was. Hollywood turned from Henry and crooked a finger at her.

  “What’s that mean? I am not a dog, Hollywood.”

  His laughter over her comment seemed a little excessive, but Georgia shrugged and trudged over to him.

  Henry went back to help Maggie. Hollywood took her hand and had her step onto a towel he’d gotten from somewhere. Kneeling, he dried her feet with gentle swipes. He even rolled her pant legs down for her. She had to put a hand on his shoulder to lift her legs one at a time when he insisted on putting Henna’s doggy slippers back on her feet.

  “Thank you,” she said, staring down at the boyish grin turned up to her. Her stomach did that same fluttery thing it had the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

  “Thank you,” he said back, rising to meet her eye-to-eye. “I’m hungry. How about you?”

  “Starved,” she lied, not really hungry at all. She just didn’t want him to find a reason for her to leave yet.

  “How about some duck pâté?” Hollywood asked. “I hear there’s plenty of that left. I like it on crackers. How about you?”

  “Caught that cover-up, did you?”

  “Woman in a cream suit—it wasn’t that hard, Georgia. Of course, now you’re going to have to wear my pants home to keep Maggie from finding out. She might never trust you again when she finds out you didn’t come clean about the duck pâté. I believe the deception score is now officially tied between us.”

  Georgia sighed heavily, and then gave in gracefully, the only way she knew how. “O, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

  “Fan of Sir Walter Scott, are you?”

  Georgia smiled. “I’m a fan of irony in any form. Poetry is full of it. I was a literature major when I married my husband.”

  Grinning, Brent took her hand. “Come on, I know a secret path to the kitchen. I majored in both science and theater. I fancied becoming an actor. Then I saw my first operation. Car accident. I asked to follow the client’s progress because I knew what the surgeon had done was the closest thing to a miracle I was ever going to see in real life.”

  “Damn it. Now I feel bad. This always happens when I’m with you.”

  Hollywood parked her on a bar stool at his kitchen island which was bigger than her entire kitchen.

  “Do you feel bad for thinking that I’m a money making shark who preys on the insecurities of aging women? You wouldn’t be the first to ever think it.”

  “No, I never quite got that bad in my judgment. I did get a little scared over the three brides of Frankenstein fighting over you tonight. Your work is impressive. Their faces were flawless,” Georgia cautiously admitted.

  Hollywood snorted. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, Georgia. Those women are still flawed. With my paying clients, I try to do the least amount of cosmetic change necessary. Why would anyone want to remove all their character from their face? But to fix someone who was badly burned or who’s been in an accident? That’s when I know I’m doing what I was meant to do. However, doing both has made a lot more things possible in my life.”

  “Well… shit,” Georgia said fiercely, crossing her arms. Her boobs lifted against the confines of her bra.

  As if her breasts called out his name, Hollywood’s gaze left the refrigerator contents and turned to her chest. Not even her husband had ever looked at her quite that way… or at least not that she remembered. Maybe he had in the beginning. Was the next man in her life supposed to be the one whose head was now buried inside a refrigerator big enough to hide a dead body in?

  Hollywood brought a plastic wrapped plate back to the island with all kinds of snack food on it and slid it up onto the bar. He pulled the plastic off with great care, revealing a little at a time until he lifted it away. She wondered if he unwrapped his lovers that same way. A head slap over her thoughts would have startled him, but a quiet groan of humiliation eventually found its way out of her throat.

  “No worries, Georgia. I made sure there’s no duck pâté on this one. Henna is the only person I know who actually likes that stuff.”

  “I wasn’t groaning about the duck pâté…” Georgia stopped. What was she thinking in admitting that to him?

  “How do you feel about
cheese? Is that innocent enough for your palate?” Hollywood asked, lifting a piece of cheddar to her mouth. “At the risk of having another overwhelming attack of lust, let me feed you. The idea of you being hungry bothers me, especially after you helped Maggie and Henry clean up the foyer.”

  She opened her mouth and reached out to take in the bite. Her obedience got her a hug and a sound kiss on the cheek.

  “Thank you for being such a good sport, Georgia. I know I don’t deserve it. I should never have invited you here tonight, but I’m still glad you came. I know that’s not fair.”

  Georgia reached out and put her hand over his mouth as she chewed the succulent cheese and swallowed. She felt him laugh beneath her fingers. Her stomach fluttered in response. Damn it.

  “What now?” he asked, when she removed them.

  “Are you planning to sleep with me?” she demanded.

  Hollywood snorted and ate a piece of cheese to stall. Georgia watched warily while she waited for the answer. “I’ve never had a first date like you. You keep asking me questions I’m afraid to answer.”

  “Answer anyway,” Georgia commanded.

  His piercing blue gaze turned her way. “Yes. First chance I get. First time you say yes. It was all I could do to be mature and responsible earlier when you touched me. Henry and Maggie don’t need to be doing that much at their age. I knew they wouldn’t let me help them clean up the water, but I…”

  Georgia put her hand over his mouth to shut him up again. “Uh-huh… that’s what I thought. You’re a nice guy, just like everyone keeps saying.”

  He pulled her hand off his mouth and laughed at her expression. “It doesn’t sound like it’s a good thing… doesn’t look like it either.”

  “Because I’m a big believer in honesty and this situation sucks for me,” Georgia said.

  “Okay, look. For the last time, I am truly sorry I didn’t tell you about my ex-wives.”