Yvette knelt down to look at the locks. “Why would Grandpa have that up there?”
“No idea,” Cannon said. “But with the double locks, we’ll need both the key and the pass code to open it.” He crouched down beside her. “You run across anything like that?”
“Not so far, no. But I can keep an eye out.”
“Until then, I think I’ll bring it inside, just in case he has anything valuable in there. Doubtful, given where he had it stored, but...” Cannon shrugged. “Could be whatever is in there is so important that he didn’t want to leave it in the obvious places.”
“A mystery.” Armie rubbed his hands together. “Now you have me interested.”
“Where do you want me to put it?” Cannon asked.
“Our...” She glanced at Armie and amended, “My bedroom, I guess.”
Though Armie said nothing at her near slip, he had to pinch his mouth to keep from grinning. “Guess I should get going. I’ll see you both at Rowdy’s.”
After he’d left, Cannon hefted the safe to carry it in, and Yvette held the door open. He set it inside her closet for safekeeping.
Yvette double-checked the various keys and papers that they’d gotten from Whitaker, but there wasn’t anything for the safe. She glanced at the clock and knew she had to hustle to get ready.
Tonight, when they returned from Rowdy’s, she’d do a search to see if she could find a way to access the safe.
She watched Cannon peel off his shirt as he headed into the hall shower and decided the safe could wait. As soon as they got home, she’d let him know she was ready. Past ready.
She’d waited long enough.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE BAR WAS insanely packed. Every table, booth and bar stool was taken with standing room only. Denver, Armie, Stack and a few others had tables toward the back—leaving the up-front tables for Cannon’s fans—and luckily they’d saved her a seat.
After seeing her to their table, Cannon cupped her face. “I might be busy for a few hours, but I’ll keep checking back here.”
For what? If Heath was still around, he couldn’t bother her in a place this congested with onlookers. “I’ll be fine,” she promised him. “Go and have fun.”
Customers started chanting his name, leaving him chagrined. He touched her mouth with his fingertips, leaned in for a demonstrative kiss that made it clear they were together, then turned and headed up front.
All along the way, male fans greeted him with fist bumps, high fives and the occasional clap on the shoulder.
Female fans were more outrageous, running their fingers along his shoulders or arm as he passed, blowing him kisses, doing what they could to gain attention.
Totally in his element, Cannon reciprocated to the crowd and mugged for pictures.
Rowdy and his wife, Avery, stayed busy filling drinks from behind the bar, with Ella and two other waitresses wending repeatedly through the crowd with trays.
When Cannon reached the front, Rowdy paused to shake out a Rowdy’s bar T-shirt and, with the women wolf whistling and cheering him on, handed it over to Cannon.
Yvette could barely see, but when she heard the new roar, she went on tiptoe to peek.
At ease, Cannon stood there in jeans only.
Her heart tripped, especially when she saw Mary right up front, toasting him with a beer.
He pulled on the black shirt that served as a uniform for the bar and the cheers turned to mournful protests. Grinning, Cannon wagged his finger at the crowd.
Bending to her ear, Armie murmured, “Better get used to it. At a fight preview it’ll be even worse. Or an after-party? Forget it. The women try to molest him.”
Yvette lightly elbowed him, which only made him laugh.
The night rolled on pleasantly enough. The women who weren’t flirting with Cannon flirted with Armie and Denver and Stack.
Armie seemed resistant, which told her he was her watchdog for the night. “Raining on your parade, aren’t I?”
“Naw. I needed a break anyway.”
She laughed with him.
Cannon came around, bringing her a glass of wine, beer for Denver and Stack, water with lime for Armie.
And again he kissed her. “Having fun?”
“It’s terrific,” she told him. One hand to his chest, smoothing over the Getting Rowdy logo, she asked, “How are you holding up?”
His hand curled over her nape. He put his mouth to her throat, her jaw, up to her ear, where he whispered, “I miss you.”
She felt herself flushing. Everyone looked at them. “You’re going to break so many hearts tonight.”
His teeth caught her earlobe, his tongue touched and he breathed, “I’m discouraging all the guys who are looking your way.”
A surprised laugh burst out, and she hugged him. “Don’t be silly.”
“Silly, huh?”
“You are the center of attention,” she told him. “No one is paying any attention to me.”
As if perplexed, he studied her face, his blue eyes dark in the dim light, his lashes leaving exaggerated shadows over his gorgeous face. “Amazing.”
“What?”
“You really don’t realize.” He shook his head, went back to her ear and whispered, “I love your modesty. It’s as sexy as the rest of you.”
Heart thumping, lips parted, Yvette watched him finish circulating the room.
She jumped when Armie nudged her.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
“No idea,” Cannon said. “But with the double locks, we’ll need both the key and the pass code to open it.” He crouched down beside her. “You run across anything like that?”
“Not so far, no. But I can keep an eye out.”
“Until then, I think I’ll bring it inside, just in case he has anything valuable in there. Doubtful, given where he had it stored, but...” Cannon shrugged. “Could be whatever is in there is so important that he didn’t want to leave it in the obvious places.”
“A mystery.” Armie rubbed his hands together. “Now you have me interested.”
“Where do you want me to put it?” Cannon asked.
“Our...” She glanced at Armie and amended, “My bedroom, I guess.”
Though Armie said nothing at her near slip, he had to pinch his mouth to keep from grinning. “Guess I should get going. I’ll see you both at Rowdy’s.”
After he’d left, Cannon hefted the safe to carry it in, and Yvette held the door open. He set it inside her closet for safekeeping.
Yvette double-checked the various keys and papers that they’d gotten from Whitaker, but there wasn’t anything for the safe. She glanced at the clock and knew she had to hustle to get ready.
Tonight, when they returned from Rowdy’s, she’d do a search to see if she could find a way to access the safe.
She watched Cannon peel off his shirt as he headed into the hall shower and decided the safe could wait. As soon as they got home, she’d let him know she was ready. Past ready.
She’d waited long enough.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE BAR WAS insanely packed. Every table, booth and bar stool was taken with standing room only. Denver, Armie, Stack and a few others had tables toward the back—leaving the up-front tables for Cannon’s fans—and luckily they’d saved her a seat.
After seeing her to their table, Cannon cupped her face. “I might be busy for a few hours, but I’ll keep checking back here.”
For what? If Heath was still around, he couldn’t bother her in a place this congested with onlookers. “I’ll be fine,” she promised him. “Go and have fun.”
Customers started chanting his name, leaving him chagrined. He touched her mouth with his fingertips, leaned in for a demonstrative kiss that made it clear they were together, then turned and headed up front.
All along the way, male fans greeted him with fist bumps, high fives and the occasional clap on the shoulder.
Female fans were more outrageous, running their fingers along his shoulders or arm as he passed, blowing him kisses, doing what they could to gain attention.
Totally in his element, Cannon reciprocated to the crowd and mugged for pictures.
Rowdy and his wife, Avery, stayed busy filling drinks from behind the bar, with Ella and two other waitresses wending repeatedly through the crowd with trays.
When Cannon reached the front, Rowdy paused to shake out a Rowdy’s bar T-shirt and, with the women wolf whistling and cheering him on, handed it over to Cannon.
Yvette could barely see, but when she heard the new roar, she went on tiptoe to peek.
At ease, Cannon stood there in jeans only.
Her heart tripped, especially when she saw Mary right up front, toasting him with a beer.
He pulled on the black shirt that served as a uniform for the bar and the cheers turned to mournful protests. Grinning, Cannon wagged his finger at the crowd.
Bending to her ear, Armie murmured, “Better get used to it. At a fight preview it’ll be even worse. Or an after-party? Forget it. The women try to molest him.”
Yvette lightly elbowed him, which only made him laugh.
The night rolled on pleasantly enough. The women who weren’t flirting with Cannon flirted with Armie and Denver and Stack.
Armie seemed resistant, which told her he was her watchdog for the night. “Raining on your parade, aren’t I?”
“Naw. I needed a break anyway.”
She laughed with him.
Cannon came around, bringing her a glass of wine, beer for Denver and Stack, water with lime for Armie.
And again he kissed her. “Having fun?”
“It’s terrific,” she told him. One hand to his chest, smoothing over the Getting Rowdy logo, she asked, “How are you holding up?”
His hand curled over her nape. He put his mouth to her throat, her jaw, up to her ear, where he whispered, “I miss you.”
She felt herself flushing. Everyone looked at them. “You’re going to break so many hearts tonight.”
His teeth caught her earlobe, his tongue touched and he breathed, “I’m discouraging all the guys who are looking your way.”
A surprised laugh burst out, and she hugged him. “Don’t be silly.”
“Silly, huh?”
“You are the center of attention,” she told him. “No one is paying any attention to me.”
As if perplexed, he studied her face, his blue eyes dark in the dim light, his lashes leaving exaggerated shadows over his gorgeous face. “Amazing.”
“What?”
“You really don’t realize.” He shook his head, went back to her ear and whispered, “I love your modesty. It’s as sexy as the rest of you.”
Heart thumping, lips parted, Yvette watched him finish circulating the room.
She jumped when Armie nudged her.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
