Hitched (Hitched #1)(11)

"Thanks for the ride, Vi. You coming in?"

She shrugs. "Sure. But only if you have liquor. This feels like a night to drink our worries away."

I laugh. "I think I've already drank too much away, don't you? But I'll have one glass of wine."

I'm sure it will surprise no one to discover that by the time midnight strikes, we've finished off two bottles between the three of us. Vi is staying the night in our guest room, and I'm not sure I'm leaving the couch. Tate tosses me a bottle of water, which falls to the ground beside me.

"Drink up, sis, or you'll feel like shit tomorrow."

"That seems inevitable either way," I say, as my high starts to leave me with a hint of headache coming in to replace it.

"Not if you hydrate and take some ibuprofen. And eat an orange." He smiles wickedly and walks into the kitchen to get all the prescribed ingredients.

"You sound like our mother," I accuse him.

"No, she would tell you to stop drinking; it's not ladylike."

I laugh, but it comes out like a very unladylike snort. "True. She would. We should call them. I'm sure they miss us and are just too polite to call because they always think they're bothering us."

He returns with two pink pills and slices of oranges. "They are usually bothering us. And you must be really drunk if you think you want to talk to our parents."

I take the pills, eat an orange slice and drink as much water as I can without vomiting. "Be nice. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"

He slouches in the overstuffed chair to my side and grins. "I respect one thing, sis. Okay, two things. Money and sexy women."

I reach for a throw pillow, and, well, I throw it at him. It hits him square in the face, and he reacts as if I just beat him with a cast iron skillet. "If I really believed you were that shallow, we would not be business partners," I say.

"Speaking of… " He stands and walks to our answering machine. Shut up, yes, we still have one of those, just for business. It makes it easier for both of us to check messages and to screen calls when we're off duty. Don't mock.

He hits play, and it's a guy's voice who introduces himself as Dan. "I need you to plan a bachelor party for my brother in two weeks. You come highly recommended from a friend."

"Woohoo!" I scream. "We're getting referrals; this is awesome."

Tate grins from ear to ear. "Yup! It's starting to happen. Everything we dreamed about."

"Well, one referral is hardly everything, but I'll take it." I pull out my iPad and make some notes, write down Dan’s phone number and then block out the date for his party. "I'll give him a call tomorrow to set things up and find out what he wants, then I'll book the girls for that night. Will you handle the alcohol order and secure a bartender?"

He rolls his eyes. "I didn't play this for you to freak out and start working at one in the morning. While drunk. I just wanted you to know we had a job coming up. Relax, we'll start working tomorrow."

***

And we do. I don't let a little hangover stop either of us from setting up this new job. Dan is more than happy to book everything we can offer, from the music to the strippers to the open bar. I take a lot of notes during our call and thank him for choosing us, then type up everything for Tate and I to divide and conquer.

"There will be about fifteen guys in attendance, and he wants the booze to flow freely. He's sending the deposit via PayPal today. Once we have it, we can book everyone. He said he already has a room reserved for it at the Bellagio, so we're all set on that end."

We get three more parties booked today, and none of them overlap each other, which is a miracle that makes me smile. I'm almost able to push Dr. Sexy out of my mind. Almost.

When the doorbell rings, I don't even wonder about it, until I see the delivery person with another gift box and a vase full of jasmine and white lilies. I sign, and the guy smirks at me in a knowing way. I resist the urge to slap the smirk off his face.

Inside the box is a golden silk bag with a miniature golden bathtub filled with bath products. Salts, lotion, bath soap and bath oils. I can't bear to throw the flowers away, so I put them on our kitchen table next to the others, but I toss the bath set in the trash, unwilling to indulge these gifts any longer.

He can't force me to stay married to him, the asshat. Married life, kids, the whole picket fence thing—it's fine for some, for many even, and someday it'll probably be something I want. But not today. Not now.

The doorbell rings again, but then the door opens, and Vi walks in, her high heels clicking against the hardwood floors in our entryway. "Good evening, kids. It's time to play!"

I hug her and holler for Tate. "Are you two going out?" It's not unusual for the two of them to go out if I'm not up for it. We met Vi when we first moved here just over a year ago, and the three of us became instant BFFs. We wouldn't have survived the first six months in Las Vegas without her.

"The three of us are going out. You need to either f*ck the sexy doctor, or f*ck someone else to put him out of your mind."

I hate that she knows me so well. "I can't go out tonight. Too much work to do. But you and Tate have fun."

Tate lumbers down the stairway taking three stairs at a time and looking like a million bucks. Vi whistles. "Looking good, Mr. Michaels. Some girl is about to lose her heart tonight. Poor thing."