Until Merri: Happily Ever Alpha World Read online

Eight dwarves pounded at the walls of her skull. Eight, because it was the usual seven plus an outlier she was calling Drunky.

  Blankets swaddled her like a shroud. She twisted and kicked until air replaced warmth. Exhausted from the effort, all she could do was lay sprawled and pray for a merciful death.

  Before long, the November chill forced her to join the human race. Groaning, she swore under her breath and pushed herself up with shaking arms.

  Cracking both eyes open, all she saw was darkness. It was her hair. Not a good sign because that meant she must look like hell. She took a whiff and groaned again. She smelled like hell too.

  Pushing her hair back with trembling fingers, she wiped her face and shook her head.

  Where was she?

  Merri looked around the room, shielding her eyes from the unforgiving sunlight streaming through the windows.

  Oh, that’s right. Tom’s bedroom.

  She scowled at the tall windows. Didn’t the man believe in curtains? It didn’t matter that the second floor of the Enigma building didn’t allow for prying eyes. He should really cover the damn things.

  Speaking of … where was the man?

  Swinging off the side of the bed, Merri sighed with pleasure when her feet touched the heated floor. She let the welcome warmth creep up her legs.

  While she sat there gathering her wits, Merri’s belly rumbled with hunger. Puking up the contents of one’s stomach rebounded hours later as a need for food.

  There was no noise—none that she detected. She glanced at the clock on the bedside and squinted until her vision cleared.

  Shit! It was nine fifteen. Hanging her head, she grunted with annoyance.

  Calling out, “Tom?” Merri waited for an answer. Hearing none, she realized she better get a move on.

  Stumbling to the bathroom, she grabbed her uniform and bra from the chair where she’d draped them last night.

  The harsh bathroom light made her initial look in the mirror something akin to a freak show. Her face was pale, and the half-moon smudges beneath her eyes were yesterday’s mascara.

  Jolted wide-awake by her appalling appearance, she started the shower and stripped so fast you’d think she’d had a couple of Red Bulls.

  Taking the fastest shower in human history, she used Tom’s shampoo and spicy scented body wash. His smells on her skin made her smile. She liked the symbolism.

  In true guy style, Tom kept a body sponge, his razor, some shaving cream, a hotel-sized plastic bottle of mouthwash along with a toothbrush and paste in a shower basket on the tile bench.

  “Sorry, babe,” she said out loud while reaching for the toothbrush. “Can’t be helped.”

  Squirting a glob of minty paste onto the bristles, she took care of the nasty taste in her mouth. When she finished, gallons of water were wasted as she cleaned the bristles again and again. What was the toothbrush protocol in a situation like this? Maybe it would be better if she tossed it in the trash and promised to buy him a replacement.

  Rinsing one last time and squeezing the excess water from her hair, she made fast work of drying off. Vigorously rubbing, she towel dried her soaked curls as best she could. Men didn’t generally use a hair dryer, so she didn’t presume a chance to dry and style was in her immediate future.

  She almost used his deodorant but smelling like a guy all day was sure to be a distraction.

  Sliding into her uniform, she tidied up the bathroom and got a move on. Draping her apron over a shoulder, she marched from the bedroom into the living room, located her sneakers, and pulled them on.

  In the kitchen, she found a note on the counter next to a thermos of coffee and two Advil.

  Sweet Cheeks, he’d scribbled.

  Sorry, but an early appointment meant I had to leave before you woke up. Made the coffee the way you like it—extra cream and an embarrassing amount of fake sugar. I programmed the elevator so all you have to do is hit the button, and it’ll take you down to my office. Good luck with Brad. I had to tell him you were passed out in my bed. I’m sure he’s dying to give you shit.

  Call an Uber to get home. Your car will be dropped off at your house later.

  Tom

  P.S. There are donuts downstairs in the break room.

  A hangover, sweet coffee, donuts, an Uber, and Tom’s idiot business partner. Seemed like the universe had her penciled in for a fabulous day.

  Luckily, her purse somehow survived last night. She found it by the elevator door. Digging around, she pulled out a small makeup bag and quickly located the sample of face moisturizer she always carried. Her skin sighed with happiness after she applied the soothing lotion.

  There was not a goddamn thing she could do about her hair except finger comb it until it was partway acceptable.

  When there was nothing else to be done, Merri gritted her teeth and stepped into the elevator. She secured the door and pushed the control button. Seconds later, she was in Tom’s office.

  Halfway expecting Brad and a gotcha squad to be waiting for her, she was grateful for the small reprieve. She’d have to see him. Brad’s office was between Tom’s and the front door, so there was no way around it. Plus, there was the issue of calling for an Uber. She didn’t have her phone, so that was kind of a problem.

  Acting as though nothing was unusual, she slapped a fake smile on her face and left the office. Brad’s radar picked her up seconds later.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Millicent Merriweather.”

  “Bradley,” she sneered when he stepped into the hallway. “I thought the undead didn’t care for the daylight.”

  He smirked. They were working on gold medals in the Snark Olympics.

  “I drink the blood of virgins,” he drawled. “A million times more effective than sunscreen.”

  She raised a brow. “That must keep you busy. Tell me something, Bradley, these virgins—do they line up willingly?”

  “It’s my charm.” He sniggered. “Some ladies like my unredeemable bastard vibe. Makes them surrender their panties without a fight.”

  Laughter that sounded like pots and pans clattering to the floor filled the hallway. She looked behind her and saw a woman holding a large piece of unidentifiable equipment.

  It was Brad’s nutcracking tough girl. She’d know her anywhere. The woman was hard to miss with her tattoos and quasi-Victorian wardrobe. Today, though, she had a Dominatrix vibe in an outfit Merri found to be amusingly provocative.

  She eyeballed Brad. The expression on his face made waking up with a hangover worth it. Dahlia Snow was under his skin.

  How delicious, she thought.

  Dahlia acknowledged Merri with a nod and went straight for Brad’s pompous ego.

  “Bastard charm has a peculiarly short shelf life. It whiffs away with nothing more than a snicker.”

  Merri watched the two face off in the hallway. She wished Tom and a bucket of popcorn were available because the Bastard and the Victorian Dominatrix was a show she’d love to binge watch.

  Cutting short what was sure to devolve into a name-calling grudge match, she altered the dynamic with a change of subject.

  “Can one of you call for an Uber? My car is in the shop, and I have to get going.”

  Brad took the lead, and Merri was certain he did so because Tom expected him to.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Where are you headed?”

  “Home.” She gestured to her uniform, then she added, “Waitress walk of shame.”

  Dahlia chuckled. “Good to see you, Merri. Tom said if I ran into you, I was to point out the donuts.”

  “Oh, uh,” Merri stammered. “He said I was here?”

  Brad snorted but said nothing when she looked at him sharply. He shoved both hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

  Dahlia offered a mocking smile. Right then and there, Merri knew they were going to be friends. “Well, yeah,” she said. “He kind of had to. You do know that this whole first floor is heavily monitored, right? And since there aren’t many
females on the loose in the building, it’s a safe bet that everyone knows you spent the night.”

  Spent. The. Night.

  Merri’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t move her head but knew exactly where all the cameras were in the hallway and on the building’s exterior by the front door.

  “Come on,” Dahlia said. She handed off the equipment in her hands to a fumbling Brad. “Let’s hit the break room and destroy some cream filleds.”

  Gorging on sugar and coffee was looking like a better idea as the moments went by. She looked directly at Brad. “Can you get on the Uber thing?”

  He nodded, and she said, “Thanks.”

  Scurrying after Dahlia, who was already many steps ahead of her, Merri went in search of something to settle the hunger gnawing at her insides.

  The school was unusually quiet because it was a field trip day at Maplewood for the older kids. A bus full of kids and staff took off early for a day at the Murfree Spring Discovery Center.

  It was a welcome change, considering her rough morning.

  Dahlia proved interesting during their brief donut encounter. She was straightforward about her respect for Tom. Merri could tell the woman wanted to state this as a fact right away. Nothing screwed up getting to know someone faster than suspicion.

  After admitting she knew next to nothing about the full scope of what Enigma was and did, Dahlia tried to fill in the blanks with a dryly sarcastic explanation. She covered every base too.

  “At the core, communication systems involve automating plus transmitting and receiving voice and data information. In civilian terms, Enigma utilizes graphic designers, camera operators, computer network support techs, programmers, radio mechanics, telecommunications specialists, cable and satellite system pros, and IT guys. All of it from detailed 3-D models to drone surveillance.”

  Merri had no idea, but hearing it from Dahlia that way opened her eyes to a lot of things. Clark Kent was a badass even with his glasses on.

  Her reverie halted as the task before her took over. She organized a stack of manila folders and carefully placed them in a document storage box. With a thick black marker, she wrote the year and her initials on the front. Then she jammed the lid on and put the box on top of the three matching boxes near her office door.

  “Knock, knock.”

  She looked up. The school’s director was smiling at Merri from the doorway.

  “Hi, Meredith. What’s up?”

  Meredith Nall had a Ph.D. in education and a fast smile. Merri loved working for her. The lady knew her stuff and was the most fair-minded person she could remember meeting. The families of Maplewood were lucky to have her at the helm.

  “I just got off the phone with the president of the board. They picked apart our proposal and found nothing to take exception to.”

  Their proposal? Wait, what? Merri gasped as excitement barreled into her like a linebacker.

  Meredith continued. “They’ve agreed to place a modular annex out back as a creativity studio for everything from crafts to photography. You made a compelling case, Merri. By tying academic outcomes to creative expression, they not only were encouraging with their consent, but the president was also downright enthusiastic. He said I could name the annex, so I’ve decided to call it Merriwood Studio. After you. It’s cute, don’t you think? Maplewood - Merriwood. It wouldn’t even have been a dream without you.”

  “Oh my word, Meredith. I’m speechless. Thank you for having an open mind, and I wasn’t just joking when I said my boyfriend would be happy to donate some audiovisual equipment. Kids today need to be ready to meet the challenges of global communication. Creativity feeds discovery.”

  “I can’t wait to start the fundraising,” Meredith quipped. “The modular building has a garage option where we can put a kiln. Can you imagine? It’s so exciting.”

  Merri laughed. “I see an art show in Maplewood’s future.”

  Meredith laughed. “My head is full of ideas!” She rushed to her, and they gave each other a brief hug.

  “Oh, before I forget. The holiday staff party is going to be at the Wyndham. Fifteen-year anniversary. Dinner and dancing. Very swish. Can I count you as a yes plus one?”

  Oh my god! The twelve-year-old inside her head ran in circles shrieking like a banshee. She had a plus one! And her plus one was Tom. Squee!

  Keeping the grin off her face, she nodded. This was professional, after all. She coughed to clear her throat, and said, “Absolutely, Meredith. Tom and I will be delighted to go.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Tom wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Merri’s angry tone or wince. He went with laugh because, after all, this angry moment came courtesy of one William dumbass Shumpler. Anything casting a shitstorm over the guy was okay with him.

  Merri was gathering fire, and he was sure at any second flames were going to shoot out of her fingers. She shoved her hair behind her ears and glared at him.

  Correction. Not at him—to him.

  “So that sonuvabitch not only sold me a pile of shit, but the only mechanic who ever worked on the car, the guy he personally recommended, was in reality fucking with my car to keep my wallet open? How do you know this? Where’s the proof?”

  “Honey,” he drawled while bending a fraction and dipping to see her eyes. “These guys can spot a chopped car at fifty paces. It’s what they do. I don’t mean they’re the assholes doing the chopping, but you catch my drift, right?”

  “So what’s wrong with my car? Just give it to me straight.”

  “Oh, yeah, well, about that … your car is toast. Even if they could patch it together, there’s no way I’m letting you drive something that can break down at any minute.”

  “Excuse me? You’re not going to let?” Her eyebrows shot so high he thought they’d disappear into her hair. She was fucking adorable when her inner bitch came alive.

  A lesser man might cower at her tone. A smarter man might wisely cover his crotch. He, however, gave her an overload of cocky arrogance when he smirk-stared her into surrender.

  “You heard correct, sweet cheeks. My woman does not cruise around town in a hunk of junk. From now on, safety is priority one, and since you suck at it beyond some learned situational awareness—case in point, where is your phone?—I’m assuming control.”

  She sputtered and made cross faces. He crossed his arms and grinned like a fool.

  “My phone is broken,” she informed him with a belligerent sounding sniff. “I don’t have it because it’s broken.”

  “How did it break?”

  She colored beet red and studied her manicure. “I don’t remember.”

  Life with her was going to be fascinating. “Merri?”

  “Okay, fine.” She threw her hands up and huffed. “It must have dropped on the floor, and I ran over it with a rolling chair.”

  Because he knew her so well and for so long, he had to pause and consider whether she’d run over it on purpose. Tacking a note on the pinboard in his mind, he reminded himself to see what kind of deal he could get for a couple of Apple watches. Then he let the phone thing drop and returned to the subject at hand. A car.

  “I called your dad. We discussed a couple of options, including giving you your mom’s car so she can get the red Camaro she’s always wanted.”

  The flabbergasted look on her face was funny. He wondered which of her reactions would win out. How she felt about him talking to her dad or the fact that her mom had a secret guilty pleasure.

  It wasn’t much of a surprise that her mom won out. Merri adored her parents.

  “My mom wants a red Camaro?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Apparently, it takes the sting out of having an AARP card.”

  Tom waited for her follow-up reaction. She didn’t disappoint.

  “Did you tell my dad we were seeing each other?”

  He chose not to deflect the question or shy away from his answer.

  “I told him I asked you out—to the radio club banquet. K
nowing how much you love the club, he commented with surprise. I took the opportunity to clue him in on our mutual desire for a change of status.”

  “Oh.”

  Tom had the checklist in his mind fired up and ready to go. She wasn’t difficult to read, not to him. As expected, she moved through a lovable repertoire of signs revealing her feelings.

  First checkmark. She reached for a long curl and unthinkingly wrapped it around her finger.

  Second checkmark. The lip biting. Although she denied it every time, Merri was a champion lip biter. When she needed to concentrate. When she was surprised. If she felt uncertain or naughty. Lip biting.

  Third checkmark. This one was a little murky and required him to look beyond the obvious. He had to see her eyes. She gave a lot away with her eyes.

  He tried to see around the hair she sometimes used as a shield, but she wasn’t making it easy. When she finally met his gaze, he wanted to shout with joy. Them getting together was something she really, really wanted, and her confident but nervous expression spoke volumes. She loved her folks, but this wasn’t about them.

  A slow, hesitant smile curled the corner of her mouth. She let go of the dark curl and flung it over her shoulder.

  “Was he surprised? About us? You and me.”

  “Actually,” he said with an amused drawl, “he went on and on about it getting old and how your mom and he were about to give up on being grandparents because Agie has zero interest. Because you drag me to the annual Merriweather reunion picnic, he said your aunt Carla thinks we’ve been married for years. My impression was that your folks and my mom and dad might have a friendly wager between them. Something involving an expensive bottle of whiskey. I’m not clear on what the bet involves, but the essence was there. He wanted me to know it was past time, and I quote, ‘for me to shit or get off the pot.’ That’s an interest saying, don’t you think?”

  “It’s one of his favs,” she confirmed with droll snark. “Drives my mom crazy.”

  “I’d give him a call later. Let’s get this car thing settled. Until then, you can use my truck. Getting around on my bike is how I roll, so it’s all yours.”