The Schemer (Harbor City 3)

He wasn’t stalling; he was just stupefied. He wanted to say it. He needed to say it to get his know-it-all best friend off his ass but…he couldn’t. The words turned to ash on his tongue. There was only one reason for that. He loved her. Like a complete moron, he’d fooled around and fallen in love. Hell, he had probably already been halfway there when he’d decided the best idea in the world was to sit on a lounge chair in the parking garage and wait for his bitch queen of an upstairs neighbor to come home. And when she’d gone toe to toe with Irena at the gala, that hadn’t been her being unable to control her temper. That had been her defending him, something he had so little experience with—or so he thought—that he hadn’t been able to identify that feeling of gratitude so he’d freaked out and had pushed her away.

“Shit,” he said, ramming his fingers through his hair. “I’ve fucked it all up.”

Frankie just raised an eyebrow, so Tyler gave him the whole story from the parking spot coin flip to the gala blowup to the way Everly had cut him to the quick at dinner.

“Damn.” Frankie chuckled. “I like that woman. If she hadn’t already fallen for you, I would be shoving you out of the way to make my move.”

“Go for it.” Misery sunk like an anchor in his gut. “She told me to hit the road, wouldn’t even let me apologize tonight at dinner.”

“If I even believed for a millisecond that you meant that, I would. I might be the one who runs into burning buildings for a living, but you’re the true idiot,” Frankie said. “Everly is one of us and, unlike some douchebags, doesn’t need to try to hide it.”

“You got that from one poker night at your house?” Tyler wasn’t disagreeing, but that didn’t mean he was accepting it with grace, either.

“I’m a people person.” He shrugged. “Look, here’s what I’m telling you. Everly is a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. If she wanted to put you on blast, she would have, and smoke would still be wafting from your charred-beyond-recognition ass because of the chewing out you got. But she didn’t. You want her, you gotta fight for her.”

Yeah, it was the kind of thing that made sense on paper, but how in the hell he was supposed to actually make it happen when she wouldn’t even talk to him was a whole other thing. “How?”

“You’re the fucking evil-genius plotter who’s in love with her—you go figure it out,” Frankie said, and gathered up their empty beers as he stood. “Just do it quick because if I have another one of these touchy-feely conversations anytime soon I might throw up.”

“Such a softie.” Tyler stood and walked back toward the house with Frankie.

“Trust me,” his friend said. “‘Soft’ is not the word the ladies use to describe me.”

Tyler may have been laughing again by the time he walked out to his car, but his brain was going at supersonic speeds. Frankie was wrong about the love thing—there was no way he’d fallen for the exact opposite of the kind of woman he needed in his life—but he wanted her, missed her, needed to be around her. Some might say that was the same thing, but he’d seen love up close and personal with his parents. They fought. They said I love you. They fought some more. That wasn’t what he needed in his life. But he did need Everly because he…well, because he did. So like the schemer he was, he spent the drive home going through options and prognosticating outcomes, because this was one plot that had to go according to plan.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

On the best of days, Everly wasn’t a fan of weddings—especially not fancy, five-hundred-guest weddings at the most sought-after church in Harbor City—but today was even worse. She hated love. Love sucked donkey balls dipped in rancid mayo. Love was a lie. Yeah, the timing of her moving through the heartbreak stages from sad but numb to hurt and pissed had coincided with showing up to the chapel to watch Carlo say “I do” for business purposes only to that evil hag Irena. Wasn’t she just the luckiest? Even worse, she had to pretend to be happy about being there. The irony of having to act like a member of Harbor City’s elite wishing the couple well after what had gone down with Tyler wasn’t lost on her.

And speak of the devil, he was heading straight toward where she and Nonna were waiting in the vestibule before they walked down to their assigned seats in the front row. The man looked like hell. His tie was askew. His shirt wrinkled. His scruffy beard had moved straight into the lost-in-the-wilderness stage. And the jerk was still hot enough to make her girlie parts sit up and say, “Hello hottie.” God, she hated him.

“What is he doing here?” she mumbled to herself as he made a beeline over to them.

“Lui è molto carino,” Nonna said, patting Everly’s forearm.

Cute? Yeah, despite the fact that his black tux seemed to hang on him a little more than it had before, it still made his blue eyes stand out. Of course, that wasn’t what she needed to be thinking about right now. Wishing there were more people than just her, Nonna, Alberto, and Carlo in the vestibule to add cover, Everly turned her attention to the closed door leading to the chapel because watching him wasn’t doing a damn thing to make the swirling emotions inside her subside.

It was a mistake. Diverting her focus just meant she didn’t see his final approach until it was too late.

“Everly,” Tyler said, tucking an errant hair behind her ear. “We need to talk.”

Hating how her body instantly responded to him with a yes-please shiver, she refused to look at him. “I’m busy.”

“Everly.” His voice deepened. “I want you. I promise I can make it fun again, just like it was before.”

She whirled on him. “What did you say to me?”

He just stood there, so close she could literally lean over and brush her lips across his jaw, looking like a man who’d been through the wringer and still managed to be the hottest person she’d ever seen in her life. It wasn’t fair. And now he told her he wanted her? Not needed her. Not loved her. But wanted her. After radio silence for weeks? After he’d watched her walk away at the gala without even trying to go after her. After his lame attempt to apologize last night? The spark of anger in her belly grew into a flame, and she held onto it with both hands, not caring if she got burned. Really, it was too late for that anyway.

“I want it to be like it was before,” he repeated. “Fun.”

Alberto, Carlo, and Nonna all stared at the live show of Everly’s humiliation, their mouths agape. Scratch that. Carlo’s mouth was agape. Nonna smiled placidly and Alberto had the smug expression of a man who had all the answers.

When she didn’t say anything—she couldn’t—he kept talking. “I know I was slow on the uptake. Turns out I’m good at reading other people’s motives and shit when it comes to knowing my own. And my motive, from the first moment you almost killed me with your boxes but spared me when I put my foot in my mouth, was to be with you. I’m miserable without you. You look miserable without me.”

She raised an eyebrow in an oh-really reaction because she’d seen herself in the mirror today but couldn’t promise the same of him. “So you want me and that means that I should just fall to the ground overwhelmed with joy? Do you know how many times my dad told my mom he wanted her? Do you know how many times she believed him? Every time right up until she put that rope around h

er neck. I deserve more than someone who wants me. I deserve someone who loves me. Can you say that? Can you say those words?”