Hot Boss - Anne Marsh Page 0,49
laptop around so she can see Cowboy Bob in all his glory. I’m not thinking, and I can’t even blame it on being drunk or tired. Once I saw those pictures, the logic train pulled out of the station and now I’m careening out of control. I don’t care.
Hazel sets her laptop on the floor and comes around to stand behind me. “This is a really bad idea.”
“Absolutely.” Another cute couple shot. Click. Champagne on ice. Click. A selfie as Evan wraps one arm around my wife and another around an enormous trophy—compensating much?—and plants a celebratory kiss on her upturned face. Click. Click. Click. “She can’t have known him for long, so what kind of feelings could she possibly have for him?”
“Fun ones,” Hazel says dryly.
And now I’m realizing that I might have expected Molly to come back, to admit she was wrong.
I grab my phone and fire off a quick text. “I’m going to Vegas.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What’s the objective?”
She looks baffled, so I point out the obvious reason to make an emergency trip to Vegas.
“Someone needs to vet Cowboy Bob. How much money can the guy make riding cows?”
“You think he’s her boy toy?” Amusement colors Hazel’s voice.
Objectively, however, Molly is probably the richest English teacher on the face of the planet. Definitely in the continental US. I was scrupulously fair in our divorce settlement and even Molly couldn’t spend millions of dollars on books.
“Molly needs looking after.”
“Jack—”
“You might as well say it.” If it’s physically possible for a grown woman to explode, Hazel’s on the edge.
“Speaking as a grown woman myself, if you go charging in there to approve—or not approve—her choice in men, I can assure you things will end badly for you.”
“Come with me.”
“Are you nuts? One of us needs to not get arrested as a delusional stalker, because we have important business meetings next week.”
“Come with me and make sure I don’t get arrested.”
“No.”
“Please? It’ll be fun. There are spas. We can have sex in a hotel room.” I stab a finger at the naked cowboy shoulders. “I’ll get you the biggest tub in Vegas.”
I know I’m being irrational. It’s not an incentive-rich offer. No sane woman would take it. My only hope is that Hazel is ever so slightly crazy. In the best possible way.
Hazel sighs, a big, gusty exhale. I know before she says anything that I’ve won.
“This is insane. I’m going with you because letting you get arrested or castrated in Vegas would be detrimental to our business.”
My phone buzzes with a confirmation from the private plane people. “We take off in three hours.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PRIVATE JET terminal is posh. You never know who you’re going to meet. I was about to board my jet for a European meeting once when I swear Prince Harry came strolling out of the men’s room. I walk beside Hazel toward the plane.
She casts a quick glance down at my hand cupping her elbow, and a smile touches her mouth briefly as she shakes her head. “You don’t change, do you?”
I don’t know what she means, so I concentrate on getting us on board. The sooner we’re seated and buckled in, the faster we can get to Vegas. Our luggage has already been stowed away by the ground crew. The cabin holds eight and looks like my uncle’s living room. There are four cream-colored leather recliners with little red throw pillows and a big leather sofa grouped around a coffee table. Since the flight to Las Vegas is just over an hour, I passed on a stewardess. We can pour our own drinks.
It feels like it takes forever to get airborne, although it’s really less than fifteen minutes. I debate hiring a PI to track down Molly and her Cowboy Dick in Vegas, but since he’s performing in the big national rodeo there, he can’t be that hard to find. After the Pinterest fiasco, I texted her “to check in,” but she ignored me. I tried giving her a call, but I rolled straight to voice mail. She’s probably ignoring me.
One of the many advantages of flying private is that we’ll go above the commercial traffic and take the most direct route to Vegas. This means no fighting for airspace and a shorter flight time. We can’t get there fast enough for me. I bounce my knee up and down, considering next steps. Maybe I should have driven.
Hazel’s hand covers my knee. “What’s the plan?”
“I have tickets for the