Page 7

Chapter 7

Moxie

T he stress of trying to keep Wyatt away from Hannah’s family gets to me, and the first thing my panicked brain can come up with is to hit on him and heavily imply I want to take him home. Good to see the old me hasn’t completely disappeared.

“Hey Moxie, what can I get for you?” Kenji asks from behind the bar.

“Two of those Mango Margaritas and a water please.”

Across the room, Wyatt fusses adorably with the tie that is clearly a foreign object to him. I like him. I want him. And I want to know why he has to stay away from Hannah’s family because I'm convincing myself I'm being played.

After receiving our drinks, I search for safe people to wrangle into a game. Talk about gambling; we’ll be playing a game Hannah could get dragged into at any moment. It’ll be fine , I thought. It’s a big space! I'll keep him on the move and away from her. Oh, Past Moxie, you, na?ve, innocent child.I’m jumping through all these hoops, and I don’t even know why. This is wildly outside my usual preference of no drama and especially no feelings.

I scan the room for Hannah to warn her that she needs to avoid the games for whatever reason she’s failed to bring me up to speed on. In fairness I didn’t exactly tell her about my plan to bring him here either, but maybe I thought that with her “meet cute” or whatever out of the way, I didn’t need micromanaging. How clearly wrong I was. A flash of twirling blonde curls catches the corner of my eye. There she is.

I throw a glance over my shoulder to make sure Wyatt is staying put. Then I weave around Cindy from the casino’s snack shop. She clearly doesn’t hold her alcohol well and is currently giggling up a storm while trying to talk several other staff members and their families into roaming the party Christmas caroling with her. Never mind that it’s August. I hide behind Cindy so I can warn Hannah.

“You have to stay away from the games,” I say without preamble.

“You realize that’s an impossible ask, right?”

“I was planning to do it. It can be done,” I say.

“It cannot be done. Everyone always thinks they don’t want to play the games, until the liquor gets flowing. The next thing you know, you’ve discovered it was team Colonel Mustard in the slots with the roulette rake, and your arms are around that coworker you usually can’t stand for a celebratory karaoke of We are the Champions.” Hannah takes a deep breath after her uninterrupted ramble and stares at me expectantly.

“I know. You don’t play the games. The games play you.” I glance at my shoes, admitting defeat.

Hannah nods in agreement.

“I think Wyatt saw you earlier.”

“Maybe. That’s alright, he’s not the problem. It’s my parents.”

“Are you planning to tell me why we’re keeping him away from them?”

“I know this is a mess. I planned to tell you before it became an issue, but I didn’t expect you to bring him here. I’m super thrilled that you hit it off, and we need a serious debrief, but we don’t have time now. Look I’m sorry, there is one teensy, little detail that I didn’t tell you about, but I promise, it’ll be fine. Trust me a little longer?”

“I don’t like to be in the dark. It feels like I’m being played.”

“Honest, if I’d known he was coming, I would have told you sooner,” she pleads.

“You’ve got to give me something.”

She sighs. “His parents and my parents are archnemeses in a big way. I know that sounds silly, but I promise you, if they see him, I can’t predict what they’ll do. I doubt it will be pretty, and neither of us needs that in our workplace. The whole thing is a long story, but that’s the short of it.”

“You realize this is ridiculous, right?”

“Try thinking of it as fun! It’s like a continuation of Operation Meet Cute. You’re like a secret agent in the name of love.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s not push it too far with the L-word. Just try to stay away from the games. I’ve been gone too long, and your parents are wandering, too. Moxie, out.” I zip back across the room.

“Hey.” I draw out the word while I smoothly and nonchalantly nudge Wyatt to turn him back around.

“Did you find us teammates?” He takes a margarita from me.

Right. Teammates.

“Yes! Oh, and here’s a water, you looked like you needed to drink it or splash some on you when I left.”

He doesn’t buy it for a second. “What about whoever you were talking to?” He cranes his neck, and I steer him the other way again.

Cindy has made her way over to us, still looking for carolers. I grab her arm. “Cindy, you were saying you were going to join us for that game that involves singing, weren’t you?”

“I was?” she asks.

“Singing, Cindy,” I nudge. “ Singing. ” Her eyes light up, and the others she’d been trying to cajole into caroling nod gratefully toward me. They’ll be less grateful in a minute.

“Oh, yes! That’d be lovely. I’m a wonderful singer,” she trails off in an unrecognizable and surely off-key stream of oohs and ahs.

Wyatt and I exchange a look.

“And you were coming too, right?” I pull out my best threatening teacher voice as I stare down Ned who works the table games.

“It’s Name That Tune . I don’t think—” Ned starts.

“I’m pretty sure I saw Aakesh playing,” I say, having caught him majorly moon-eying Aakesh on more than one occasion. If Ned goes, his little flock of sheep here will too.

And so the game begins, and wouldn’t you know it, Wyatt is super competitive.

* * *

“That’s bullshit!” he shouts. “The title is ‘Red Shoes,; We got that!”

“I’m sorry, but the title is, ‘The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes.’” The announcer isn’t budging.

The red team, led by Vanessa, shouts out their joy as they high five each other. Our whole team is fired up. There’s a small cheering squad that has gathered around the spectacle as we get a little too into the game.

Wyatt stands up to his full height. I should probably be concerned that he’s ready to throw down at my work party, but the margaritas are doing their thing, and Wyatt being all cut-throat over corporate Name That Tune is working for me right now. I’m practically fanning myself. It’s so weird that this is a turn on, but I’m here for it.

“The first part is in parentheses. ‘Red Shoes’ is totally the title,” he insists.

“Yeah,” I say. “Everyone knows that parentheticals are unnecessary.”

“True though that may be, the point goes to the red team.” The red team roars their approval. I can’t help chuckling that the most competitive person on our team has no reason to care about winning.

“Damn it,” Wyatt mutters.

My head is fizzy with alcohol and the competition has me all riled up. “That’s a bunch of malarky! I shout.”

Wyatt’s head whips around, and he pulls out his phone. It’s only as he answers a “call” that I realize I've accidentally said our code word, and like a sleeper agent freshly activated, Wyatt doesn’t hesitate to leap into action. I doubt I've ever in my life said that word before tonight, but our conversation had it top of my mind, and alcohol does strange things.

“Wyatt, I didn’t—” I say, but I don’t get to finish the sentence.

“Oh no!” he shouts, heavily dramatic. “How terrible!”

Points for devotion, but I did not bank on his terrible acting skills drawing attention from the entire Name That Tune crowd and more. Like creepy glowing eyes in dark woods, the weight of everyone’s gazes fall on us, startled by his loud outburst and intrigued by whatever drama might be unfolding.

I swipe my hand across my neck in a cut-it-out gesture, but he leans in and whispers, “I’ve got this.” He pulls back and winks at me, then throws his hands in the air. Oh god, what have I done?

“What’s happening?” someone I don’t recognize asks.

Wyatt lets out an exaggerated gasp. “The horses have all escaped? Every single one? Of course, I’ll come help. I’ll bring my girl—I mean my Moxie. Er…”

“Oh my,” Cindy says.

“Sounds like an all-hands-on-deck situation,” another stranger adds.

Ned throws a glance at Aakesh and then rolls up his sleeves. “I’ll come help too.”

Wyatt hears this and his eyes bug out. He glances at me like now what?

I shrug at him in what I hope conveys, I suggested saying you weren’t feeling well. This is on you. But his worried expression cracks into a smile when he catches me failing to hide a laugh.

The crowd around us grows, and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to hide my laughter.

“Oh, what’s that? Some of them are walking right back into the stable?” he says, still far louder than necessary.

“Wow, how convenient,” I mutter, egging him on quietly enough that probably only Wyatt can hear me.

He glares. Are you kidding me?

I bite my lip, holding back my laughter to see where else he’s going to go with this.

“Are you sure, because I have lots of experience with horses. I’m happy to help,” Ned says.

“Doesn’t sound like that will be necessary. Sounds like they’ve got it covered,” Wyatt says as an aside. “The rest are all coming back now, too? Perfect. I’ll talk to—”

He stops in mid-sentence, his mouth agape. I spin to follow his gaze and spot Hannah waving frantically from behind her parents, who are following the crowd. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“But what about Geppetto, my favorite sheep?” I ask.

“Horse,” Wyatt corrects.

“Right. My favorite horse. Is he back yet? I simply won’t be able to enjoy myself unless I know he’s safe and sound.”

“Nope. Geppetto is definitely still missing. We’d better go!” Wyatt takes my hand, and we bolt, attempting to push through the crowd.

“I can still help,” Ned says hopefully, really wanting to look like the hero.

“Nope. Only one horse missing. We’ve got it,” Wyatt throws over his shoulder.

“But I—”

“Let it go, Ned!” I shout.

“Wyatt MacGregor, what are you doing here?” a woman screeches behind us.

Wyatt’s body tenses as we skid to a stop, and a hush falls around the room.

“That’s not good,” he says.

“Did I mention I work with your ex, Hannah?” I say.

“We have some talking to do once we get through this,” he whispers as we both turn to face our fate.

“And you don’t think the sheep will work on her?” I whisper.

“Still not sheep. And no, we’re screwed.”

“Hannah! Did you know he was here? What’s going on?” Ms. Nelson says.

Hannah fish mouths, fumbling for words.

“What do we do?” I ask Wyatt out of the corner of my mouth.

Hannah fidgets and finally throws her hands to the side as Wyatt says, “Run!”

He tugs at my hand, and I follow him. “Why am I leading? You’re the one that works here!”

“I don’t know, but the exit is behind them.”

“You tell me this now?” he asks.

“Oh sorry, should I have said, ‘No thank you. Actually I think we should go the other way’ when you said ‘run’ and just took off?” I huff between breaths, stumbling forward in my heels, the tightness of my dress forcing me into more of a waddle.

“What do we do?”

“Storage room, over there! We can hide out until Hannah ditches them. If I go down, I'm so sending you my hospital bill.”

He suddenly veers toward me, and I yelp as he scoops me up in his arms and keeps running without missing a beat.

“What are you doing?”

“My bank account called and didn’t like the whole hospital bill thing, so I'm carrying, you. Is that alright?”

Laughing between breaths, we finally make it to the storage room on the far end of the vast ballroom. He sets me down, and we each free a chair for ourselves from the stacks of extras lined up along the wall.

“We kind of threw Hannah under the bus out there,” I say once we’re settled.

“She’ll be alright. You know those parents that could watch their kid throw a rock at a window and somehow gaslight themselves into thinking it didn’t happen because their child is a perfect angel?”

“I guess. How long did you date Hannah again? You both like weirdly specific metaphors.”

He gives me a look and ignores my question. “Well, Hannah’s parents are like that. She can do no wrong in their eyes, although she’s always been close to perfect. She’ll find a way to calm them down. We just need to give them a little time.”

In another scenario, those words might have sent me spiraling, but the way he says them lacks the starry-eyed awe of someone still harboring feelings. Neither does it hold the grudging tone of being annoyed at someone always getting away with things. It’s delivered as if it’s simply fact with no emotion behind it.

“Was she annoying being that angelic?”

“Not really. I kind of thought of her as a challenge. I was always running around wild, and she would tell me I was going to get hurt or in trouble. I tried to drag her along on a lot of dumb schemes.”

My innate skepticism has me running through and tossing aside all the disastrous ways these two could be playing me, but then Wyatt pulls a curl that’s fallen loose from his ponytail back behind his ear. He fixes me with that wide grin of his that brings out his irresistible dimples and strong jaw, and it’s so sweet that I want to trust him.

“I’ve gotten busted by Hannah’s parents a lot in my life, but I didn’t see this one coming.” Wyatt looks me over as if he’s considering whether I’m a shit show magnet.

The warm, fuzzy feeling dwindles under his evaluation. I’ve also got my parents’ voices in my ear telling me not to trust anyone. Every time something had to be sacrificed in favor of another necessity, I’d be reminded of how my “Aunt” Allison—my parent’s friend and business partner—had gotten away with all their funds, and that mantra was driven into my mind a little deeper. Now, I'm not sure I can get rid of it, or if I even should.

Allison was one of those aunts that isn’t related but is so close that you think of her as a member of the family. She made some sketchy deals, then cut and ran with my parents’ money, effectively burning their business to the ground. Her name is now a curse word in our house.

“I’m guessing it’s safe to say you know Hannah, and that she and I dated,” he says.

I swallow and nod. While I’m dying to understand what’s going on between their parents, the look on Wyatt’s face tells me he’s probably feeling just as worried about my intentions.

I owe him an explanation.

“Care to elaborate?” His tone is easy confidence, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes, and I want to take it away. I can’t explain Hannah’s motives, but I can explain mine.

I take a deep breath and start talking.