Inn & Out (A Romantic Comedy) (Five More Wishes Book 2) (8 page)

A tablet goes whizzing by my head and crashes into a tree. Three men are on the ground rolling around and knocking over the folding chairs, like a bizarre game of bowling. “I take back what I said about this not being a terrible idea,” Thor says to me, finally. “This is sooooo terrible.”

My future flashes before my eyes, and it’s filled with doom and gloom. I’m no expert on event planning, but I’m reasonably sure that a riot during my first event won’t promote good word-of-mouth for my fledgling business. I have to do something quick. Somehow, I need to do damage control without getting maimed in the process. I drop Thor’s hand and walk into the fray. “Can’t we all be friends?” I say, waving my hands above my head, like I’m directing a symphony. They ignore me and keep fighting. “I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family,” I begin to sing. This provokes a response but not the one I hope for.

Two Brittanys run for me, like they’re the Patriots defensive line, and I’ve got the ball. One of my attackers is only wearing one high heel shoe and her mini dress is ripped up the front, baring a double pair of Spanxs. The other has obvious hair trauma with one half of her hair extensions pulled out, and her other half still perfectly in place. It’s a lot like a scene out of the Walking Dead, but they move a lot faster, and they’re much angrier.

“Now, now, we’ve just gotten a little overexcited, but with a little cleanup, I think we can make this graduation a big success,” I say, forcing a smile, as the two Brittanys get closer to pummeling me. Just as they’re about to reach me with their toned arms outstretched, I shut my eyes tight and brace for impact, throwing my arms around my midsection to protect my soft bits. This is so much worse than a prison riot. There’s nothing tougher than a stay-at-home mom armed with a Neiman Marcus card.

I’d say a prayer, but I don’t know one about kindergarten graduations gone wrong. So, I focus on my short life and what will probably be a long drawn out death. But either I’m wrong about my death, or my pseudo-prayers are granted, because Thor’s large arm comes out of nowhere, circles my waist, and pulls me away into safety. He half carries me and half drags me away from the crowd, placing me gently behind a faraway tree.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I pat my body and check for damage. “You saved me? They didn’t kill me?”

“It looks like all of your pieces are still there,” he says. “If you’re okay, I’d better put an end to this.”

I look behind the tree at the chaos. The kindergarten teacher has got the children behind the stage, giving them juice boxes and Oreos. Luckily, she worked quickly and removed them from witnessing the melee as soon as it began. As the children happily eat Oreos, the parents are duking it out and dirt is literally flying up from the ground in a cloud, like it’s a Bugs Bunny cartoon. There’s no way anyone can put an end to it until these so-called adults put an end to it themselves.

“Sure. I’m fine. Knock yourself out,” I say.

Thor takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Crazy ass people,” he mutters under his breath. Slowly, he walks toward three large men who are rolling around on the ground, punching each other. Whereas the men are big in a too-much-pizza kind of way, Thor is big in a holy-wow kind of way. He towers over them, at least a head taller and more muscle mass than of all them put together. Thor taps one on the back and pulls him out of the group, like he’s pulling weeds.

“You’re going to stop now,” he roars, and miracle of miracles, the man seems to calm down. One of other men, however, jumps up and takes a swing at Thor. Thor stops his fist in midair, wrapping it in his hand. He shakes his head slowly, as if the large man is a child, who has been caught coloring with his crayons on the wall behind the curtains.

“You’re going to stop, or you’re going to wish you had stopped,” Thor says, calmly. I shudder, and my skin sprouts goosebumps. His voice cuts right through me, like an attack of pheromones that jumpstart my uterus. But it has a different effect on the crazy parents. It seems to calm them or terrify them. Either way, the fighting dies down, as everyone turns their focus to the scene of Thor facing off with the large man. I can almost hear the large man’s brain ticking away as he tries to choose between common sense and an overactive pituitary gland. The gland wins. With his other hand he takes a swing at Thor, putting his whole body into it.

Thor deftly ducks the punch, and as the man loses his balance, Thor continues to hold his fist, pulling him close and when he’s in range, punches him in the face with a loud crack. A loud groan fills the air, as the spectators shudder in unison, in horror at the blow, which hits the target with a terrible force. I’m sure Thor has broken the large man’s nose, if not cracked his skull wide open. But it has the effect of subduing the man. His hands fly to his bloody nose, and one of the Tiffanys flies to his side.

“I’m going to sue your ass, Thor!” the man shouts from behind his hands, his voice muffled like he has a terrible cold.

“Good luck with that, Richard,” Thor says. Does everyone know everyone on this island? “You forced me to punch you. Damn it. I didn’t want to do that.”

“Really? You did a pretty good impression of wanting to do it,” the man says, pinching his bloody nose.

“You’re lucky I didn’t break your arm,” Thor says, kicking the dirt.

“Yeah, I feel lucky.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know,” the man says.

“I wanted to break your arm,” Thor says, looking down.

“I do feel lucky. Really. No hard feelings, Thor,” he says, putting his hand out. Thor shakes it hard.

“No more bad behavior. There’s kids here.”

“No more bad behavior,” the man agrees. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he announces through his pinched nose. With real blood drawn, the adults seem to realize what they’ve done, like Bruce Banner waking up after a particularly bad stint as the Hulk. Women search for lost shoes and hair, and men tuck their shirts into their pants. At least a half dozen phones have made it into Thor’s pile of dead branches, and a couple of men work to fish them out.

“I’m sure they’re insured,” I say with a big smile planted on my face, as they fish them out, their phones’ screens cracked beyond repair. Thor might not be worried about a lawsuit, but I’m sweating bullets. I can’t pay for a bunch of broken phones or a broken nose.

But there isn’t another word about the lawsuit. The parents quickly right the chairs, and when the coast is clear, the wise kindergarten teacher brings out the kids again, who seem oblivious that their parents have acted less mature then five-year olds. Thor and I open the house to let people wash up and recover from the graduation.

Inside, the house erupts in blaring noise as the toilet flushes over and over and the faucet is turned on and off by the throngs of guests. I grab hold of Thor and pull him into a corner.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, clutching fistfuls of his shirt in desperation.

“We?”

“We have to have a plan. They’ll close the inn. They’ll bring in the feds. Social services will be on our asses.”

“What?” he asks. “No National Guard?”

I gasp. “Oh my God, you think they’ll bring in the National Guard?”

He looks over my shoulder, and I feel an icy wind at my back. I drop my hands and turn around. Beautiful Jordyn approaches. She still has all of her hair, and her shoes are intact. She looks like a weather woman on a national network. Self-consciously, I smooth my hair.

“Lovely day,” she says. I look behind me to see who she’s talking to.

I point at my chest. “Me?”

“Yes, Beryl. You did a good job.”

I’m wondering if she’s using “good” in the normal way, or if it has some different meaning for glamorous big-boobed ladies. I almost ask her, but she’s moved on.

“Thor, impressive as ever.” She smiles, and all her teeth are perfect. Not too much gums, either. “It was nice seeing you. Maybe we’ll see each other soon?”

“How’s Ted?” he asks.

“Boring as ever,” she says, shrugging. A woman calls out from another side of the house, and Thor runs away, probably to see if someone has fallen through the floor, again. “So you two look close,” Jordyn comments when Thor leaves.

“Purely professional,” I say. She smiles and arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Is Ted your husband?”

“Yes. He’s around here someplace. Has Thor cooked for you, yet?”

“Three times a day. I think he was a cook in the navy,” I say.

She laughs and touches my arm. “Is that what he told you? Thor wasn’t a cook in the navy. He was a commando commander. Some kind of super secret SEAL team. He can hold his breath for a full seven minutes. Listen, get him to make you his boeuf bourguignon. He only makes it for the ones he loves.”

“Oh, but he doesn’t love me,” I say, startled. She smiles again, turns on her heel slowly and walks out of my life. I wonder if Thor ever made Jordyn his boeuf bourguignon and how she knows that he can hold his breath for seven minutes.

Thor comes back soaking wet, and he grabs a kitchen towel and dabs his wet face. “A pipe burst and knocked Ted in the face. Two broken noses in one day. It might be a record.”

I chew on a nail. “This is bad,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I’m worried about it. I’m really worried. All of my big plans have crashed and burned with my first event. “I’m not worried about it, but this is bad.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Trust me, Michael Jackson came by and said this is bad.”

The house clears out, and the graduation party cleans up the mess and begins its golf cart parade away from the High Tide Inn. The large man with the broken nose and his wife are among the last stragglers.

“Here you go,” the man tells me, handing me a check.

“I was already paid,” I tell him.

“For your troubles. You provided a beautiful venue, and we’ll be sure to spread the word.”

It’s a check for another three hundred dollars. I’m rich. I can afford non-generic toilet paper. I almost cry. Well, to be perfectly honest, a few tears do roll down my cheek. Thor wipes them off with his thumb and cups my cheek with his hand, gently tipping my head back to look into my eyes.

“Your terrible idea wasn’t so terrible in the end.” His voice is low and deep, and like a foghorn announces fog, his voice announces sex. Lots and lots of hot, sweaty sex.

Sex.

I remind myself about my vow. Sex with Thor would definitely break it. But is Thor a bum? Am I still a bum magnet? It’s possible that he had an affair with Jordyn, who’s a married woman, but perhaps he was involved with her before she was married. I need to ask him about that. Maybe he was never involved with her at all. Oh, who am I kidding? Of course he was involved with her. How could he not? She’s a sex-horn, too. A big-boobed sex-horn.

I remind myself that Jordyn isn’t here, but I am. I’m with Thor, and Thor’s looking at me, his eyes growing darker by the second. Maybe he’s not a bum. Maybe he’s safe. What could a little sex with Thor hurt, anyway? It probably would do me a world of good. Lots of good. Surely a roll in the hay wouldn’t truly break my vow.

Oh, I’m a weak, weak woman.

“What’s for dinner?” Jean asks, walking into the kitchen and thankfully breaking the moment. “Oh. Did I interrupt something? Are you going to get naked again? I don’t care about the naked thing, but I expect dinner on the table at six o’clock.”

“I was just going to get started,” Thor says, slamming a pan onto the stove. I take a deep breath and will the throbbing in my lower half to stop. No use. Even though I’ve been saved by a hungry, old lady, I can’t count on her to vagina-block me every time. At some point, the throbbing will take over, and Thor’s going to catch me. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I want him to catch me.

The next week is a series of near-misses, like I’m an overworked air traffic controller at O’Hare. I try not to be in the same room alone with Thor at any given time, but Jean and Bert live in the guest house and keep a strict schedule. To top it off, there’s only one television in the main house. When I stumble on
Gone With the Wind
on the classic movie channel, Thor joins me on the broken couch, just as Rhett is telling Scarlett about how she’s never been kissed properly.

“How about you?” Thor asks me.

“Excuse me?”

“Have you ever been kissed properly?” His arm is resting on the couch behind my head, and he leans in. He’s terribly handsome and strength emanates from his body. When his attention is focused on me, I get completely overwhelmed. There’s so much I want to say, starting with, “Are you offering?” but the overwhelmed feeling throws me. If I can’t keep my wits about me, how can I know if Thor will mess up my life if I let him in?

“I have to shave my legs,” I blurt out and leap off the couch.

But I don’t shave my legs all week. Foolishly, I think that the stubble is a good barrier between me and Thor’s penis, kind of like Wonder Woman’s bracelets stopping bullets. I spend most of my time setting up a bank account and the rest of the business, which I’m now calling Hide Tide Events. So far, I haven’t gotten any more bookings, but I’ve got a good dozen lookie-loos who’ve passed by to get the skinny on the kindergarten riot. After a week of landscaping, Thor turns his attention to painting the outside of the inn, which normally would help me in my determination not to be alone with him, but I find myself spending an inordinate amount of time spying on him as he paints the house shirtless and spattered with paint.

Meanwhile, the inside of the house is starting to take shape. Miraculously, Jean finishes the downstairs wood floors and begins to redo her famous banister. Bert is still recovering, but he’s graduated from his wheelchair to a walker, and Jean moves the couch for him to where she’s working, so he can lounge around while he tells her that she’s doing everything wrong.

It’s nearing lunch time, and Thor has moved into the kitchen, so I go to the living room and hover in the corner as Bert and Jean work.

“Are you kidding?” Bert complains. “Big Valley has nothing on Bonanza.”

“I’m just saying that Barbara Stanwyck was smarter than Ben Cartwright.”