Cinderella Screwed Me Over (Entangled Select)

by Cindi Madsen

  When I ran into him in the hallway one day, he told me he needed a break from us. He said we’d gone so fast, living next door and all, and he wasn’t ready for that big of a commitment.

  The confusing part about the whole I-need-a-break speech was that it made it sound like we might resume the relationship, even though deep down, I knew things were over. Still, when a week later I ran into him and he had his arm around another girl, I felt a little blindsided. According to his roommate, Evan’s new girlfriend was a singer in a local band, and he was completely mesmerized by her.

  Three months later—while I was collecting the giant stack of bills from my mailbox—he told me he was getting married.

  I lost my voice again. I tried to nod like I was fine. I’d been running into her more and more, though. When I left for work, she was there in the hall, kissing him good-bye. She was in the laundry room when I tried to do my laundry. She always gave me dirty looks, too, simply because I was his ex. She was the one who’d lured him away; I don’t know why I got the dirty looks.

  The night after he confessed he was engaged, I went downstairs to soak in the hot tub. And there Evan and his new fiancée were, making out like we used to.

  As far as I know, no sea creatures interrupted their wedding.

  Of all the princes, Prince Eric used to be one of my favorites. When you think about it, though, he fell in love with a voice—with an idea. And I can’t hold much against Ariel, because she was young and naive and easily amused by things like forks. At least Disney tried to make the ending happy. In the original story, she turned into sea foam. But see, if I’d watched the original growing up, maybe I wouldn’t have had such high hopes. Maybe I wouldn’t have expected a guy to accept all my quirks, love me for me, and ride out the storm together, no matter what life tried to throw at us.

  Time Wasted: Three months with him; four months trying to avoid him and his new girlfriend/eventual fiancée.

  Lessons Learned:

  Guys who ogle shamelessly must not be all that satisfied with what’s in front of them.

  Hot tub hookups are always, always a bad idea.

  Never date anyone who you’ll be forced to run into on a regular basis if it goes wrong.

  Chapter Four

  I groaned as I approached Blue. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I’d been unable to convince Mrs. Crabtree to meet for lunch somewhere else—I should’ve never brought her here for the lamb the first time, because now she was hooked.

  I already had a headache from my marathon work meeting with my boss, Patricia, that morning, where Nadine and I had gotten accused of not turning in our reports, even though my e-mail said it sent. I didn’t need any more drama in my life. After yesterday morning’s run-in with Jake, I’d resolved to avoid him at all costs, and walking into his restaurant was pretty much the opposite of that.

  Why did my stupid shoe have to get stuck? If I hadn’t lost it, none of this would’ve happened. And why did Mrs. Crabtree have to be so set on the place?

  I’d tried to get Nadine to come, too, so I had an extra buffer, but she’d begged off, stating she was swamped between printing off our reports so she could hand a physical copy to Patricia and finishing up one of her smaller jobs.

  I took a deep breath and made my way inside.

  The entire meal I was on edge, barely nibbling at my food and glancing around every few seconds. Mrs. Crabtree and I finalized plans, and then she gave me updates on her grandchildren.

  By some miracle, we’d made it through our meeting without seeing Jake. All we had to do now was slip out and I’d be home free.

  “I love the idea about the stripes,” Mrs. Crabtree said as we walked toward the front of the restaurant.

  “And that chandelier you picked for the living room is going to look amazing.” I draped my gray peacoat over my arm. It had been a bit breezy today, and I thought it might rain. Colorado was like that. One day you’d think summer had hit, and the next you could see your breath.

  Jake rounded the corner, headed my way. I stepped behind Mrs. Crabtree, but even with her puffy, white hair, she was too short to provide good cover. Jake glanced up and our eyes met. I was caught. So I waved, accidentally inviting him over.

  “Can’t stay away, I see,” Jake said.

  I let out a nervous laugh that made me inwardly cringe. Crap. Why did he mess me up so badly? He was just a guy. A very good-looking guy who’d asked me out. Twice.

  I swiped my hair behind my ear. “Hi, Jake. This is Mrs. Crabtree. Mrs. Crabtree, this is Jake. He’s one of the owners of Blue.” At least I got that detail right now.

  Jake extended his hand to Mrs. Crabtree, flashing that damn charming smile of his. “Nice to meet you.”

  Mrs. Crabtree grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Oh, I just love this place. You’re doing a great job with it.”

  “Thank you so much. As the owner” —Jake shot me an extra-large and extra-smug grin—“that’s so nice to hear.”

  I died a little inside, but his teasing also sent a spark of desire through me. As I’d been recently reminded, a guy who didn’t take things too seriously was hard to find, and a good sense of humor was such a turn-on.

  Would it really be so bad to go out with him just once?

  But I didn’t do very well with just once, not with guys like Jake. I got sucked in, started thinking this would be the guy who would be different, and ended up missing another piece of my heart.

  My defense mechanism clicked in, the same danger warning from yesterday going off in my mind, only stronger. This was a guy who could hurt me. Would if I let him.

  He turned back to Mrs. Crabtree. “So, how’d you get Darby to have lunch with you?”

  “I’m an interior designer and Mrs. Crabtree’s one of my favorite clients,” I said, kissing up and brushing off in one smooth move.

  Jake kept his eyes glued to mine. “You’re saying I need to become a client in order to have dinner with you?”

  “I don’t date clients, either.” Another lesson I’d learned the hard way. “And technically, I did help design your place. I assisted on the building we live in.” I tried to tug my coat on, to show him Mrs. Crabtree and I were on our way out. I slid one arm in and reached back to get the other.

  Jake turned to Mrs. Crabtree and gave a dramatic sigh. “You see, I keep trying to get Darby to go out with me, and she keeps refusing. Can you believe that?”

  Mrs. Crabtree looked from him to me. “I cannot.”

  “I come here all the time, and we live in the same building. It would be awkward.” My sleeve was still not cooperating.

  Jake grabbed my coat, guiding my arm into the hole I couldn’t seem to find. He leaned down, his breath hitting my neck as he whispered, “More awkward than the obvious chemistry between us?”

  Goose bumps traveled across my skin, and I prayed my coat covered them up so he couldn’t see the way he was affecting me. I stepped away, putting some space between us. “Good-bye, Jake. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

  He winked—actually, full-on winked at me! “Count on it.”

  …

  A couple of blocks from my building, there was a bookstore I frequently killed time in, and I needed something to distract me after a long day at work and the encounter with Jake that I could not. Stop. Thinking about.

  I used to read romance novels, but nowadays I went for action-packed and a high body count. I read the back cover of a bright yellow book, decided it wasn’t something I wanted to read, and slipped it back into its place.

  When I looked up, I thought I saw Jake. No way! He’s seriously everywhere.

  Trying to get another glimpse, I moved through the aisles. Leaving before he saw me would probably be the smarter option, but I was curious. The types of books he looked at might give me some insight into the guy. Plus, he was nice to look at.

  The guy paused in front of a section, and I craned my neck to try to get a better view. He glanced up, toward the top of the
shelves, and I was sure it was him. Before he could see me, I ducked behind a stack of books. When I peeked around the shelf, he was coming my way.

  Looking for an escape, I hurried down the aisle. Darting out in either direction wasn’t an option—he’d spot me for sure. It looked like he was going to anyway. As he stepped into unobstructed view, I whipped around and snatched a book off the shelf in front of me.

  “Darby? What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I’m just checking out books.” I glanced at the one I was holding. Somehow, of all the places I could duck into, I’d wound up in the erotica section. In my hands was a book about bondage. Somebody kill me now.

  Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Looks interesting.”

  My face heated and I shifted my weight to the other foot. “I-it’s for a friend. Not me. I mean, it’s not what you think. My friend’s getting married. Wow, I’m making me really uncomfortable.”

  A smile spread across his face. “It’s okay to admit you were stalking me.”

  Quirky sex books or stalking? The fact that I’m actually weighing these two options proves how desperate I’ve become.

  “I’ve gotta go.” I slammed the book back down on the shelf and hurried away.

  Well, that’ll either spark his interest even more, or he’ll never speak to me again.

  Right now, I still wasn’t sure which option I truly wanted.

  …

  Kinky stuff seemed to be the theme of the evening. A politician who’d been caught cheating on his wife was on all the news channels. This particular guy preferred prostitutes. I picked up my TV remote to change the station but found it impossible to look away. Here was this guy holding a giant press conference, and his wife was right there next to him, looking shell-shocked, but still standing by his side.

  “I apologize for my actions,” the politician said. “I regret that people’s faith in me has been shaken. I especially regret hurting my family…”

  “Oh, admit it,” I said to him, even though he couldn’t hear me. “You just regret getting caught. Otherwise you’d be with a prostitute right now.”

  It was disgusting to see him apologize to his wife in a press conference. You know what his wife didn’t want him to do—besides prostitutes, of course? Hold a press conference to apologize. If he were really sorry, he’d apologize to her in a nice private setting where she could slap him across the face and tell him what an ass he was.

  Of course he was groveling like an idiot, claiming he regretted his actions. What else was he going to do? Get up there and say, in front of the entire nation, “Hookers are awesome. I especially love how you can pay them to do kinky stuff that my wife won’t do.” I think I’d actually admire that; at least I’d know he wasn’t full of crap. Because like I said, he’s not really sorry. He’s only sorry he got caught. It’s just how guys are.

  With my resolve against Jake wavering, this was the wake-up call I needed. The more I reminded myself why I wasn’t dating Jake, the better.

  Chapter Five

  Now, I realize I’ve compared myself to Cinderella. I may not have two evil stepsisters, but I do have two evil stepbrothers. Actually, Drew and Devin aren’t really evil, and I love them to death. Now.

  But having to spend the end of my childhood in the tiny town of Longmont, when they were making fun of me and lining the horse pens with my clothes, I was sure they were evil. When Mom and I moved in with three guys, it had taken some time to adjust. Eventually, though, they became part of my family. Drew and I had gotten even closer the past few years.

  He’d called me this afternoon to say he was driving down to hang out, which usually meant he wanted to go trolling for women. Which meant he and Michelle must’ve broken up.

  Drew showed up a few minutes after six and announced he was starving. I grabbed all my take-out menus from the kitchen drawer, flopped onto the couch, and handed them to him.

  He started flipping through the stack. “I’m surprised you don’t want to go to Blue.”

  “I’m sick of eating there,” I said. “Now, tell me what happened with Michelle.”

  “You know I’m not a girl, right? I don’t need to talk it out.” He glanced at me. “Besides, this is a good thing for you, remember? You need me to stay single forever, because you’re obviously not having any luck.”

  My mouth dropped open. I smacked him across the chest with the back of my hand. “Thanks for rubbing it in, but we’re not close enough to our fifties to decide that yet.”

  Drew and I had both had a string of failed relationships. One night, we’d made a pact. If we hit our fifties and were still single, we’d get a big place together. We’d be kind of like Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert in Anne of Green Gables. Except we wouldn’t adopt an orphan; we’d hire someone to do the chores instead.

  Drew rubbed the place where I’d smacked him. “Jeez.”

  “Like it really hurt. Spill it.”

  “I told Dad and Janet that Michelle and I broke up because she wanted to get more serious than I did, which I’m sure she probably did. Really, she was just irritating me more and more by the day. I started wondering if her voice had always sounded so nasally—”

  “She does kind of have an annoying voice,” I said.

  “And she’d call, like, every hour and ask what I was doing. I wanted to shout, ‘I’m working. Some of us work.’”

  I leaned back on the couch. “You always attract clingy girls.”

  Drew shrugged. “I guess I should start trying relationships with women I don’t think are my type.”

  I swiped a hand through the air. “I tried that before. I hunted out guys I’d never usually go for, but all I got were several short relationships with noncompatible people.”

  “I’m not looking for anything serious right now, anyway.”

  I shook my head at him. “Typical guy.”

  He huffed and shoved my knee. “Like you’re any better. You don’t even believe in long-term relationships.”

  “I don’t believe in short-term flings, either.” I knew this conversation would only get us arguing about women and men, so I grabbed the menu for the Yellow Dragon out of his hands and pointed at the chicken lo mein. “This is what I’m getting. What do you want?”

  Drew pointed out the orange chicken and the Szechuan beef. “I’ll eat the leftovers tomorrow morning.”

  “Ew. You can’t eat Chinese leftovers for breakfast.”

  “Fine. I’ll eat them for lunch. What time do you have to go in tomorrow?”

  “I can slide in a little late.”

  “Okay, then!” Drew tossed the rest of the menus onto my glass coffee table. “Chinese food, then we go find us some insignificant others for the night.”

  “You know, you really are a bad influence.” I grinned at him. “You should come over more often.”

  …

  The Wagon Wheel, a rustic bar with a jukebox full of country music, seemed like a good place to take Drew. I didn’t think the girls there would mind that he was a full-on cowboy, even though he didn’t so much look the part in his T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. Plus, it was a nice break from the norm for me. Stephanie’s fiancé, Anthony, always insisted on going to the nightclub hot spots. Which meant my options were hanging out alone at home or being a third wheel. Neither was all that great.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Drew said, eyeing a couple of girls who sat down at the opposite end of the bar.

  “Which one?” I asked.

  “The redhead with the—” Drew froze, cupped hands out in front of his chest. He dropped them. “Who looks like she’s really smart.”

  I’d gone off before about him looking at girls like they were pieces of meat. At least he’d tried to edit this time. Drew was very charismatic, and I’d seen what he did with his charm. He got a girl all wrapped up in him, then got bored and moved on. So far tonight, he’d flirted with three women but decided none of them was worth a drink or more than a few minutes of his time.

  Drew slapp
ed the bar with his palms. “I’m going in.”

  He walked over, sat down next to the redhead, and introduced himself. Immediately, she was laughing, leaning in as he told another joke or story. She was already hooked. So it looked like he’d settled on her—at least for tonight. Or the next five minutes. You never knew with him.

  A guy with enough hair gel for ten people walked up to me. “Yo, hot stuff, how you doin’ tonight?” His Jersey Shore accent was so thick I lost a few IQ points just listening to it.

  “I’m okay.”

  He puffed out his chest. “You need Romeo to buy you a drink?”

  “Is your name actually Romeo, or do you just think you’re a Romeo?”

  He put his hand on the bar and leaned closer to me. “Both.”

  I held up my glass—cranberry juice and Sprite, because I’d had a feeling I’d be driving home. “I’m good, thanks.”

  The guy didn’t even look old enough to be buying drinks, which just made me feel old. And only the tiniest bit flattered.

  “I get you. You playin’ it cool. Let me guess, you’re one of those uptight gals. All wound up. Let Romeo unwind you.”

  “Okay, you can move on now. Thanks for playing.” I glanced over at Drew, who had his arm around the redhead.

  Romeo looked back at his friends, seeming unsure whether he’d been rejected or not.

  I waited for him to get the hint.

  When he didn’t, I leveled my eyes on him. “Look, if you’re worried about saving face, you can tell your friends I have a boyfriend or that I’m meeting you later or whatever you want. But I’m not interested.”

  He lowered his head and walked off.

  Some people might think that was mean. What would be mean was if I let him waste his whole night on me. Drew had taught me that. He said hint once, then be brutal if they didn’t get it. Some of my girlfriends had guys hanging around not just for a night, but weeks—months even—because they didn’t want to be mean.

  Romeo’s head perked up when another girl walked into the bar. He walked past his friends’ table and over to talk to her. See, he’d recovered just fine. In fact, I did him a favor because he might actually have a chance with that girl.