Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans (43 page)

“I don’t suppose I can use that wheelchair?” Josh asked.

The man shook his head, grabbing the handle. “No can do, Mr.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

The airline employee chuckled.

“Megan?” Josh gently shook her. “Can you keep walking?”

Her eyes were tiny slits as she flopped her head back to look at him. “No, thank you. I don’t want any peanut brittle…”

He supposed that answered his question. He needed to figure how to get her, her purse, and his bag down to arrivals.

Squatting, he pressed his shoulder into her abdomen, then stood, carrying her in a fireman’s hold. Her upper body dangled down his back, her drooping arms swinging and brushing his ass. This was going to look suspicious as hell, but it was the only way to get her out.

He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and set her purse on top of the bag, hurrying for the door once he had her steady. He’d never flown to Kansas City, so he wasn’t expecting the small area and the dense crowd waiting to board the next flight. Thankfully, he saw the exit twenty feet away.

Megan’s upper body still dangled down his back. He knew they were a spectacle, and the outright stares confirmed it. “She’s my fiancé,” he muttered, breaking one of his cardinal rules—never explain yourself, especially not to strangers. But he knew that some of the stares were from people who were worried that he was kidnapping her. “She’s not feeling well.” He tugged on her legs. “Tell the people you’re not feeling well, Megan.”

One of her dangling hands waved around as she spoke. “I’m the one helping you. I saved you from that awful woman.” The she patted his backside. “You have a really nice ass. No wonder she wanted to have your babies.”

To his horror, Josh’s face began to burn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed. “Megan, there are
children
around us.”

Her hand dropped, but he wasn’t convinced his admonishment had stopped her or if she had simply passed out again.

She wasn’t a large woman, but he hadn’t been very faithful at the gym lately, so he was feeling the physical exertion of carrying her dead weight. He made it out of the secure area, despite the once-over from the security guard at the door. As soon as he stepped out into the hallway, he wondered what on earth to do with her next. A group of three people stood clustered in a group and they all turned their horrified gazes to the woman draped over his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he assured them. “I’m her fiancé.”

Only then did he realize one of the women was an older version of Megan.

Oh
.
Shit
.

The woman in question looked at the woman hanging down his back. She squatted and tilted her head upside down. “
Megan
?”

Megan gave an exaggerated wave. “Hi, Mom. Why are you upside down?”

Her mother released a horrified gasp. “Are you
drunk
?”

Josh took a step toward her, his heart hammering in his chest. How the hell was he going to get himself out of this one? “She took some Dramamine and apparently it has a pretty strong effect on her. She’s okay.”

“How many did she
take
?”

He thought back to their conversation. “She said she took two as she was boarding.”

“And you didn’t see her take them?” she asked, her tone full of admonishment. The woman’s eyes lifted to Josh’s face and he knew he was being scrutinized. He could see why Megan was scared of her mother.

An older man stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, for God’s sake, Nicole, let the man be. Is this really how you wanted to meet your future son-in-law?”

Josh shook his head. “See, there’s been a misunderstanding.” But he had to wonder why they didn’t know what Megan’s ex-fiancé looked like. Megan had told him that they’d never met the guy, but hadn’t they at least seen photos?

Megan’s father shot his wife a disapproving grimace. “The only misunderstanding is that Nicole is trying to micromanage everything. Like always.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m Megan’s father, Bart Vandemeer. Nice to finally meet you. It’s Jay, isn’t it?”

Josh gaped at the man, at a loss for words. For once in his life he hadn’t bothered to come up with an intricate plan before jumping into a situation, he’d asked for fate to intervene…and the very man he needed to talk to had been dropped right in front of him.

For once in his life, he was going to just go for it.

He shifted Megan on his shoulder and awkwardly held out his hand for a shake, still speechless. These people obviously had no idea he wasn’t Megan’s real fiancé. How wrong would it be if he used that to his advantage? After all, he’d be helping Megan too. “Josh, actually.”

Bart Vandemeer looked confused. “Megan told us you name was Jay.”

“Oh…Josh is my nickname. You can call me Jay or Josh, but I usually go by Josh.”

“Well, Josh. Welcome to Kansas City.” The older man beamed. “We’re looking forward to getting to know you better.”

Bart Vandemeer had no idea how much Josh was looking forward to getting to know him too.

With every book I write, I thank God that I have Angela Polidoro to look over my mess and help me make it into something people want to read. She gets me and trusts that I can send her a big pile of poo in first round edits and send back something semi-wonderful for second line edits. I trust her with my stories and my characters, and that’s huge.

Many thanks to Shannon Page and her exceptional copyediting. She helps put the extra polish on my words. Much gratitude to Cynthia L. Moyer for her wonderful proofreading, and to Carolina Valedez Miller, a new proofreader for this book. It definitely won’t be her last project with me.

And many, many thanks to my amazing beta readers for this book—Rhonda Cowsert, Emily Pearson, and Anne Childon. Friends don’t let friends look stupid in print. I swear we need T-shirts.

The character of Deputy Abbie Lee Hoffstetter was created by reader Tracy Burrows. The attorney Carter Hale was also semi-created by reader Devin Sauter. Reader
Wendy Gitschier Eulinger won a contest for creating a character named Anna, but I decided to save her for Thirty-Four and a Half (??) and give her a larger role.

I am thankful every day for my children who tolerate my insane schedule and don’t resent me for it. I try to carve time whenever and wherever I can for them. As long as they know that I love them to the moon and back, everything else is gravy.

And to my amazing and wonderful readers—my most sincere thank you. You encourage me to keep going, to keep telling my stories. I’m not shouting in the dark. You hear me.

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomadic gypsy, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and a smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period.  Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in her own mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.)  Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks.  She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.

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