Standing By: A Knight's Tale #2 (11 page)

“She’s marrying Mr. Scumbag?” I twist my lips to the right and blink once in agreement. “Any other woman would be drunk off her ass. Your composure surprises and angers me all at the same time. Child, you seriously need to learn how to live. I should continue your education; what happened to changing your life after the weekend, doing something crazy?”

“I never said that I’d be doing something crazy,” I correct him. “If I recall, we agreed that if it wasn’t on the list I wouldn’t do it.”

I pull the print of “Top Things to do in Vegas” from my purse and show it to him.

“Of course there’s a list. It amazes me you didn’t write it down; this is adventurous for you—using a printout.” He unfolds it, his eyes run through the three pages I pulled from the Vegas online site. “Bellagio Fountains, we can get there before eight, there’s plenty of time. Cirque du Soleil. They’ll be in Madison Square Garden later in the year, why waste your time here? Next, Designer Dinner; I’ll design you the best dinner at home without charging you an arm and a leg. Breakfast Buffet—”

“That’s for tomorrow; I already made my reservations for that.” I cut him before he says something ridiculous about me eating here in Vegas and we end up fasting.

“For one?” I tilt my head and smile at his question. “Well, you need to readjust that for five.”

“Five?”

“You, my brothers, Cade and I.” He clarifies and before I can ask who the heck is Cade; he continues bashing my list. “Shark Reef Aquarium, this says that it’s pretty awesome at four in the morning. With your schedule, that’s seven, and you’re wide awake, then that’s the plan for the shark tank.”

“You seem to be deciding my Vegas stay.” I really want to go for one of those giant margaritas if I’m going to have to hang out with him on top of having to deal with my sister.

“Yes, because there’s no way in hell I’ll let you out of my sight in Vegas dressed like a hoochie-mama.” His jaw clenches and the tips of his ears turn a dark shade of pink. “This brings me to my next point. Do you have any other clothes and why are you dressed like that?”

“Paige’s choice. You think I’m comfortable wearing this?” Then I look at him and realize I don’t have to tilt my head as much as I usually do. “The heels aren’t comfortable but I never thought I’d be this tall.”

“It’s not bad but I like you better pocket size.” He winks at me, interlaces his hand with mine and pulls me through the mass of people and flashing machines towards the exit and close to the elevators. “Do you have anything decent to wear? By decent, I mean different from vintage t-shirts with shorts or jeans and sandals.”

“Yeah,” I answer and he pokes the elevator button, as the doors open I tell him that my room is on the third floor. “You’re acting like a caveman, Mitchel. Aren’t you supposed to be drunk up your ass with your brothers? Or already hunting the
catch of the night
 – a woman to sleep with?”

“My brothers and cousin are busy and I—I didn’t think about the catch of the night.”

The stutter he just did may have sounded casual but I’ve heard that before, it’s when he second guesses himself or when he tries to change the subject.

“You did think about it,” I narrow my eyes at him. “When you second guess yourself it’s because you’re trying to cover up something. Talk to me, why would you rather be with Cupcake girl than find some available girl?”

He proceeds to tell me this intriguing story about his sister-in-law, a bet and how he feels that it’d be in his best interest to stay on the safe side of town—just in case. He’s a guy, and guys do stupid things. He’s Mitchel Knight, and he thrives on dares. Don’t I know it; we’ve gone through a few rounds of dares already. Ones’ which granted me a night of waitressing at one of his restaurants next week and that’s sad, being happy with extra work. Ass, he played me.

“Wait, I’m your safe net aren’t I?”

“You wound me, Muffet, how can you possibly think that I’m using you?” He touches his chest with his free hand.

“Because I’m beginning to understand you.” I stretch my neck a little and kiss his cheek. “You’re the most annoying person in the world. So what are we doing after I change?”

We step out of the elevator and encounter my next nightmare. Mom and Bridget.

“Hayley?” My mother’s voice rings through the air.
Crap, crap.
I conjured her with my jinxing phrases:
It isn’t that bad. I think everything will work out great if I stay away.
Wait, what are these two doing here? “You look… so different, isn’t that skirt a bit too small?”

Don’t I know it? I feel that any minute the skirt is going to roll up my ass to look like a t-shirt. Bridget’s eyes glance from Mitchel to me; her dark brown eyes about to shoot daggers. When I look at her closely, I realize her hair is identical to Mom’s, except it is strawberry blonde instead of platinum like Mom’s. She also wears a dress similar to Mom’s and mine.

“I always wondered when she will start dressing more like you and less like an underprivileged child with no taste, Caroline.”

I move to the side after she spits those words along with the venom.
Way to choose your friends Mom. By the way, lady, your daughter chose this trashy dress.

“Mitchel, do I remember correctly?” Mom extends her hand, then turns her attention towards me. “You’re a good looking man.” She bats her fake eyelashes at him. “Have I mentioned that he’s out of your league, sweetie? If you couldn’t land someone like Kevin, no offense, Bridge, you certainly won’t be able to get to first base with this one, Hayley. When I said lose your virginity this weekend, I should’ve added, you have to think realistically. Does he have money? You hate men with money.”

She’s right; I don’t like men with money. That’s one of my biggest requirements… no millionaires, billionaires or any man that has the power to do whatever they want. Yes, you can say I’m damaged. The past twenty some years taught me to steer away from people like my family.

“I’m aware she doesn’t like my kind; successful, handsome and sexy.” My second worst nightmare—along with his ego—speaks with that deep voice of his. I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s about to throw me to the sharks. “But she loves me, don’t you, Muffin?” Mitch gives me a chaste peck. I freeze, surprised by his comment and the tingles running through my body; almost sure they are a consequence of that kiss. “If you must know, I’m here because I couldn’t live without her for an entire weekend. That’s why I planned my brother’s bachelor party around Paige’s wedding.”

“Good.” Mom claps her hands.

I want to stab someone. Possibly myself because this is getting out of hand. It’s like watching a mudslide and instead of reaching for the branch that will help me stay safe and clean, I wait for it to suck me in.

Not very smart, Hayley.

“Your dad will throw the biggest wedding for you two.”

“I don’t want a big wedding, Mom.” I’ve told her a million times what I want. White beaches, only family and close friends, sunset. Did I mention small? Each time we go to a stupid wedding, it’s the same. She doesn’t listen to me. “I’d rather have Elvis as my witness than your frivolous affair.”

“I feel for you, Carolina,” Bridget says giving me another disdained glance.
Carolina? Where the hell did that come from?
“At least mine will marry soon, but yours… you’ll be lucky if in twenty years someone takes pity on her and knocks her up, like it happened with you.”

Mitch pulls me away, and we head to my room. After we finally enter and close the door, I let out a big breath.

Dad and I have something in common: we both hate Bridget Parrish. She’s not a nice person, and she hates me, not my mother; me.

“That was Parker’s mother, wasn’t it?” Mitch’s question is followed by a worried glare. “You’re bleeding,” he shows me my palm.

My not so long nail broke the skin while the
Bitch Club
ganged up on me. This is what I do: take it out on myself, release the emotional pain as the surge of another pain takes over. If only he knew what I can do when I have a sharp tool.

“Let’s clean you up before we head out for dinner.”

“Oh no, I’m not having dinner with your ego that has a Food Critic complex.” He pulls me to the bathroom, takes a hand towel, wets it and cleans my wound. “Thank you… for… I don’t know, helping me with Mom?”

“Why does that bitch, Bridget, hate you so much?”

“Not sure, I think it’s because, even though, she had the girl Dad always wanted, Mom upped the ante by having the only child with Welsh eyes.”

“The ghostly green eyes?” His eyes pin me down and as they observe me, I feel as if they’re trying to enter inside my soul.

“Yes,” my breath hitches and I can’t break the connection. “My grandparents made a big production each time they saw me and mentioned how I was a hundred percent Welsh taking away some of Paige’s spotlight. Speaking of Paige, the wedding is at midnight. What are the plans for the next few hours?”

“Dinner first.” He finally moves away, taking the first aid kit on top of the counter then proceeds to spray some antiseptic and covers the cut with a band-aid. “We’ll come up with a plan while I keep my mouth shut and not tell you how amazing my food is, which we already know it is. Don’t we?”

“I kind of like your mac-n-cheese.” I tell him as I leave the bathroom and head to the closet to pick one of the dresses I brought and my new gladiator sandals. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to have fun. Safe fun.”

“I’m usually fun and with me everything will always be perfect. What can go wrong?”

I cringe after he says that because those are the hex words of my life.

Hayley

W
e walk to
the restaurant down the street from where we’re staying. They serve American cuisine, burgers and fries, a safe meal to avoid the critic inside him that drives me crazy. It occurs to me that it must be annoying to go out on a date with him, so I ask about his love life.

“Love life?” He chews on his hamburger. “I don’t have such a thing.”

“So you’re a playboy,
love ’em
and
leave ’em
the next day?” I snatch one of his sweet potato fries and dip it in the ketchup.

Next time order those delicious fries instead of the celery sticks, Hayley.

“Only when I travel,” he responds. I finish my beer and wait for him to continue. “In New York it’s different, I go out with one girl who interests me and when I get bored we end the sex.”

“Sex, no dates?” His knitted eyebrows move closer as his forehead furrows. “As in you don’t go on dates, you only sleep with them?”

“We go out to night clubs, if that counts.” Then his speculative eyes concentrate on my face. “How about you, other than Ted and Mr. Scumbag. Any other guys?”

“No, I don’t… it’s seriously complicated. Going out at four in the afternoon is hard for a lot of them, and I have to head to bed early.” Following the Mitch method to circle around a conversation, I strike again with a question of my own. “So you’ve never dated seriously?”

“In theory, I did a couple of times,” he takes another bite of his burger and after finishing he continues. “The first time was ten years ago, freshly unpacked from London; I met this girl that… she was different. Full of drama, I think we broke up on a daily basis and had hot make-up sex the same amount of times. We always had hot and heavy sex, at least that’s what I thought back when I was nineteen. After the final breakup, I realized that it’s not worth it to have a relationship, at least not for me. That was until I met the second one, successful, smart, great body, and she got along with my mother. Things didn’t work out in the end, and we called it quits.”

“Translation, you’re still hung up on one of them and won’t give me the full story,” I steal another fry. “Got it. Now tell me about our nightly tour, Mr. Fun.”

“No, I didn’t say that.” He insists. “I said it isn’t worth my time, that I prefer to have a few months of fun and move on rather than try to have a relationship with a woman that will only bring drama to my life. I like simple and there isn’t a woman on earth who will make me change my view about it.”

“You say tomato, I hear: ‘
You’re right, Hayley.
’” I then change the subject. “What are we doing after this?”

We agree on visiting the Bellagio Fountains first, then head to the New York-New York Roller Coaster because I need the adrenaline rush to keep me awake until it’s time for my sister’s wedding. Following the blast of fun with a quiet gondola ride at St. Mark’s Square, then a nightclub and finally the wedding. If we have any free time, we’ll hit the casino.

“We’ll skip the tattoo parlor and the chapel; unless you’re set on getting married today, Hayley. Then we’ll have to find you a groom—my choice.”

“We need to keep you away from the chapels, remember?” he slaps my hand as I reach over to take his last fry. “You’re denying me your last fry? At least let me buy that yard long margarita drink. It’ll be fun to try to slurp all that.”

“No yard long alcoholic drinks.” His firm tone doesn’t match the smirk he gives me as he dunks the fry in the ketchup and takes a bite of it. He does it again, but instead, feeds the rest to me. “If you want to drink, at least drink with class. The alcohol they use to prepare those things is lethal. Come on, Muffet you’re going to have the night of your life.”

*