Love Unrehearsed (52 page)

My unwelcomed suitor gazed up at them, appearing just as puzzled as I was.

Marie was assured and composed. “Now the security company has your picture.”

This definitely pissed him off. He paid no attention to Marie. He was mad at me. “All I wanted was to finally take you on a date and you make me feel like some, some common criminal? Who do you think you are? You think you’re better than me? I’ll have you know that I have my master’s degree in chemical engineering! Perhaps you would have found that out prior to wanting to call the cops on me, hmm?”

Marie cautioned him with a new, soothing voice. “Sir, calm down.”

“No! I will not calm down! After all of the money I’ve spent to get you to like me? You women are all the same. You flaunt your bodies, enticing men to be attracted to you, and then what do you do? You cut them off at the knees as if they were helpless soldiers wandering the desert, just begging for a sip of water.”

Soldiers in the desert? My God, this guy is beyond cuckoo and now he’s becoming enraged.

I suddenly noticed what Marie slid out from the top of the cooler—a very intimidating black handgun that she seemed to have no problem holding.

Dear God . . . cameras? Guns? What’s this place turning into? A Twilight War Zone? Surely Mike will be beamed into the middle of the room in Doctor Who’s Tardis ship at any moment.

“Sir, I’m asking you for the last time to leave the premises or else I will call the local authorities.” Marie’s voice left no room for debate.

Completely dejected, the guy huffed, scowled at both of us, called me a heartless bitch, and then scared the hell out of me when he whipped the flower bouquet at us.

It all happened so quickly, I didn’t react fast enough. The flowers caught my arm and then ricocheted off the back bar countertop.

My heart rate went into overdrive. This guy was completely mental. While distracted by tangles of baby’s breath and palm fronds, I noticed that Marie had taken a shooter’s stance, her badass black gun pointing right at him.

“Freeze!” she shouted. “Taryn, call nine-one-one, now!” Her command didn’t seem to matter to him; one view of her gun and he was taking wide backward steps toward the door.

Pete walking into the pub from the kitchen, whistling and completely oblivious to the standoff. He stuttered to a halt. “What the?”

While we were distracted by Pete, the crazed guy seized the opportunity to run.

Pete stood gaping in shock at both of us while Marie lowered her weapon. “Jesus! What the hell did I just walk into?” He rushed over and locked the front door.

Marie fiddled with the gun before placing it back inside a black holster. She snapped the holder thing on it and pushed it back into its hiding spot in the gap above the cooler. I knew she was aware of me watching her, but she was doing a fine job of ignoring me.

I felt almost out of breath. “You have a gun behind my bar?”

She gave me a casual glance and then shrugged. My blood heated up another notch. Like
hell
it was no big deal! “I had it hidden.”

I leaned onto the bar for stability. “Whose gun is it?”

Her face was stoic but she was breathing just as heavily from the incident as I was. “Mine.”

“Since when the hell do you own a gun?”

Marie grabbed a beer glass and filled it halfway with water. “I got it after I graduated from the course. It’s a Glock nine-millimeter. Want to see it?”

People holding guns kill people. My answer was quick. “No.”

“I should take you to the range and teach you to fire it. It’s so much fun!”

“Marie, why the hell do you have a gun?”

She shrugged. “Mike bought it for me. It was my graduation gift. He’s worried that Gary might try to shoot me so he wants me to be prepared to shoot first. I can’t believe that crazy guy coming in here like that. He scared the crap out of me.”

Yeah, that was a load of lies. Gary was no longer contesting the divorce and was too busy fooling around with that Amy woman to even bother. As long as Marie didn’t try to take more of Gary’s money, she wasn’t even a blip on his radar anymore.

“Just so you know, I’ve applied for a permit to carry a concealed weapon, so whenever we travel locally, I’ll most likely be armed. Stop looking at me as if I’ve grown another head.”

Pete was standing in the middle of the pub, glaring at both of us. “You care to tell me what the fuck that was that I just walked into?”

I waved him off. My best friend drawing weapons on people to protect me was more important. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Pete, call the police. It’s protocol. All threats need to be reported.” Marie took a sip of water, averting her eyes from me. “Tar, the way this works is that you are supposed to go about your day without worrying about security. It’s
my
job now to worry about it, and it’s also my job to be as transparent as possible and not allow you to be worried about your safety. Bodyguards should be visible but invisible. Understand?”

“I thought that you were just going with me to public appearances and stuff? I didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.” The thought of my best friend actually putting her life on the line to protect me suddenly became very real and very frightening. It was almost too much to bear.

Her eyes opened wider. “Of course I’m taking this seriously.
Very
seriously!”

Guilt swept over me, pressing hard on my chest. Somewhere in my mind I’d thought that we were just saying she was my bodyguard as an excuse to allow her to travel with Ryan and me—like it was a cover story or something. After seeing her pull a gun on someone, the reality of the situation became clear. I rushed right over and threw my arms around her. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. Thank you. I love you.”

Marie patted my back. “I love you, too, Tar. We have a lot to learn about stalkers and how to handle them, but I promise to keep you informed from now on, okay?”

I nodded, hugging her neck.

Pete cleared his throat and showed us his cell phone. “Cops are on their way.”

My eyes sought out the cameras up in the corner. There was also a small, dark dome directly above the cash register. “Someone care to tell me when they got installed?” I asked. “Since no one thought it important to tell me.”

“Oh, shit,” Pete groaned. “I forgot to tell you. They were installed yesterday while you were in New York fetching the paparazzi guy’s ashes. It’s a good thing, though. We got that guy on camera.”

Marie pulled her hair off her shoulders. “I made him look directly at it, so we should have a pretty clear shot of his face. God, I hope I’m not in trouble for drawing my weapon. Mike will have my ass for that.”

That might not be such a bad thing?

“You know what I mean,” she groaned at me. “Taryn, I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be down in the bar anymore.”

“What?”
Am I being kicked out of my own bar now?

“I agree,” Pete said solemnly.

“You’re too accessible to them,” Marie continued. “That wasn’t the first time that particular weirdo came in here. He’s been trying to deliver flowers to you for several weeks. Besides, this is a public place. There is nothing to prevent anyone from just waltzing through the front doors and posing a threat. I’m afraid that the only option we have is to remove you. Like it or not, you’re a celebrity—a public figure. Your status has put you in a precarious position.”

My body went rigid. This was
my
pub and now I was being told not to enter it? “I’m not famous.”

“Oh yes you are!” Marie countered. “Even
People
has published several articles on you. I know you don’t believe it, but this is the way it is.”

I disagreed. “But plenty of celebrities own businesses—restaurants and stuff. I’m no different.”

Marie laughed lightly. “Yeah, they do. But you can’t walk into one of Robert De Niro’s restaurants and chat him up while he makes you a cheeseburger.”

I felt indescribably hopeless about being told I was no longer welcome in my own pub. And then a split second later, I felt pissed, too. All of this because of some misguided idiot and his stupid flowers.

Pete wrapped his arm over my shoulders. “I know it’s hard to stomach, kiddo, but Marie’s right. You’re a public figure now.”

“That guy just admitted going through your trash, Taryn! For what? To see that we threw his flowers away? That’s messed up. You saw how angry he got. I’d hate to imagine how things could have turned out if one of us
wasn’t
in here with you. You think Ryan’s paranoid? He has every damn right to be. There are a lot of sick fucks walking this earth.”

As much as I hated to admit it, both of them were right. “So now what do I do?”

“Let Marie run the pub,” Pete suggested. “She’d be perfect for managing the entire operation.”

“No,” Marie said adamantly. “Sorry, but Taryn knows my heart isn’t into it anymore. I have a new career on the horizon.”

I knew Pete was just being diplomatic. There was longing in that guy’s soft puppy dog eyes. “Pete, you’re running things now; how would you feel about making that permanent?”

Marie glanced at Pete, feeling him out. “This something you want to do for the next few years? Taryn wouldn’t have to deal with it then.”

Pete nodded confidently. “Yes. I’d love to. Tammy’s business just keeps growing. She’s making more money than I did working construction. And if we go ahead with serving food here with a lunch and dinner menu, this place will just become busier.”

I was still pissed about the security system. “All capital expenditures get approved by me first. Clear?”

“Even the ones you don’t pay for?” Pete questioned.

My eyes narrowed. “Who paid for the system, Pete?”

“I think I hear sirens.” He walked off toward the window.

I had this overwhelming desire to tackle him and force him to speak. “Peter?”

“Who do you think?” he asked with a knowing glance. “They made me shake on it—
both
of them. And don’t even bother being pissed. You’ll have no argument once they find out what happened in here today. None.”

Damn it—Pete was right.

I zipped the back of Marie’s knee-length black dress, smoothing out the gorgeous satin, careful not to snag any of the soft tendrils that hung lose from her upswept hair. It had been almost three weeks since the pub incident, during which I used my newfound downtime to force a reconciliation between Tammy and Marie. Well, forced may be a bit of a stretch, but I most certainly had my say in the matter.

Their final argument started over mozzarella sticks. Really. I still don’t know the full extent of their ridiculous fight because neither of them was making much sense, but both of their voices were so damn loud, I could hear them all the way upstairs.

I ended my conference call with our architect and builder just to see what all of the ruckus was about. I knew Marie was still pissed about Tammy’s friend hooking up with Gary and the fact that Tammy did nothing to stop it, but after Tammy and Pete had their big showdown two weeks ago, Gary and Amy were out of the wedding, leaving them with absolutely no bridal party and Tammy in full bride-to-be meltdown.

I’d had enough of the insanity.

I was also wise enough to know that they were at each other’s throats because deep down they wanted the hostility to be out and over with. And the longer it lingered, the longer it festered.

But after thirty minutes and a whole lot of crazy accusations, I managed to get the two of them to hug.

The day before Pete and Tammy’s wedding, Ryan and Mike flew back to Seaport. Come hell or high water, I was going to make sure my dear friend Pete married the woman who had captured his heart and that his woman would have a beautiful wedding to remember.

Marie and I stopped dead in our tracks in my living room when we took in the sights of Ryan and Mike dressed to the nines. Both were devastatingly handsome in their black tuxes and crimson neckties. They were standing near the front windows; the afternoon sun making them appear dreamlike.

“Oh my God,” Marie breathed out.

I knew exactly what she’d meant. All of that gorgeousness should be illegal because it was lethal.

“Mine,” I whispered, basking in the reality that Ryan was in fact, mine.

“I get the one on the left,” she muttered softly.

Marie and I had been given simple instructions: wear a black satin cocktail dress. But with Ryan in his Ralph Lauren tuxedo I felt grossly underdressed. Ryan sauntered around the couch, his eyes boring into mine. Something about seeing him dressed up always took my breath away.

Ryan, forever the gentleman, took my hand and raised it to his mouth for a kiss. “You look absolutely stunning.” He held me at arm’s length and then his brow furrowed. “Something’s missing.”

He looked over at Mike. “Is it me or is there something missing from this gorgeous picture?”

Mike inspected Marie from head to toe, even doing a walk-around. “Hmm. Yeah. Something’s off. Like it’s
almost
perfect but just not quite altogether—
there.
”