Mr. Purr-fect and the Geek (Gone Geek, #2) Page 8

  “Me, too.”

  And that was the problem, if it could be called that. Raul liked her, and he had no idea what to do to keep her.

  Miranda tapped her pen on the pad of paper, listening to the stupid hold music drone on and on and on...

  How long did it take to look at a calendar, anyway?

  “Ma’am, thank you for holding,” the receptionist drawled.

  “Did you find any availability?” Miranda tossed the pen down and clicked through the site. Again.

  The location was perfect. A large outdoor space would allow for kennel displays and some interactive activities with some of the animals. Inside, they could have cocktails and the silent auction. She was pretty sure that just with her local connections alone, she could get a couple hundred people there. More, if she leveraged some things in her personal collection...

  Like the original concept discs from the first Drudge game...

  She still had them all.

  Cliff had tried on numerous occasions to pry them out of her hands. She had all six copies. In the dust jackets. Those could fetch a fortune, if they got the right people in the building. More, if they could use some sort of interactive bidding device for people not able to attend...

  Raul was going to flip...

  “Let’s see... We’ve got a date four weeks out that just came available. Canceled wedding.”

  “Oh—really?” Miranda flipped open her calendar app.

  Four weeks was perfect. Not a lot of time, but enough to get the foot soldiers, a.k.a., her friends, mobilized. She felt...energized. Excited.

  The receptionist gave Miranda the details and sent her the necessary forms. She’d still need to speak with the facility’s manager for the official booking...but it was completely do-able. Miranda paced her office, bursting at the seams to tell someone. Piper was still working crazy hours, Tamara was on the set of a movie, but Rashae was always around. Miranda jabbed in her friend’s number and stuck her Bluetooth headset on.

  “What’s your damage?” Rashae asked by way of a greeting.

  “I found a spot to have a fundraiser.”

  “You—wait? What?”

  “Remember, I’m helping Raul and his team get their rescue going?”

  “Yeah...”

  “And the idea was to do a big thing, get some investors in to help them with setting up facilities?”

  “Uh, that sounds familiar...”

  “I got us a place. Well, not officially yet. I’m going to swing by after work, but it’s perfect!”

  “You...back up. The boy has his charity and all his friends are in on it. That’s cool. And you’re helping them...what now?”

  “Mostly, I’m helping with an action plan. They knew what they wanted to do, just not how to go about it.”

  “Okay, and what else are you doing?”

  “I did the website, but that’s nothing.”

  “And? Miranda?”

  “What?”

  “What else are you doing? What have you paid for?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Miranda...”

  “Fine. I’m going to pay the deposit for the charity location, but that’s it.”

  “Is that seriously it?”

  “Your lack of faith in me is humbling.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. Just...I could see you emptying your pockets for a thing like this.”

  “I’m being careful. It’s hard to not say I’ll just pay for stuff when things come up. You...they rescued a mama cat and—”

  “Stop, you damn crazy cat lady. You’re being careful. Good.”

  “I called you because I’m excited and I wanted someone to be happy with me.”

  “Sorry, it’s just—you’re my best friend and I worry about you. I love that you’re getting excited about stuff again, and you’ve got someone in your life.”

  “But?”

  “But, yeah, you’ve got a huge heart and it’s easy for people to take advantage of that. I’m naturally suspicious of any man in your life I haven’t met yet. Can you blame me?”

  “You talked to him on our video call.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Well...you could come out for the fundraiser...”

  “And? You clearly have something in mind.”

  “I’m going to offer to let them auction off one of the concept copies of the original Drudge game. I was thinking Tamara could promote it on her YouTube show, and we could make it a thing. If you were free, having you be the emcee would be fantastic.”

  “Dear Jesus, you already have it planned out, don’t you?”

  “Maybe...”

  “Okay, we are officially going to start having Sugar Mama check-ins. I say this as your friend, you know that, right?”

  “Yes.” Miranda rolled her eyes, both frustrated and touched by her friend’s concern.

  “So are you guy’s officially dating, or is this just a fuck friend thing, or what?”

  “We haven’t labeled it.” Miranda paced back to her desk chair.

  “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Now that you brought it up, it does.”

  “Then talk to him. Hell, if he’s been moving in like he has, he should have something to say about it.”

  “I just...I don’t want to be that pushy girl. I’m happy. I feel safe.”

  “Miranda, honey, I love you, but if he can’t commit, he can get out. There are other ways to be happy and feel safe without giving away your hard-earned money. It’d be different if you’d gone on a date or two, but the way you’re going, he’s going to hire movers before too much longer... What was that noise you just made? Miranda? How much of his stuff is at your place?”

  “Not a lot. Just clothes.”

  “And?”

  “His cat, but Shiva is upstairs in the spare rooms.”

  “His cat’s name is Shiva? Lord. What else is he bringing over?”

  “Nothing else until the kittens are older.”

  “Nothing—what? What is he bring over?”

  “He might bring his dog.”

  “A dog?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miranda.”

  “What?”

  “Boy’s gotta decide one way or the other what the hell he’s doing.”

  “You’ve totally rained on my parade.”

  “Sorry, that’s what love does.”

  “Screw you and your so-called love.”

  “You’ll thank me after you settle things with your beau.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes and grumbled. Rashae was right. She was always right. Didn’t mean Miranda had to agree with her about it.

  “I have wings to create, and I need both hands and my whole brain. You go be awesome and give me an update later, okay? And start looking at flights for the fundraiser weekend. Make sure boy toy knows he has to pass inspection.”

  “All right, bye.”

  Miranda hung up, and the cloud of uncertainty returned. It’d been following her around since Wednesday, when Shiva arrived. Bringing his cat to her place was a huge sign of trust, wasn’t it? His most significant relationship had ended because his ex ran off with Lola. She had to tell herself this was a good sign. A big, blinking indicator that things were going well for them.

  Weren’t they? Or did she simply want someone in her life badly enough she was willing to take whatever was offered? In another few month’s time, would Raul see her paranoia and leave her, calling her crazy, too?

  Frank tossed his briefcase on the sofa and headed for his home office. He’d held off checking on things until he was home. All day long, he’d had to wonder what she was up to, who was she speaking to, how her day was going...

  Not knowing was the worst of it.

  He’d tuned out of a whole hour of the financial forecast meeting thinking about her hair, how much he missed it when it was longer. The short hair was nice, but he much preferred her long, natural locks.

  Fuck it.

  Frank strode in
to the bedroom, then the large, walk-in closet. He’d bought a case, one of those fancy art displays that monitored air, preserved the piece within a glass box. The keypad was standard. He jabbed the buttons, his vision narrowing to the long, silky braid inside.

  He wrapped his hands around the nearly twenty inches of brunette hair and stroked it from one end to the other, then smelled it.

  This was his most prized possession.

  He’d had to watch her calendar closely because the date kept changing, but once she’d arrived for the appointment he’d remained in place. The stylist hadn’t asked too many questions after he’d waved the money in front of her.

  Frank held the braid to his nose and inhaled.

  It still smelled of her.

  Tea tree oil. Lavender. A bit of mint and rosemary. Miranda preferred natural scents, nothing too flowery.

  He squeezed the braid and strolled into the office.

  A couple of keystrokes and the mirrored desktop filled his screen.

  He sat back and watched her day in double time, every email she’d read, note she’d written and site she’d visited.

  The Beachcomber?

  Frank frowned.

  Why would she need a party space?

  There wasn’t anything on her calendar about a party.

  Frank had a bad feeling about this. What was Miranda up to now?

  8.

  Raul balanced the pizza on one hand and hefted the grocery bags up out of the floorboard with his other hand. Given that he was crashing at Miranda’s so much, he figured it was only fair that he chip in with the groceries.

  He made it up the patio without incident and by the time he reached the back door, Miranda had it open for him. He had to pause for a moment to take her in. Nearly every night was like this—he’d show up, half expecting her to brush him off, but instead that dazzling smile reeled him in all over again.

  “Hey, handsome.” She smiled and stepped back.

  “Evening, beautiful.”

  “Need a hand? What’cha got there?”

  “Contributions to the kitchen. I finished off the creamer and milk after you left for work.” He set it all on the large island while she started peering into bags.

  “Anything else need to be put away right now?” she asked.

  He paused, parsing out the notes of excitement in her voice.

  “What happened today?” He scrambled to recall any scrap of conversation that might give him a better idea.

  “This it?” She stashed the few refrigerated items and tossed the bags into recycling.

  “What’s up with you?” He stepped in closer, backing her up against the fridge.

  Miranda bit her lower lip, eyes sparkling with a barely-contained secret.

  “Come here.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand and led him into her office. “I wanted to have more to show you, but I barely beat you home. Sit.”

  He did as she asked and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his lap. A week ago she would have yelped and tried to get away. Now she shifted until she was comfortable and reached for the mouse. Progress.

  “I did a thing,” she said.

  “What thing?”

  “This thing.” She maximized a window showing a modern waterfront building with well-manicured hedges and a lawn that stretched out to a stone railing.

  “What is it?” The property was...expensive looking. Out of a movie or a magazine.

  “It’s the Beachcomber. That property you sent me the brochure for? It’s sort of like an upscale civic center, event space thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I was thinking...it would be perfect for a fancy fundraiser. Like we talked about.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Isn’t it?” She glanced down at him, her wide smile making everything in his chest tight. “There’s this great covered patio area where you could set up some kennels, maybe have a playpen sort of area. Then, inside, there’s some really nice space to do cocktails and other stuff.”

  He could listen to her talk all night. Her zeal for planning and getting the vision across was uncanny. Listening to her speak made him want to join in, and he’d started the damn rescue.

  “Someday, we’ll get there.” He rubbed her back. It’d be great to put her plans into action. Someday.

  “That’s...sort of the other thing...” She glanced from the screen back to him.

  “What?”

  “There’s an opening in their schedule in four weeks. It’s usually booked up six to eight months, a lot of times even longer.”

  “That’s nice, but what’s a place like this cost?”

  “I did a thing, remember?”

  He froze.

  The thing wasn’t finding the place?

  Or making awesome plans?

  “Miranda, what did you do?” He stared at her, unsure what he wanted her to say.

  “I...someone showed up right after me, ready to pay cash on the spot for that weekend because they heard like I did they had an opening, but because I had an appointment, the manager talked to me first and...I had to. If I didn’t, we’d lose the spot.” She spoke all at once, her words blurring together.

  He could see the scene in his mind. Miranda, poised and ready to sell their idea, her passion and the moment—that split-second decision-making maven. He’d butted heads with her a few times and lost when she got like that.

  “Say something.” She prodded his ribs.

  “How much did that cost?” He scrubbed a hand over his face. How was he going to pay for this? Half his check was already covering the rescue-vetting costs he couldn’t waive.

  “Don’t worry about the money. Do you think the guys can pull this off in a month?”

  Raul stared at her for a moment, torn between charging full-steam ahead into his dream, and leaning on yet another person for money.

  Dreams didn’t pay bills. They cost money. He’d fallen down the hole of letting his dreams blind him to the consequences once before and he’d lost everything, right down to his cat.

  What would it cost him this time?

  Miranda was a different person. Her actions—this—was born out of a desire to help. The way she stared at him now...she was buying into his dream, making it hers, too. Because that was the kind of person she was. Giving. Nurturing. A lot of bossy, but bossy got the job done.

  There was still a price to pay that wasn’t money, and he wished he knew what it was going to be. With his ex, it’d been his cat. With Miranda, he didn’t know. Was he reading too much into this?

  “Raul, say something, please?” The way she looked at him, her eyes begged him to be as excited as she was.

  Damn it. It was a great plan. And she believed in him.

  Maybe he was the problem. He was too jaded and guarded to really appreciate the selfless, beautiful thing Miranda was doing for him.

  Fuck, he was a heel.

  Raul wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed it.

  “All we have to do is follow the plan, right?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. She wasn’t anything like his ex, and he was damn lucky to have such a selfless woman in his life now. He needed to wake up and really appreciate her.

  “I know I made a big decision without asking you guys, but...it was just so perfect. Please say you like it.”

  “Maybe warn me next time?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She leaned back against his chest. “Is it okay?”

  “Babe, if it weren’t for you, we’d probably still be trying to figure out how to run the whole operation out of our rental. It’s scary, but with your plan and our muscle, I think we can do a whole lot more than we realize.” And that was the truth. Growing wasn’t a comfortable experience, and maybe they needed her to push them out of their comfort zone.

  “You aren’t mad?”

  “No.” The answer came without pause or the need to think.

  “Good.” She smiled, and it was everything right in the world.


  What the hell had he ever done to deserve this? Her?

  “I’d love to sit here and make goo-goo eyes at you, but I’m really hungry, and that pizza smells amazing.” She leaned in and buzzed his lips with a kiss.

  Raul waited for her to get up, then spun the chair to watch her walk away.

  A week...and this was probably the happiest he’d ever been.

  “You coming?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “Right behind you.” He had to think of something, some way, to thank her. Deserve even a fraction of what she gave him so freely.

  Miranda plated the pizza and breadsticks while they caught each other up on their day, the kittens and Shiva’s upstairs antics. Already, Lola was prowling the stairs, evidence that it would not be an easy introduction for the two, but hopefully they’d adjust. By the time they were seated on the sofa he still hadn’t come up with anything besides flowers and chocolates as thank yous.

  “Is there anything you haven’t been able to put your mind to and just—do it?” He turned to face Miranda before she could turn the TV on.

  “Um...I don’t know?” She nibbled on a breadstick.

  “Seriously, nothing?”

  “Like—what?”

  “No other goals, dreams, bucket list things?”

  “I’m thirty-seven fucking years old. Do I really need more goals at this point? I made my video game. I started and run my company. What more do you want from me, mom?”

  “Hey, I’m just curious if you’ve thought about doing anything else?” Something he could maybe help with.

  She chewed, her gaze on the ceiling.

  “You’re thinking of something.” He picked up the pizza but couldn’t find the interest in eating yet.

  “Well...not really, I don’t think it counts.”

  “What is it?”

  “Writing a book.”

  “Like what kind of a book?”

  “See, that’s the thing. I’ve already written it.”

  “Cool. What kind of a book is it? Can I read it?”

  “I...don’t think you’d want to. It’s a romance book. I based it on a failed game concept.”

  “What game?”

  “It was this space exploration RPG. It was in development right around the time phone app games hit, and we realized the concept was better suited to phones versus a console, so we abandoned it.”