Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  Aspen

  Rubbing my eyes, I saunter toward the entrance. Hugo is waiting for me, barking to whoever has disrupted our sleep.

  “Who the fuck is ringing the bell at six in the morning?” Scarlett complains. “If I wanted to be up before eight, I’d be at the ranch.”

  “How do you survive that life?” I frown, she’s not a morning person.

  “Coffee and no human contact for the first five hours.” She sighs.

  I swing the door open to find our next-door neighbor. Anderson is wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a tight muscle shirt. Hmm, I could get used to seeing this in the morning.

  “Wanna go for a run?” His question shakes me out of my irrational thoughts.

  Tilting my head to the side and pursing my lips, I stare at him. Running is a foreign concept to me. I’m up for Zumba, some kickboxing or cycling. If I’m desperate, I’ll go with Brynn to her yoga classes. Walking Hugo is acceptable, but running doesn’t appeal to me. Where am I going? Who’s chasing me? I don’t understand the point. Unless I’m running for my life, it’s not happening

  “Mm, nice tats,” Scarlett utters with that raspy voice that makes men fall for her whenever she’s trying to get laid. Turning my head slightly, I notice she’s wearing close to nothing. Panties and a see-through tank top. I hit her with a ‘keep your panties on’ glare. We have rules; we don’t hit on each other’s friends. No, we have a rule for her. She can’t sleep with our guy friends. Mrs. “One Night Stand” leaves them broken and wanting more and we end up losing friends. “I wouldn’t go for a run, but I can take you back to my room.”

  Surprisingly, Anderson’s eyes widen with panic. He shoots me a “please, help me,” stare. Hmm, he’s not going to take her suggestion, offer a rain check, or flirt with her. Hugo, who sits by my side, gives me an idea.

  “He means Hugo, Scarlett, not us.”

  “Oh well, the invitation is open. I’ll be in my room.” She winks at him and goes back to the guest room.

  “I meant you,” Anderson whispers, brushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

  “No, thank you. I’m not a runner.” I yawn again.

  “Not a runner?” He gawks. “Running is the easiest way to exercise. Come on, join me.”

  “What’s my motivation?”

  “You need motivation?” I nod once, angling my face as I wait for him to come up with something. “There are many benefits to running.”

  I hold up a hand, stopping him right there. “There are different ways to achieve the same benefits. Do you know that sex is the same as running?”

  A slow smile spreads across his face. “So you want us to have sex?”

  “What?” I crinkle up my face, confused why would he… oops… “No, I didn’t mean let’s have sex. I just threw out some knowledge—a way to explain that running isn’t the easiest way to exercise. I wouldn’t offer to have sex ‘just because’, I have a boyfriend.”

  “Yes, you two are the picture of the perfect couple. How’s the sex?”

  “How’s the sex?” I squint, chewing the inside of my lip. How did we end up having this conversation?

  “Interesting.” He bobs his head, holding his arms behind his back, assessing me. “Poor sex.”

  “Why are we analyzing my sex life? How’s your sex life?”

  “My sex life?” He licks his full bottom lip before that stupid smirk appears. Staring at me, he scratches the stubble under his chin. “It’s healthy, Doc. I could demonstrate if you’re worried about my well-being.”

  “Friends don’t have sex,” I say, my tone comes out defensive; or maybe I’m trying to convince us both that sex is off the table. Yes, there will never be sex between us. He’s my friend.

  “So, we are friends.”

  “I like to think so.” I bow my head slightly.

  His eyes lock on me, the lightness disappearing. My heart’s pulsing up my throat as my cheeks heat up. Alarms sound inside my head. “I don’t want to interrupt you anymore,” I blurt.

  Pointing toward the kitchen, as if something is waiting for me I start walking backward. “I need three more hours of sleep before heading to the free clinic.” Then, I pretend to look at the clock on the opposite wall. “My shift starts at noon. I won’t be home until tomorrow morning, if I’m lucky.”

  He frowns. “Okay, that’s a crazy schedule. Why would you work so much?”

  Because keeping busy is the best way to survive, it distracts me from him. It’s time to call a new therapist. This man is shifting my emotions, and that’s not good for my system.

  Looking at his watch, he nods four times. “You owe me dinner and a movie. When am I cashing that in?”

  “Soon?” Never. “We can check my schedule tomorrow night.”

  “Actually, I leave town tomorrow night.” He exhales, tossing his head up and looking at the sky.

  “In three weeks when I’m back,” he declares, then shakes his head. I relax. Maybe he’ll be gone for good. How do I feel about it?

  Don’t feel!

  “Mom and I are going to see another doctor.” He gives me a funny look, narrowing his gaze. “Do you have time to accompany us?”

  “Where?”

  “San Jose, California,” he explains. “One of the best oncologists in the world has a clinic there. There’s an experimental treatment that might help Mom.”

  I open my mouth to say no but I remember when Dad was sick. Like with Anderson, it was only the two of us. My parent’s marriage was falling apart. Austin, my brother, and I learned that they’d been having problems for years. My father and my brother had their differences. Meaning Austin stayed away from Dad. I was the one who looked for second opinions, alternative medicine, different procedures and traveled along with Dad to various states to find a doctor who might give us some hope. It was cathartic for me. If it hadn’t been for Brooklyn and Scarlett supporting me during those days, I don’t know if I could’ve survived. “Text me the name of the doctor and the dates.”

  “Thank you.” He smiles, then turns to Hugo. “Do you think he’d like to go for a run?”

  I take a step toward the coat rack and unhook his leash. “Hugo, would you like to go for a run?”

  He nods, barking twice. I adjust his leash and hand him to Anderson. He leans closer, kissing my cheek. “Go back to bed.” His warm, deep voice echoes through my chest, making my heart beat fast. “Rest, friend.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but he leaves before I can think of anything smart to voice.

  Me: I requested vacation time.

  Anderson: I take that as a yes. You’re going to San Jose with us.

  Me: No, I decided to go to Hawaii.

  Anderson: Can it wait? I’ll take you once Mom gets better.

  For a second, I imagine myself walking by the beach next to him. No wait, he’s leaving for a couple of weeks. What’s going to happen to his mom? She’s doing well. She’s keeping up with her daily activities. But what if she needs him?

  Me: Who will stay with Sophia while you’re working?

  “Hello, stranger,” Brynn places her tray next to mine, taking a seat.

  “Heard that you had to drain a penis.” She laughs. Ugh, I wish we had our own dedicated emergency pediatric unit so I wouldn’t have to deal with shit like this. “Was it a hard procedure?”

  I push my food tray away. “Thank you for reminding me. Nothing says ‘enjoy your dinner’ better than ‘how thick was that dick’?”

  She crinkles her nose.

  “Yeah, you’re not the first one cracking puns about it.”

  “A, you get the craziest cases.” She continues laughing, handing me her apple pie and taking away my ice cream sandwich. “They are out of ice cream sandwiches, I know you don’t mind.”

  “Can we discuss something else?” I shrug, grabbing my fork while moving the salad away from me and pulling the dessert closer. “The weather’s a better topic than today’s case.”

  “Scarlett texted me, she want
s to fuck the next-door neighbor.”

  I arch a brow. “Mr. Wang?”

  “No, Anderson.”

  “Of course, she does,” I grunt, checking my phone. “We have rules. He’s a friend. She isn’t allowed to fuck our friends.”

  Anderson: She’s doing well, but I’m hoping her beautiful neighbors will keep an eye on her?

  Me: Yes, we can do that. Where are you going?

  Anderson: I can’t tell you.

  Me: A tattoo emergency, I assume.

  Anderson: Yes.

  Ugh, can he say more than a few words?

  Brynn glances at my phone and snickers, “yet, another one who wants to do the next-door neighbor.”

  I glare at her, moving my phone out of her sight.

  “Do? What are we, in junior high?” I roll my eyes, stuffing my phone back inside my pocket. “No, I don’t want to have sex with Anderson. He’s a friend. I’d rather not lose him. Hence, Scarlett should keep her claws away.”

  Me: I wish you’d tell me what you do for a living.

  Brynn bites on her sandwich, staring at me, chewing it slowly. After swallowing, she refutes, “I’m here for you. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

  “About?”

  “It’s okay to be attracted to a man who isn’t Michael.”

  “I know. I’m attracted to Heath,” I remind her as I pull my buzzing cellphone out of my pocket.

  Anderson: You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat.

  Me: That’s so cliché!

  “Anderson is hot. And from what Sophia says, he’s a good man.” Brynn continues eating her dinner while she speaks. “Yesterday night he humored his mother while we had a romcom marathon.”

  “You mean you want to do him?”

  “Now look who’s the one behaving like a junior high student.” She chuckles, peeling her teeth. We laugh. Nothing like having your bestie around. “I won’t continue this conversation. He’s cool. I think he’s an excellent addition to your life, and I hope you realize it when it’s time.”

  “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Tell me about that penis again. Was the guy strikingly hot?”

  I shiver shaking my head, springing up from my seat. “Leave me alone, Brooklyn. My break is over. What time are you off?”

  “Nine, and you?”

  “Eleven.”

  “I’ll wait around for you.” She smiles. “Anything to prevent you from staying until tomorrow morning.”

  6

  Anderson

  It’s a clear night, the crisp breeze cooling the unseasonably hot spring day. Today should be our last day in this forsaken place. Only a few more minutes. We wait and observe. I lean against a pillar by the entrance of a cantina that reeks of alcohol, tobacco, and pot. My cowboy hat covers my dark hair, my head is tilted low to conceal my face. The streets are virtually empty, barring an occasional car passing by. Patrons come and go, but all is peaceful. It should be at least for another twenty minutes or so before we have to jet off, with or without the information we need.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Everhart warns through my earpiece.

  “Don’t sweat it.” I tilt my chin to the left, murmuring close to my mic. My heart speeds up but I control it fast. Shit, I’m off five minutes. Moving my gaze to the cantina, I check on Tiago. He’s two tables away from the emergency exit, two men sit around the table with Tiago. His right foot taps twice, then he touches his hat. Yes, he’s kicking ass and should be done soon. “This should be over in ten.”

  “On time to get the fuck out.” Everhart’s voice sounds anxious. “I’m climbing off the roof and heading toward the car. Kowalski get ready.”

  Be careful at midnight, they warned us. The Cinderella Effect, my informant called it. In this small town of Monajillo, Chihuahua, only miles from El Paso, Texas, the police don’t care what happens after midnight. Anyone could go from home to home on a killing spree, and no one will show up until the next morning to do a body count. Cartels pay them enough to look the other way.

  Americans cross the border to buy drugs and guns. This is the best place to acquire almost everything, including human organs. Human trafficking is a big branch. There’s always tons of shit going through here to the other side. The Mexicans might have a problem with all the fucking trafficking, but it’s the American consumers who create it. We need drugs, weapons, and sex among other things. We purchase them and our neighbors continue producing, acquiring, and supplying them. The Feds try to eliminate those groups of entrepreneurs. It’s impossible. There’s always a new guy bringing different or better shit at a better price. They’re all well trained with more gun power than any government agency, and sometimes the military.

  Working this area is dangerous. Years working as an Operator for Delta Force gives me an advantage. I don’t slack on the job, though; I’m always alert. I move my left hand to my right side. That’s when I notice a dark Suburban turning the corner, heading in our direction. The tinted window lowers and I only have a few seconds to crouch, roll and yell, “Fucker get out!”

  Gunshots ring through my ears, accompanied by an explosion and a loud report of a high-powered rifle. More bullets thump close to my head. I continue my way to the end of the building, move around and pull out my gun from the sleeve shooting toward the van. Fuck.

  “What happened asshole?” Tiago’s voice comes from behind.

  I remove the empty magazine from my weapon, throwing it and setting a new one. “Did you get—” A hand comes out from a moving sedan holding a flame or a… “Fuck they are going to blow out the cantina. Run faster.”

  Our ride is on the other side of the street, less than a mile away, but my legs aren’t moving the way I want. My heart rate speeds up as the bullets are sounding in the near distance. We finally reach the car and Kowalski starts the engine when he sees us. As we dive inside the car he slams the gas pedal and we’re gone.

  “Motherfucker.” Tiago sighs. “Where did they come from?”

  “Did you get anything?” I press again. We’ve been here for almost three weeks. We have one fucking job. He better have done something right, or I’ll fucking kill him.

  He grins, pulling a baggy from his leather jacket. “Samples.” He laughs. “A couple of names, we have a trace.”

  “Bradley better get off my back,” I suggest taking the bag away from him to check the ‘samples.' “At least he won’t shoot us for losing the informant.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” He huffs. I place the shit I took from him inside my backpack. “Next time you do the talking. I’ll play the drunk fucker.”

  He takes off the facial hair he wore for the job. “We have what we needed, trust me, with those names we can find the supplier.”

  I can’t control the grin. “You mean we’ll fucking finish this job with those names? Crossing the border at night is starting to get old.”

  “I fucking love saying ‘Cerveza porfavor’,” Tiago, who’s half Cuban, pretends he doesn’t speak Spanish. This is why we were chosen for the job. We both know more than asking for a beer. “Swear to God. The next time I book a flight to Mexico it will be to one of those beaches. Instead of my guns, I’ll have two hot women by my side.”

  “Whatever rocks your boat.” I take off the fucking clothes I’m wearing. “For me it’s a visit to my mother and camping.”

  “You need to party more, or get a steady woman, Hawk.” Kowalski slows the car down as we reach the bridge to cross to the United States.

  I groan, partying is overrated. Perhaps when I get back to Seattle, I’ll hook up with a girl at the Silver Moon. One weekend of losing myself will suit me. A regular woman? I hear a chuckle inside my head. The mere thought of having one is stupid, not with my lifestyle. Shaking off the stupidity Kowalski threw my way, I finish changing my clothes, hiding the ones that stink of alcohol inside a plastic bag. The border patrol might be cool with the bribe to let us go through without checking the vehicle, but I don’t want to push my luck. If there’s a
place I try to avoid it’s jail. Undercover gigs aren’t exciting anymore. Pulling my phone out of the duffle bag, I turn it on, receiving a mass of texts at the same time. They’re all from the same person.

  Cute Neighbor: You left a day before without saying goodbye. A note on a basket filled with different kinds of purple candy wasn’t enough.

  Cute Neighbor: Yes, we’ll keep an eye on your mom.

  Cute Neighbor: Off the grid. Tattoos and off the grid…you really have to work on your excuses.

  Cute Neighbor: How hard is to turn on your phone?

  Cute Neighbor: Your mom is doing fine, she misses you.

  Cute Neighbor: Just confess, you’re a spy.

  Cute Neighbor: Week one and no sign of life from the ‘tattoo artist’ aka ‘man of international intrigue’.

  Cute Neighbor: Sophia is doing well.

  Cute Neighbor: Will you be home before we leave for San Jose?

  Me: I think you miss me.

  Cute Neighbor: Who is this?

  Me: The tattoo artist.

  Cute Neighbor: I take it the mission was a success.

  Me: Were you worried?

  Cute Neighbor: Yeah, you promised a vacation to Hawaii. I can’t cash it in if you die.

  Me: I never break a promise. I’ll call in a couple of days. Take care of yourself, Doc.

  Standing outside of the barn, I let Tiago speak. His fake Texas drawl slides off his tongue like butter. “We only need the space for a few days.”

  “As I explained, the boss will be here soon and—”

  An ATV approaches, cutting his voice. A tall, slender blonde hops off the bike and marches toward us, sporting a huge scowl. “What’s going on, Javier?” She takes off her sunglasses and narrows her gaze, sizing us up.

  “These men want to rent the empty barn as a warehouse, Miss Scarlett. I explained to them that we don’t do that kind of business.” Javier repeats the same words he said to us.

  Oh, fuck me! No, not her. Her best friend can fuck me.

  “Good afternoon, gentleman.” she sizes up.