Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel

by Melonie Johnson

  “Hey yourself.” Ana didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “You’re coming to your own party, right?”

  “I’m guessing you talked to Ryan.” Sadie swallowed a bite of goo. “Yes, I’m coming.” She peeled the rest of the wrapper off and eyed the remainder of her lunch with distaste. “Thanks for inviting Bo, by the way.”

  “Of course. Have you two decided on costumes?”

  “I haven’t even talked to him about going yet.”

  “I figured as much,” Ana chided. “Lucky for you, I’ve got that covered too.”

  “You picked out our costumes?” Sadie asked, not putting it past Ana, party planner extraordinaire.

  “Tempting, but no.” Ana let out a low chuckle. “I’m not going to go full fairy godmother on you.”

  “Then what?” Sadie wondered.

  “You’ll see,” her best friend promised. Sadie could hear the mischievous grin in Ana’s voice. “Just promise me you’ll pick something that shows off Bo’s assets.”

  Sadie’s mouth quirked. “You mean his ass?”

  “Exactly.”

  There was a tap on her dressing room door. “I gotta go, someone’s knocking.”

  “Perfect. See you soon, birthday girl.”

  Sadie ended the call and hurried to the door.

  “Bo!” She glanced up and down the hall, but nobody was around.

  “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’m here on business.”

  “So, this is a professional visit then,” she teased.

  “Not exactly.” He leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe. “I hear there’s a costume party we need to get ready for?”

  Sadie’s cheeks heated. “Sorry I didn’t invite you myself. I kind of forgot about it.”

  “Accidentally on purpose?” Bo joked, reaching for her hand and pulling her into the hall.

  “Could be. I’ve had … other things on my mind.” She looked up at him, the ever-present sizzle of electricity zinging between them. “I’m glad you’re coming to my party.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Bo cleared his throat. “But,” he said briskly, tugging her down the hall, “we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The note of mischief in his voice reminded Sadie of her best friend. “What are you and Ana up to?”

  They rounded a corner, and Bo dropped her hand, maintaining a professional distance as he led her through a maze of several more hallways, all bustling with activity from the various productions filming in the warehouse. “Thirty years old.” He whistled. “How’s it feel to be on the brink of a new decade?”

  “You tell me, old man,” Sadie shot back. She was joking, but beneath the banter, this birthday had her on edge more than she cared to admit. She thought of all the usual adages, you’re as young as you feel, blah blah blah. But the reality was that in a few days, she wouldn’t be a twenty-something anymore. She’d be a thirty-something.

  “Harsh.” Bo placed a hand over his chest, as if she’d wounded him. “Ah, here we are.” He nodded at the set of wide double doors up ahead.

  “Wardrobe?” She glanced back at him. “We can’t just waltz in there and help ourselves, you know.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re going to get us into trouble,” she whispered, but her warning lacked heat. It was hard to resist him when he was like this. Playful. Relaxed. Bo in any mood was tempting, but Bo in a good mood was irresistible.

  His golden-brown eyes were sweet as warm honey as he raised a cocky eyebrow, giving her his scoundrel’s grin. Bo pulled a keycard from his pocket. “Trust me.”

  Sadie’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. He had to know what that smile did to her. “Lead the way, flyboy.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty.” He chuckled and unlocked the door. “That does give me an idea for our costumes, though.”

  “What?” Sadie asked, gazing at the endless rows of costumes lining the studio’s wardrobe department.

  “Star Wars,” he suggested, weaving between the aisles.

  “As much as I admire the rebel princess, I am not enabling your Princess Leia fetish,” Sadie warned Bo as she trailed behind him. “No cinnamon-bun Leia.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, golden eyes flashing as they moved down the length of her body. “I was thinking metal-bikini Leia.”

  “Perv.” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Does every man in the galaxy have that fantasy?”

  “Probably,” he admitted.

  She smirked, tugging an elegantly embroidered velvet coat off a hanger. “Interview with a Vampire?”

  “No fangs.” Bo made a face.

  Sadie laughed. “Okay.” They both fell silent, sifting through the racks. She paused, reaching for a billowy white shirt. “Oooh, pirates.”

  “I’m not enabling your Jack Sparrow fetish,” Bo countered. “Does every woman have that fantasy?”

  “Not me.” Sadie turned to face him. “I was thinking about Captain Blood. You know, Errol Flynn?”

  “Hmm. Maybe.” He eyed the shirt speculatively. “Who would you be?”

  “Olivia de Havilland’s character. Arabella Bishop.”

  “I’m not sure people would get it.” Bo scratched his chin. “We need something a little more recognizable, abeja.”

  An idea blossomed in her brain. Bo must have made a similar connection, because just as she opened her mouth, he also suggested, “Robin Hood!”

  “It’s perfect,” Sadie beamed, shoving the pirate shirt back on the rack. “I can be Maid Marian. I have a Ren Faire dress that will work great. And speaking of Renaissance Faires, you…” She turned to Bo, gaze dragging slowly up his body. “You get to wear tights.”

  “What?”

  “It’s Robin Hood; you have to wear tights,” Sadie insisted.

  “I changed my mind, I’m good with the fangs,” Bo declared.

  “Oh, no you don’t. It’s my birthday and you’re doing this my way.”

  Bo leaned forward in a snarky imitation of a courtly bow. “As you wish, m’lady.”

  CHAPTER 22

  ON HALLOWEEN MORNING, at precisely 6:52 a.m., the exact time Sadie had been born, the door to her apartment burst open and Ana, the one-woman birthday brigade, barged in. Making Sadie wish that one, she hadn’t given Ana a key to her place; and two, she had been born later in the day. Much later.

  Twelve hours later, while Ana gave some last-minute instructions to a trio of servers, Sadie glanced around the yacht’s decked-out dining area. Her best friend had outdone herself. In one corner of the room, a bartender was mixing something in a pitcher. In another, a DJ was testing sound and light equipment. Sadie thought she spied a karaoke machine. Ana sauntered over to Sadie and handed her a glass. “Try this.”

  “What is it?” Sadie eyed the glowing pink liquid warily.

  “Your signature birthday drink. I came up with the recipe myself. Bottoms up.”

  “I don’t know.” Sadie hesitated. Usually she never refused one of Ana’s cocktails, but she still had a couple weeks left of filming and didn’t need to show up on set with a hangover. That damn 411 site would have a field day.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” Ana scoffed. “It’s your birthday. Your fucking thirtieth birthday. You are entitled to relax and enjoy a drink, damn it. Now, bottoms up, bitch!”

  “Okay, okay. I’m drinking, I’m drinking.” Sadie took a healthy sip from her cocktail.

  “Well?” Ana raised her eyebrows expectantly over the rim of her own glass.

  “It’s good,” Sadie admitted. Sweet yet tart, she could barely taste the alcohol, which experience told her meant there was way more in there than she thought. She took another sip, tension easing out of her. Oh yeah, there was definitely more booze in this then there seemed. “You know,” Sadie drawled, nose tickling with the promise of a good buzz to come. “You’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right,” Ana replied automatically. After
a beat, her mouth curved saucily. “What am I right about?”

  “It’s my birthday.”

  “It is.”

  “My fucking thirtieth birthday.”

  “Yep.”

  “And it’s about time I relaxed and enjoyed it, damn it,” Sadie declared.

  “Finally!” Ana whooped and raised her glass. “There’s my girl. Lord, I’ve missed you. Let’s get this party started!”

  Several hours and almost as many signature birthday cocktails later, the birthday girl was beaming, watching her best friend light the candles on her birthday cake. And not just any cake. A donut cake. Ana had outdone herself, creating a towering masterpiece built from tiered stacks of homemade donut holes. Ana told her she’d made each layer a different flavor, and Sadie was looking forward to tasting every single kind.

  Ana had also said she’d considered designing the tower of donuts to be shaped like a certain part of the female anatomy. And while Sadie was curious to know how that would have turned out, she was glad she didn’t have to blow candles off a giant donut hole vagina.

  Instead, Sadie prepared to blow out the line of purple candles marching in a row, spiraling around the layers of donuts. Sadie took in the smiling faces shining all around her—thirty candles provided quite the glow to view them by—thirty-one, if you counted the one for good luck, which she did. As her friends sang a rousing rendition of the birthday song, Sadie closed her eyes and prepared to make her wish.

  It came to her easily. She blinked, momentarily startled by the realization that what she wanted most in the world hadn’t changed for a very long time. Deep down, year after year, her wish was always the same. Sadie blew out the candles, careful to save the good luck one for the end.

  Applause burst around the room as the last flame winked out of existence. Sadie studied the wisps of smoke rising in curling tendrils, watching them fade away to nothing. She’d expected to feel a wave of melancholy, a sense of despair about growing older, but instead, she was filled with a buzzing sensation, and not just from her birthday cocktails. No, this was the same feeling she’d had the day of the reading, the day she’d seen Bo again for the first time.

  Hope.

  She turned, searching for Bo among the crowd. As if knowing she was looking for him, he appeared before her, grinning as he tugged on the long gauzy veil she wore as part of her costume. “You’re lucky you didn’t light yourself on fire while blowing out all those candles, Maid Marian.”

  Sadie matched his grin. “I appreciate the concern, Sir Robin.”

  “Can I get you a piece of cake, m’lady?” he asked, gesturing to where Ana was directing the cutting and serving of her creation.

  “Later.” Sadie glanced around the crowded room. Everywhere she looked, people were eating and drinking, laughing and chatting. It was nice to see everyone having such a good time, and it had been fun to catch up with friends she hadn’t seen since college, but what she really wanted was a few minutes alone with Bo, preferably somewhere quiet. “How about we take a walk first?” she suggested. “Work up an appetite.”

  With a jaunty bow, Bo swept off his feathered cap and offered her his arm. “Your wish is my command.”

  Sadie laughed, delighted by his chivalric antics. “Well, I am the birthday girl,” she agreed.

  He tucked her hand against his side and led her up the steps to a heated glass-enclosed deck. The area was deserted, a stunning view of the night sky spreading out before them, city lights sparkling along the shoreline. “Oh, this is perfect.” Sadie sighed with pleasure, leaning her head on Bo’s chest and absorbing the quiet. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  “Of course.”

  “And for wearing the tights.”

  “Excuse me,” he huffed, “I was informed these are called leggings.”

  “Whatever you want to call them, that’s one wish granted.” She stroked her fingers over his bearded chin. “The only thing that would have made it better was if you’d shaved this into a goatee.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart, a man has to draw the line somewhere.” Bo tugged at the hem of his costume’s leather jerkin. “It’s bad enough I feel like everyone can see my balls in this thing.”

  “Oh?” Sadie’s mouth twitched. “I hadn’t noticed,” she lied, glancing down to admire the powerful swell of his thighs encased in the skintight green fabric.

  He chuckled. “So that was your wish, huh? To see me in tights?”

  “I thought you said they were leggings,” she teased, stepping closer. “And yes, it was my wish, but not the wish.” She tipped her chin, staring up into his golden tiger eyes. “Not my big birthday wish.”

  Bo bent his head, mouth almost brushing hers as he asked, “What did you wish for, then?”

  “She can’t tell you that!” Ana announced, appearing at the top of the stairs and cutting through their quiet moment as neatly as she’d cut the cake. She joined Bo and Sadie on the deck, Cassie, Delaney, and Bonnie trailing behind. Ana clapped Bo on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go help yourself to some cake,” she suggested.

  Bo took in the faces of the women standing in front of him and got the hint. “I think I’ll go get a piece of cake,” he said.

  “Wise man, Peter Pan,” Ana quipped, watching Bo head for the stairs. “By the way, your assets look great in those tights.”

  “I’m Robin Hood,” Bo sniffed. “And they’re called leggings,” he added haughtily, blowing Sadie a kiss before disappearing down the stairs as the girls burst into giggles.

  Ana pulled Sadie in for a hug. “Having a good time, birthday girl?”

  “I was,” Sadie teased.

  “Oh, please.” Delaney shook her head, her tall dome-shaped black-and-white wig teetering. “The Prince of Thieves has been stealing all your time tonight.”

  “Goth Marge Simpson is right,” Cassie agreed. “The birthday girl needs to spend some time with her friends.”

  “Goth Marge Simpson?” Delaney frowned at Cassie in confusion.

  “Isn’t that your costume?” Cassie asked.

  “I’m the Bride of Frankenstein for fudge sake!” Delaney adjusted her giant wig again. “And what’s up with your hair?” she asked Cassie. “You look like you stuck your finger in an electric socket.”

  More giggles erupted, and Sadie joined in. She’d missed this. Missed hanging out with her friends. Life had been much too serious lately.

  “I can’t believe you don’t recognize Hermione Granger.” Cassie pouted as the five of them settled onto plush couches nestled in a sunken section of the deck.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize the Bride of Frankenstein,” Delaney shot back. “I wore this to the class party and even my ankle biters knew who I was supposed to be.”

  “I’m sure your preschoolers would have recognized I was Hermione too.”

  “Now I get it!” Sadie interrupted before the two of them started brawling over costumes. “That’s why Logan is wearing the horrible sweater with the giant letter R on it, right? Your ginger-haired Scot is supposed to be Ron Weasley.”

  “Oh!” Bonnie’s eyes widened in belated understanding. “I thought the R stood for Reid.”

  “Why would he wear that as a costume?” Ana wondered, nose wrinkling.

  “Because that’s his last name,” Bonnie explained in her professor voice.

  “Right. But it’s a costume.” Ana sighed wistfully. “I was hoping he’d wear the kilt.”

  Everyone echoed her sigh. At least that was something they all could agree on. They all liked the kilt.

  “We talked about that,” Cassie admitted. “I suggested Claire and Jamie, but Logan told me he wasn’t wearing a kilt outside in the ‘fecking Chicago cold’ ever again.” Cassie grinned wickedly. “Something about Baltic balls.”

  Snorts of laughter bounced off the glass windows.

  “Confession. I’ve been trying to figure out your costume all night, Ana,” Delaney admitted, giving Ana a once-over. “With all that leather and green skin, wh
o are you supposed to be? The dominatrix version of the Wicked Witch of the West?”

  “Good guess, but no.” Ana raised an arm, showing off her painted green skin. “I’m an alien assassin.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea. I wanted to be Belle and the Beast, but Ryan wanted to come as Galaxy God or something.”

  “Star King.” Sadie laughed, correcting Ana. “It’s from his movie last year. I can’t believe you’re still seeing him,” she teased, glancing at her friend. “Is something more going on between you two?”

  “Why does there have to be more? We’re both in it for a good time, that’s all,” Ana insisted. She circled a green finger in the air. “There’ll be no riding off into the sunset for us.”

  “Why not?” Cassie asked.

  “Because he’s not the one.” Ana shrugged.

  “Don’t worry. Your Mr. Right is out there somewhere,” Bonnie promised.

  “Thanks, Ariel.” Ana snorted. “But I’m beginning to think that’s not in the cards for me. I’ve kissed a lot of frogs, and still no prince.”

  “Same,” Delaney snarked. “This costume is about as close as you’re going to see me get to ever being a bride.” She patted her oversized wig. “Maybe I’ll save this for when I go on sad single-lady cruises. I can hide Bingo in here and smuggle him onboard.”

  “How is Bingo doing?” Sadie asked. She loved hearing stories about Delaney’s pet chinchilla.

  “The usual. Spoiled rotten and lavished with affection by his perpetually single owner.”

  “His owner doesn’t have to be single,” Cassie observed drily.

  “Maybe his owner wants to be single,” Delaney shot back, just as drily.

  “You may change your mind,” Cassie said, a knowing little smile tugging at her lips.

  “Oh, because she’s married now, this one thinks she knows everything,” Ana teased.

  “Yep,” Delaney agreed. “And because her sexy Scot of a husband was once a confirmed bachelor, she thinks she has us bachelorettes figured out.”

  “Knock it off.” Cassie shook her head, cheeks flushing. “I’m just saying, never say never. Anything is possible.” She looked to Sadie for support. “Right, Sadie?”