The Fangover (The Fangover #1)(28)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Saxon,” Cort said softly, shaking his head. Damn, they might as well have walked in and announced they were vampires looking for a late-night wedding deal. Cort got the feeling this man had put the pieces together.

“Our friend can be quite overdramatic when he drinks,” Cort said, forcing a laugh. He really didn’t want this reverend to continue believing what Cort suspected he did.

All they needed was a wedding chapel officiant turned all Van Helsing after them. And this man looked like he would relish such a position.

“Saxon does like to act ridiculous when he drinks,” Katie agreed, surprising Cort with her own little laugh. Man, this woman could rally.

The reverend’s gaze was still probing, but he nodded as if he accepted their excuses.

“And then there was the final reason I could not possibly marry you,” he finally said.

Oh shit, was this the point where he dramatically announced that he knew they were the cursed undead and he was going to put them permanently back in their graves.

The reverend turned and walked over to an ornate cupboard, bending down to open it.

Beside Cort, Katie must have wondered the same thing, because she shifted closer to him. Cort tightened his hold on her waist, not quite sure what the reverend was going to do either. But if he did come charging toward them with a pointy wooden stake or holy water or a rope of garlic, Cort knew he had a better chance of protecting them than she did.

The reverend reached into the cabinet but Cort couldn’t see what he was getting.

“I think you will be wanting this,” the reverend said, his back still toward them.

Cort, of course, couldn’t feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he knew it would have been, if he were alive.

The reverend turned, and both Cort and Katie just stared.

He walked toward them with a cookie jar in the shape of a bust of Elvis cradled in both hands.

“The final reason I couldn’t marry you two,” the reverend said, stopping in front of Cort, who still held Katie tight to his side, “you kept demanding I take this as payment for the ceremony. Perhaps this would be accepted as currency in Las Vegas, but here, not so much.” The reverend held the cookie jar out to Cort.

“Hunk-a-hunk-a burnin’ love,” the parrot trilled.

Cort, almost too weak with relief to move, hesitated for a moment before taking the kitschy cookie jar. This had been Johnny’s urn. Why had they had it?

“I hate to appear mercenary,” the reverend said, “but this chapel is also a business.”

“Going to the chapel,” the parrot said in his annoying singsong falsetto.

“Very understandable,” Cort said after shooting the bird a look. “We understand your reason for declining to marry us. We also appreciate you being so understanding of our conditions.”

The cherub receptionist smiled, and Cort got the feeling she was pleased to see there wasn’t going to be any trouble from them, so now she could relax.

The reverend, however, didn’t exude any more warmth than he had from the moment he’d arrived in the room.

“Thank you for holding on to this for us.” Cort lifted the cookie jar slightly.

“Certainly.”

“Well, I think we should be going,” Cort said, tucking the jar under one arm like a football. He placed his free hand on the small of Katie’s back, ushering her toward the door.

Once outside, Katie stopped on the sidewalk, looking back at the chapel.

“Maybe we should stop trying to find out what happened last night,” Katie said. “Things keep getting weirder and weirder.”

Chapter Ten

FEELINGS FOR YOUR FRIEND . . . OR YOUR DOM

STELLA wasn’t sure where the lump in her throat had come from. Or exactly how her hands had wound up on Wyatt’s butt, though that part she liked. The lump she wasn’t digging so much. Blame it on being emotional from Johnny’s death, but she was perfectly content to stand in Wyatt’s arms and have him tell her that he was a nice guy. She knew he was a nice guy. She’d seen it for years.

Yet she appreciated the care he took with her. The intentional and subtle reassurance that he wouldn’t dick around with her. It made warm things happen to her insides that weren’t just the result of kneading his naked butt beneath her fingers. It was such a nice ass though. Mmm. She gave it one last squeeze.

At the same time, she couldn’t stop herself from stepping back. Relying on Wyatt wasn’t a good plan. She had always relied on herself and it wasn’t fair to him to take advantage of his kindness.

“I’m not looking for a bad boy.” She debated adding that she wasn’t looking for anything, but that just sounded bitchy. “But I guess right now we need to go looking for the guys and see if they found anything out.”

It was not a smooth subject change, but Stella knew if she stayed in the intimacy of Wyatt’s apartment she’d end up naked again. Which wasn’t a bad thing, obviously, but she was confused about what the hell was happening between them and she wasn’t sure it was wise.

Which was stupid, given that ten minutes earlier she’d been sprawled across his lap getting a playful spanking.

She needed medication. She was losing her mind.

“Just call Cort,” Wyatt said.

Stella pulled her phone out of her purse. “I can’t. My phone is dead.” Of course. She had to charge it every three seconds or it didn’t work. “Can I borrow yours?”

“Sure.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Stella scrolled through his contacts and found Cort, then hit the Call button. She waited impatiently as it rang, feeling an odd sense of urgency to find out what had happened the night before.

“Hello? Hello?”

Caught off guard, Stella paused. That squawking whiny voice didn’t exactly sound like Cort. She wasn’t sure it even sounded human, actually. “Um, Cort? It’s Stella.”

There was rustling and then mumbling that she didn’t understand. “What did you say? I can’t hear you, Cort.”

“Can you hear me? Can you hear me now?”

There was no way in hell that was the lead singer. Nor did she think it was Katie, who had left the apartment earlier with Cort. It sounded like . . .

“Is this the parrot?” she asked, suspicious. The weird just kept coming.

“Slap the fat. Ride the wave.”

Stella’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She had no idea what that even meant, but it sounded totally rude. And she didn’t like that parrot. He’d been a complete ass**le, chasing her when she was in bat form. There was no denying it.