by Zoe York
Evan definitely needed to be sure the girls came to Bliss. There just wasn’t another option. “I’ve got it under control,” he finally told his friend. “I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I fully expect to talk to them again before then.”
Even if he had to go hunt Ava down and convince her that Bliss was exactly where she needed to be for the next year.
“Do that,” Parker said firmly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Evan said.
“Don’t make me pull the jalapeño burger off the menu,” Parker warned.
“You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t want to find out.”
He definitely would. Evan scowled at the ceiling. “Cool your jets, Blake,” he said. “No need to plan revenge for something that’s not even going to happen.”
“I’ll believe it when I see those billionaires walking down Main Street in blue jeans.”
“Goodbye, Parker.” Evan disconnected before Parker could give him any more shit. Or give him anything more to worry about. He really liked that jalapeño burger.
But all he had to do was get the Carmichael triplets into blue jeans and to Bliss. How hard could that be? Hell, one-third of them had been wearing jeans today. And looking damned good in them.
Evan scowled at the ceiling. Of course, he was attracted to Cori. She was the fun one. The can’t-be-tied-down one. There wasn’t anything about her that he didn’t like. Evan dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. But she was off-limits. And even if she wasn’t, Cori wouldn’t do a damned thing to make him more disciplined. The travel-the-world, party-in-every-country triplet would only feed Evan’s own what-the-hell-you-only-live-once tendencies and he was trying to be a better man. Someone worthy of Rudy’s trust in him. Someone who knew when and how to take things seriously and be responsible.
The girls weren’t the only “kids” Rudy had worried about. He worried that Noah didn’t trust himself to take care of the people he loved. Which he didn’t. Rudy worried that Parker was a little too independent. And crotchety. Which he was. And Rudy worried that Evan didn’t take things—or himself—seriously enough. Which he didn’t.
Most of Bliss trusted Evan to always show up with a cooler and a great idea about how to make any event even more fun.
Rudy, on the other hand, had trusted Evan to manage the Bliss Foundation, make decisions about how to spend ten million dollars, and his daughters’ happiness.
Evan rolled his neck as the tension, that was becoming far too familiar, crept up the muscles on either side of his spine. He really wanted to do this. He really wanted to be deserving of Rudy’s belief in him. But the last time someone had trusted him to do something other than throw a kick-ass Super Bowl party or hand out multiple orgasms, he’d spent four panic-stricken hours searching for a friend in Vegas and had to write a five thousand dollar bail check once he’d found him.
His phone dinged with a new text message and he grabbed it. He really didn’t want any more of Parker’s shit about how he had to get this thing done. He knew that. He just wasn’t sure how.
But it wasn’t Parker.
BBQ wienies or pigs in a blanket?
It was Jill Morris. A very good friend of Evan’s. A Bliss girl, born and bred. And the woman he’d slept with three nights ago. And hadn’t talked to since.
Evan winced and texted back. Yes. Both. Always. Or pigs in a blanket and BBQ meatballs.
Ah, meatballs. Good call.
Evan smiled. He and Jill had been friends since kindergarten. She was a great girl. For your going away party?
Jill had been offered her dream job in Omaha and was scheduled to leave in a couple of weeks. She deserved a big bash on her way out of Bliss.
Wedding reception.
Evan frowned. He couldn’t think of any upcoming weddings. Whose?
Ours.
Evan looked at those four letters far longer than he should have needed to. But that answer made no sense.
You have the wrong number, he finally sent back. She was messing with him. He was sure. Ninety-eight percent.
Evan Michael Stone. Birthdate, August second. Great taste in action movies. Horrible taste in comedies. Will do just about anything for lasagna.
Well, that was him. Except that Will Farrell was always funny. But yeah, Jill’s lasagna was exactly why they’d ended up naked together the other night in spite of a number of good reasons not to. Reasons that had kept them fully dressed when together for…forever.
It wasn’t a lack of attraction or opportunity over the years. But their families were very close and even a hint of something beyond friendship between them would have stirred up a bunch of expectations for an ongoing relationship when all Evan and Jill would have wanted was a friends-with-benefits situation. Jill had always had her sights set on places far from Bliss and, frankly, they got along great, liked each other a lot, and yes, had some chemistry. But they didn’t want to get married. A fact that their families, particularly their grandfathers, would never understand. Staying out of bed had been a solid plan.
Until the other night.
But there had been lasagna. And whiskey prior to the lasagna. And a funeral service for a very good friend prior to the whiskey.
And then after the lasagna, there’s been a very sweet, beautiful, willing woman who had kissed him and then taken her clothes off and distracted him from how fucking miserable he’d been, and he’d gratefully taken her up on everything she’d offered. From pasta to…another P word he was very fond of.
Evan sighed. Yeah, he probably needed to work on the Being A Better Guy thing.
What’s going on? he finally asked. But he knew. Someone had found out about their night together. Shit.
I’m on my mother’s couch, covered in Calamine lotion, and bridal magazines. Oh, and two generations of hopes, dreams, and expectations for me.
Yeah, shit. Definitely. Calamine? He, unfortunately, understood all the rest of that.
Hives. From the strawberries.
Evan groaned and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re ALLERGIC?
Duh.
Good God. The way they’d used those strawberries…the places they’d used those strawberries…she had to miserable. You didn’t know?
Of course I knew!
What?! Kind of important information when someone is rubbing something you’re allergic to on your bare…skin. There, he’d used a more gentlemanly word than he could have.
I was blindfolded, remember? she replied, followed by an emoji that looked like it was rolling its eyes. Then it was too late. YOU should have known!
Evan frowned at the message. How???
Strawberry patch. Fourth grade class trip. They called an ambulance for me!
Evan winced. Holy shit, how could he have forgotten that? Oh, yeah, he wasn’t really that good guy. But… You didn’t tell me to stop.
I got…distracted.
Evan couldn’t help his grin. He’d distracted her from the fact that she was going to be covered in head-to-toe hives. Or more specifically, breasts-to-knees hives. That was something. And then it occurred to him that thoughts like that probably didn’t fall under the Good Guy column either.
I’m really sorry he told her sincerely.
I know.
But you’re messing with me, right? No one knows?
My mother would notice hives. And me taking Benadryl like candy.
Right. Of course. Jill couldn’t sneeze without her mom rushing to the pharmacy. Maybe because her daughter had been horribly allergic to strawberries and had ended up in an ER in fourth grade. You told her about me?? You couldn’t just say you’d eaten some?
His thumbs were getting sore from all the back and forth, but he and Jill had always been pretty wordy texters, and now didn’t seem the time to skimp on explanations.
Why would I eat something that I’m ALLERGIC TO? she asked. And you shouldn’t have used strawberries with MB! She told everyone! Mom knew I was bringing you lasagna that night and
that I didn’t come home...she’s not stupid.
Evan shook his head. Fuck. He and Marcie Brown had eaten strawberries together at the strawberry festival last June. And yeah, he’d taken some home. He’d also taken Marcie home. But it hadn’t been nearly as…inventive…as it had been with Jill. Damn, small towns sometimes. And damn his inability to just say no to things that were a bad idea…
So… Mom knows. Jill sent. So her sister knows. So my grandma knows. So my grandpa knows. So…
So Evan’s grandfather knew. Fabulous.
Ring size? He knew that Jill wouldn’t take that seriously. She was as adamant about them being only friends as he was. And she was the one with the dream job out of state. She would never give that up for him. For one, she wasn’t in love with him. For another, she knew him. Very well. She knew that he took fantasy football more seriously than he did anything else in his life, that he thought five-day work weeks were the worst invention ever, and that he was the state’s best mediator—because he was a lawyer who didn’t like paperwork or judges or going to court or, really, the law. And she knew that he was not good long-term boyfriend material. Because he’d been a short-term boyfriend, and an even shorter-term fling, to most of her friends at one time or another over the years.
Ha ha, she answered a few seconds later.
We just deal with it until you go to Omaha?
Well…
Evan felt his heart thud at that vague answer. No. She had to go to Omaha. Not to save him from a shotgun wedding, but because he could not be responsible for someone giving up a dream. It wouldn’t take long for the regret to sink in and he couldn’t live with that. He was the good-time guy. The guy everyone liked. The guy everyone invited everywhere. He wasn’t a guy people gave up important things for, or trusted with huge life-altering decisions. And he couldn’t be a guy someone regretted being involved with.
You are going, he told her. It’s an amazing opportunity. You can’t pass it up.
Of course not, she responded a moment later.
Evan breathed a sigh of relief.
But I don’t want to deal with all of this, she added.
What’s that mean?
We pretend to date. Them=happy, off our backs. Then big fight=I leave.
I can do that, he told her. He didn’t love that plan, but he owed her. Putting Calamine lotion in some of the places she needed; it couldn’t be pleasant.
OR, she sent a second later. I explain I’m a grownup=sex with whoever I want. NOT wedding.
Evan nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. Very adult.
Yeah.
He started to respond with I’ve got your back, but he saw the three dots jumping, indicating she was typing.
But, that’s a lot more energy and time than I really want to give.
He nodded again. He understood that.
She sent another message a moment later. I don’t really want to pretend. Or have you over for family dinners. Or have you along with me and my friends.
Evan felt a prick of annoyance. He was a great guy. People loved having him around. He made sure of it. She didn’t need to be quite so adamant about not wanting him around.
Yeah, yeah, he told her.
Sorry. She sent a big, grinning emoji. I adore you. And…the other night…totally worth a few hives. After the words, she added a flame, a heart, a firework, and a smiley face with its tongue hanging out.
He grinned. She had to say that. But Evan appreciated it anyway. He sent her an eggplant emoji to which she replied with a honeypot.
He snorted. Yeah, their friendship was fine.
Just need to pack and spend time with my friends—and even my crazy family—before I leave. Nothing personal.
Of course not. He knew she was a little nervous about the big move, and he didn’t want to do anything to make the days leading up to it more stressful.
But I also don’t want to have this big talk with them.
What do you want? What can I do? There, that was a good-guy thing to say. Evan was proud of himself as he pressed send.
Glad you asked.
Evan felt a niggle of trepidation, but he waited for her answer. The woman had hives because of him. He’d do whatever she wanted him to do.
You need to break my heart. She sent a broken heart emoji and a grinning devil.
Evan blinked at the words. What? He had typed the w and the h when Jill’s dots started dancing again. For a long time. This was going to be a long one.
Or they need to think you did anyway. Then I’m not disappointing anyone. And me getting out of town will make sense.
As soon as she sent that, he saw the dots again.
Plus, if I cry, my grandfather won’t want to talk about it at all. Can’t deal with tears. He’ll avoid the whole topic completely.
Evan read Jill’s explanation twice. And had to admit, it was pretty good.
I’ll do it, he told her. But this makes ME the bad guy.
Right.
And I’m stuck here with them all hating me.
Good point. Will only have to put on the act for a few days! Whoo hoo! I could leave early. Since it’ll be so painful to be around you.
Evan sighed. But I WILL STILL HAVE TO BE HERE.
Yeah. But you owe me. Lasagna. Hives.
Dammit. Fine. He sent her the broken-hearted emoji back. How?
There was a long stretch where there were no dancing dots. Then a message popped up that said simply, Just be you, I guess.
Evan frowned at that. What?
Don’t be so sensitive. Do your usual. Don’t call. Don’t ask me out. Go fishing for the weekend instead. Take another girl home and do the strawberry thing with her. Without the risk of anaphylaxis of course.
Evan’s frown turned into a scowl. That makes me seem like an ass.
There was no response to that for nearly a minute after that. Finally, Jill sent Sorry. What part of that is NOT your usual?
He scowled even harder as he typed. You liked my USUAL. Twice.
Yes, he had casual relationships. But they were mutually casual. None of the women in Bliss expected him to make any commitments beyond breakfast the next morning. And he’d given Jill coffee and English muffins. And orgasms. He’d held up his end of this bargain. But he didn’t love the idea that people—okay, his mother and Jill’s mom and their grandmothers—would think he’d treated Jill like all the other girls. Even if she was completely fine with it. They wouldn’t know she was fine with it. They would think she was brokenhearted over it.
Yes. YES! she responded. I did. Of course. There was a pause and then she sent, The coffee was delicious.
Brat.
She sent a big grinning emoji again. Then, These hives are REALLY itchy.
At least he was a good enough guy to feel guilty about that. Exactly as she’d intended.
He was stuck. He had to do this Jill’s way. It was his fault she was itching in very unpleasant places and that their families knew about it. And she was right, any attempt to rationally explain this to their families would take a lot of time and energy.
But Jill was Jill. He couldn’t treat her like she was just some girl he’d spent the night with. Of course, he also didn’t want to marry her. How could he break her heart without coming across as…his usual self?
He blew out a breath. Rudy had thought he was capable of being more than his usual self. And this seemed as good a time as any to start really trying. And a thought hit him.
He typed in I have an idea.
She sent a broken heart emoji with a question mark after it.
Yes. He typed as the idea formed fully. I was really sad about you leaving. Figured I should take a shot…find out if there could be anything between us. And we had a great night. And we both thought that MAYBE it could get more serious. But then—
He stopped typing as a message from her popped up. They know it was after the funeral.
Great. You being there for me then showed me I love having you in my life—true, bt
w—and I realized I should have taken a chance on you a long time ago.
Go on…
But then I had to come to New York for Rudy’s trust. And I met someone.
So what if it was Cori Carmichael that popped into his head? She had definitely made him take notice. He’d always known that attraction between two people could be instantaneous, and now she’d proven that he could become fascinated within only a few minutes over caramel macchiatos and talk of Nutella.
There was a long pause before Jill’s dot danced and then the dots bounced for several seconds.
Pretend girlfriend in NYC? Brilliant! They won’t have to actually see you with anyone. Long distance=mostly texts and phone calls. Let it go for a while and then fake breakup. Nice!
Evan read her response and realized that would work. And would be a hell of a lot easier than what he was thinking about.
BUT then no dating anyone HERE for a while. No cheating on your long-distance girlfriend, Jill added.
Well, there was that. But something had been nagging at him ever since Rudy had showed him his “wish list” for his daughters. Cori wasn’t supposed to date because she used dating and sex and partying as a way of keeping things light. Just like Evan did. As he’d told her, if all you promised was a good time, then no one had expectations of you during the bad times. But she was going to be taking time off from all of that. To work on commitment. To focus on more important things. To maybe figure out that she had more to offer her relationships.
And he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe he should do that too.
He was really good at a few things—mediating conflicts, making people happy, and romancing women. Maybe he could use his talents for something actually…altruistic. Use what he was good at to help someone else. Like Jill. And Rudy. And the Carmichael triplets.
He’d admit that he wanted to date Cori Carmichael. Absolutely. But Cori didn’t need what Evan had to offer. No one needed to show Cori a good time. She handled that all on her own.
It was Ava that needed a guy like Evan. He’d been thinking about setting her up with Brian Callahan. Brian was a great guy who owned a contracting business and played slow-pitch softball and poker with Evan and his friends. Brian was from Bliss and was genuinely a nice guy who knew how to kick back.
