My hand covers her lips and I barge in. “Peanuts. Yup. Peanuts-weenuts. Gotta go. Thanks. Buh-bye.” Before she can break into another chorus, I kiss everyone’s cheeks, and race out the door.
Outside, I’m greeted by freezing wind, courtesy of the Atlantic Ocean. Before my face falls off, I zip up my coat, wrap my scarf-slash-hat around my head, and lowering my chin, brave the five blocks to our office.
On the way, I pass neighbors digging out their cars. They throw snow in the street, on the sidewalk, and over other vehicles. A few doors down from work, a woman shovels a path in front of her bakery piling it on a guy’s head who’s throwing it back. Then, a plow roars by and splashes a thick pile of dirty mush over everyone but not me because I jumped into the coffee shop when I saw it coming.
Brooklyn in winter. What’s not to love?Waving at the security cam mounted over our newly etched glass, I trudge up our narrow staircase.
Hands around two hot cardboard cups, I shout out at the top, “Babe, open up, it’s me.”
A few seconds later, the door to the former occupant’s waiting area opens and my husband smiles. “Sugar? I thought you were staying home and holding down the fort?”
“Joey woke up our son. Paybacks are a bitch.” As I hand him a warm cup, the pill bottle flashes in my head. I simply cannot believe Suds ordered erection meds.
Eyeing me, he helps me out of my coat and as he hangs it on a tree near the door, Kimmy’s song rattles around in my brain.Penis-Weenis. La-la-la-la-laaaa.
A world-renowned mind reader, he tilts his head and stares into my eyes. “Hey, are you alright, darlin’?”
“Fine, except for freezing my nuts off.”Oh my God, I did not just say that.My face heats.
“Funny. You’d think I would’ve noticed them blue balls by now.”
“Well, I grew a pair, by popular request but unfortunately, now they’re gone.”
“You don’t say.” His chuckle warms my insides as I follow him into the loft-slash-office where he sets his coffee on the table and pries off the plastic lid.
After a sip, he eyes me through the steam. “Want to tell me why you’re really here?”
As I open my mouth to discuss the penis-weenis pills, the downstairs buzzer rings. Saved by the bell, I let out my breath. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“Nope.” He opens his laptop, clicks the security app, and swivels the monitor so I can see the way too handsome man in his mid-thirties looking up at the camera.
“You sure it’s not one of your long-lost cousins?” My husband walks over to the intercom and holds his finger over the black button.
“If it is, how would I know?”
“Good point.” My partner winks and presses talk. “Suds and Sam, Private Detectives.”
The man glances toward the street, waits for a moment, and grips the door handle. “Dashiell Montclair. I emailed you. I’m from CloudTekToys.”
Why does his name sound so familiar?
“Shit.” Sebastian buzzes him in. “He’s the insurance investigator I told you about.”
A client? No way!My heart races as I rush into the bathroom and examine myself in the full-length mirror. “You never mentioned he was coming today.”
“He doesn’t have an appointment.” The God-like man casually strolls to the door. A former SEAL and sometimes bodyguard, he could wear rags, and no one would think twice.
“Don’t worry. You look fine, babe.”
“Right. Nothing says professional like cat hair, baby puke and brownie crumbs, especially while accessorizing sweats.” Counting taps of hard soles on the stairs, I duck out of my clothes, and snatch my emergency outfit from under the sink.
Freeing it from a zip-lock freezer bag, I tug the blazer-shirt combo over my head and hop into matching black pants. Then, I wrap my hair in a bun, trace my mouth with red lipstick, and add makeup.
Bada bing, bada boom. Wonder woman.
Out of breath, I sit, cross my legs, and wait as men’s voices grow louder. When they enter the room, I hold my hand across the glass table, momentarily stunned, incapable of speech. Gleaming white teeth shine under an aristocratic European nose and as he shakes my hand, ocean blue eyes hone in on me.
“This is my partner and mywife. Sam, sugar? Say hi to Dash.” Clearly stating his territory, my husband’s arm circles my waist.
