She Woke Up Married Read Online Free PDF

strands of hair sticking out like sprouting long grass, along with the blobs of green stuff on her face. He tried. He failed. He started to smile.
    “Did you come all this way to have me sign something? Because that’s the only reason I can imagine.” Paris put her hands on her hips, the silky black salon cape flapping around her elbows like bird wings.
    “I figured you might have had enough time to change your mind, darlin’.” He couldn’t stop smiling, and he knew he was going to laugh out loud soon, so he figured he’d better cover up his mouth—with her lips.
    He strode over, grabbed her chair, spun her around to face him, and angled his head so as to miss the green spots and just get those luscious lips. He did good. She melted against him for a moment. Then she shoved him away.
    “I didn’t change my mind, and no big Nevada kiss is going to change it for me, either,” Paris sputtered. She wiped her mouth. She got green goop on her hand and tried to wipe it on her cape. Then she slowly turned the chair back to her reflection in the mirror and screamed again. She ran from the room like an Irish banshee, shrieking little short shrieks all the way out of the room.
    “Women,” Anton said.
    “Yeah. What’s that about?” Turner said to Anton.
    “I knew it was a bad day to mess with her hair. This just proves it.”
    “Mercury is retrograde for another two days anyhow. Maybe after that I can talk some sense into that woman,” Turner responded.
    Anton looked at him like he’d cursed or something.
    “What?” Turner scratched his head.
    “I’m reeling from your comment about Mercury, my fine cowboy. Can I call you cowboy?” Anton said.
    “Turner would be fine. Turner Pruitt.” He took a step over to Anton and shook his hand. “Sorry about that, my roommate Millie, back in Vegas, does astrological charts on the side. I guess her planet talk just rubbed off on me.”
    “Oh, no apologies necessary. Cowboy Turner, I think you could use a little trim. Saddle up the chair there, I seem to have an opening. Is that your natural color?”
    Turner thought about it for a minute, and figured he might as well get a haircut. “Yup. I have a touch of Native American in my ancestrysomewhere way back there. Just a little off the sides, please.”
    “That explains it. Are we keeping those sideburns? Because here in New York they’re a little passé.”
    Turner shed his big rancher’s coat and sat in the chair. “Sure, take them off. My Elvis days are over for a while anyhow. I think. I’m just not sure which end is up these days. Paris and I need to talk.”
    Anton whipped a black cape around Turner and snapped it closed. “Paris showed me the wedding picture. Love that sequined white jacket.”
    “You can get stuff beaded in Vegas for very little money.”
    “No kidding. I’m Anton, by the way. Confidant of the beautiful girls here at the Rita Ray Agency.”
    Maybe Anton could give him a hand with a few things. “Pleased to meet you, Anton.”
    “So tell me everything. How long are you here for, where are you staying, and how do you think you’re going to get wildcat Paris to climb back in your wagon?”
    Turner laughed. “Slow down there. Let’s see. I checked in at the YMCA at West Sixty-third yesterday. It took me a day to find this place.”
    “The Y.” Anton paused. “Primitive, but decent.”
    “I grew up on the Cook Islands in a native village. That’s primitive.”
    “I should say. All righty then. How long, and what’s the plan?”
    “As long as it takes, and I’m hoping a miracle will occur with Paris so we can get this all straightened out. Also I’d like to pick up a little spending money if I can get a quick gig doing Elvis, or singing or something.”
    “Miracle with Paris, huh? Okay, so you’ll be here a few months maybe.” Anton ruffled up the dark curls on Turner’s head. “You’ll need a guide. You could pass for Irish, you know. I’ll have to take you around to all