Page 43

AWOL

I sat in the hotel bar nursing a beer, trying to forget the kisses dickhead Brandon kept planting on Fern.

A questionable hot pink streak flew past me, and the long dark hair gave me the answer to who it was. I tossed cash on the bar and hauled ass after her. Why was she running out of the hotel at this hour? What was happening?

I reached her just before she hit the door and grabbed her arm. “Fern.”

She spun around, and I could see the anguish on her face. “Leave me alone.”

I started shaking. “What the fuck did he do to you?”

“Nothing. He did nothing.” She pulled her arm free. “I have to get out of here.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to find that bastard and tear him apart. Nobody touches?—”

“Stop.” She pushed her hair back. “This isn’t about me. I, uh, I lost something very important, and I have to find it. Like right now.”

“You can’t go roaming around town at this hour. You can get it tomorrow.”

“You’re my wasting time here in more ways than one.” She inhaled as she pushed her arm in her coat. “What I lost, I need for the wedding. I have to do this now.” She took a deep breath. “Right now.”

“It’s not safe to be out this late. You can find it?—”

She leaned in close. “I’ve lost the bride.”

“Tawnee? She’s missing?”

“Earlier tonight she wasn’t feeling like herself then we had a talk, and she seemed fine. We were getting in our pajamas and ordering sundaes, and then she disappeared.”

She was swimming in stress, and I just wanted to save her. “Maybe she went to see Ed.”

Her eyes shot around the lobby before she whispered. “No, she sent me a text saying she and Ed may have rushed things and that she thinks she might not be enough for him.”

“But he’s crazy about her.”

“I know. I tried calling her, but she won’t pick up. I thought I’d check the most likely places she’d go to think.”

“We should tell Ed.”

Her head shook. “No, I just need to talk to her. She’s having those pre-wedding jitters that I thought were a myth until five minutes ago.”

“Let me go with you?—”

“That’s a hard no. I can do this.”

“I’m the best man, and it’s my duty to keep this shit show on the rails. We go together, and we’ll find her if it takes all night.” The thought of being in a vehicle with Fern made me hope it would take hours and hours and hours to find Tawnee.

“Fine!”

I insisted I drive. In the back of my mind, I was a tad worried that the second I hopped out she’d drive off. So my driving was the best way to assure I wouldn’t be looking for a bride and Fern.

Once in the way-too-quiet truck, I cleared my throat.

“Where are some of her favorite spots?” I looked over to see the light of her dial pad illuminating her perfect face.

“I think we head toward the North Loop.”

“Really? That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“I know, but it’s her favorite place. Between the gay bar and restaurants, it’s all her.”

“I want to talk?—”

“No talking or so help me I’ll jump out of this moving vehicle. Let’s just have a no-talking-about-anything-but-Tawnee rule. Please. My heart is breaking for her, and I’m worried out of my mind.”

“Fine.” I looked over. “So we pretend we never met?”

She grunted. “Whatever it takes to forget you.”

“You can’t forget me.”

She dramatically spoke in a high-pitched voice while her hands flew in the air. “Yes, when I think about you, I touch myself. Meaning I rub my temples because you give me a fucking migraine.”

“Ouch.” I looked over. “You’re a lot meaner than I would’ve thought.”

“Can you hit the gas like you have a pair instead of taking a Sunday afternoon drive? I have a cousin to find and shake some sense into so I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Wow.”

“If we’re using one syllable words to describe individuals in this stupid truck, mine would be tool .”

“Whoa.” I grinned, swearing a little smoke was coming from her ears. “Now you’re going after my truck?”

She shook her head, “Let’s just say a stray bullet might just entertain me tonight.”

I gasped, “That’s just plain mean.”

“Just drive.”

I hit the little button on my steering wheel, sat back, and waited as she shifted in her seat. Now I just wanted to get under her skin. She shifted once, then again. “Problem over there? Other than your shitty attitude?”

“Nothing.” She glared at me. “I think my buns are on fire. Please fix that.”

“No can do. The butt warmer busted just the other day.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe whatever you want, sweetheart. But when your backside is steaming, feel free to scoot a little closer.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Her fist shot up. “You and your dark motives. Just stop. Can’t you see I’m with someone else? You’re just an annoying pothole in the rearview mirror.” She opened her coat and fanned herself with it. “Thank God that disastrous ride is over.”

The light in front of us turned red as she opened her window, and I leaned toward her. “I’m sure the thoughts of us keep you awake at night. I’m up in your head. Nobody can be what we were.”

“You’re so wrong. Brandon is like amazing. Not only because he’s as hot as a movie star, but he’s honest and trusting.”

I shrugged. “Looks a little vanilla to me.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you know what they say about vanilla.”

“No, I don’t. What do they say?” Why was her angry face causing me so much enjoyment?

“Well, uh, they say vanilla is smooth and light.”

“And that pertains to jackass how?”

In a dramatic move, she pulled her hood over her head. “This conversation is over.”

We parked on the street near The Saloon, a legendary gay bar with bumpin’ music, DJs and drinks. It’s known for the celebrities stopping by when they were in town.

“Let’s go into the Brit’s Pub first.” We walked down the sidewalk when she stopped. “Oh shit.”

I looked over.

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m in my pajama shorts. I can’t go in there.”

“May I?”

She nodded as I took her pajama top and tied it up at her waist. My knuckle grazed her bare stomach, and I swear to God there was a literal spark. I looked down to see her inhale sharply, knowing she felt it too. “Do you have two hair ties?”

She nodded and grabbed them from her purse.

My face was inches from hers as I pulled one side at a time into two low ponytails just below her ears, and then took a strand of hair and wrapped it to cover the bands and tucked the end in.

My hand slid through her silky hair, and her eyes looked frightened as they looked up at me.

“How do you know how to do ponytails?”

“I used to babysit for neighbors growing up. I can do ponytails, fishtail braids, and killer buns.”

“Hmm.”

I stepped back. “You look like a clubber.” I pointed to the mirrored window in front of us, and her mouth dropped open.

“OMG, look what you did. You made jammies Loop worthy.”

“I have many talents, Fern Ethel.”

The words lingered while her eyes softened for a moment, and her head tilted. A smile started to sneak across her pink lips, but then she caught it and quickly shook her head as if reminding herself to despise me.

While she slipped back into I hate you mode , I’d seen a crack in the armor so it was possible. “Fern, I have to say something?—”

Her hand shot in front of my face. “Nope, we aren’t talking. We’re finding my cousin.”

She turned on her heel and headed inside with me on her tail. As we weaved through the crowd, I got some high-fives and Minnesota Wild talk.

“Gabe, you look around, and I’ll check the bathroom. Got it?”

She disappeared before I could answer. I walked toward the bar and was ambushed by a divorce party of women who’d clearly drank their weight in alcohol, all sporting shirts reading, “Divorce is final. Buy us a drink.”

A blonde slurring woman put her arm around me. “You’re the hockey player!”

“I am.” I looked around her but saw no Tawnee. Probably a good idea to keep her as far away from the divorce gang as possible.

Her brunette gal pal put her arm around my other shoulder. “We need a pic!”

She tossed her phone to some dude who snapped away.

I got out of their arms, but one gal suddenly jumped up, and her legs were around my waist. “Nice to meet you, but I’m looking for a friend.”

There was cheering around me as I attempted to free myself from her legs. (A sentence not used too frequently in my past) “Honey, I need you to let go.”

“Never!” Her drunken laughter rang in my ear.

I got hold of her shoe around my ass and tried to escape her when she was suddenly plucked off me. I looked down to see Fern with the blonde in her arms.

“Cosa diavolo stai facendo!”

She’d broken out the Italian. Be still my heart.

Next, she held the tripping woman up. “Didn’t your mother teach you to keep your hands to yourself?

You’re wasted off your ass in a bar filled with horny men looking to take advantage of you.

” She pointed to me. “Just because this man is a public figure does not mean you have the right to lay a finger on him. You are single-handedly giving women a bad name!”

She looked around at the divorce crew.

“For the love of God, please tell me someone here is the designated driver?”

A woman raised her hand. “That’d be me. Cleary, the envy of everyone.”

Fern pushed the blonde chick toward the brave soul. “Good luck.”

She walked ahead, and I caught up. “Tawnee isn’t here.”

“That was something back there.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the polka dot jammie shorts in front of me. How perfectly they were filled out. Mmm. “Maybe someone’s a little jelly?”

A gasp that I could feel surrounded me as she turned back so quickly, I nearly toppled over her.

“I’m anything but jealous. I just don’t appreciate anyone getting handsy with anyone else.

” She waved her arm in the air. “If you were a hobo on the street, I’d have done the same thing. It really had nothing to do with you .”

“Really? A hobo?”

“Whatever.”

Once outside, I followed her sweet tush toward the line at The Saloon that was halfway down the block.