Free A Million Dirty Secrets by C. L. Parker Page A

dishes, put them in the dishwasher, and then I stood there like an idiot. I had no friggin’ clue what I was supposed to do with the rest of my day. I thought about going upstairs and finding my cell to call Dez, but I’d just eaten a Jethro Bodine–sized portion of Cocoa Puffs, so that would be too much like exercise. In an epic light bulb of a moment, I decided to hunt down a television set and get my Maury on instead.
    After I had roamed around for what seemed like an eternity, and was really wishing I had left a trail of bread crumbs to find my way back, I finally found what was obviously an entertainment room. It was like a testosterone-filled playground for men. Video game consoles, air hockey table, a massive stereo system and dance floor, theater seats and a leather sectional, a poker table, a wet bar, and the biggest television I’d ever seen.Well, it was more like a wallevision. Seriously, it took up a whole wall.
    I wondered if Noah ever sat in here with his hand shoved down the front of his pants in a classic Al Bundy pose.
    Can someone please tell me why I suddenly envisioned shoving my own hand down his pants?
    Double Agent Coochie smiled knowingly and nodded at me in answer.
    “Shut up. You are out of control, missy,” I mumbled to my crotch.
    Anywho, I had no clue how to turn the monster of a television on, but I did manage to find a giant remote control on the bar. I picked it up with both hands and sat in one of the theater seats to study it. The thing had a gazillion buttons on it and not a damn one of them was labeled.
    This should be fun.
    I closed my eyes and did that thing where you swirl your finger around in the air and just let it drop down on a button and hope it’s the right one. Nothing. I opened one eye and looked around, finding rainbow sparkles reflecting off the walls as they spun around the room. I looked up and … He had a disco ball in his man cave? I giggled to myself and tried again. This time Eminem started blaring out of the surround-sound speakers at a decibel level that was probably going to cause me to go deaf in a matter of minutes. I tried to turn it back off, but of course I’d had my eyes closed while I was pressing buttons, so I had no clue which one it was. That probably wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.
    By this time I was frantically pushing buttons, trying to findthe right one to stop the insanity, but only causing more insanity instead. I kid you not, the dance floor started rotating, lights were flickering on and off in a multitude of colors, the seat I was sitting in started vibrating and giving me a massage and … What the hell? Was the blender seriously controlled by the damn remote?
    One more button and the bastard of a television finally clicked on.
    I threw that remote across the room and sank back into the molester seat with the super friendly fingers because, as shot as my nerves were, I could really use that massage.
    “Calgon! Take me away!” I shouted at the top of my lungs so that I could hear myself over Eminem’s “Not Afraid.” “Screw you, Slim Shady! I am afraid. Very afraid.”
    “What the hell is going on in here?” someone’s voice yelled.
    My eyes shot open and I lurched forward, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest in shock. There stood Noah in the doorway with a look of utter confusion on his face.
    “Make it stop!” I yelled back.
    He walked across the room, picked up the remote from the floor where it had landed, and expertly pushed a few buttons until there was finally silence and my molester chair stopped feeling me up. Well, that part hadn’t been so bad, and I sort of wished he had forgotten to push that button.
    “I’m sorry!” I yelled, because apparently my brain hadn’t quite processed the fact that I didn’t need to anymore. Noah raised a brow at me. I lowered my voice and started again. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to watch TV … and who uses a remote with no labels anyway?”
    “It takes some