“Take it back,” she demanded.
I reclined back on the sofa. “Nope.”
Shelby turned and marched out of the room. I grinned widely. I’d been looking for a reason to give her a bonus, and this was perfect. I loved how she looked when pissed off—her cheeks bright with color and her eyes lit with fire as she glared at me. She was cracking.
A few moments later, she strode back in, slapping a piece of paper onto my chest before walking back to the desk. I looked down and picked up the folded slip, chuckling when I saw the check made out to me for the full amount—plus a dollar.
Without a word, I stood and went over to her, smiling innocently as I bent low and kissed her cheek.
“Ta, Shelby. But no.”
And I fed the check into the shredder.
I snickered all the way to the door.
“This isn’t over, Oscar.”
I grinned at her. “I’ve already won, Beaker. Give up.”
“Never.”A certified check appeared the next day. I deposited it and retransferred the money.
One hundred thousand dollars in neat, bundled twenties showed up on my bed a few days later. Ev and I dropped it off back at the bank on the way to an interview, with instructions it was to go back into Shelby’s account.
Daily, a check would be sitting on my desk. I always waited until Shelby was going by to drop it in the shredder, chuckling the entire time, enjoying her muffled shrieks of annoyance. I offered to order her some new checks since it appeared she’d run out soon.
She flipped me off and kept walking.
And then she stopped. I was sitting at my desk in the late afternoon reading over the script for my upcoming movie and realized no check had appeared. No bundles of cash and no gnashing of teeth.
Had I won?
Suspiciously, I went into the kitchen. She was busy making pasta sauce, and my mouth started to water. I loved her pasta. I pulled myself up on the counter and watched her in silence. In the background, she had rock music playing. That usually meant she was thinking. Which was never a good thing for me—she was way smarter than I was. I cleared my throat. “All right, Shelby?”
She glanced at me. “Pasta for dinner, okay?”
“Sounds good. Is there garlic bread?”
She laughed. “Of course.”
I glanced around surreptitiously. “Dessert?”
“Oh. I forgot that out in the car. Could you get it?”
I frowned. Shelby bought dessert? I grumbled to myself as I went to fetch it for her. Shelby didn’t buy baked goods. Shelby made me baked goods. I liked Shelby’s baking. Why would she buy anything?
I stopped short in the doorway of the garage and started to howl in amusement. The passenger side of my convertible was filled with coins, which overflowed onto the driver’s side. The garage light glinted off the shiny silver of the quarters, nickels, and dimes I could see filling the small seating area of my Jaguar. A pile of coin rollers was on the floor beside the car. I had no idea how long it had taken her to fill it or how much money there was in coins, but it was brilliant.
She was brilliant.
Shelby reached around and slapped a certified draft against my chest. “I’m not helping you empty it either. Take it back, Liam. Or next time, it’s all pennies.” She walked away, looking over her shoulder. “And I won’t only use some of the money—I’ll fill your pool and hot tub with them.”
I kept laughing as I looked at the $90,000 draft. She’d filled my car with $10,000 worth of coins. I wondered briefly if she could get her hands on a hundred grand worth of pennies and what they would look like filling the pool. And while I really didn’t want to find out…I was enjoying this too much to stop.
I looked down at the paper in my hand. I could deposit it and let her win.
Or…I could hold on to the draft and drive her crazy. Having it in limbo would drive her nuts.
This was so on.
I arrived home the next day, a package tucked under my arm. I smiled at Shelby as I walked through the kitchen, stopping at her “odds and ends drawer,” as she called it. I dug around and got the hammer and a picture hook, then walked down the hall.
“What are you doing?” she called after me.
Grinning, I ignored her and walked into the den. I gazed around the walls and decided I liked the one across from my desk the best. Awkwardly, I tapped the hook into the wall, cursing when I hit my thumb while trying to avoid doing exactly that.
“Bugger.”
“Not good wielding a hammer, Oscar?” Shelby’s voice behind me was amused and curious at the same time.
“Piss off, Beaker. I’m busy.”
“I see. Redecorating?”
I huffed. “Adding to the ambiance.”