The Schemer (Harbor City 3)

One knock and the door opened wide, revealing Helene and Alberto holding hands and looking like they’d been together for years and settled into that kind of bonded happiness he only ever saw on TV or when he’d go over to Frankie’s house as a kid and see Mr. and Mrs. Hartigan interact.

“Finally, you’re here,” Alberto said with a wide grin.

“Alberto, darling, your mother was asking for you right before the doorbell buzzed; do you mind checking in on her?” Helene asked.

“Of course.” He gave Helene a knowing look.

Spidey sense tingling, he felt his gaze follow Alberto through the large living room until he stopped next to a tiny woman who had to be eighty draped in black lace and another woman who he’d know in a zero-visibility snowstorm let alone a semi-crowded Harbor City cocktail party. His pulse kicked it into high gear and every sense went on alert. Everly. She was here. He couldn’t look away. She was wearing a familiar black sheath dress. He knew the feel of that dress, knew how it looked crumpled into a ball on his bedroom floor next to her sky-high heels and scraps of lace she called panties—if she was even wearing any that day. The memory immediately had him wondering what was under that dress tonight.

That was bad enough. What was worse was the unraveling of the tension wrapped around him like invisible barbed wire as soon as he saw her. The disappearance, for the first time in five days, of the biting tightness that had worked its way down to his bones was as much of a relief as it was a shock.

“Don’t feel bad; it happens to us all,” Helene said, the sincerity in her voice genuine.

Ignoring the urge to rush over to Everly, Tyler turned his attention back to his host. “What’s that?”

“Falling in love.”

What the— “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because you have no poker face when it comes to Everly.” Triumph lingered in every cultured syllable.

The pieces fell into place. The board members were there—along with Hudson, Felicia, Sawyer, Clover, and an unsmiling Irena and Carlo who, judging by their body language, were having about as much fun at the dinner in their honor as Tyler was—but his gaze kept going back to Everly, who hadn’t stopped glaring at him since he spotted her. “So this was a setup.”

“Did you really expect anything else?”

Well, he shouldn’t have, but his instincts had been all fucked up since the first time that Ms. 3B decided to stomp-walk across his ceiling. Not that he’d admit that. “Alberto said this was a chance to redeem myself after the gala and that the entire board would be here.”

Helene shrugged. “It is and they are.”

He scanned the room, confirming that Alberto was mixing and mingling among all the board members, stopping occasionally to make eye contact with Tyler and wave. That was where his attention needed to be. Not on the woman across the room who was sipping a glass of champagne and gesturing wildly with her hands while she talked with the old lady in lace. It was where his attention would be.

Mind made up, he mentally promised not to pay her any attention—and immediately found himself watching her again. Pull your head out of your ass, Jacobson. “I don’t like being manipulated.”

“Who does?” Helene asked. “But a schemer like yourself should understand that eventually the tables are going to get turned on you. Take a lesson from a kindred spirit—love is too valuable to throw away. If you’re lucky enough to find it, you fight for it.”

Everly must have felt his gaze because she glanced over at him and gave him the kind of glare that didn’t need words to say “fuck you” and then returned to her conversation with the woman who had to be Alberto’s mother. A kick in the balls with one of her pointy-toed shoes would have felt better.

“She doesn’t want me here.”

Helene made a noise that if it would have come from another woman he would have called it a snort. “Good thing it’s not her home, then.”

With that, Helene wandered off toward her sons and their significant others. Alberto was already there. Seeing the group of them laughing and chatting away made Tyler’s stomach burn with the bittersweet knowledge that that could have been him with Everly. If he had different priorities or she’d been a different woman, they could be like the other couples—happy. Instead, they were on opposite sides of the room. It wasn’t right. He should say something, anything, to smooth this over. Before he got a chance, though, Helene announced dinner was served. Not surprisingly, he found himself sitting next to Everly. It was now or never and even though he didn’t have a plan, he jumped on it anyway.

Lowering his voice so only she could hear, he said, “I just want to apologize.”

She shook out her linen napkin and draped it over her lap without looking at him. “I just want it to never get below sixty degrees.”

Okay. That went over about as well as the idea of no second breakfast to a hobbit. Still, he hadn’t gotten this far in life by giving in when things got tough. “I shouldn’t have said what I said, the way I said it, at the gala. I’m sorry.”

This time Everly did turn and look at him. He expected to see heat, anger, hurt, anything. Instead her face was completely neutral.

“But you meant it. Every word, don’t try to act like you didn’t,” she said, her voice quiet, calm, and thick with her accent. “Us Riverside girls can smell bullshit from five miles away.”

…

Thank God Helene wasn’t serving steak or Everly would be tempted to use the serrated blade on Tyler’s thigh. He just wanted to apologize. What a load of crap. He wanted to make things look good in front of Alberto and the board members. That’s what men like him did. They sure didn’t cause a scene. So what if the bags under his eyes were getting bags and the scruff on his jaw looked more than a little scraggly, she still should have run over him in the parking garage when she’d had the chance.

“Everly—”