Page 71 of The Backup Groom

“You don’t have to, you know,” Stella said. “It’s a great day to quit your job!”

The light turned green, and I crossed the street with the other people. “Every day is a great day to quit my job. It’s tempting, believe me. But hey, I have to go. I’m heading inside.”

“Good luck,” Stella said. “Love you bunches.”

“You, too.”

I disconnected the call and flung open the door to PB Donuts, totally out of breath. I headed toward the patio where the tables were. Before I could make it there, I almost ran directly into Real Estate Ryan.

His jaw dropped open. “OMG . . . I thought you were supposed to be in prison for money laundering and fraud.”

I shook my head and gave him a sarcastic grin, followed by a wink. “I paid off the judge.”

“ROFL,” he said with a serious face. “Are you serious?”

I tried to answer with an acronym. “NWJ.”

He just stared at me.

“No way, Jose,” I clarified.

Real Estate Ryan tilted his head to the side as if he were trying to figure something out. “FYI, NWJ is not a thing, IMHO.”

“That’s why you’re the expert.” I pointed to the patio and frowned. “I really need to go, but you take care.”

“NP.” He waved. “TTYL.”

I headed to the back patio, where all the tables were located.

Rectum Ryan was seated at a table in the middle of the patio, under the green umbrella, his back to me. His broad frame was so huge it blocked Maggoty Mercedes’ line of sight, which would make it easy to catch her by surprise.

I stepped up to his table and froze.

Rectum Ryan was alone. He seemed pretty relaxed after having an encounter with Maggoty Mercedes. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Amber,” he said with what seemed to be an apologetic smile. “What a coincidence.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “Care to join me?”

I pulled out the chair, but before I could even sit down, I barked out, “How much money did Mercedes offer you?”

Rectum Ryan wiped his mouth, but the blush on his cheeks gave an embarrassed slant to his chilled body language as he set down his boston creme donut on a napkin.

“I guess it’s not a coincidence you’re here,” he said.

I shook my head. “My friend saw you here with Mercedes. I rushed over since I figured she was up to no good.”

“She wasn’t here long,” Rectum Ryan said, licking his fingers. “So good.”

I tried not to stare, but the donut did look so good. I was an expert at nervous-eating, but once I started it was hard to stop.

Stop looking at it.

Obviously, I didn’t try hard enough.

Rectum Ryan spread some napkins across the center of the table and pulled two cinnamon twists and an apple fritter from his bag. “Help yourself. There’s plenty.”

“Thank you,” I said, not wasting time, breaking the apple fritter in half and taking a bite. “I should have known it would be easy for her to track you down. She knew you were a proctologist. She knew your name.” I took another bite, pretty sure I’d polish it off in five or six bites.

“She offered me two million dollars,” he answered. Before I could respond, he added, “And before you haul off and hit me, I want you to know I turned her down.”