Page 34 of Men or Paws

Beth still didn’t look convinced. “Whatever you say . . .”

“Okay, you obviously don’t believe me. Hang on.” I waved at Gwen, who was down at the other end of the hallway. “What do I have downstairs?”

Gwen walked toward us, shaking her head. “You poor thing, already losing your memory at your age? How will you ever memorize your lines?”

“That’s what cue cards are for,” I said, grinning. “But seriously, Beth doesn’t think I have a bowling alley.”

Gwen stopped in front of Beth. “I can confirm that he does indeed have a bowling alley down there. My high game is two hundred, by the way.” She smiled proudly, then pointed to me. “But whatever you do, don’t let Rocco sucker you into a wager. He’s a bowling shark and will take all your money.”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” I said. “How will I ever pay the bills without all the extra bowling money I’m scamming from the slew of unsuspecting visitors who visit each day? I feel betrayed.” I laid it on thick with a frown before stomping my foot.

Gwen turned to Beth and smirked. “He likes being dramatic. It’s his job.” She laughed and gestured to the stairs. “Now, go check out the bowling alley for yourself—you won’t believe what else he’s got down there.”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Beth turned her nose up at me, walked right by, and disappeared down the stairs, looking almost as excited as she did when she saw my car collection.

“She believes you, but not me?” I threw my palms up in the air in frustration. “I really don’t get her at all.”

Gwen shrugged. “You’re just not used to a woman who doesn’t want to roll over and play house the moment she meets you.”

There was a lot of truth to that statement.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like I wanted that type of woman in my life in the first place. Yes, I usually dated them, but that was because Hollywood women were a safe bet for me. I knew what I was getting. I could be the director of the relationship, so to speak, and decide when it was time to end the scene.

That being said, Hollywood women were far from my type.

I was attracted to women who danced to the beat of a different drum. I loved a woman who was bold enough to wear Crocs in a room full of Jimmy Choos. I admired a woman who did something because it came from her heart and not because she knew someone was watching her, because society dictated that she had to act a certain way, or because she knew she could get something out of the situation. A confident woman who wasn’t a doormat. A what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of woman.

And although Beth was driving me crazy, I appreciated that genuine, honest side of her that didn’t take crap from me, that side that let me know exactly where she stood.

It was almost a turn-on, if I was being honest. Obviously, I needed to keep that to myself since I was in no mood to have my balls racked.

ChapterSeven

Beth

“I really don’t get Rocco at all,” I said to Josh during a Zoom video call on my laptop as I unpacked my suitcase in the guesthouse. “He gave me a tour of the main house this morning, just in case I needed to stay there with the dog if he goes out of town. Anyway, when I went to the lower level to check out the bowling alley, he—”

Josh held up his palm to the camera. “Hold up, wait a minute. Rocco has a bowling alley in his house?”

“Yes. His house is insane. I can tell you this since the pictures are still public on Zillow from the person who sold the house to him. A family of five could live just in his bathroom. The bowling alley is twenty feet below the ground in some glorified bomb shelter that also has two bedrooms, two baths, a disco with a full bar, an arcade, and a whole slew of other rooms including a wine cellar with over two thousand bottles of wine.”

“Sounds like he is well on his way to becoming the next Francis Ford Coppola. Does the wine come from his own vineyard?”

“No, it’s just a private wine collection, but it’s humongous, obviously. I guess he can play games and drink to his heart’s content while he’s hiding from whomever wants to cause him harm.”

“Obviously, Rocco must be partaking in too much of that wine,” Josh said. “Only a drunk person would think it’s a good idea to be cooped up with the only person out of eight billion people on the planet who wants to kill him.”

“I, uh, don’t want to kill him anymore,” I said.

“Good call. You can always downgrade his punishment to an emphatic kick to thecojones.”

“Josh . . .”

“What? That’s a guy’s worst nightmare, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. In fact, I wake up every day and wonder if this will be the day that I’ll get kicked in the giblets. We obsess about it, really. Anyway, keep it in your arsenal against Rocco and bring it out when he acts out of line. You’ll be known as the woman who mangles what dangles.”