Guys and Godmothers

by Candice Gilmer

  Chapter Fourteen

  Friday Afternoon

  With every file she sorted, Stephanie knew she’d done the right thing.

  That whole “wake up after sex night” thing was not going to work with her and Roark. The reality of everything slammed into her hard as dawn crept in. They weren’t made for each other.

  No matter how good of a time they’d had.

  And she knew Roark. Knew him inside and out. He’d wake up all lovey and certain everything was okay, like every man after sex. Just because they had sex doesn’t mean everything’s okay.

  Didn’t mean she wanted to date him.

  Yeah. That’s what she was telling herself.

  And she wasn’t listening to the little girly part anymore that wanted the fairytale happy ending. Because she knew, deep down, especially after last night, Roark really was her Prince Charming.

  But unfortunately, reality was a different thing. And Stephanie had to live in the real world.

  She picked up her cell phone.

  Two new texts from Roark.

  Both exactly the same.

  Call me.

  “I’m not calling you,” she said to the phone, and laid it down. “I have things to do.”

  Yes, she did.

  The pile of paperwork for Heather Gesthouse needed to be sorted. Stephanie turned to her computer and checked the document against what she had in the files. She’d been on the phone all morning, calling vendors to let everyone know she was no longer handling Heather’s wedding.

  Now, she printed off the document, readying it with the contract to give back to Heather for her own reference.

  Though Stephanie wondered why she bothered.

  But she knew the answer.

  She was a decent person. An ethical business woman. She may have hated Heather, hated working for her, but she would not be unprofessional.

  Not that Heather had said morals. Stephanie had already gotten three alerts from Facebook because Heather was blasting all over what a horrible wedding planner she was.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered to herself when yet another text alert from Facebook beeped on her phone. “I will remain professional. I will.”

  She pulled out her checkbook and wrote off the balance of her fees. It made her sick to write the check, but she did it.

  A little tummy trouble was nothing compared to night after night of migraines and feeling worthless when she went home.

  Just as she placed the check with the last of Heather’s files, the main door chimed, alerting Stephanie to a customer’s entrance.

  Of course, it was Heather. Looking quite a bit overdone, alongside her plastic mother.

  Oh wait, the woman was flesh. Steph smirked as they crossed the room.

  “I just put this together for you,” Stephanie said, the papers in her hand.

  Heather crossed her arms over her chest. “So you really are that stupid.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Stephanie asked.

  “You really think you’re going to fire me.”

  “I believe I already did,” Stephanie said, forcing a smile. “As it was mentioned last night, it states in the contract—”

  “I don’t give a shit about your contract. This is my wedding, and I will have exactly what I want.”

  “That is your prerogative,” Stephanie said, standing straighter. “Though now, you’ll have to do it without my assistance.” She handed her the papers. “Here you will find your contract, already voided, a list of all the vendors I contacted on your behalf, as well as the remainder of my fees.”

  “Remainder,” her mother said, her shock barely noticeable through the plastic surgery.

  “For services rendered, I do expect to be paid,” Stephanie said. “My log is there, detailing what has been done up to this point and costs. The remainder of what you paid is there.”

  “You should refund all of the money.”

  “The contract you signed states exactly how this would happen if it came to this.” Stephanie stood firm against the plastic woman.

  Her mother snagged the packet from Heather. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “Then I will be happy to refer you to mine,” Stephanie replied. “Perhaps you’ve heard of her? Lesley Turner, of Turner and Koch?”

  The older lady’s eyes went wide. Leave it to Roark to have a sister who was one of the town’s leading attorneys. It was only a tiny fib. Lesley wasn’t exactly her lawyer, but Stephanie certainly would be going to her—

  Shit.

  Well, she would have, if all this stuff with Roark hadn’t popped up.

  “Of course, you’re not even married to him and you’re already trying to throw his name around,” Heather snapped.

  “Friends are funny like that. They help you out even before you marry them.”

  “I don’t see a ring,” Heather said.

  “It’s being sized.”

  “Come along, Heather, we never needed this trash taking care of your wedding, anyway.” Her mother pulled at Heather.

  Stephanie gritted her teeth. “Have a nice day.” Her hands trembled as she walked around her desk, and pretty much collapsed in her chair as Heather crossed the office.

  The chime went off as they opened the door.

  Stephanie’s cell phone rang.

  “This is Stephanie,” she said.

  “It’s me.” Roark’s voice could never be mistaken.

  “Hi there, sweetheart.” She glanced at the door, seeing Heather standing in the entrance, looking at her.

  “Stephanie?”

  “Oh, no, I told you, it’ll take the jeweler a few days to get the ring sized,” she said, smiling into the phone and pretending to ignore Heather’s glare.

  “What in the hell?” Roark said.

  “I know you’re excited, but if we want the ring done right, we have to wait.”

  The door shut, and through the front window, Stephanie saw Heather climb in her car.

  “Oh thank God,” Stephanie muttered.

  “What in the fuck was that?” Roark asked.

  “Heather was here, picking up her contract and stuff.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you want, Roark?” she asked, her heart still thundering in her chest.

  “We need to talk.”

  “We did that,” Stephanie said.

  “Why did you leave?”

  “You’re a big boy. Figure it out.”

  “I don’t know why you’re fighting this.”

  “I don’t know why you’re pushing this,” she replied.

  “Don’t throw this away, Stephanie, please don’t.”

  “We’re better off friends, Roark. I mean, for God’s sake, I had to use your sister to keep Heather from suing me. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like a piece of shit, to know I can’t stand on my own and do this by myself. I have to get help from you.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Because you’ve always had to help me, Roark. Having you as a friend is like having…I don’t know…an overprotective parent. You’re always fixing everything for me. I’m so used to it I barely know how to handle stuff by myself. If we dated, what then?”

  “You’ve built your business all by yourself.”

  “With your help. Your family helped launch me. I can’t, Roark. There’s so much depending on you already, I can’t risk everything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I get nothing for me.”

  “What about me?” Roark asked. “Aren’t I enough?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saturday Night

  Roark picked up his Sam Adams and took a long drink while he waited for Bruce and Jason. He knew they would be there, because
they said they would.

  Unlike the woman in his life. Even if she didn’t want to be, Stephanie was the woman in his life. They had to be, at least, in some variation of a relationship. Because right now, all he wanted to do was strangle her.

  She’d run away. He wondered if he should really be surprised by her early-hour disappearance. Thursday had been the best damn bed games he’d ever had—it blew away every one of his expectations. She’d been open, let him try different things, and he’d even had some fun himself. So trusting, the entire time, he’d hoped their bad evening had been long forgotten.

  Evidently he was wrong.

  And her phone call yesterday, the first time he’d talked to her since, had him seeing red.

  What the hell did he have to do to prove to her he was serious? Wasn’t being in a relationship about supporting one another?

  “If your face gets any longer, your chin will be in your beer glass,” Bruce said as he took the barstool next to Roark.

  Roark forced a smile. “Sorry. Woolgathering.”

  Bruce smirked. “Who says that? ‘Woolgathering.’ That’s something my grandmother would say.”

  “What can I say, I’m old-fashioned.”

  “Yeah, you probably buy the gal dinner before you bang her.” Bruce smiled as the bartender acknowledged him with a wave, and tossed a few dollars to cover the coming drink.

  “That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Roark said. “That whole gentlemanly courtship thing.”

  “God, drink your beer. You’re talking with way too many syllables tonight.” Bruce gulped his beer. Circles hung under his friend’s eyes. “So what’s her name?”

  “There’s no ‘her,’” Roark countered.

  “Yeah, um, okay.” Bruce’s cell phone went off and he glanced at it. A grin spread over his face as he answered the text.

  “Girlfriend?” Roark asked, trying to turn the tables on his friend. He wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation.

  “Just Facebook.” He stroked the screen and pulled up Facebook’s mobile app. “Going to a steampunk con here in town.”

  Roark blinked. “There’s a steampunk con here?”

  “Only for those of us who are cool enough to know about it.”

  “Are you taking your camera?”

  Bruce nodded. “I told them I’d do a few shots for their website if they gave me and a friend free passes to get in.” He took a drink of his beer.

  “Are you dressing up?”

  Bruce chuckled. “What fun would it be if I didn’t?”

  Roark snorted. “So, you’re wearing your Firefly costume again?”

  Bruce grinned. “With some awesome steampunk accessories I picked up.”

  Despite his mood, Roark grinned. “I may be forced to have an intervention for you, nerd.”

  Bruce laughed off the comment. “And what’s the difference between steampunk and Star Wars or Star Trek?”

  “Star Trek and Star Wars actually are real movies. And television. Where is steampunk? It’s just a mix of western and technology.”

  “Wild Wild West comes to mind. League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Back to the Future Three…”

  “Not exactly stellar titles for reference,” Roark said.

  Bruce grimaced. “Well, Back to the Future is awesome. I mean, Doc Brown made an ice maker roughly the size of a barn. That’s total steampunk.”

  “Whatever gets you through the day.”

  A yellow envelope plopped on the bar next to Bruce. “God, if he’s on one of his steampunk tirades, I’ll take my drink to go,” Jason said as he dropped onto the barstool.

  The lady bartender came over, smiling big at Jason. Roark rolled his eyes when Jason ordered his drink, oblivious to her ogling.

  She winked at him—winked—and he didn’t even register it, instead facing Bruce and nudging the envelope toward him.

  “Is that my stuff?” Bruce asked.

  Jason nodded.

  “What did you need him to do?” Roark asked. Jason was a private investigator by trade, and could usually track down anyone and any of their dealings.

  “Nothing important,” Bruce said, pulling the envelope closer to him.

  Jason glanced at Bruce.

  Roark figured he ought to go take a leak, and excused himself from the bar. Evidently, Bruce and Jason needed to share a few words.

  “Can I beat my charge?” Lilly said, her arms crossed and her curls vibrating from her flapping wings.

  “What’s the matter?” Christy asked. She hadn’t seen any of her friends since they started this latest challenge, and Lilly looked fit to be tied. Ava hovered on the other side, watching.

  “That… Ugh. He is such a fool!” Lilly snapped, yellow dust flying everywhere, including on Christy and Ava.

  “Watch it,” Ava replied, very quietly.

  “You know, you could have made your charge not find the stuff,” Lilly said, waving her wand to disperse the dust. “A freak solar flare knocking out his computer. Heck, break his modem—that would have worked too.”

  Ava spun around. Today, her leather body suit was actually dark red rather than black. “How is it my job? Jason was asked to do a job. He did it. What do you want me to do about it?”

  “You could have fried his computer! He shouldn’t have done it,” Lilly said. “Things were going well. Now this is going to ruin everything!”

  “Your charge asked for it. Offered to pay. It was a job—it didn’t mean anything to Jason. It’s you that should have prevented him from doing it.”

  “Like I could have stopped him! We’d just gotten the assignments. I didn’t even know if it wasn’t for Andres!”

  “Girls!” Christy said. “Knock it off. If you’re not careful, you’ll draw attention. And we do not need…”

  “Hello ladies,” came Cupid’s smooth voice.

  “Damn,” Ava said, glaring at Cupid. “Doesn’t Hollywood need you for the scandal rags or something?”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Ava, that is no way to speak to a god.”

  “A minor one,” Ava said, arms crossed.

  Cupid glided over to Ava. “You should be very careful, young one. I can be very influential when I need to be.”

  Ava snorted.

  “You just need to move along, there, Cupid. We have this under control,” Lilly said, puffing her golden dust everywhere. “We don’t need any of your help.”

  “But my help is so good in these kinds of situations,” Cupid said with a grin.

  “You’re more of an annoyance,” Christy said.

  “I don’t know about that. One of my little arrows would certainly help your situation out a great deal.”

  “If you go near my charge, I’ll…I’ll…” Christy flustered.

  “I didn’t mean your charge. The girl he has his sights set on…she could certainly use a little motivation.”

  “Cupid! You had better not!” Christy snapped.

  “I think I just might need to…” He held up his hand, as if he were about to disappear, when another being joined their little party.

  “I would not do that if I were you,” said Christy’s husband, Ewan. He flew between Christy and Cupid. Ewan crossed his arms and glared at Cupid. Even compared to the god, Ewan was strong and muscular. Coupled with his magical gifts, the man could brawl with the best adversary, and he looked ready to rip Cupid’s head off.

  All for her. Christy had never been so glad to see her husband.

  Cupid raised his eyebrow. “As if I were going to listen to the words of a tooth fetcher…”

  “You should,” Ewan said. “I have friends in powerful places.” His voice, low and steady, sounded more like a gladiator about to attack than a Tooth Fairy. His wings bristled, their thin, fine edges quivering as he spoke.

  Cupid snorted. “I am a god. What ar
e you going to do to me, tooth fetcher?”

  “Report you for meddling in Fairy Godmother affairs. Among other things…” Ewan got closer as he spoke, the threat very real on his face.

  While Christy loved her husband for defending her and her friends, this could turn very bad very, very quickly if they weren’t careful.

  Cupid gritted his teeth, slipping just a little closer to Ewan. “As if anyone will listen to a tooth fetcher.”

  Ewan didn’t back down. The two snarled at one another. Christy wanted to punch the arrogant god in his mostly perfect nose.

  “Listen boys, this may be fun for you,” Ava said, getting into the mix. “But we have a real problem. Cupid, you’re being a pain in the ass. So knock it off.”

  “Watch it, little baby. You have your own messes to deal with,” Cupid said, glaring at her.

  Christy expected Ava to snap back with something, but she froze, her eyes wide and her mouth glued shut. A miracle in itself.

  “Ava?” Lilly touched Ava’s arm, and Ava jerked away.

  “Just ask her about her charge,” Cupid said with a smirk. “If anyone needs to be—”

  “No one wants to hear what you have to say,” Lilly spouted off.

  Another fairy joined the party—this one in the regal pale gray suit of a Council member, making even Cupid pause.

  Andres took in the scene, then turned his attention to Cupid. “What is going on here?” the newcomer asked, the silver sparks of his magic showering Lilly.

  “Nothing you need be concerned with,” Cupid replied.

  “It looks a little suspicious,” Andres said. “You seemed to have upset these fairies a great deal, Cupid.” Andres, the liaison to Mount Olympus, floated next to Ewan, a stark contrast to Ewan’s thick build—sinewy, with the simple silver clothes only Council members wore. Even his wings seemed sleek and slim.

  “I am merely doing my job,” Cupid said.

  “Your job should not be anywhere near these fairies and their charges,” Andres said.

  “If they were good at their jobs, then my presence would not be a concern.”

  Ewan let out a low growl.

  Andres merely shook his head. “You know the law, Cupid.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I would hate to see your godlike standing removed due to meddling in fairy affairs.”