Good Time(56)

“The point is,” Mark continues, “you didn’t ask me to be your friend, you told me. Which is really obnoxious now that I think about it, but it’s part of your charm. And then you did it again when you made me your work husband.”

I nod. I am both obnoxious and charming. And possibly near the high end of the aggressive scale.

“When the Harrison-Nichols wedding was nearly called off over a dispute about where to seat the groom’s fraternity brothers, you didn’t just give in. You created a new seating chart and managed to set up the bride’s cousin with one of those frat boys.”

That’s true. I did do that. They were super compatible on paper. By on paper I mean I reviewed the Instagram accounts of each guest not bringing a date and then paired them up on the seating chart based on my objective opinion about who was most likely to couple up. It’s only been three weeks, but according to my stalking via Instagram things are looking really good for the bride’s cousin and the fraternity brother I paired her up with.

“When the Bronsons requested—one day before their vow renewal—that it snow inside a Las Vegas ballroom, did you tell them no? No, you did not, Payton Tanner. You found a snow machine in Las Vegas on a Friday afternoon and had it set up in the ballroom before you left work that night. Because you are not a quitter.”

That’s true too.

“And when fate placed you in Vince’s office, you married him. Just like you said you would.”

“Okay, whoa.” I hold up a hand in the universal ‘hold the heck on’ gesture. “I was mostly kidding about that. I mean sure, I was open to marrying him the first time I saw him because of the kismet, you know? And because of the sexual attraction. But I meant if it worked out, like if we met and dated and I didn’t drive him crazy and he didn’t annoy me and if the sex was half as good as I envisioned it being. I didn’t mean I was going to trick him into marrying me on our first date.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what? What point did you just prove?”

“That you’re not a husband predator and you’re not a quitter.”

That’s true, I suppose. I didn’t set out to trick him into marrying me. It’s not my fault that he didn’t pick option A and let me get a tiger tattooed onto my ass. No one forced him into becoming the tattoo police.

“Maybe not, but how do I know if kismet is just fucking with me?”

“Pffft. As if kismet would dare. As if fate stands a chance against Payton on a mission.”

Hmm, that’s valid.

“I’m so confused, Mark. Loving Vince is a lot like shopping at Target.”

“Sure.” Mark nods, his face devoid of judgment because he’s an excellent work spouse. “How so exactly?”

“Well, I had no idea I needed him until I saw him. You know? I was just merrily living my life without Vince and I thought I was happy. I thought I had everything I needed. But then poof, there he was and I was like, I need this guy. I cannot live without this guy. So I put him in my cart and married him and now I will absolutely die if he drops me off at the return desk and I have to spend the rest of my life walking around the store trying to find a better Vince than the Vince I already had.”

Mark simply blinks at me from across the table and I think it’s because that analogy was so profound he can’t find the words to reply, but it’s fine, because I have a plan.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





“I need you to find someone for me,” I announce as I sail into Canon’s office and help myself to one of the guest chairs facing his desk.

“Vince is in Reno consulting on a case.”

“I know where Vince is,” I reply, not bothering to hide my exasperation. “I need to know where Carol is.”

“Who the hell is Carol?” Canon stops typing and looks up from his monitor. He leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together and I have the distinct impression I’ve caught his interest. Mostly because he’s a nosey motherfucker.

“My life coach.”

“Your life coach.” Canon nods slowly and raises an eyebrow and I get the impression I’ve just made his day. “Do go on.”

“Yes. My life coach. I need to find her ASAP because I need life advice.”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I lost her number.” I toss my hands up in the air as if it could happen to anyone.

“How did you lose a number you’ve dialed from your phone? It stays in there forever. Outgoing calls. You want me to hack your phone again and look it up for you?” He leans back over his keyboard as if he’s going to do just that.

“No! Don’t do that!” I wave my hand in a stop gesture. God, Canon is a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass with fantastic stalking skills, I remind myself. “I never schedule appointments by phone, so I don’t have her number.”

“Sure. You schedule via email then?”

“Okay.” I heave a sigh because I can’t really see any way around this. “The thing is…” I begin but Canon interrupts.

“I cannot wait to hear the thing.” He’s smiling and I know he’s going to enjoy this far too much, but I’m desperate, so I level a look at him implying he should shut up if he wants to hear the thing. He grins like an asshole and leans back in his chair.