Authors: Robyn Peterman

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary

How Hard Can It Be? (15 page)

BOOK: How Hard Can It Be?

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“Nope.” I smiled sweetly and put my bra back on. I deliberately adjusted my breasts, enjoying how he had to grab his thighs to keep from assisting me.

“Hey, my Vinnie ran out of batteries,” Kristy yelled through the door. “Do you have any extra Cs? Or can I borrow your Vinnie’s batteries when you’re done?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I muttered through a tight jaw. The only satisfaction I had was that Kristy would die when she realized a real live man had just heard what she’d said.

Jack’s glee at having busted me was intolerable. He was laughing so hard he had to hop around the room.

“What are you laughing at?” Kristy was confused. “You sound like you have a chest cold.”

That would be because it wasn’t me laughing. A man who would be dead in about two minutes if he didn’t shut up was laughing. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I said. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

“Okay. I brought back some cheese curds and I got the new schedule for the Tommy Bartlett Water Show. They have three waterskiing squirrels now. I knew that would blow your mind.”

If she kept talking, Jack would self-combust with laughter. He must be about to run from here screaming. He’d met my family, and found out that I have a vibrator and I love waterskiing squirrels. Shit, I’d run if I were him.

“This is one of the best days I’ve ever had,” he said, still laughing.

“You’re an ass.”

“Occasionally.” He smiled, pulling me to him. “So what are we going to do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I eased out of his embrace and yanked on a pair of jeans.

He drew me back to him. “What are we going to do about you and me?”

I watched him silently. I knew he already had an answer to the question he’d posed. I just hoped it didn’t involve me going to the pokey.

“We’re going to date,” he announced grandly.

“Date?” I tried unsuccessfully to bite back my grin of delight.

“Yes, Rena, date. We will date and I will sweep you off your feet so thoroughly, you will very rationally decide to give up Vinnie and spend the rest of your life with me.”

“God”—I rolled my eyes—“someone is certainly full of himself.”

“Yes, I am.” He grinned.

“Are we dating exclusively?” I narrowed my eyes and waited for some backpedaling.

“I don’t know.” He watched me carefully. “Are you going to keep seeing Vinnie?”

I picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “That depends . . .” I smiled seductively.

“On what?” he asked tracing my lips with his finger.

“On you.” I took his finger into my mouth and sucked. Hard.

“Oh shit,” he gasped. He pulled his finger out of my mouth and stared at the ceiling, trying to compose himself. “You are so sexy, I can’t think straight.” He shook his head and backed away. I could see his brain wheels turning. “If you’re going to continue to carry on with Vinnie . . . you’re not getting into my pants.”

“Oh my God.” I hurled another pillow at him. “That’s going to be so much harder, pun intended, for you than me.”

He yanked me flush with his very aroused body and pressed his lips to my ear. “We’ll see who it’s harder for.”

With one final grind that shot through me like a rocket, he lifted me up, tossed me on the bed, and finished dressing himself. He was so wrong if he thought he was getting the last word. So wrong. My mind believed me, but my body was still too busy throbbing from his expert handling to agree.

“Come on, sex kitten. Let’s go embarrass your roommate.” He held out his hand and smirked evilly. Damn, he was my kind of guy. Kristy turned fifty shades of tomato when Jack and I walked into the kitchen.

“Was he with you this whole time?” she stuttered.

“Yep.” I grinned.

“No Vinnie?” she croaked.

“Nope.”

“Oh my God.” She dropped her head into her hands and started laughing hysterically.

Jack leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “It’s nice to see you—” He nodded to a slightly less red Kristy. “I’ll call you later.” He grinned at me.

“But you don’t have my number,” I said going for a piece of paper.

“Yes, I do. Plus I know where you live.”

That he did. He grabbed his jacket, winked at me and left.

“Boy, you work fast,” Kristy said, giving me the thumbs-up.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been gone for three days and now you’re dating a cop.” She shook her head and pulled out the plastic Ziploc bag of cheese curds.

“How did you know he’s a cop?”

“Are you serious?” she asked as if I was slow.

“Dead serious,” I replied, my stomach filled with lead.

“Rena, that’s our new neighbor. The sexy, bad boy cop with the smokin’ hot ass. That’s why I didn’t introduce myself. I already met him.”

“You never said the new neighbor was a cop,” I accused her.

“I thought I did.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I would have remembered that after all my recent brushes with the law,” I hissed at her. Why in the hell was I being mean to Kristy? I wasn’t mad at her. I was mad at the cop who apparently lived below me. “I’m sorry, Kristy, I’m being a jerk,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay.” She hugged me tight. “I’m sorry I left the cop thing out.”

“Why in the hell didn’t he tell me he lives downstairs?” I dropped into a kitchen chair, grabbed the cheese curds and shoved a handful into my mouth.

“I don’t know,” she mused. “That’s weird. But wait, if you didn’t meet him in the building, where did you meet?”

“He arrested me last week.”

Kristy was shocked to silence . . . almost. “Did it make the evening news?” It was a legitimate question considering my past, but so not what I wanted to hear right now.

“Nope.”

“Good,”’ she said with a smile. Reading my mood perfectly, she handed me the Tommy Bartlett Water Show schedule and got out the container of black raspberry chip ice cream and two spoons. We spent the rest of the day chilling out and watching bad reality TV. She didn’t bring Jack up once. I was tempted to walk downstairs and demand to know why he’d decided to keep his abode a secret from me, but I refrained. He was on crack if he thought we were going to date . . . I couldn’t trust someone who omitted large pieces of information like, “I’m your neighbor.” My heart felt heavy, but my resolve was strong. I should stick to dating jobless criminals. But none of them had made me feel so happy and empty at the same time.

Chapter 15

A
fter a night of no sleep, I decided that showing up at Evangeline’s early to snoop around was a good idea. Let the record show, I also thought streaking was a fine plan.

Pulling up at six-thirty in the morning in total darkness was freaky, not to mention scary. I made my way to her gate and stopped dead in my tracks. The statues that flanked the portico, paying homage to her boobs, were lit up like Christmas trees. Tons of tiny white lights covered the bosom of each, making it the most obscene thing I’d ever seen. I simply couldn’t believe she hadn’t been cited for this vulgar display. Maybe she’d got something on all her neighbors, too.

I walked through the gate and heard voices. Shit. Who in the hell was here this early? Taking no chance of being busted, I ran and hid behind a rather zaftig naked lady statue in the yard. I picked one close to the house, hoping to slip in undetected. The voices were familiar. Two men and Evangeline. I’d heard the men before . . . I just couldn’t put my finger on who they were. Freezing my ass off, I waited to catch a glimpse.

I never would have done something this stupid if it wasn’t for that omitting bastard, Jack. His forgetting to mention that he was my neighbor made me think he was still out to arrest me. Oh, I had no doubts that he wanted to get in my pants, but that was probably secondary to wanting to put me away in the slammer for the rest of my life. This brilliant idea had come to me at four-thirty this morning. I was going to prove . . . somehow, that I didn’t steal anything. Then when that smug son of a bitch tried to lock me away, I’d shove the proof right up his ass. . . . Damn, that idea had seemed a lot better a couple of hours ago in my warm cozy bed.

“Evangeline, as usual, it’s lovely doing business with someone as sophisticated and sexy as you,” a man’s familiar voice oozed.

Evangeline’s giggles made me want to stick bamboo shoots behind my nails. They were on the front steps, close to the house. I tried to peer around the zaftig gal’s bottom, but the trio was still hidden from my view. Damn, who was she talking to?

“I just hope you never ever, ever forget where your bread is buttered.” She was trying for a sexy voice. It came out constipated.

“Of course not, ma’am,” a whiney little voice squeaked.

No fucking way. That can’t be who I think it is. I have to be mistaken. . .

“I’m quite serious about stud services being provided,” the Viper purred.

“I’d be happy to oblige,” a very recognizable deeper voice offered.

Holy hell, was I about to hear a sexual transaction go down between Sergeant Santa, Herbie the Dentist Cop, and Evangeline? Coming here was the absolute worst idea I’d ever had.

“I don’t want you,” Evangeline hissed. “You’re old and probably shriveled.”

If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black . . .

“I want someone young and vibrant with a huge package and big muscles,” she spat at Santa. I almost felt sorry for him. Evangeline was one hell of an emasculator.

“I’d be happy to screw you,” Herbie the Dentist Cop blurted out, with barely hidden fear and revulsion in his voice. What I wouldn’t give to see their faces right now, but if I stepped out, they’d see me. My overriding curiosity could get me killed and buried in a shallow grave. I was grateful for the big fat concrete ass I was hiding behind.

“You?” she laughed disdainfully. “Absolutely not.”

I swear I heard Herbie sigh in relief.

“I want the blond one. The hot sexy thing who arrested the twit.”

She did not just call me a twit. Yes, she did. Not only that, she wanted to screw my boyfriend. If it wasn’t so funny, it would be pathetic.

“Um, I don’t think we can make that one work,” Santa stammered. “Jack Careena plays by the books. He’d never go for it.”

That’s my guy.
I grinned and then remembered I didn’t like him anymore. Who in the hell was I kidding? I was three-fourths of the way in love with him. I wanted him to father my children. I wanted to be Rena Careena. Rena Careena? Oh fuck no . . . now I knew why Jenny thought his name was so funny. If I married him my name would be Rena Careena. It was even worse than Rena Gunderschlict. At least Gunderschlict didn’t rhyme. Fuck.

“I’ll pay him a huge sum of money,” she spat.

“He won’t do it,” Herbie chimed in.

“Are you two little nothings implying I’m not beautiful and sexy enough for your precious Jack Careena?” she screamed.

Holy shit, someone was going to call the police. Whoops, they were already here. They waited a couple of beats too long before answering her. I heard someone get slapped. WTF? Had she become violent?

“Of course not,” Santa insisted desperately. “It’s just, as hot and sexy as you are, Jack Careena can’t be bought.”

“Everyone can be bought,” her curt voice lashed out at the idiot duo. “You two little men should certainly know all about that.”

My God, she was paying them?

“I just don’t know . . .” Santa whined. It sounded like Herbie was crying in the background. He must be the one she’d hit. How could anyone hit Herbie the Dentist?

“Here’s what I know,” Evangeline spat contemptuously, “You little shits will get Jack Careena to my house on Friday night. He will be my stud until I tire of him. If you don’t get him to agree . . . I will destroy you. Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the jackass team said in unison.

“Here’s a little something for your efforts. I expect to see you on Friday, with my willing lover in tow.”

If I could see, I’d bet my life she’d just handed them money. They hustled down the steps and into their cruiser, which was parked in the drive. I heard the front door slam and knew I had a long cold wait ahead of me. I was too afraid I’d be spotted if I ran back to my car, so I hunkered down behind the big butt to wait till it was time to go to work.

“Rena, are you okay?”

I opened my eyes to find Cecil squatted down in front of me. I’d apparently fallen asleep on the big butt. Concern showed on his face. I became uneasy under his scrutiny. He didn’t seem angry or suspicious, which made it all the more unsettling.

“Oh my goodness,” I said, shaking like a leaf. “I got here a little early and felt uncomfortable going in, so I decided to take a quick, um . . . nap.” Lame much?

He searched my blue eyes and blue lips, waiting for a more plausible explanation, but none was forthcoming. “Oookay, come inside now.” He extended his hand and helped me to my frozen feet. His touch was gentle, and his worry seemed real.

“Thanks,” I muttered through chattering teeth. Why did Cecil break my heart? He was supposed to be the bad guy. But the more I discovered about all the new people in my life . . . I realized nothing was as it seemed. Thank you, Poppy Harriet.

I followed him to the kitchen. He made me a cup of hot chocolate and put a warm blanket around my shoulders. I worried Evangeline would catch us, but we weren’t doing anything wrong. He stayed silent as he cared for me. I knew he was waiting for me to talk, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk my real friends’ and family’s lives just to figure out if Cecil had more to him than I’d initially thought.

He stared at me for a long moment. Perhaps giving me another chance to spill my guts. Deciding that wasn’t going to happen, he cleaned up. “I’ll see you in the office in about an hour,” he said quietly.

“Okay. Cecil, thank you for, um, saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Rena. I’m glad I could help.” He nodded politely and left the room. Why did I feel so sad for him? I shook my head in confusion. I would just have to get over it . . . I had a career to ruin.

Pirate Dave hid in his cabin for a week. Occasionally it took that long for body parts to grow back. If he ever got his bare hands on that fucking troll, he’d rip his ’nads off. He knew it had gotten around that he was dick-less. Fourteen rival pirates had tried to steal his ship and treasure. One sneaky son of a bitch had absconded with Shirley, only to bring her back three days later because her voice had ruptured his eardrums.

He slathered some Burt’s Butt Cream under his eyes. He’d heard it was helpful for puffiness. He didn’t enjoy the odor, so he doused himself with Scrubby Clean laundry detergent. That turned out to be a bad fucking idea. It burned like a motherfucker when he got it in his eye, but after flushing it out with Aquaman Water, he felt better. So much better, he decided to treat himself to Taco Yo Mama and a Stanley’s Junglejuice.

Rumor of Laverne’s heroics made him wish he had a schlong again. She had singlehandedly beaten the living hell out of his entire crew and all fourteen pirates who had tried to commandeer what was rightfully his. He suspected she’d handed Shirley over without much fight. Those bitches hated each other.

When his johnson reappeared, he would take Laverne to Smiley Pete’s Weenie Shack or possibly Harry’s Hotdogs or Jimmy’s House of Fried Cheese or maybe even Cyndy’s Cylindrical Meat Sausage Shop. She deserved a nice night out on the town.

Pirate Dave doubled over in pain. The area where his love muscle used to reside was burning and itching like a bad case of VD. “What is happening?” he bellowed, knocking over his Mindbendo gaming system in a frantic search for more bottled water, perhaps Aquawoman.

The magic of vampire regeneration overtook him. His body dropped to the floor and he was unable to move. The only relief he had was the use of his thick hairy neck. This gift gave him the power to watch the miraculous miracle that was about to happen.

Right before his not so puffy eyes, his divine rod began to grow back. Boy, he’d love to see the look on that troll’s face now. No one fucks with Pirate Dave’s pork sword. He watched with pride as his main vein grew back even larger than before! He smiled and winked at his pickle, his long-lost friend . . . But wait, what the hell was going on? Something was very, very wrong. He vaguely remembered reading about this in vampire school, but that was three hundred fucking years ago. This could not be happening. Pirate Dave screamed in anguish, “Nooooooooo.”

But no matter how much he cried like a girl, shit still happened. Pirate Dave was not blessed with one tallywhacker . . . oh no, he was blessed with two. Two raging, erect ding-dongs. What in the hell was he supposed to do with two skin flutes? He didn’t know any women with two vaginas . . . but wait, maybe he did.

“Holy God almighty, I never knew there were so many different names for a penis,” Joanne said, breaking the shocked silence in the little pink office.

“Yep,” Shoshanna said with pride, “our girl has a vast knowledge of anatomy.”

I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh. All the ladies had come for the morning story session. They were jealous of all the fun LeHump and I were having. Thankfully Evangeline hadn’t joined us. She was probably in bed, sleeping off her early morning payoff session.

Cecil, seated uncomfortably on the hot pink couch, was pinching the bridge of his nose and avoiding eye contact with all the ladies, especially me. He never commented on the crap I spewed out daily, but I’m almost sure he was holding back laughter as Pirate Dave’s two members grew in. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was just gassy.

“I brought some homemade cookies and some eggnog.” Nancy hopped up excitedly to fetch her treats from the cooler she’d brought.

Poppy Harriet and Shoshanna traded concerned glances. LeHump mimed drinking and then swiped her finger across her neck. Apparently the international sign for, ‘Don’t drink the eggnog.’ What was with the fear of Nancy’s food?

Nancy handed everyone several cookies and a cup of eggnog, including Cecil. I watched Cecil through lowered lashes. He examined his cookie and sniffed it cautiously. He took a miniscule bite and rolled it around in his mouth. Nancy was busy packing away the extras, so she was unaware of Cecil’s cookie test. The others were not, however, and watched with rapt attention. When Cecil swallowed and gave the gals a curt nod, a collective sigh was released. Shoshanna silently pointed at her cup of eggnog and Cecil shook his head “no.”

Nancy turned around and eyed the group. Did she know what was going on? Before she could tell everyone to drink up, I started talking. Often my conversations made people forget what was on their mind. Occasionally they even forgot their name.

“Cecil,” I asked, “how long have you worked for Evangeline?”

“For as long as she’s been writing,” he said, holding his cup of eggnog, but not drinking from it.

He’d been with that slag for over twenty years? He’d been slaving away for two decades and that horrible woman couldn’t even get his name right.

“Cecil’s been around as long as we have,” Poppy Harriet added with a shudder. I wasn’t sure if that was about Cecil or being around Evangeline. Probably the latter.

“Yes, well thank you for the refreshment. I must get back to my other duties.” Cecil gave a formal bow and left the room.

“Does he make you as sad as he makes me?” I asked the gals, who sat silently and watched him leave.

BOOK: How Hard Can It Be?

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