Evan's Wish: A Romantic Comedy

by Robin Stone

  “Damn, it’s loud in here tonight,” Liam said.

  I yanked out my wallet and tossed some bills on the table. “No kidding. I’m gonna go home.”

  “What, already?” Liam asked. “We just got here! Game’s not over!”

  I shrugged. “I should call Matt. I haven’t heard from him for a few days. Call me if you need a ride later.”

  He waved at me. “I’m fine. Go do your thing.”

  I said goodbye to everyone on the way out the door. I was relieved to get out of the hot, stuffy bar and hit the cool night air outside. The street was pretty quiet. I thought about Brooke as I walked back to my truck.

  Was she just being nice? Just looking for business? I knew that real estate agents could turn on the charm around people, but there was something more there, I could feel it. Maybe she had a boyfriend. Maybe it was the guy on the phone.

  When I got home, I went straight to my room and turned on the radio to listen to the game. I had the smaller bedroom in the apartment, but I didn’t mind. Liam lived here first, and he was happy for me to move in and share the rent and utilities. The apartment was dated, but good enough with a decent kitchen and a large living room.

  I sat at my small desk and brought up my savings account on my computer. I looked at the balance, saw the amount added from this week’s check, and sighed. The account was growing, but it felt like it was taking forever to save up for a decent down payment.

  I turned down the radio, then picked up my phone to call Matty.

  “Yo,” he said, rock music blaring through the phone. “What’s up?”

  “Matty?” I asked. “I can barely hear you.”

  “Evan? That you? Sorry, let me go in the other room. The guys are over.” The music faded a little. “What’s up?”

  “Just checking in to see how you’re doing.”

  “I know.” There was a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Listen, can we talk another time? We’re going to another apartment to watch the game.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Call me back soon.”

  “I will.”

  The phone went silent. I hung up and turned up the radio. I took out Brooke’s card. Curious, I looked up Turner Real Estate on my computer, scrolling through the agents until I found Brooke’s photo. I clicked on it and saw a list of all her awards and accomplishments—top seller of the year, number one agent in the tri-county area, top sales for the month.

  Brooke was a go-getter. I liked that, but the guys were right, the houses on this site were expensive as hell. I scrolled past a two-million-dollar home on a lake with a dock, and a log home listed at just under a million. The least expensive house I found was half a million.

  Closing the site, I opened another that listed more modest homes. I scrolled to see if there was anything new since the last time I looked, comparing prices and square footage.

  Liam must be having fun with the guys since he didn’t come back early. I watched the rest of the game in the living room, then got ready for bed. I’d climbed into bed and was starting to get sleepy when Liam came home. He gave my door a quick tap on the way to his room, his way of saying goodnight when he came home after me.

  I adjusted my pillow and pulled up my covers, thinking about Brooke and her curves, imagining the warmth of her body against mine. Her skin and hair would smell incredible up close. I had to find out more about her. Screw it, I was gonna ask her out tomorrow. The worst she could do was say no.

  But somehow, I knew she wouldn’t.

  Three

  The next morning, I didn’t see Brooke at all as I went about my morning duties. I mopped the lobby floor, then cleaned the glass on the entry doors, looking up each time I heard a woman’s heels click through the lobby.

  She was probably at work or off showing houses. I couldn’t expect her to be home just because I wanted to talk to her, and it seemed creepy to knock on her door and ask her out.

  I tried to put her out of my mind. An hour later, two guys from the fire department came to help test the new speakers. I nodded when I saw Travis. I knew him from the bar.

  “Hey, Trav,” I said. “How’s it hangin?”

  He chuckled. “Heard you were sweet on someone named Brooke.”

  My neck warmed. “What the hell? How could you know about that?”

  Travis was a tall, blonde, strapping guy who made the ladies’ pants fall down with a flash of his smile. His deep laugh boomed through the cavernous lobby.

  “I went to Cooper’s last night,” he said. “The Three Musketeers told me all about it.”

  Drew, Max, and Liam—those assholes.

  “I see it’s true since your ears are red.” He thumped me on the back. “Ask her out! Who the hell cares what she does for work?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Easy for you to say.”

  It was true—I’d seen the way women acted around firefighters. They didn’t act like that around maintenance guys.

  A text had gone out yesterday, telling the residents the hall alarms would be going off during the day. A few people opened their doors and looked into the hallway when the alarms went off, but most people were at work. Brooke’s door stayed shut during the test, but I was glad. I wanted to talk to her in private.

  I was in the break room, eating a late lunch around one. The alarm testing took a while, and the other guys had already eaten when I heard a knock on the open door. I looked up mid-bite and nearly choked when I saw Brooke standing there.

  I swallowed and stood, brushing my hands on my pants. She looked gorgeous and expensive in a light blue pantsuit, a strand of pearls, her hair tied up off her neck. She looked out of place in the industrial grey and dull white of the break room.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi. One of the other guys—Frank—said you were in here.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I was just eating a late lunch.” I walked over to her.

  She reached up and fiddled with her pearls. “Evan, I was wondering if you’d like to go to an event with me tonight.”

  I blinked. Did I hear her right? One of her dark brows was raised, and a smile quirked her lips.

  “What kind of event?”

  “I’m going to a cocktail party at seven with some colleagues.”

  I shifted in my work boots. “A cocktail party. Okay.”

  My shirt suddenly felt scratchy. The clock ticked loudly on the wall.

  “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot,” she said. “I just thought we had a moment yesterday.” She looked me squarely in the eyes and stepped closer.

  I caught a whiff of her flowery perfume, and my pulse sped up. Damn, her lips were sexy, nice and plump, with just a hint of pale lipstick. She had a freckle on her neck.

  “I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” I said, thinking about the male voice on the phone.

  “Oh, you’re not.” Her gaze dropped to my mouth. “I’m not seeing anyone. Are you?”

  “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

  She lifted her right hand and traced my name tag with her fingertip.

  “I’m glad to hear that, Evan.”

  Her lashes were so long, and I could see her pulse beating in her neck, and for one fleeting moment, I pictured myself kissing that freckle, breathing in her skin and perfume. I licked my lips and leaned in a little, but my radio squawked, and we both jumped.

  “Evan?” Frank asked, his voice tinny. “You finished with lunch? I need you on four.”

  The spell broken, she took a step back. I grabbed my radio from my belt, lifted it to my mouth, and pressed the button.

  “Yeah, Frank. I’ll be up in five.” I put the radio back on my belt. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I stuck my thumb into my belt loop. “Should I pick you up?”

  She reached into her jacket pocket and took out a card.

  “Here’s the address. Meet me there at seven?”

  I took the card from her, and our fingertips brushed.

  There it was agai
n, the little zap, the same connection between us from yesterday, but today it was more intense.

  I glanced at the address. It was the fancy hotel in town where Drew’s girlfriend wanted to get married—The Carlisle. I flipped over the card and saw her business info.

  “Sure,” I said. “See you at seven.”

  “Looking forward to it.” She smiled and walked back into the hallway.

  I listened as the click of her heels faded as she walked away. I took a chance and stuck my head out of the doorway, watching her hips sway as she walked away.

  Brooke had a sexy but confident walk. Her dark hair was tied up in a white comb on the back of her head. How would it feel to pull that comb out and watch her hair tumble down her shoulders? What would her face look like when I leaned in to kiss her? Would she close her eyes? Or would she leave those blue eyes open and watch me lean in?

  She’d watch me lean in, I decided. Those blue eyes would focus on my mouth until we were almost touching, then her lids would drift shut as I pressed my lips to hers.

  I went back to the table and finished eating, thinking about Brooke and wondering how the hell I was going to fit in at some fancy cocktail party.

  I got out of work at four and went to the bank for some cash on the way home. After an early dinner with Liam, I took a shower, and by six-fifteen I was dressed. I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror combing my hair when Liam appeared in the hallway.

  “What?” I asked. “Do I look okay? I wish we had a full-length mirror.”

  He snorted. “What for? All we wear is jeans or uniforms.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t kill us to dress up once in a while.”

  I was wearing my one good outfit from my cousin’s engagement party—black pants, black shoes, a blue button-down shirt, and a blazer. My cousin had dragged me out shopping, telling me I wasn’t going to her engagement party in “another damn pair of jeans.” I had to admit I liked the outfit, but I didn’t really have anywhere else to wear it.

  I was trying unsuccessfully to get a lock of hair on the back of my head to lie down. It stuck up ever since I was a kid. I wet my hand under the faucet and tried to mash it down.

  “You should let my sister cut your hair,” Liam said. “She’s really good with men’s haircuts. All the guys in my family go to her. She’d give you the family discount, you know.”

  “My haircuts are fine.”

  I didn’t trust Liam’s sister with my hair. I’d seen Liam come home with some botched haircuts while she was training in beauty school.

  “She’s really good now,” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. “She needs another decade of practice.”

  Liam crossed his arms. “So, what are you gonna do if she asks you out again? You only have that one outfit.”

  I shot him a look. “I know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Obviously.”

  Deciding my hair was as good as it was gonna get, I left and took my time on the ride downtown. I always liked spring in New England—green grass, flowering bushes, and birds chirping—such a relief from the dreary brown and grey scenery of winter.

  Traffic was light downtown, and I found a parking spot on a side road just off Main Street. Most of the shops were closed and dimly lit, but the hotel’s front windows cast yellow light onto the sidewalk. I walked up to the glass doors and looked inside. An employee was talking on the phone at the desk, but I didn’t see anyone else. I reached for the door handle when I heard heels clicking on the sidewalk.

  “Evan.”

  Brooke was wearing a stylish raincoat over her pantsuit and carrying a purse.

  “Oh, hi.”

  She met me at the door. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes looked bright.

  “You look so handsome,” she said.

  I looked down, almost forgetting I was wearing nice clothes. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  Opening the door, I let her walk in front of me. Leading us to the coat check area, she started to shrug out of her coat. My fingers brushed against her neck, the skin impossibly soft.

  I carried it over to the coat check girl, and she gave me a tag with a number on it. I spotted a small tip jar on the counter and paused. Did I give her a tip now or when I picked up the coat later? A cold sweat broke out on my neck. I wasn’t cut out for this sorta thing. I quickly fished out my wallet and stuffed a bill in her jar.

  “Thank you,” the girl said. “Have a nice evening.”

  I turned back to Brooke.

  “This way,” she said. “It’s in the Breakwater Room.”

  I walked beside her on the plush patterned carpet.

  “Have you ever been in this hotel?” she asked.

  “A long time ago, but not since the renovations. It looks so different.”

  “The construction company did a fantastic job. They found some of the old doors in the basement, fixed them up, and rehung them.”

  “Wow.”

  “This party is to show the plans for the renovation of the second-floor reception room. The wall has an enormous mural that was painted in 1865. It needs extensive renovations. The hotel hired a company to…” She stopped. “Listen to me, I’m babbling.”

  “No, not at all,” I said. “You have a passion for buildings.”

  “I love selling real estate.”

  “How long have you been doing that?”

  “Eleven years.”

  I scanned her face again, trying to figure out how old she was. When she smiled, she had a few crinkles around her eyes, but a lot of people had those. She wore makeup—just a hint of eyeshadow and pale pink lipstick. I figured she was older than me.

  We entered a large room filled with chattering people and servers carrying trays. A waitress approached us.

  “Champagne?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Brooke said, taking a glass.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I’d never had champagne before, but there was always a first time. Brooke took a sip, and so did I.

  “You don’t like it,” Brooke said.

  I looked down at the glass. Somehow I thought champagne would taste better with the way people carried on about it.

  “No.”

  “And this is the good stuff,” she said. “Well, it’s not for everyone.”

  “Guess I just prefer a cold beer.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  “Really?” I smirked. “I’d love to see that.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said. “Although you won’t find any here tonight.”

  I glanced at the well-dressed crowd sipping champagne and chatting. Several women wore suits like Brooke, and all the men wore suits and ties. Why the hell didn’t I think to put on a tie?

  “Brooke, darling, hello.”

  An older woman with grey hair approached, holding a glass of champagne. She wore a red shirt beneath her fitted black suit, and diamonds glittered on her wrists, fingers, and ears.

  “Hello, Camille. How are you?” Brooke asked.

  “I’m fine.” She looked me up and down. “Who is this handsome fellow?”

  A quick flash of fear showed on Brooke’s face. “This is Evan—”

  “Evan Handler,” I said, offering my hand.

  Camille shook my hand and grinned. “Delightful. Have you two seen the plans yet?”

  “No, not yet,” Brooke said. “It’s a little crowded over there.”

  A waitress passed by, collecting glasses. I handed her mine.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Brooke,” she said. “Evan, nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “I work with Camille,” Brooke said. “Some of the people here are coworkers, or they work in competing offices.”

  Brooke put her hand on my arm and tried to guide us through the crowd, but we were stopped every few feet. A tall man in a dark suit and glasses approached. I noticed his eyes scanning Brooke’s body. His name was George, and he gave me a mo
re forceful handshake than I thought was necessary.

  “Fantastic plans,” George said. “Thank you so much for your generosity, Brooke! We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Brooke managed to pull me away, and we finally stood in front of the large display. Boards with architectural plans were set up on easels as well as pieces of fabric and carpet samples. I couldn’t really picture what it would look like, so I watched Brooke as she studied the display. She got close to the architectural plans, squinting and reading the details. She paused at the fabric samples and nodded approvingly.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I like the plans. The restored crown moldings will really give the room a sense of grandeur, and I like the fabric they’ve chosen for the window treatments and the chairs. The colors are fresh and modern, but the designs are period appropriate. What do you think?”

  “Looks good, I guess. I’ll have to see it when it’s finished.”

  “They’ll throw a party once it’s complete,” she said. “I can probably get tickets.” She turned and met my eyes, her right eyebrow arching. My skin heated, since all I could think about was touching her soft skin.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

  People were crowding around us, trying to get a better look at the displays. I put my arm out to block a woman from pressing against Brooke.

  “Here, get behind me,” I said. “I’ll make a path.”

  Turning to make my way through the crowd, Brooke touched my back and followed. I moved toward the edge of the room, relieved to get some space.

  “Follow me,” Brooke said. “There’s a balcony out here.”

  She led me to a tall set of glass doors flanked by enormous gold curtains. I had the feeling we shouldn’t be doing this, but I glanced behind me, and no one was looking. I followed her out the glass door and closed it behind me.

  Four

  When I reached the balcony, I was surprised to see the edge of the park behind the hotel. It was dark now, but several ornate lamps lit a path to the park. The air was cool, and stars were visible in the sky.

  “I never realized there was a balcony back here.”