The Truth About Numbnuts and Chubbs (15 page)

"The perks of filthy lucre," she muttered.

"One of them." He grinned and winked.

Bry buckled up and looked out the glorious blue sky they were leaving behind. It made her want to cry and she wasn't usually the sentimental sort.

Across from her Ben was on the phone, absorbed in his conversation. Suddenly he reached down, took off his shoe and tipped out a whisper of sand. When he looked up and caught her smiling, he did too. That was the beauty of a good holiday by the sea. They'd be finding sand in odd places for a while.

The steward brought her a glass of orange juice and she drank it down in a few gulps. Hadn't realized how thirsty she was, but there had been no time even for coffee. Only as the drink hit her with a little slap did she realize it wasn't straight juice but a mimosa. Her head was already spinning enough and now she was slightly tipsy too.

Oh well, it wasn't every day this sort of thing happened to a girl.

She glanced down at her finger and the enormous diamond twinkling up at her. In the words of Jane Russell in
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes
, it looked like it "oughta have a highball around it".

Christ on a cracker, what had she done?

This was going to take some explaining.

* * * *

In New York his lawyer was waiting to go over a few things. Ben was prepared. He knew what he'd hear about pre-nups and all that crap. Like he cared.

"I have to go." He kissed Bryony on the lips. "You take my car to work."

"Ok. You sure?"

Just what she'd said to him five hours ago when she ran down to meet him on that white sand beach, barefoot and in her sundress.

"Never been so sure of anything in my life," he'd told her.

It cost him a bit to make all the last-minute—very last-minute—arrangements for a hasty service, but he knew he couldn't do anything else.

He simply couldn't lose her, couldn't go back to New York and say goodbye. He wanted Bryony at his side and whatever he had to do, he'd do it. Maybe she would have preferred a big cathedral, ivory satin and fifteen bridesmaids, but she didn't complain about the impromptu vows. She was shocked though, as if she hadn't guessed how much he was in love with her.

Now, standing in the rain on a grimy New York pavement, that ocean-side wedding seemed like a pleasant dream, but she was still there. Beside him.

As she turned to get in his car, he tugged her back by one hand and kissed her again. "I love you, Mrs. Petruska."

"Don't get all mushy on me."

He laughed. "Ok, brat. I'll see you later."

"Now have a good day at work. Play nice with the other kids."

"Can I have cookies when I get home?"

His wife reached around and slapped him on the ass. "You'll get your cookies, Petruska."

The lawyer was watching him with a confused look on his face. No one had seen Ben in love before, of course. They'd have to adjust to it. As he had. Eventually.

* * * *

"You got some color this weekend. Did you go away?" Sandy was drooped over her desk, head hanging in a cup of herbal tea—the usual Monday doldrums.

"Er. Yeah."

"Nice. Adam Rostrop was looking for you this morning."

"Ah, I forgot to tell him I was coming in late today." Better get this over with. "Is he around now?"

"Nah, he went out for a long lunch."

Relieved, Bryony walked into her office and sat. The world hadn't stopped turning yet. It still felt as if she was thousands of feet in the air. Every time she moved her hand she was conscious of that massive diamond ring. Probably ought to take it off until they'd broken the news. Her stomach cramped when she thought of telling her parents and Helena that she'd just gone away for the weekend and gotten married.

An email popped up on her laptop. From Ben.

She opened it and then sat staring like a dope at a photo of the two of them on the beach. The newlyweds. He looked gorgeous of course. She looked slightly stunned and half asleep. As she had been.

Reaching into her briefcase she took out the folded contract and looked again at the two words he'd penned in red ink across the first page.

Marry Me.

And so she had, just like that. Like Alice eating the cake that said "eat me".

Benedick Petruska, perennial bachelor, was no more.

He'd planned his sexy web to trap her, but in the end she caught him.

She looked again at the photo he'd sent and realized he looked happy. He was holding her hand tightly. Who exactly had caught who?

She hit "reply" and typed.

I love you. Numbnuts.

Bryony had just pressed send, when her office door opened without warning and Helena swept in like an angry nor-easter. "Thank God you're in. I need your help tonight. Ben Petruska has invited us to some dreadful party in a seedy bar in Brooklyn, of all places. I don't want to go, but Carl already accepted. Of course he never says no to that wretched man. You have to come with me. I can't stand those places—beer bellies and greasy food." She gave a delicate shudder. "There'll probably be a dart board too and...and...skittles. I feel sick at the thought. Do come. You can't possibly have anything else to do on a Monday night."

Her cousin had barely looked at her as she talked. It seemed she hadn't even noticed Bryony was away all weekend. "Sure. I'll come." She smiled. "We'll have fun."

"
Fun
?" she exclaimed, as if it was an outrageous suggestion. "If Carl wasn't being such a sulky rat about going, I'd stay home."

"But you might regret it later. If you miss it."

"Why? What could I possibly miss in Brooklyn?"

Bryony slid her hands under the desk out of sight. "Oh, you never know. You might be surprised." Gotta hand it to Numbnuts; he loved his surprises.

* * * *

He took the little shell dog carefully out of its box and set it on his office desk, by his phone.

"What the hell is that?" his lawyer snapped, sitting heavily.

"A present." It was a rarity. Few women in his life had ever bought him gifts. "Reminds me of my old dog. Remember, Roly?"

"Oh, right. That stinky stray mutt you took in. Didn't he eat out of garbage cans and run after all the bitches in the neighborhood?"

"Yep," he said proudly. "That was Roly."

"Forgot about that damn dog."

But she hadn't.

A new email popped up on his laptop. From Bryony.

He opened it and read those four words from his wife.

"What are you smiling at, Petruska?" his lawyer demanded, snapping open his briefcase. "You've just signed your life over to a woman when you said that would never happen. What are you? Pussy whipped?"

"That's precisely why I
am
smiling."

He thought of his grandmother shaking her finger at him.
Snap her up now. She's a fine, strong, healthy girl. Not one of these dirty girls you like.

Oh, grandma, you have no idea how fine and dirty she is.

* * * *

They walked into the bar together.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked, clutching his coat sleeve.

"No," he admitted frankly. "I can already hear your family's complaints. They'll probably try to have you committed."

She chuckled. "True."

A naughty twinkle made his eyes bright suddenly in the muted light of the old-fashioned bar. "Are you wearing that pearl thong, Mrs. Petruska?"

Bryony put her chin in the air. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"Meet me in that bathroom in ten."

"Oh sure, we'll drop the bombshell and just sneak off for a quickie."

"Sounds good to me."He leaned down for a kiss. "C'mon, let's do it. It's time they knew the truth about Numbnuts and Chubbs."

As she walked forward, her arm in his, the satiny pearls of his thong rubbed on her pussy lips and started the pulse that would soon render her body a quivering, needy vessel and make it impossible to speak without descending into a breathy whisper. She might have to leave the speeches to Ben.

Tugging on his sleeve, she pulled him down again to whisper in his ear. "Let's make it five minutes."

His playful eyebrow wriggled and then arched, pretending to be all sensible. "Anything you say, Mrs. P. I am at
your
command."

About time too, Bryony thought with a contented smile.

The End

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