LUCKED (Love and Liquor Book 2)

by Angel Devlin

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Angel Devlin

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Copyright (c) 2018 by Angel Devlin

  All rights reserved.

  To my sister Maz.

  For joining in with the insanity, when I said ‘let’s f**k off to Dublin’, and gave you 3 days notice.

  To Kelsey Burns

  My #SFAM

  For a trip to Dublin, filled with laughter, that I’ll never forget!

  You before me

  Anna

  “It was supposed to be our wedding next.”

  Attending the wedding of my colleague, Rachel, and her new husband, Evan, I couldn’t help but whine. After carrying on a Love/Hate relationship for years, my fellow barmaid and the love of her life had lost all common sense, got engaged after one day, and married after ten months.

  My own fiance, Chris, sighed and wrinkled his nose. It irritated me when he did that. I wanted to punch him in it.

  “Our wedding’s in July. You can’t expect other people to wait until ours has taken place. Was Rachel supposed to check with you before booking the hotel?” He forced a laugh, but I knew in reality he was getting fed up of my impatience at becoming Mrs Mellon.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t wait for it to be our day that’s all.”

  Because it took so fucking long for you to propose in the first place.

  Chris and I had been together for six years and had met via mutual friends, Jenny and Kian. I had gone to school with Jenny and Chris played football with Kian.

  At twenty-eight, I was well ready to get that gold band on my finger and those babies on the way. I wanted at least two, and my biological clock was ticking. Chris was thirty-two, and being a typical bloke, didn’t see what the rush was.

  He’d eventually proposed at Jenny and Kian’s wedding two years ago. By then I’d wondered if it was ever going to happen to be honest. I think my family had thought the same, judging by their stupefied faces when we’d announced our engagement.

  But it had. Jenny had thrown the bouquet, and it had landed firmly in my manicured hands. Of course I had the advantage of my school netball training, honed in adulthood on the basketball game at the seaside slots, and my threats to kidnap her firstborn if I didn’t get it.

  But I’d not quite expected my proposal to be a drunken man slurring, “So I suppose I should put a ring on it,” just as Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ finished, a song I’d given my all too. After six years though, that’s how things went, kind of casual and comfortable. We weren’t like Evan and Rachel all goo-goo eyed. Chris and I farted in front of each other freely (he did mostly. I did revenge farts), and stayed home with a takeaway, rather than getting dressed up for dates. It was settled. Familiar.

  I stole a sidelong look at his bored face. Blokes didn’t get weddings, did they? It would be different when it was our own, and he saw me, a vision in white, walking down the aisle towards him. He’d have a more active role then.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek as I stared at the utter love and devotion on Rachel and Evan’s faces, and when told he could now kiss his bride, Evan tipped her back and gave her a movie star kiss. I made a note to ask Chris to do something similar when it was our turn.

  Then they left the hotel room to everyone’s cheers.

  “Thank fuck. Can I get a pint now?” Chris asked me.

  I rolled my eyes. “No, it’s the photos yet. Then the toast. We drink champagne with them.”

  “Am I in hell?” Chris asked. “Did I die and I don’t know? Like in that film with Bruce Willis?”

  I nudged him with my elbow. “Behave yourself.”

  By the time of the evening reception my fiance was in a much better mood with a couple of pints and some buffet food down him. He dragged me onto the dance floor for a bit of his dad-style dancing. This is what I loved about him. He could be the life and soul of a party. As we danced, Rachel joined the dance floor with a couple of bridesmaids. I glanced at her lacy, white dress. She looked like a princess.

  “I know I said this already, but you look beautiful.” I shouted over the music.

  “Thank you.” She shouted back.

  “Your wedding was perfect. Mine next!”

  “Yeah, it was perfect once Evan understood that he wasn’t writing his vows on disposable cards.” She giggled.

  I laughed back. Evan had proposed in the Nag’s Head using the Bob Dylan/INXS/Love Actually style of writing on pieces of white card. I could just imagine his lips pouting at not being able to do that on their special day.

  I tried not to take offence that she’d not responded to it being my wedding next. After all this was her day, and if someone tried to overshadow mine, I’d poke them in the eye. So with a smile, I turned back to Chris and carried on bopping away until the lights went up and the reception was over.

  In the taxi on the way home, Chris kept trying to sneak his hand up my dress while he nibbled at my ear.

  “I fucking love you. Blow me.”

  “Ssh.” I admonished him, looking over at the taxi driver to see if he’d made out Chris’s slurred words.

  “Will you suck my cock when we get home? You’ve not done it in forever. My trousersnake is feeling very lonely. I want to shoot my load down your throat.”

  He tilted his hips up. I covered my heated red cheeks with my hands as embarrassment burst like a ripe tomato over my face. There was no way the taxi driver hadn’t heard that.

  Chris sat back and closed his eyes and by the time the cab pulled up outside our rented home, he was making snoring sounds that sounded dreadful, really loud and nasally.

  I prodded him awake and paid the taxi driver, apologising for his rude mouth. The driver shrugged and said he’d heard far worse. I opened Chris’ door and helped him out. Then I closed it and stood behind him watching as he staggered up the path like a newly walking toddler.

  As he reached our front door he span towards me, “You’re so fucking hot, Tania. I’m gonna shag you senseless when I get you in the house.”

  I sighed. He was always mixing up my name with that of his childhood best friend. Good job I’d known her for years now and knew she thought of him as a brother.

  “Come on, Casanova. Let’s get you a coffee.” While he leaned against the wall, I stalked past him to open the door. He staggered inside and managed to faceplant the couch. By the time I’d removed my coat and shoes, and put the kettle on, he was snoring again.

  While Chris slept off his hangover the next morning, I fired up my laptop and caught up with Facebook. My friend, Lesley, had sent me a message.

  Have you sorted your hen night yet?

  I sighed. I’d been trying to think of where we could go for weeks now. With how much a wedding cost, I didn’t have much of a budget, and I didn’t want to go too far away either. At the same time, I wanted it to be somewhere we’d remember.

  I opened a new tab and typed in popular destinations for hen nights.

  Blackpool - hell no.

  Benidorm - absolutely
not.

  And then in the sidebar on the page I was visiting I saw a January sale ad for Dublin minibreaks. I loved Guinness! I clicked through and the prices were nothing short of a miracle. After checking capacity, I sent the link to my mate.

  Two days later and it was all booked. What a stroke of luck that had appeared on the page! Another part of my upcoming wedding was organised. It would seem I’d already been given the luck of the Irish!

  Hen do? Hen don’t.

  Anna - March 2018

  The four of us did the lazy journey down the travelator to make our way to the Departure Gate of Terminal Three, Manchester airport. There was Lesley; Jenny; and Lesley’s sister, Susan, and me. I didn’t have a wide circle of friends as I spent most of my time watching TV with Chris. Lesley was an ex-barmaid from the Nag’s, and a great laugh.

  The morning had already been fantastic. We’d checked in online the day before, so once we were through security, we’d passed through Duty Free where we sampled some free gin. From there I found out that Lesley had booked us all into the lounge and so we breakfasted like kings and drank copious amounts of wine and Guinness even though it was still only eight am.

  In true traditional style, I wore a bride-to-be sash and had a condom tied around my neck. We all wore pink cowgirl hats. I wore a tee stating bride, and the others said Bride’s Bitches. I was touched that they’d gone to all this effort for me.

  Susan had recently got divorced, so she’d been well up for the idea of a weekend away. “I am so gonna pull, lasses. I’ve had everything waxed in prep.”

  Typical girly giggle snorts and cackles of laughter were the order of the flight where we celebrated the fact there were no small children aboard and had friendly banter with a group of guys on a stag do.

  The flight in itself only took forty minutes. No sooner was the plane up in the air, the pilot was announcing our descent. There hadn’t even been enough time for the hostess to reach our seats with the refreshment trolley. Once off the plane, we made our way to the exit and the taxi rank and were dropped off at the entrance to our hotel, The Gresham.

  “Wow. Look at this place. I can’t believe you got us such a bargain. It’s so grand.” Jenny looked around her as she dragged her chestnut-coloured hair back off her face. She was being wind whipped.

  “Let’s get unloaded and then get loaded.” Lesley said in the typical Lesley way. I’d bet Dan’s profits at the bar had risen since she left, let’s put it that way.

  The receptionist at the hotel had advised us to head to the bottom of the road and turn right to find a good bar called The Arlington. With Jenny nominated as the ‘Entertainment Manager’, the rest of us followed her until we found the place. It had an open front so you could sit among the heaters and it appeared they offered a decent food menu. The pub was like Doctor Who’s Tardis—larger on the inside—it seemed to go on for miles! Then again it could have been the fact I’d already walked my daily Fitbit steps around the massive airport and now from the hotel to the pub.

  Once we reached the front of the bar, Lesley yelled, “Tequila shots,” and that was the start of us girls going wild.

  “Fuck, I love this place. My hen night is the best… EVER.” I swung my hips to the beat in Copper’s, a nightclub we’d finally ended up in. It had a cocktail bar and an endless supply of cocktails had been consumed. I was—to put it mildly—pissed as a fart, and dancing with anyone who was willing. My beer goggles were unable to tell a loser from the most good-looking man in Ireland at that moment in time.

  “Oh, I can’t wait for your wedding.” Jenny yelled over the music. “I feel like Paul O’Grady on Blind Date cos I helped get you two together.”

  “I think Chris is a dickhead.” Lesley said, collapsing in a fit of giggles.

  “I’m glad I’m single, all men are dickheads.” Chimed in Susan, although five minutes before she’d been doing tonsil-tennis with a so-called ‘dickhead’.

  “Lesley. That’s my future husband you’re insulting.” I said pouting.

  “Yeah, there’s still time to call it off.”

  I laughed and carried on dancing.

  “Ooooh, It’s Justin Timberlake.” I screamed to no one in particular as ‘Filthy’ started playing. I attempted my own version of a moonwalk, but my feet were sticking to the floor with the spilled alcohol.

  “Hey, pretty lady, ya wanna dance?”

  I looked up from my feet, trying to locate where the gorgeous Irish accent was coming from. It took me a moment to focus in on the man standing in front of me, and then I stopped dancing, because this man appeared to be fit as fuck.

  I touched him. Pressing my hand against different parts of his abdomen. “Are you really very, very handsome and sexy, or is it all the alcohol I’ve drunk, making you look that way?”

  He laughed, revealing the loveliest smile and neat, white teeth. His hair was light brown, and he had a light dusting of stubble to his chin. He was wearing a jacket, which I could see by the way it kept fluttering open as he danced, was hiding a hot body if the tight white shirt underneath, and my wandering hands weren’t lying. It pressed against his chest and I was jealous. My body wanted to be his shirt.

  I flapped at the lapels of his jacket. “Aren’t you hot? You should take your clothes off.”

  “You’re a bit forward aren’t ya? At least buy me a drink first.”

  It took me several minutes to process what he was saying as he talked so fast, and then I burst out laughing. I found I couldn’t stop. Oh fucking hell, this guy was so hilarious.

  “So what are you doing here in Dublin?” He asked.

  I waved my ring under his face. “I’m getting married in July. This is my last hurrah.”

  He took a step back. “Oh. That’s grand. Congratulations. Well, I’ll leave you to your friends. Good luck with t’wedding” He said, and he started to walk away. He pronounced his Th’s like ‘tuh’. It was so cute. I wanted him to chat to me all night long.

  “Stop right there.” I yelled, and then I grabbed his arm. “This is my last night of freedom. I want a snog.” I yelled again trying to be heard over the music, and I launched myself at him.

  Fuck he was good at kissing. In the back of my mind was the fact I was being very badly behaved. I’d never so much as flirted with another guy since being with Chris, but right now I didn’t care. I’d caught Chris flirting with other women many a time. It didn’t mean anything. Okay, so I was going a bit further than that with my tongue tangling with this other guy’s, but I was about to commit to Chris for the rest of my life.

  THE. REST. OF. MY. LIFE.

  I broke off the kiss. “Excuse me.” I said holding my mouth.

  Then I ran off to the toilet to throw up.

  I sat on the floor of the bathroom, my head resting on the cool wall of the toilet stall, while I tried not to think about what might be on it. Sweat poured from my forehead.

  “Anna, you in here?” Jenny’s voice bellowed out.

  I waved my hand under the gap at the bottom of the door and just groaned.

  “Okay. I’ll wait here near the sink. Let me know if you need me.”

  I turned my hand, giving her a thumbs up, before a fresh layer of sweat broke out over my face and I found myself hugging the toilet bowl once again.

  After what felt like hours, I managed to make my way out of the stall. “Can we go back to the hotel now? I need my bed.”

  “Sure. Let me get the others and let them know.”

  We were sharing a family room and had set ground rules about whoever came in last being quiet if the others were asleep though none of us had expected that to be the case. We’d been determined to stay out all night, saying goodbye to my single life.

  “You sure she’s not going to puke, because there’s a fine if she does?” The taxi driver warned.

  “I’ve given her a carrier bag. You have my solemn vow that she hasn’t been sick for the last fifteen minutes, and if she does it will all go in the bag. We’re only at the Gresh
am.”

  “Jenny.” I said in a whiny voice. “I’ve got to spend the rest of my life with Chris. Why didn’t I have loads more boyfriends before him? I’m twenty-eight. If I live to one hundred, that’s, that’s…” My brain wouldn’t do the sums. “…a million years with the same man.”

  She placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re getting cold feet, sweetie. Totally natural just before the wedding.”

  I took a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was having second thoughts. Did you have cold feet?”

  “No, I knew Kian was the absolute love of my life.”

  “Chris is a dickhead.”

  “Why do you keep saying that, Lesley?”

  “Erm, because I think he’s a dickhead?” She fastened her seatbelt, and I was totally impressed that she managed it on her first attempt.

  “Yeah, but whhhyyy?”

  “Let me see - he flirts with other women all the time, belittles you in front of everyone, and I don’t believe he’s just friends with that Tania.” She looked out of the window as the taxi set off.

  “Lesley!” Her sister’s mouth dropped open.

  “Oh, fuck it. I know I said I wouldn’t say anything but if I don’t do it before the wedding, I won’t be able to live with myself. If you go ahead and marry him now, Anna, my conscience is clear.”

  This was all too much for my drink-addled brain. Had Lesley really just said that about Chris? Or was I in an alcohol-induced coma?

  I decided to lean back and close my eyes and worry about it all at a later date.

  I vaguely remembered being steered to the hotel room. It faced the front of the hotel. Staggering to the window, I looked out over the shops and the taxi rank seeing people still out enjoying themselves, while I attempted to sober myself up. Jenny had made me a coffee. Lesley and Susan had parked themselves at the hotel bar, not quite ready to call it a night.

  My phone rang, and I watched as Jenny grabbed it out of my bag.

  “It’s Chris.”