Love at First Laugh: Eight Romantic Novellas Filled with Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After

by Krista Phillips

  Yep. The network was a priority, which was why his pager had sounded at four o’clock that morning. He’d dragged himself into work before the reasonable people of the world were stirring from their beds.

  Maverick tossed his paper cup into the garbage can and tweaked the end of Lia’s nose. “Back to the salt mine for me.”

  “Got it fixed yet, Hoyt?”

  Maverick glanced up to discover his supervisor hovering over his left shoulder. “Almost. Not sure how it happened, but it looks like the router port that serves the ER stopped working.”

  “Good, good.”

  “I’ll be filing a security report directly with corporate when I’m done.”

  Maverick’s boss turned a sickly shade of green. “Is that necessary?”

  “Either this happened accidentally, or it was intentional. No matter how you look at it, a part of our system that’s supposed to be locked down tighter than Fort Knox has been breached. It needs to be reported, and the security keys need to be changed again.”

  This was the third such incident in the past four months, making it far too frequent for Maverick’s peace of mind. He didn’t have the proof to back it up, but it felt like the hospital’s network was under attack. To make matters worse, he’d handed the last two security reports over to Mr. Planter for filing, but the man had scuttled them both. Neither had been sent up the chain of command.

  His boss frowned. “Fine, if you must. Do you suppose they’ll want us to bring in that cybersecurity team they’ve been talking about?”

  Maverick didn’t bother answering. He certainly hoped someone was brought in, though. The hospital, part of a bigger conglomeration, had access to an entire team of cybersecurity specialists. The extra help would be useful. He did, however, know better than to tell his boss so. The man was a nervous sort who seemed to constantly be in fear of losing his job. Maverick wasn’t in the mood to smooth things over with the man. Best not to ruffle his feathers in the first place.

  “How’s that… What are you eating?”

  Maverick looked sidelong at Lia, who had come into the break room not two minutes before. “A Monte Cristo.”

  “Where do you come up with all these fancy sandwiches?” She took out her plastic container of salad and bowed her head.

  He waited till she was done before answering. “A coffee joint in my neighborhood. The guy’s branching out into food and likes to try the new menu items on me.”

  “So, what, you stop in for your morning coffee and sometimes he gives you food, too? What happens if there’s no sandwich?”

  “If he doesn’t offer me something new to test out, I buy a sandwich off the menu.”

  Lia took a bite of her salad. “Must be terrific to be able to buy lunch whenever you want. Are you better off than I realized? Maybe I should start making you pay for our Sunday lunches.”

  Maverick wiped his mouth and hands with his napkin before reaching for his bottle of water. “Not well-off. Better connected. And I’m not saving every spare penny to get a new car.”

  She frowned at him. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing. What’s gonna happen when your car bites the dust?”

  “It’s not bad. In fact, I admire it. I can’t help but wonder sometimes, though, if you’re making yourself miserable with saving so much. I still tuck money aside each month for my car. Whatever doesn’t go toward repairs will be there someday when I need a new one. The difference between us is that I choose not to save until I end up too broke for coffee and sandwiches.”

  “Makes sense. I could do that, too, if I weren’t so sure my car is planning to die any day now.”

  A quick glance at his phone told Maverick his lunch break was over. “Any luck with the new dating profile?”

  “A few nibbles, one of them seems pleasant enough. We’ll see if it goes anywhere.” She gave a half-hearted shrug.

  “Gotta run. I’ll catch you later.”

  He dropped his trash in the bin and headed back up to the fifth floor. The break room on his floor was a replica of the one by the ER, but the conversation up there fell short of interesting.

  Lia slid into the booth across from Maverick, and her sigh spoke volumes. “How do you always beat me here?”

  She’d gotten there first plenty of times, but he kept that thought to himself.

  “You could just ride with me, you know. Then I could swing you back by church to pick up your clunker.”

  Her red hair billowed around her face as she shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way. No how.”

  “Remind me again why you can’t bear to be seen in the same vehicle with me?” Maverick lifted an eyebrow as he waited for her answer.

  Lia’s eye roll said it all. “One car ride together, and people will think we’re dating.”

  “Ah, now I remember.” He reached across and gave her hand a playful pat. “That’s why we drive thirty minutes away from church to share a meal, so nobody thinks we’re interested in each other.”

  “Exactly.” With a firm nod, Lia picked up her menu.

  Maverick didn’t have the heart to tell her the reason none of the men at church asked her out was because they already thought she was spoken for… by him. How had he managed to land himself in this pickle? Oh yeah, that was right. By speaking up when he should have kept quiet.

  Speaking of which… “Did that single dad single you out again?”

  Lia rolled her eyes. “You need to go back to pun school.”

  Maverick chuckled. “Hey, that wasn’t even a pun. It was word play. So, did you talk to him?”

  She snagged his glass of water and took a drink from the rim, ignoring his straw. “His name’s Mark. Seems like a nice guy. His daughter’s a cutie, too.”

  Why was his gut all twisted up? He wanted Lia to find a man who deserved her. Was God trying to tell him something about this guy? “Just remember the three-week rule.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Their waitress approached, and Lia gave her a bright smile. “Caesar salad, dressing on the side please. Separate checks.”

  “You want chicken on that Caesar?”

  Lia bit her bottom lip, so Maverick cut her off before she could say no. “She wants chicken on it. Give me a double bacon cheeseburger with seasoned fries and an extra side of bacon.”

  The waitress gave a long-suffering sigh before walking off.

  “You shouldn’t order for a woman. It’s presumptuous.” Lia’s glare could have singed the eyebrows off a hairless Chihuahua.

  He lifted his hands. “I know, I know. You and at least two of my dates have told me before. But…” Maverick swallowed some air. “You need to eat something besides rabbit food.”

  “I’m not too skinny.” She crossed her arms and stared.

  Maverick stretched his arms out along the seatback. What was Lia’s problem? “I never said you were too skinny. I think you look great. You’ve been losing weight, though, and I’m not sure it’s in a healthy way. A little protein won’t hurt you. Unless you’ve developed an allergy. Will the chicken make you break out in hives?”

  “You always order extra bacon and stick it in my salad. You’re trying to fatten me up, aren’t you? What’s your diabolical plan?”

  Maverick chuckled. “Rest assured, I’m not a witch, and this restaurant isn’t made of gingerbread. I have no plans to fatten you up or to toss you into the oven.”

  Color climbed Lia’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

  Biting at people wasn’t Lia’s usual way, and Maverick had no intention of letting it drop. That guy who’d made the plus-size remark needed to be throttled. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Her stare slid sideways to the salt and pepper shakers, but her hand snaked past them to the container of colored sweetener packets. She dumped them out on the table and started sorting them by color. Then flipped them so they all faced the same direction.

  Maverick stretched a hand across the table and stopped her. “What happened?”

  She lifted her gaze, a
nd the sight of tears pooling in her hazel eyes pushed him back into his seat.

  Lia pulled her hand out from under his and reached for a napkin. “It’s nothing. I just overreacted to something.

  Maverick had only ever seen Lia get this upset about one thing, and Mr. Plus-Size was too far in the past to be responsible. “Did you go on a date Friday night?”

  She remained silent and continued to focus on the sweetener packets.

  “Do I get a name?”

  “Armand.”

  “Should I polish my brass knuckles? Because I’m happy to go have a chat with Armand.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “Armand’s not the problem. He…” Lia tucked the sweeteners back into their container and brushed the hair out of her face. “He’s from the old dating service. He contacted me before I canceled my profile over there.”

  Pushing Lia to answer a question never got him anywhere. He’d have to let her take the scenic route. “So tell me about Armand, then.”

  The clouds began to clear in Lia’s eyes as laughter flashed in their place. “His profile said he enjoyed sports. I thought that meant he was athletic.”

  “Let me guess…”

  The waitress set their meals in front of them as Lia answered his unspoken inquiry. “He only enjoys watching sports. On television, not even in person.”

  “Ahh…”

  “And that television?” The corner of her mouth quirked up.

  “In the basement of his parents’ house?”

  “Worse. But let’s pray first.”

  Maverick bowed his head and asked a blessing over their meal. As soon as they uttered their amens, Lia reached for her fork, and he took the opportunity to slide his extra bacon into her salad bowl.

  She frowned at him, and the storm clouds came rolling back into her eyes. He hoped she reached the point of the story before too much longer. He’d like to avoid the landmines only women seemed to see. “So what’s worse than his parents’ basement?”

  Lia nudged the bacon aside with her fork before picking up a mouthful of lettuce sans salad dressing.

  Chapter 7

  Lia chewed the dry and tasteless salad. It begged for dressing, but her stubbornness refused to allow it. She usually asked for the dressing on the side so she could give her salad a light drizzle instead of the ginormous dousing most restaurants delivered. Maverick had gotten all territorial about her eating habits, though, and ordered for her. Now she couldn’t put any dressing on her greens. It was the principal of the matter.

  “So?” Maverick’s eyebrow lifted as she continued to chew on what he rightly referred to as rabbit food. “What’s worse than his parents’ basement?”

  Lia forced her bite of salad down. Who needed dressing anyway? Or the calories it brought.

  Maverick was right. She’d been losing weight. Even her drawstring scrubs were getting loose on her. She had weight to spare, though. He didn’t need to make such a big deal out of it.

  She reached for her water but set it back down before she took a drink. Friday night’s date had been horrible, her worst in a long time. Maybe talking it over with Maverick would help her find the humor in it.

  She could use some humor.

  All she’d managed to find so far were the ugly feelings stirred up inside her, but telling Maverick about her dates — even the colossal failures — always managed to make her laugh.

  He dragged a fry through the ketchup dripping down from his burger and onto the plate and stuffed it in his mouth as he stared at her.

  She shook her head and sighed. “His parents kicked him out of their basement.”

  To give him credit, the corner of Maverick’s mouth barely lifted. “So where does he live then?”

  “With his grandparents.”

  The other corner of his mouth lifted. “In their basement?”

  He was having entirely too much fun with this.

  “You’re killing me here. If not his grandparents’ basement, then where?”

  “They’re at an assisted living facility.”

  “And…?”

  A small laugh escaped. “Overnight guests aren’t allowed.”

  His cobalt eyes danced with mirth before his smile spread wide. “So then…?”

  “He’s a stowaway.”

  It shouldn’t be possible for eyebrows to go that far north. “A stowaway?”

  She battled her laughter valiantly. Tears pooled in her eyes as she fought to get the words out before she gave in to the hilarity, but they were the good kind of tears. “He hides in their room and sleeps in their closet at night so nobody can find him.”

  His eyes grew wide. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Lia shook her head.

  Maverick’s bark of laughter filled the diner. “What does this catch do for a living?”

  “I thought his profile said he was a network engineer.”

  “But…?”

  “I misread it.” Another giggle passed Lia’s lips. Grown, dignified women didn’t giggle. She should know better. “Apparently he’s a Network Elf named Ne’er.”

  Maverick threw his head back and laughed again. “He listed his level on Network Knights.” He ground the heels of his hands against his eyes. “As his occupation.” The sound of his laughter abated, but his shoulders continued to shake.

  “He’s trying to make his way up to being an…” Attempting to hold in her laughter was like asking a punctured balloon to hold its helium. “He’s trying to get to the next level so he can be a Network Orc.”

  Yep. Her dating life had hit an all-time low. She’d gone out with an elf who lived in his grandparents’ closet…and saw nothing wrong with that arrangement. Lia shuddered.

  Why couldn’t she find a man like Maverick? One who worked a real job, lived in a real home, had real friends, and went to a real church?

  Holy Hearts had better deliver. The elf had marked Christian on his profile, but only because he ultimately wanted to become a Network Druid which somehow meant he had spiritual aspirations. He’d gone on to explain that all religions were the same, so he’d check-marked every single box under the Religion and Spirituality section of his user profile.

  Did people actually think that way? Surely not. In her line of work, she met tons of people who didn’t share her faith. They still recognized that differences existed among the different faiths, though. To think they were all the same seemed so…strange.

  Lia sat back in the booth, studied her dry-as-a-bone-left-in-the-Sahara-desert-for-three-months salad, and picked up her fork. She could choke it down. She needed to eat, after all, and since she refused the use of dressing, her choices were limited.

  Before she could get the offensively tasteless vegetables into her mouth, Maverick brushed his fingers against her forearm. “So your Network Elf is the reason you got mad at me about the bacon?”

  Oh. Why’d he have to go and remember that part of their conversation? “Not exactly.”

  “Seriously. I’m happy to dust off my brass knuckles if you need me to.”

  Ha. Maverick was as likely to own brass knuckles as the Network Elf. At least if Maverick owned them, they’d be real and not in some virtual video game treasure chest.

  Lia set the untouched forkful of salad back in her bowl. “He said something that upset me. No need to go all Neanderthal on me.”

  “Let’s see… You reacted when I mentioned your weight. So what’d the guy say?”

  Was she really as transparent as all that?

  “I’m just guessing here, but I’d say your interested-in-sports date who watches all his sports on TV is probably not the buffest dude around…?”

  “He gives my Uncle Marty a run for his money.” Uncle Marty referred to his midsection as a root beer belly. His wife called it a cupcake graveyard.

  Maverick bit his bottom lip, his stare intense.

  “He was disappointed in my appearance, that’s all. He expected something different.”

  His eyes drilled straig
ht into her. “He didn’t dare call you fat.”

  Lia shook her head. “Said I was too skinny and needed more meat on my bones if I wanted to attract a real man.”

  Maverick’s hands bunched into fists where they rested on either side of his plate. “I’m sorry, Lia. For men everywhere, and for my thoughtless comment earlier, I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged.

  “The guy’s a jerk, and you’re better off without him.”

  Lia picked up her fork again, then set it down and stared at the tureen of salad dressing. Should she? “Why do you always try to sneak bacon onto my plate?”

  Maverick ran a hand through hair the color of dark chocolate before sitting back and dropping both hands into his lap. “I don’t want to see you starving yourself because of this online dating. It’s your life, and I don’t have the right to tell you how to eat. I… I worry about you, though. You’ve had some loser dates, and you used to always say bacon is your comfort food.” Color climbed Maverick’s neck. “I don’t know. I thought I was helping. Ever since that jerk made the plus-size remark…” He broke eye contact. “I just want to help.”

  Lia glanced at her salad dressing one more time before shaking her head and reaching for the tureen. “Don’t think this means I’m going to start letting you have your way.”

  Maverick nodded, a twinkle in his eyes, as she drizzled dressing. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Two bites later, Lia asked the all-important question. “What about you? Any dates this week?”

  He grinned. “I attended a meeting with one of the women I met.”

  What kind of date took place at a meeting? “Um…is she an addict?”

  Maverick shook his head as he reached for his burger again. “She does a lot of mission work. We went to an informational get-together for an upcoming mission trip to Indonesia. I expressed an interest, and she asked if I’d like to tag along.”