“In this bag is the evil chi,” she explained. “I was going to burn it, but the aliens said if you put evil to good use, the great ball of gaseous life force will be one with you and rain down karmic favors.”
I looked around the room to see if anyone was following her, because I sure as hell wasn’t.
“I was once married to a man my niece calls Uncle Fucker. He couldn’t keep his joystick in his pants and fornicated with at least eight to ten of my neighbors. If he was still alive, I’d remove his johnson with a pair of pliers and some rubbing alcohol.” All the men in the room winced. “But he’s dead, so I won’t have that pleasure. Anyhoo, when that cheating bastard died, I received a large life insurance settlement which I cashed in by mistake. I refused to use that tallywhacker’s money, so I shoved it in a pillowcase and threw it into the guest room closet. That dirty money from that whoring man-tool’s policy was causing the bad chi! It’s been in there for ten years and it’s going today!”
I was so confused I was dizzy. Was she going to set a bag of money on fire in the library? They were so not going to let us come back here.
“Kristy, I know those shiny little drug-dealing peckers falsely promised the shelter fifty thousand dollars, but I can do better. I would like to donate the proceeds from the life of a man-whore to the shelter. Burning five hundred thousand dollars seemed like such a waste, so come and get it!”
I was in shock. Was this real? I wanted Mitch to be here so badly right now, but that was okay. I’d e-mail him later. Everyone in the room started screaming with joy . . . including me. Five hundred thousand dollars for the shelter was my every wildest dream come true . . . and then some. “Are you sure?” I sputtered. “It’s so much money.”
“Never been more sure about anything in my life. Jack is armed and he’ll drive you to the bank after this,” she said. Clearly she didn’t know anything about banks . . . it was nine thirty at night. I ran up to her and gave her a big hug. I handed the money to Jack because I was too afraid to hold it.
“Allrightyroo,” Kim yelled. “We have one more piece of business and then we’ll call it a night. Jack, I believe you’re going to handle this.”
“Yep,” he said, walking to the front of the room. “I have the pleasure of announcing the guest who is here to officially present you with your award. The government of Minnesota, the government of the United States, and people all over the country are grateful to you for your part in ending one of the most heinous and violent drug rings in the U.S. Three of the top ringleaders are dead and two vicious henchmen are going to jail for a very long time thanks to your good work and an outstanding taped confession.” He gave Hugh a thumbs-up and continued. “To present you with the award is a former federal agent. He worked for the DEA for a long time and then he fell in love with some nutty chick and decided he couldn’t be away from this woman for even a day for the rest of his life. I told him he was insane and that this woman was crazy, but he wouldn’t believe me. Somehow he finagled his way onto the Minneapolis police force and is now just a regular old cop like me.”
I couldn’t move. My heart was beating like a jackhammer and I knew I was seconds from passing out. Today had to be a dream. Things did not happen this way for me. My broken hands were shaking and everyone was looking at me. I put my head down into my hands to try to hide my tears.
“Hi, baby,” the most beautiful man in the world whispered. He gently lifted my chin, gave me a lopsided smile, and stole my heart again. “I want a white picket fence and a beautiful wife and seven point five kids.”
“Two. Two point five,” I corrected him, giggling through my tears. I reached out and touched his face and prayed I wasn’t dreaming. “Wait,” I gasped. “Did you just ask . . .” I stopped. My face felt warm and I was sure I resembled a tomato. God, what if I’d misunderstood him?
“I guess I didn’t do that quite right.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Rena yelled from across the room.
“Hurry up and get to it,” Edith griped. “I’m missing my programs.”
“Oh, shut up, you old bull dyke,” Coco huffed. “I’m enjoying this.”
“Fine,” Mitch laughed, rolling his eyes at our vocal audience. He got down on one knee and I stopped breathing. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. It was my choice to go civilian. I made it when I gave Stuey my real name, and I’ve never felt so happy or free . . . I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy and I will never leave. Ever. Kristy, will you marry me?”
I think I said yes before I attached myself to his mouth. I must have, because the room broke out into the loudest cheering of the evening. Hugh serenaded us with a pop version of the “Wedding March” and all the people I loved ran over to congratulate us. Mitch picked me up and put me on his lap, holding on so tight I could barely move.
I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. I was sitting in my own happy ending’s lap and my life couldn’t have been more perfect . . . and to think I had David Hasselhoff to thank for all this. Of course, David Hasselhoff would never realize what an important role he’d played in my happiness, but if I ever have a son . . . I think I’ll name him David.
AND THE TITLE IS . . .
Oftentimes the title of a book changes. The original title the author intended wasn’t quite right. Of course, I work with the bestest publishers evah, so they always let me come up with alternatives. Mind you, I have a couple of really good insane-brained friends who help me. I thought you might enjoy seeing the potential titles we came up with for this book. Some were just to make my editor, Alicia Condon, laugh, and the others were titles I loved. Soooo, thank you to James Kall, Kris Calvert, and JM Madden. I believe we came up with some doozies this time!
1. The Big Hairy Deal (you know what they say about big feet . . .)
2. The Bigger They Are . . .
3. She Likes Them Big and Hairy
4. Stop, Squatch, and Roll
5. Is That a Squatch in Your Pocket
or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
6. Why Didn’t You Tell Me It Got Harder?
7. How Hard Can It Be?
Part Two . . . Bigfoot. Really?
8. Size Matters:
A Girl, a Guy, and Bigfoot
9. Things Just Got Hairier
10. A Hard Man Is Good to Find
11. Looking for the Big One
12. And Yeti Said He Loved Me . . .
13. Lust and Found
14. Big Man Hunt
15. The Harder the Man, the Bigger He Falls
Don’t miss Robyn Peterman’s next wild adventure in romance, Cop a Feel, coming next June.
Prologue
“Is your name even David?” I asked as I yanked my panties
Iback on.
“Is yours Melanie?” he inquired, buttoning his jeans.
“I asked first,” I countered wondering for the umpteenth time why being an idiot came so easily to me.
“Not David.”
“Not Melanie.”
We dressed in silence. I glanced around the hotel room and felt the need to do damage. Unsure whether I wanted to damage him or myself, I decided to get the hell out before I did something else I would regret.
“You know, I can’t believe I’ve been sleeping with you on and off for a year and I don’t know your real name,” I said as I slipped my gun into its holster on my hip, promising myself I would never lay eyes on his ridiculously gorgeous nude body again.
“Back at ya, Ice.”
“Ice?”
“Like your eyes, pretty girl. Icy blue and cold. I figure since you’re not going to tell me your real name, I’ll just give you one that fits.”
“How about I call you Ass?” I snapped. What in the hell was wrong with me? He hadn’t forced me to do anything I wasn’t more than willing to do. True, he hadn’t given his real name, but neither had I.
“I’ve been called worse,” he chuckled, revealing even
white teeth and an orgasm-inducing smile. “When will I see you again?” He adjusted his bulletproof vest and slipped his knife back into his boot.
“Let me think,” I purred, enjoying how my change of tone stopped him in his tracks and piqued his interest. “Never. You will never see me again. I’m not interested and I’m tired of screwing someone I can’t trust to tell me his real name.”
“Turn about is fair play.” He grinned. He checked the safety on his gun and secured it at his hip. “And I think you were pretty interested twenty minutes ago when I made you see Jesus.”
“Oh. My. God. You did not just liken sex with you to a biblical experience,” I sputtered. His ego was bigger than his dick and his dick was nothing to scoff at.
“If the shoe fits . . .”
“Listen, David,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re a decent lay and all, but you’re not that good. I’m turning over a new leaf and I’m done having meaningless sex with asshats.”
“Good luck with that, Ice,” he replied enjoying himself too much for my liking. He beat me to the door and flipped the lock. “I’ll see you around,” he shot back over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Don’t bet on it,” I muttered and grabbed my purse.
“Oh, baby, I’m a gambling man,” he laughed as he disappeared from my sight and hopefully my life.
I slumped down on the sex-destroyed bed and dropped my head into my hands. I had to get my damned life together. Was this all I had to look forward to? Mind blowing sex with assholes not named David? The sex had been biblical, but the after-shame was getting debilitating. I was far better than this. What would my mother think? Or my brother, for that matter? I shuddered at the thought. I was an accomplished woman at the top of my game and I deserved more than I allowed myself to have.
Done. I was done.
I grabbed my ID and my handcuffs, which had unfortunately been put to very obscene use about a half an hour ago, and left. I considered leaving my non-traceable Go-Phone in the room so there was no chance of another hook-up, but I needed it for work. With one last wistful glance at the sin-bed, I walked out of that room and into my new and improved life.
Chapter 1
Three months later
The office was small but tidy. My gut clenched in anticipation of the dressing down I was about to receive. I glanced at the organized stacks of paper waiting to be filed sitting neatly next to a pile of romance novels. I grinned and grabbed one; anything to take my mind off my latest major fuck up. I’d been out of the hospital for nearly a month and I was ready to work again. I just needed to take my stern talking to and get on with it. I paged through the book and snorted. Why my boss kept this crap here was a mystery to me. I wondered if he read these books.
Romance was for people who believed in fairy tales and I didn’t. Life was real and most people were bad. I skimmed the book and rolled my eyes. Nobody looked that good first thing in the morning and making out without brushing your teeth at seven am was not my idea of a good time. Damn, the sex was pretty good.
Of course, that made me think about not David, the egotistical wonder dick. I hadn’t Go-Phoned him and he hadn’t Go-Phoned me and since we hadn’t made any other strangers-with-benefits rendezvous, I hadn’t seen him in months. That smarted a little bit, but it was for the best. Great sex was great sex. I could get that anywhere. Although, he’d kind of ruined me. I hadn’t slept with anyone but him in over a year. Whatever. At least he didn’t know that.
I nervously tucked the stiff blond hair behind my ear. Where in the hell was Steve? I knew I had it coming. I’d blown my cover twice in six months and that didn’t bode well. I’d considered cutting my hair and coloring it before my meeting to show my boss, yet again, how easily I could disguise myself, but I figured a wig would do the trick.
Blonde wasn’t really my color, but the last time I’d gotten an ass-chewing I’d worn a red wig. Men preferred blondes according to Marilyn Monroe and although Steve was gay, I figured being blonde couldn’t hurt.
The ruckus in the hallway yanked me out of my pity party.
“This is ridiculous,” a female voice shrieked. “You’re not a fag. You fathered our two children and slept with me for . . .”
“Enough,” my boss Steve ground out. “We’re divorced and I am happily re-married. You’re not allowed here and if I have to get a restraining order I will.”
“You can’t marry a man. It’s against God’s will. You’ll burn in hell and you’ll deserve it,” his not so lovely ex-wife hissed.
“Jesus Christ, Helen. You need to leave now before I do something I will regret. Although there’s not much I would regret at the moment.”
“I’ll leave,” she said airily. “But you’ll come back to me. Take this and read it. See the light, Steve. When you do, I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered.
I heard her heels clack down the hall. And that right there was why I would never get married. I’d rather chew glass and swallow it than deal with that kind of bullshit. Not that I’d get a divorce because I’d realized I was gay, but there were myriads of reasons not to be involved with anyone. Ever.
“Sorry about that,” Steve sighed as he entered the office and tossed the Bible she’d obviously given him into the trash. “That was stressful to say the least.”
“Um, are you okay?”
“I’m just dandy.” He grimaced and took a seat behind his desk.
My boss Steve was a great looking man in his late forties. Sandy blond hair and built like a brick shit-house. An ex-Navy Seal. From what I knew about him, he could kill a man with his bare hands and I was fairly sure he’d been tempted to do just that to his ex-wife. He had two kids that he was devoted to and a husband that he adored. Clearly that didn’t sit well with his ex-wife.
“Sorry you had to hear that,” he said. “That doesn’t belong here.”
“No problem,” I said feeling awful that I was adding to the weight of the world that had very obviously landed on his shoulders. “So, um . . . you wanted to see me?”
Steve tented his fingers, rested his chin on them and stared at me. I fidgeted with my wig and put the novel back on the edge of his desk. Fuck, why wouldn’t he say something? Never one to let a silence live out its life . . . I filled it.
“So I know you’re a little unhappy with me at the moment, but I had no choice. Back up was stalled in traffic and the fucker was going to get away. I had to move. He sold to kids,” I said at light speed in an effort to make him see there was no other way. “Three sixteen year olds had already OD’d and he was scheduled to get a shipment that would hook and kill God knows how many others and I . . .”
“Do you have a death wish?” Steve asked quietly.
Shitballs. Yelling I could take. Yelling I could understand and process. Quiet was bad, really bad.
“No, I . . .”
“It seems to me that you do,” he said and tiredly ran his hands through his hair. “You broke procedure and could have been killed.
“But I wasn’t and I . . .”
“This time,” Steve interrupted me in a hard voice that shut me up quick. “This time you weren’t killed, by sheer luck . . . not skill. You blew your cover with a cartel that wants your ass and will stop at nothing to get it.”
“I stopped a thirty million dollar transaction and I won’t apologize,” I told him adjusting my wig that had slipped forward due to the fact I’d forgotten to pin the stupid ugly thing on.
“Show me your stomach.”
Goddamnit, I didn’t have time for this. “My stomach is fine,” I replied, straightening the neat piles on his desk.
“Show me your stomach.”
I heaved a put upon sigh and reluctantly lifted my shirt to reveal an angry jagged red scar. I’d taken a knife to the gut in my latest assignment gone awry. Of course the other guy fared much worse . . . like six feet under worse. Luckily his knife had missed all my major organs and arteries.
&n
bsp; “Jesus Christ, Candace,” he muttered. “That’s it. I won’t go to your funeral young lady.”
“You’re not my dad,” I shot back, worried about where the conversation was headed. He never called me Candace . . . always Candy or kid or idiot. Not Candace.
“Nope, I’m much worse. I’m your boss.”
“So what are you saying? I’m fired? I’m reassigned? I’m what?” I asked in a voice I didn’t recognize.
“You need a break. You’re too involved; lost your objectivity,” Steve said watching me closely. “The drug dealers and the kids are hitting too close to home.”
He was right and he was wrong; not that I’d admit the right part. I was an undercover DEA agent because my sister had died from a drug overdose when we were little more than kids. My brother Mitch had become an agent first. Needless to say no one was overjoyed when I chose the same profession. My mother’s fear of losing another child had almost debilitated her, but doing nothing had almost destroyed me. It was my way of paying tribute and it fit me. I was good at it. I needed it. I’d had to fight my parents and my brother on my decision. To this day, I felt their disapproval and doubt. It mattered to none of them that I’d been at the top of my recruit class, spoke three languages fluently and had more weapons expertise than even my hotshot big brother.
My boss Steve had been the only one who had believed in me after I’d come out of training. He’d taught me the finer arts of jimmying car doors and disguise. He’d taught me the difference between revenge and justice. He’d been harder than hell on me and I loved and appreciated every moment of it. He’d believed in me and now he didn’t . . .
“I know I screwed up and I promise you that I . . .”
“Save it,” he said slapping a folder down on his desk in front of me. “This is your medical report. To say that you’re lucky is an understatement. This . . .” He pushed the folder toward me angrily. “This is proof of what being emotionally involved can do. It makes you sloppy and useless to me.”
Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) Page 31
