by S. E. Babin
Plotting Mr. Perfect
S.E. Babin
Previously published by Liquid Silver Books. Copyright © Published 2016, S.E. Babin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Dedication
For the readers. This wouldn’t be possible without you.
Acknowledgements
This book idea came in a sudden eureka moment, and as soon as it did, I knew I had something. During the course of this book, I fell in love with all the characters and hope you do, too. For everyone who had a kind word, thank you. For my husband, who, during the writing of this book, paid much more attention to things than I did, thank you. I almost gave the entire family food poisoning after an unfortunate expired cocktail weenie incident. He shook his head, said something hilarious, and then piled us all in the car to go out to eat. Every woman needs a guy like that. To the ladies in my book club, a girl needs to have cool chicks like you to hang out with and drink wine. Thanks for all of your support!
Chapter 1
Would you die if you drank your entire body weight in coffee? This and other burning questions rolled through Katie Walker’s mind as she stared at her computer, in her hand yet another mug of French roast coffee. She glanced at it, willing it to give her some form of inspiration. So far, all it was giving her was the jitters.
Around her, the noise of the coffee shop filtered in and out, sharp laughs and whispered conversations mingling with the smooth jazz playing from the ceiling speakers. She was in the perfect spot to people watch, the perfect place for a stroke of genius to filter from her brain to her fingertips and onto the screen she suspected was laughing at her with the mostly blank page and ever blinking cursor.
Writer’s block. Again. Her friends always asked about her books, what she was working on, when it would be out, and she always answered with ease. Since the release of her second novel, it seemed the well had dried up. At least temporarily. Overall, life was good. She was a successful novelist, not too hard on the eyes. She had good friends, a place of her own and some money in the bank. But as the blank page loomed over her, a niggle of worry began to curl in her stomach. The money would only keep coming as long as she kept writing.
She was now two months into her third book and she was lucky if she even had a page to work with. What she did have was terrible—purple prose, adverbs galore and a pat description of a perfect man. She snorted. Because every woman wanted a man with a heaving chest and hulking biceps, right? Wrong. She poised the mouse over the few words on the previous page, highlighted them all and pressed the dreaded delete key.
How could something make you feel so good and so bad all in one fell swoop? She was delighted she could recognize when something stunk, but now she had absolutely nothing to work with and no ideas spinning in her busy little head.
The bell over the shop jingled merrily as it opened, bringing with it the chill of the North Carolina winter. It wasn’t too bad yet, but it made her grateful she’d remembered to bring her scarf and gloves. In through the door burst a frazzled brunette struggling with a briefcase, several shopping bags and her purse.
It was Mel, Katie’s best friend, and one of the most brilliantly disorganized people she’d ever had the fortune to know. A grin crept over her face and she stood to help her friend as she tried in vain to make it through the door without dropping anything.
“Have I told you yet today how ridiculous you are?” Katie held the door with one hand while untangling Mel’s briefcase with the other. Mel snorted as she breezed in through the door, hitting Katie in the shoulder with the monstrosity she called a purse.
“Not yet, but I’d miss it terribly if you didn’t.” Katie allowed the door to shut behind her and followed Mel in, watching as she set her purse and the shopping bags down at the table. Mel was a delightful whirlwind, intelligent and gorgeous, but scatterbrained and a bit flighty. This made her even more adorable, a fact Katie would never tell her. She was bad enough. No need to encourage the disaster that was her best friend.
Once Mel arranged all of her bags neatly, she collapsed into the chair next to Katie’s and blew out a breath. “Geez,” she muttered, “why do I always make it so hard on myself?”
This was a question Mel often asked, but she never seemed to give it too much thought, which was probably the reason she kept doing it. Katie gave the bags a curious glance, grateful for the writing reprieve and glad to see Mel. Normally they saw each other several times a week, but Mel was knee-deep in university research, keeping her burning the midnight oil and forcing Katie to entertain herself over the past several days. Mel bounced between the college, instructing sleepy-eyed future scientists, and Croft Enterprises, a creepy modern building that hosted all kinds of weird science experiments Mel didn’t talk about and Katie never asked about.
“What’s in the bag, Mad Scientist?” Mel glanced down and grinned, automatically making her nervous. Katie knew there was only one reason for that kind of grin and it didn’t bode well for her. Mel was scheming. Brilliant, beautiful Mel had something up her sleeve, and Katie was usually the one who suffered for it.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” Katie waved her hands. “Whatever you have in the bag, I’m not going along with it.”
“Relax, oh paranoid one. It’s girls’ night, remember?” She reached down, grabbed one of the paper bags and pulled out wine.
Katie slumped in relief, but she wasn’t a skeptic for nothing. Mel’s special grin had her on edge. She’d be keeping a wary eye on her friend for a while. Once a week, she and Mel, along with a few other special girlfriends, got together, gossiped, dished about men and drank too much wine. The next day almost always started with regret and a hangover along with a promise that the next time they would take it easier. So far they had yet to live up to that promise. Girls’ night was the highlight of her week and this one was no exception. She grabbed one of the bottles from Mel and turned it to examine the label.
“Oooh, Chateau de Marseilles. My favorite.” And it was, although so far Katie hadn’t met a wine she didn’t like. Except for the morning after girls’ night when she hated anything alcoholic. The day before, however, it was always a love-love relationship.
“Relax, tiger.” Mel grabbed the bottle back. “I only popped in to grab a cup of coffee. You being here was just a bonus. I have to run in a bit. It’s my day off and I have a lot to do before tonight.”
Katie gave Mel the stink-eye. “Whatever you’re planning better not involve me and my love life, Mel. Seriously.” Mel gave her an innocent doe-eyed look, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “Mel,” she said in a warning tone.
“Ugh.” Mel clucked her tongue. “There’s a definite downside to this BFF thing. I hate that you know me so well. It’s just one little date.”
“Date?” Katie echoed.
“Yes, a date! Fun, right?” Mel waggled her hands in the universal symbol for yay, fun! but Katie wasn’t having any of it.
“No dates.” Katie glared at her friend, wondering why she always had to be so involved in her love life. She acted like Katie was a complete slouch in the love department. Although, when she thought about it maybe she was, but when Mel became involved it seemed to take it from a local incident to a national security one. Disaster was the word of the day when Mel set her up. She won
dered if Mel even had any friends of the opposite sex anymore. Yes. It was really that bad. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. There was always something wrong with them.
Mel ignored her like she hadn’t even spoken. “You’re going to love him! He’s a new instructor at the college. Adorably geeky just like you love. Not too buff, not too skinny, just right for my little Katie!”
“No.” Katie was adamant. The last date Mel had set her up on was an epic disaster. His name was Mark. He was gorgeous, wealthy…the complete package. Until he opened his mouth. If he would have sat there and smiled adoringly, Katie probably could have dated him forever. But when he started to speak she felt her eyes glass over and the corner of her mouth fill with drool. My car, my house, my private jet, stocks, Arabian horses, the Hamptons, blah, blah, blah. When she tried to steer the conversation to important topics—the government, the state of the homeless, world history, a blank, puzzled look appeared on his face. Then he laughed and patted her hand. “Oh, Katie,” she remembered him saying, “You don’t have to try and impress me. You’re pretty enough to be seen with me.”
It was like an out-of-body experience. She lost control and couldn’t stop her hand from creeping to her filled wineglass and then couldn’t stop herself as she lifted that wineglass and poured it all over his smug head. She stood there for a second and watched him sputter, but when she noticed the wait staff bustling over, no doubt to usher her out of the expensive restaurant, she grabbed her purse and hauled ass out while reaching for her cell phone to call a cab.
Looking back, Mel had been less than forgiving about it, but was forced to concede that, yes, Mark was indeed a bit of an ass. But he was rich—as if that would fix all the world’s problems.
“I don’t care if he’s the president, you are the worst setter-upper in history!” Katie glared at Mel.
“Setter-upper is not a word,” Mel muttered. “Fine,” she relented, “but stop complaining to me about your love life, then.” She stood, grabbed her bags and purse, trying not to lean under the weight of all the things she had brought into the coffee shop, and glared at Katie. “I still love you and I’ll see you tonight, but if you don’t get back on the horse soon, you’re going to be a spinster. And I will not taking knitting classes with you. Ever. I draw the line at lame hobbies.”
Katie didn’t acknowledge this. “I don’t get why you just didn’t leave everything in your car.”
Mel groaned. “Because I’m an idiot?”
Katie held up Mel’s laptop. “Plus you’re forgetting this.”
A hopeful look crept onto Mel’s face and Katie sighed. “Of course I’ll help you to your car. I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Mel grinned and shrugged as she walked toward the door. “Because I’m awesome. Open that door for me, will you?”
Katie stepped ahead of her friend, pushed hard on the door and held it open for Mel, once again getting smacked by the giant purse as she squeezed her way through. Once she was situated in her tiny Prius, Katie smacked the hood as Mel started her engine.
“Cancel the date,” Katie said. “And don’t forget the wine tonight.”
Mel put the car in gear. “Spoilsport,” she grumbled under her breath. “Make sure you have cake,” she said as she pulled away.
“I always have cake!” Katie shouted and then laughed at herself. Mel was a real pain in the ass, but she loved her regardless. Now she just had to find cake. Baking was way beyond her skill set, but that’s why stores existed, right?
* * * *
Katie unlocked the door to her bungalow-style home, kicked off her shoes and tossed the laptop case onto her couch.
“Home sweet home,” she muttered and padded barefoot to the kitchen. In a few hours, three hungry ladies were going to converge on her home and she needed to make sure she had enough food to prevent a hangry incident. Trying to keep her friends from food was like dangling a juicy steak in front of a lion and expecting it not to get angry about it. She wasn’t brave enough to try it. As she opened her fridge and leaned in to inspect the goods, she felt her shoulders slump as she realized she was going to have to run back out to the grocery store. Mel might have the wine, but the hostess was responsible for the food spread. Milk close to its expiration date, a moldy block of cheese and a six-pack of beer did not a spread make.
She shut the refrigerator and looked around her small home. It was clean enough for company, as long as she swept up the clothes carelessly discarded over the back of her couch and armchair. She might be a writer, but she always made sure she was somewhat stylish when she went out. But she was also indecisive, thus the skirts and sheath dresses tossed around her living room. Writing at home wasn’t all that great for inspiration so she tended to head down to local coffee shops or the park. People watching often brought spurts of genius. Except for now.
She frowned at the PC gathering dust in the corner. It hadn’t been used for weeks now. Even though she carried her laptop around and powered it up every day, it wasn’t getting that much use either. Maybe tonight would bring her a fresh idea. And, if not, there was plenty of wine to be had. And enough wine almost always brought divine inspiration. She snorted. Okay, maybe not divine inspiration, but definitely opened the door for her to relax a little bit and be receptive to ideas she may not have previously thought about. With that thought, Katie glanced at her watch, grumbled about the time, slipped on her shoes and headed out the door.
* * * *
Will Parker knew it was ladies’ night. Katie was as predictable as the sun rising and setting. Every Thursday for the past several weeks he’d watch her come home with her laptop, open the front door, throw her laptop down, and less than ten minutes later see her pad out the door again grumbling about groceries. An hour later he’d see her pull up again, haul everything out of the car, then hear her banging around in her kitchen for a couple of hours until the other ladies showed up.
Not that he was a creeper or anything. Far from it. Their bungalows were so close together he could hear a roach crawl across her floor if he really listened for it. Which he didn’t, because that would be borderline stalkerish. He drew the line at watching her on ladies’ night. Every Thursday he was outside mowing his lawn and although he tried not to pay attention to her, he couldn’t help it. She was a mess, an adorable perky little mess.
Will had moved in next to Katie about two years ago, but if you asked her she probably wouldn’t remember, as they had yet to have a conversation. She was so wrapped up in her own life and troubles she couldn’t seem to see anything outside of her bubble. He contented himself with waving to her when he saw her and not getting down about it when she failed to wave back. The odds were she hadn’t seen him or she looked right through him. Today was no exception.
As he pushed the mower back and forth, he watched Katie stumble out her door, stub her toe on the doorjamb and hurry to her tiny little Honda Civic. He raised his hand in greeting, watched her absentmindedly stare at him until she jerked herself out of her thoughts and offer him a halfhearted wave before she started her car and tore out of her driveway.
Will shook his head in amusement. You’d think by now her weekly get-together wouldn’t sneak up on her. Maybe soon he would formally introduce himself to her. Or maybe he would wait until she was a little bit more together so she’d remember it. And him. Right now he could probably rob her house and she’d fail to recognize him in a lineup.
Chapter 2
What in the devil was her neighbor’s name again? Katie tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to remember and failing. She had no idea how long he’d been her neighbor, but she did know he mowed his lawn every week on ladies’ night. For hours. He seemed strangely obsessed with lawn care and her friends noticed too. Every time they came over one of them always made a comment about the strange man who, like clockwork, mowed and took care of his lawn every Thursday.
She should have gone over to his house and greeted him way before now, but there was just too much g
oing on. Or she’d forget about it. She normally only saw him on Thursdays and by then she was so caught up in everything she needed to do she was forced to settle for a wave and a promise that next time she’d make sure to talk to him. So far, next time never came.
Tomorrow she would go. Definitely.
Katie pushed the neighbor from her mind and mentally ran through all the things she’d need for tonight. Chips, ingredients for dip, the vegetable plate everyone would complain about if she didn’t buy but no one ever touched, and desserts. There was no dinner to be had on ladies’ night. Instead it was a smorgasbord of carb overload and chocolate. And booze. Katie couldn’t be responsible for anyone’s booze intake except her own, but she wasn’t above encouraging poor decisions, especially since she seemed to make plenty of her own.
Katie pulled in to the grocery store, grabbed one of the larger carts while walking through the parking lot and, once she made it in to the store, proceeded to fill it up with all kinds of things no one needed. Her eyes boggled at the total once the cashier rang it up. Mental health expenses, she told herself. It might raise some eyebrows once her accountant got ahold of her receipts for this year, but she’d justify it somehow.
Once she’d stuffed her little Civic full of bags and pulled back onto the road, she checked the clock again. “Shit!” She was late. Again. She sped up as much as she could without risking a speeding ticket and said a silent prayer she’d be able to get everything prepared in time before everyone showed up.
Her neighbor was still outside when she pulled up. Seriously, what was this man’s fascination with his yard? She ignored him as she got out, popped the trunk and loaded her arms with as many grocery bags as she could carry. No one should ever have to make more than two trips outside to carry in their groceries. It should be written as law.
Plastic bags were loaded up her arms and in her hands, and Katie stumbled under the weight of everything. Still, she’d make it inside if it killed her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her neighbor staring at her openly.
