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Engaging in anything at this point would just bite her in the ass, I knew it.
“You really want to know how she sleeps at night?” I asked with an imperceptible calm that made Wyett shiver with anticipation.
“Yes,” her aunt hissed again. “I would love to know. Because I just can’t see how she does.”
My grin was mischievous.
“She sleeps with her panties off, to make it easier for you and people like you to kiss her ass,” I drawled, sounding civilized and calm, unlike the crazy storm I could practically feel vibrating my every muscle.
Her aunt gasped in outrage. “That’s just vile.”
“It’s not vile,” I disagreed. “She has a very kissable—and lickable—ass.”
Stella roared in outrage. “Get out of my sight!”
Wyett snickered, as did one of the cops.
“I’d come over there and kill you right now with my bare hands if my ankle wasn’t broken.” Stella glared.
“Actually” —Dr. Garrick came up with an X-ray in his hand— “there’s no break. Just a sprain. All you need is ice and rest.”
“Perfect,” the newcomer officer said. “In that case, please help her out, boys.”
And that was exactly what they did.
Kicking and screaming, Stella went.
The new officer turned toward Wyett and me with questions in his eyes. “Were you our anonymous tip?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
The officer shook his head.
“My name is Lynch. If you ever need a job, or help, or anything really, possibly to give any more helpful tips, I’d love to hear them or have you.” He held out his hand and Hunt took it before releasing it as quickly as he could. “Have a good one.”
With that, he was gone, leaving me swaying on my feet.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” my wife whispered as she wrapped her arms around my waist.
I leaned more heavily into her than I intended, causing her to grunt in surprise.
“Damn, you’re heavy,” she grumbled.
I grinned wickedly.
“Sure am, aren’t I?” I griped. “Now, let’s talk about that name change. I don’t like you having the same name as a criminal who tried to take you away from me.”
“Not that your other arguments weren’t good, and that I haven’t already agreed, but you just won me over with that one,” she mused.
She was Mrs. Wyett McJimpsey, to the entire world, twenty minutes later.
Two minutes after that, I took another hit of the good stuff and slept half the day away.
CHAPTER 22
I’m slowly losing my mind. But as long as I keep the part that tells me when I need to pee, I should be okay.
-Text from Wyett to Hunt
HUNT
“Hunt!”
I paused in what I was doing, my glasses perched on the edge of my nose, and turned toward the door.
“Yeah?” I called out.
“Come here!”
The fear in her voice had me standing up despite being in the middle of coding and heading in her direction.
I stopped in the doorway of the room she’d taken over for her office.
“Yes?” I asked.
“There’s a spider,” she whispered, pointing down near my feet.
I blanched. “Ewww.”
“Kill it!” she insisted.
I shook my head. “I’m not wearing shoes. What am I going to kill it with?”
Her mouth opened in outrage.
“You have to find something to kill it with! If I move, it’ll run and hide, and I’ll never be able to live in this house again,” she cried.
I nearly rolled my eyes.
“Wyett…” I started.
She leaned over and picked up a bottle of shampoo that was by her side.
“Here, use that,” she tossed it at me.
I rolled my eyes that time and leaned over, squishing it with the bottle.
Only, a moving mass started to explode from the squished spider’s body, and all of a sudden the big spider morphed into hundreds of baby spiders.
They spread over the floor like a cup of water being knocked over.
They went everywhere, and all of a sudden, I realized that she was right.
We’d have to move.
She screamed and jumped toward me.
I caught her mid-leap and twisted and turned, watching as the spiders disappeared into every crack and crevice in the bathroom that they could find.
That’s when the dogs started barking.
They’d followed us in, and I wasn’t sure if they were barking because of how we were reacting—I mean I was now standing on the toilet for Christ’s sake—or if it was because they didn’t like the spiders, either.
Whatever the case, I was glad that they were here.
“Kill them, puppies!” Wyett cried.
They left the bathroom and didn’t look back.
“So I was going to wait until later to tell you, but I was going to suggest we move into your old house.” I paused. “And sell this place.”
She hesitated for all of two seconds before she said, “Let’s do it.”
Her old house was just sitting there. Had been sitting there for going on a few years now since her aunt had started with her assholery.
Though it’d been ‘sitting,’ it hadn’t been idle.
I’d started over the last six months to fix it up in secret.
