So Screwed

Book 2: Bad Behavior

by Melissa Marino

Genres: Family Life; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

He's charming, wicked, and handsome . . . and she needs to stay away For Evelyn Owen, work comes first. Being a wedding planner to the city's elite fills her nights and weekends, and she doesn't have time for distractions. Especially in the form of a sexy bartender with killer dimples . . . Abel Matthews knows how to serve the ladies. But lately, the only woman he wants is just out of reach. That's because Evelyn has already been warned about his playboy ways. Still, there's something about her that makes Abel want more than a quick fling. Evelyn knows that she shouldn't trust Abel. Yet she's seen a side of him no one else knows, and she can't turn away. But Abel is hiding something from her . . . and if he doesn't confess soon, it will tear them apart.

Release date: March 7, 2017

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 402

Sample

Chapter One

EVELYN—

It was a proven fact that if you had to be somewhere and looking presentable, Mother Nature would laugh at you while dumping torrential rain upon you…with no umbrella in sight.

Mother Nature was a feisty bitch.

I glanced out my car window, watching the streams of rain try to outrun each other against the glass, as I formulated a plan. My best friend’s house, the one she shared with her boyfriend and his daughter, was over a block away. Parking was tight along the Lincoln Park street in front of Callie and Aaron’s home, which wasn’t surprising considering they were hosting a post-funeral luncheon for Aaron’s grandmother who had recently passed away.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself.

The rain wasn’t letting up, and sitting in my car was only wasting time I didn’t have. Stopping by to give my condolences was only a gesture to Aaron, who had become a great friend to me. But gesture or not, I was going to look like a drowned rat, a drowned blond rat with red lipstick and smeared mascara, but a rat nonetheless.

There was no point in prolonging it. I flung my car door open, and as soon as my black patent leather Mary Jane pumps hit the pavement, I was off. Dodging puddles and passing cars, I hurried my way down the street the best I could in heels while attempting to cover my head with my large handbag. When my eyes landed on the path to Aaron and Callie’s brownstone, I quickened my steps to get to safety.

I paused in front of the glass storm door of their home, hoping to get a glimpse of the type of damage the rain had caused me. All I could make out was a tangled nest of once perfectly styled hair. While I wasn’t vain enough to think that anyone would be concerned with how I looked, I still wanted to appear presentable in front of a group.

I reached into my bag to retrieve a comb or something from my wedding planner emergency kit that I always had on me, but the front door opening stopped me.

“Evelyn?” Aaron said. “You’re soaked. Get in here.”

He held the door for me as I stepped in, droplets of water falling from my hair, trench coat, and everywhere else.

I shook out my hair and attempted to run my fingers through it, but it was no use. “How bad is it?” I asked Aaron.

He gave me a calming smile. “You’re never not anything but beautiful, Evelyn.”

I patted his chest as I unbuttoned my coat, thankful for the fact I had a water-resistant one. “Always with the smooth talk,” I said. “I can see why my best friend fell for you.”

He took my coat and hung it up in the closet behind him. “So sweet of you to stop by,” he said.

“Of course,” I said, rubbing my fingers under my eyes to try and rid them of raccoon-ness.

“You need me to go find Callie?” he asked. “So you can, you know, fix or, you know, borrow a hairdryer or maybe—”

I smiled at his attempt at tact before interrupting him. “Yes, please. I need to be presentable before I can go…present myself.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

I watched as he rushed down the marble-floored hallway and disappeared into the sea of the bereaved conversing. Wasting no time to begin cleanup efforts, I began to dig through my bag to retrieve a compact to survey the damage. Once found, I flipped it open and looked at my reflection.

It was worse than I thought it would be.

“Hurry up, Callie,” I muttered. “Hideous isn’t appropriate in this setting.”

“I certainly hope you aren’t referring to yourself as hideous. All I see is beautiful,” said a low voice behind me.

I didn’t turn around immediately with my compact mirror giving me the ability to see behind me; I knew exactly who it was.

Aaron’s younger and insanely hot brother Abel.

He also was, according to Callie and her multitude of warnings, a playboy that went through women faster than the swipe right on Tinder he probably found them on.

I turned around to get a full view of the award-winning eye candy. Abel was dressed in a slim blue suit tailored to perfection. His dark pompadour and closely trimmed beard made his blue eyes stand out in contrast. He had always been extremely handsome, but seeing him dressed as he was kicked his allure up another notch. The entire package was quite startling.

My head lifted because he was that tall. The few times we’d met before I’d taken notice of his stature, but standing next to him served as a reminder.

“Abel,” I said. “So sorry about your grandma.”

“Thanks for coming,” he said. The corner of his mouth lifted into a tiny grin while his eyes found mine. Dimples. They were just visible from beneath his beard, extending onto the smoothed skin of his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” I said with a shrug. “Aaron and Callie are two of my favorite people.”

His eyes scanned up and down my body with deliberate intent. “What do I have to do to become your third favorite person?” he asked. “You know, every time we run into each other, you decline any invitation I’ve offered to get to know each other better.”

Abel and I had ended up at the same functions on several occasions. At every one, he asked me out.

And I said no every time.

“Come on,” he said, touching my arm. “I think you and me together would be what Grandma Dorothy would’ve wanted.”

He was a handsome, handsome guy. I’d give him that. No doubt a line of panty droppers wherever he went. Hell. I would’ve maybe been one of them if I didn’t think it would cause drama. My best friend’s boyfriend’s brother? Not ideal. Plus, knowing his history of getting around? Also not ideal. However, there was still something about him that caught my interest at every interaction.

“Plus,” he continued. “Even with you looking like you fell into a very deep puddle, you’re still the prettiest thing I’ve seen today.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or—”

He smiled again, his dimples running deeper, as he stepped in closer. “It’s absolutely nothing but a compliment, Evelyn.”

He was trying to pick me up again. If I wasn’t so attracted him, I would’ve almost been offended.

“Ev,” Callie said, coming up next to me. She took me in a hug as Aaron came up next to her. They were one of those couples others hated. Strikingly good-looking, her with her long auburn hair and perfect skin, and him tall and built just like his younger brother, with a smile that warmed up everything around him.

“You poor thing,” Callie said, attempting to smooth my hair down as she pulled away from our hug. “My perfectly put-together Blondie isn’t so perfect at the moment.”

“She looks pretty perfect to me,” Abel said.

“Abel,” Callie sighed. “The list of phone numbers you have of willing ladies is the size of the first draft of the Bible. I’ve told you several times before. Quit creeping on my best friend.”

And then there was Callie, who wasn’t going to give Abel any wingwoman support while simultaneously reminding me not to fall under his spell.

That was going to be difficult. While being entranced by a cute boy was certainly out of character for me, there was something about Abel that stuck with me.

“Are you trying to cockblock me?” Abel snapped.

Yup. The handsome boy with the witty comebacks was the sticking point.

Callie yanked on my arm, and tugged me away. “Really, Abel?” she said over her shoulder. “Let’s get you all put back together, Blondie.”

As we walked away, Abel shouted, “Can I come watch?”

Handsome and ballsy as shit.

She guided me down the hallway with quick steps and hurried me up the stairs to the second floor. Once in the privacy of her bedroom, she closed the door behind us.

“All right,” she said, heading into the bathroom with me following. “What do you need? Hair dryer?”

Once I got a solid look at myself in her side-by-side mirrors and realized what terrible shape I was in, there was only one thing I needed.

“A blowtorch?” I asked.

Callie waved her hand at me. “Oh, stop. It’s not that bad,” she said. She pulled a drawer open and pulled out a hair dryer. “Here.”

She handed the dryer to me, which I took with eagerness. I could sit and complain, or I could do something about it.

I always did something about it.

“You have a wide tooth comb?” I asked.

She stepped back, leaning against the bathroom doorway. “Yeah. In that same drawer. You know, you didn’t have to make an appearance.”

I glanced at her in the mirror. “I know. I wanted to,” I said, digging through her drawer until I found the comb. “How is it all going?”

“Not bad,” she said with a shrug. “I mean, the best a funeral can be, right?”

I began taking sections of my hair, working the comb through the tangles. “How did you get roped into having the luncheon here?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask. All I’ll say is I blame Abel.”

“Do I want to know?”

“He knew someone who owned a restaurant near the funeral home, and he said we should have lunch there. And like they do, Aaron’s parents indulged Abel in his decision-making.”

I plugged in the hair dryer and clicked it onto high and hot. Blowing my hair around, I considered what Callie said. There was never a shortage of her opinions on Abel. I knew she had love for him, and he was a huge help when Callie and Aaron had some troubles in the past, but there was always an undercurrent when she spoke of him. She thought he was immature and ran around with his zipper open. From what I could tell, she wasn’t off base.

But what stuck with me was why did he get under my skin every time our paths crossed?

When my hair resembled something decent, I unplugged and returned the dryer to its place. A cleanup of eye makeup and quick reapply and I was almost ready to reemerge.

“Have any hair spray?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you think you have enough product in that hair already? Plus, only you can get stuck in a thunderstorm and make yourself look stunning in under ten minutes, Blondie.”

I turned around and smiled. “Oh, sweetie. What a doll you are, but the hair spray isn’t for me. It’s for you. Let me help you touch up so you can go back to playing hostess.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, bringing out a long strand to look at. “What’s wrong with it? I thought it looked okay even though I got a little windblown earlier.”

“It doesn’t look windblown. It looks…well…it just looks bad,” I said.

“I love that we have the kind of friendship where there is no bullshit and can tell each other when she looks like shit.”

She opened a closet and took out a bottle of hair spray before handing it to me. I finger twisted some of her natural, auburn waves while giving her a spritz of spray. “Speaking of Abel,” I said.

Her head moved back from my primping hands as her eyes narrowed at me. “Were we speaking of Abel?”

“Before, yes, we were,” I said, reaching back out for her hair. “If you weren’t dating Aaron, don’t you think you’d find several things charming about Abel?”

She snorted. “I am dating Aaron, so I don’t look at his brother like that, but to answer your question, no. He isn’t my type. And furthermore, he shouldn’t be your type, either. Haven’t we been over this?”

I gave her one final fluff and spray before setting the can down, folding my arms across my chest. “Yes. We’ve been through it, which is why I’m wondering why you’re against Abel and me having a little fun?”

“You can have fun with lots of guys. He certainly has fun with a lot of women. Also, I think—” She paused, narrowing her eyes at me. “Unless you’re considering more than fun. Are you considering more than fun?”

“Just when I thought you knew me, you throw something like that at me,” I said.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Because it’s stupid. You know I don’t do more than fun with anyone. Plus, based on everything you ever told me about Abel, he’s usually one step away from uncivilized. I can deal with that, though, because those dimples, Cal,” I said.

Mmm. Yes. Those dimples.

“Let’s take Abel out of this for a minute, okay?” she said. “Are you ever going to settle down with one guy?”

Here we go.

“I’m twenty-four years old, Callie. I don’t need to settle on anything except my lunch order and how fast I can get to the top of my game in my career.”

“Everyone isn’t Patrick,” she said in a quiet tone. “And that was a long time ago.”

I recoiled instinctively at the sound of his name.

Patrick.

Man…that boy took me for a run. Everything from love to hate and everything in between. I did settle. I settled on the other side of victory and I had no intentions of revisiting a time in which a man clouded my goals and my true self.

Callie waved her hand around. “Let’s not get into it, okay?” she said. “There’s been enough drama today. You know with burying Nana and Mr. Matthews choking on a hard candy at the gravesite.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. As serious as the Heimlich maneuver Aaron had to give him.”

I laughed and didn’t even know if I should, but when Callie joined in, I knew it was all okay.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s get back down there and see if we can find those yummy croissant sandwiches.”

I liked her plan, but it didn’t work out that way. Callie was pulled away from me as soon as we reached downstairs, leaving me to fend for myself and fend I did. Meandering between random conversations with strangers, and a rather uncomfortable exchange with Mr. Matthews in which he told me in great detail how he saw a “vision” of his just passed-on mother when he was choking on the hard candy. I snuck away from him as soon as I could while considering making a run for it. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to Aaron and Callie, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Making my way back down the hallway to the foyer, I reached the closet where Aaron had hung my coat. After I retrieved it, I slipped the damp sleeves on and wrapped it around me just as I heard my name called out.

“Evelyn!” Callie said.

Callie and Aaron had found me with Abel following close behind.

“Were you trying to sneak away without saying good-bye?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to but didn’t want to bug you, either,” I said.

Aaron and Callie came to stand next to me on one side, Abel on the other. I once again was made aware of his height, and as he leaned in closer, I caught the scent of his cologne. My head, and eyes turned upward to find him looking down at me as well.

His signature smile appeared. “I would’ve been disappointed if I didn’t get the chance to see you before you left.”

“Is that so?” I asked.

“It is so,” he said.

Aaron cleared his throat, pulling my attention away from Abel. His eyes shifted between Abel and me for a brief moment. “Thank you again for coming, Evelyn. You’re a sweetheart to do so.”

“It’s what friends do,” I said. “I have to run and get back to work, but I’m glad I could stop by.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Callie said, linking her arm through mine.

“Thanks again, Evelyn,” Aaron said.

“In my thoughts,” I replied. I turned to Abel. “Sorry again.”

Callie and I started to walk away, but Abel’s hand on my arm stopped me. He stepped close, hovering over me. “How about a drink later?”

“I…don’t think so,” I said.

Callie remained quiet, but the tug on my opposite arm began to pull harder.

“Please,” he begged, batting his dark eyelashes at me. “I’m in mourning. You wouldn’t want me to be all alone, would you?”

Callie tugged on my arm. “Abel,” she said. “I love you, but sometimes you’re as civilized as a toddler on a sugar rush.”

“I do have to go,” I said, allowing Callie to lead me away. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

Callie’s arm was still linked through mine as we approached the door.

“He’s oddly charming,” I whispered in Callie’s ear.

She stopped in her tracks and spun around, placing her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed like she was looking for some hidden message behind my words.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Bang my boyfriend’s brother.”

And like any best friend could, she read me like a book. It wasn’t entirely true, though.

“I’m not,” I said. “I won’t.”

“Good because I love you both. You’re like a sister to me and Abel is like a brother. You two hooking up would be weird. Anyway, the more pressing issue is do you want to meet me for a drink later?”

I dug my phone out of the bottom of my purse and scrolled through my missed calls. Two from my boss, Bridget, which meant there would definitely be no drinks for me. There would be a drink for her, though. A green smoothie from the place across the street from the office, and she nicely requested for me to pick it up for her on the way back.

“I can’t, sweetie. I have to get back to work, but how about brunch or something on Sunday?”

“Absolutely. I miss you,” she pouted. “Your hair looks fantastic, by the way.”

“I miss you, too. Now go be the supportive girlfriend, and then mend his broken heart in any way you can.”

“And you…go get…to work,” she said with an eyebrow raise.

She got me.

*  *  *

We were full-service wedding planners at By Invitation Only. Bridget and I did everything from venue choices to invitations. Our job was to make a wedding as stress-free for the bride and groom as possible. Also, depending on price point, there could be as little and as much interaction as the couple wanted.

I was lucky to be getting my start in the business with Bridget Harrison. She was the wedding planner of Chicago. Celebrities, athletes, political officials…they all wanted her and they paid very good money for her services. With her meticulous organizational skills, calm exterior, and stellar connections, no one could pull off a wedding like she could. In less than a decade, she not only rose to the top of the wedding field, but also opened two other locations, staffed with planners she trained to provide the same grand care she did. I had approached her when I was in my final year of college and asked if she would consider me for an internship. She had told me she usually didn’t take on interns, but she had been impressed enough with the small children’s party-planning business I had started, along with the social media campaign for our university’s chapter of the American Marketing Association, which I was president of, that led to a 25 percent increase in membership. Once I graduated, she offered me a full-time job in the career of my dreams.

Not only was she my top pick to work with, but we also hit it off from the moment we met. We joked and talked like girlfriends. But when it was time to get down to work, we were all business. We both knew our places: her the boss and me the employee. The dynamic worked out perfectly.

She was about refined perfection. Dressed always in designer labels, she was the epitome of professional. She began her career much like I had: interning while still in college, which led to an offered position. Then after a few years, she opened up By Invitation Only. Now, ten years later, she was at the top. My goal was to be her friendly competition someday. I was sure she knew this. How could she not? If I was where she was at thirty-six, I’d be thrilled.

I balanced her smoothie, a large coffee for myself, my phone, and a box of programs as I hip checked the door to By Invitation Only open.

“Anything new?” I shouted. “Green junk is here, by the way.”

I unloaded everything onto my desk as she breezed out of her office. With her hair piled tightly on top of her head and her white silk blouse, she looked every bit as polished as the crystal chandelier that hung above us.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asked. “You look chewed up and spit out by a garbage truck and then dragged for seven miles.”

Yes. I wanted to be just like her except for her approach, which at times was about as soft as a scouring pad.

“It’s raining and I was sans umbrella,” I said.

She dropped a folder onto my desk in front of me. “Here are the proofs from the Hamilton-Norris engagement shoot.”

“Why proofs?”

She tapped the plastic top of her smoothie with her red manicured fingertip. “Is this kale or spinach?”

“Half kale. Half spinach. You’re always changing your mind on which you want, so I’ve been getting you half and half for a while,” I said. “The proofs?”

“Oh yeah. Courtney Norris wanted to see actual photos because she wasn’t sure the proofs online were”—she paused before making air quotes with her fingers—“Save the Date quality.”

I sipped my coffee as I rolled my eyes. “They were gorgeous, but of course she would’ve found something wrong with them.”

“Bridezilla?”

“Kind of, but also seems more worried about planning a wedding than knowing her fiancé. She had to call to ask him what his middle name was.”

“Aw,” she said, carefully inserting a straw into her smoothie. “Is your jaded heart bleeding all over my white carpet again?”

“Hi Pot. I’m Kettle.”

“Oh, you know that’s what I adore most about you. The one thing I’ve never had to teach you. You came to me perfectly bitter.”

“Bitter is a strong word.”

“What would you call it?”

My phone buzzed with a text message.

“Honest,” I replied to Bridget.

Chapter Two

ABEL—

So, I saw you giving Callie’s friend some serious eye fucking earlier,” Marshall said.

I was enjoying a quiet moment in the living room, my head leaning back against the sofa, as the remaining guests filtered out, but peace was short-lived when Marshall found me.

“I wasn’t eye fucking her,” I said, turning my head to see him enter the room. “She was just…”

He plopped himself down next to me. “Hot?” he asked.

Yeah. Hot. Really, really hot. No matter how many times I saw her it still surprised me just how much.

“Obviously,” I said. “But she’s…I don’t know.”

“Did you sleep with her yet?” he asked.

I shot him a look. While we routinely dished the dirt at the bar we worked at together, we were still at Nana’s funeral. I might have been checking out Evelyn, but I was not crude.

“Wow,” he said, extending his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. “Either you have and she gave you the brush-off after. Or that look means you’re feeling the feels of a different kind.”

“I realize this is the pot calling the kettle black, but can you try and not be a shithead while still at my grandmother’s funeral?” I asked. “Jesus, Ponyboy.”

He earned that nickname years ago and it still fit.

This guy, who was at least seven years older than me, looked like he belonged on the cover of some badass men’s magazine. Strategically coiffed hair, blue eyes, and teeth so white they’d blind you, Marshall had the mouth of a sailor with the looks of a bearded pretty boy except for one thing. Any area of his body that wasn’t hidden behind clothes was covered in tattoos. He was Aaron’s best friend, and now, one of mine, too. He didn’t take any bullshit. Ever. It was a good thing, too, because whenever I found myself in a pickle, Marshall was always there to lend a hand or remind me how bad I fucked up. Usually it was both. It was no wonder he and Aaron were tight. They were so much alike.

“I was trying to lighten the mood,” he said. “Plus, Aaron agreed with me.”

Aaron walked in. “Aaron agreed with what?”

“That Abel was ogling Callie’s friend,” Marshall said.

Aaron stood in front of us, shaking his head. “I didn’t say ogle. All I said was it looked like something was going on between Abel and Evelyn.”

“Christ,” I said, pushing myself up from the couch. “You two fuckers gossip more than chicks. You sure got the whole bestie thing down.”

The two of them looked at each other and started laughing at me, full-on fist pumping occurring. This was what they did, ever since I was a middle schooler and they became the dynamic duo in college. I was the little brother. Always.

Marshall let out one last sharp chuckle. “Oh, relax. You two want to go get a drink?”

“We have a sitter on the way for Delilah, so Callie and I are going to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you guys come with us?”

“I don’t have time for dinner, buddy,” Marshall said. “In fact, I should be checking in at WET.”

WET was the bar that both Marshall and I worked at—Marshall as the manager and me as a bartender. WET, a speakeasy lounge, was the brainchild of Aaron and considered one of Chicago’s most exclusive bars.

He stood and gave us both a hug before taking off. I wasn’t going to wait long to follow his lead. It had been a long day, and with the night off work, I was anxious for some time away fr. . .