Devious Wingman: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Hagen, Casey

  So, I had every intention of hauling those magazines, reminders of my own stupidity, to the curb where they couldn’t mock me for my idiocy. Stubbing my toes, well, that’s what I got for not following through the night before when I’d gathered them.

  “Coming. Hang on.” Wobbling on my throbbing stump, I yanked open the door.

  “It’s about time, hon. This place is what, six hundred square feet, and it took you—what’s wrong with your foot?” Soraya said, her head tilted, a rainbow of hair shimmering over her forearm.

  “I left it back there,” I said, pointing to the magazines. “Along with my pride. Now ask me what’s wrong with my shoulder.”

  I hobbled back, letting Soraya in because I really needed…something. I just didn’t know what. Soraya had a way of bluntly cutting right past the bullshit, and right now, she might be the only one to see a way out of the mess I’d created.

  She tossed her purse in the chair and dropped her hands on her hips. “Okay, what the hell is going on? I left you for a day and a half and totally expected you to have your whiteboards out and your whole career path reworked by now.”

  I glanced up at her and blew a strand of hair out of my face that escaped my knot. “I’m getting ready for a date. And since affording food will soon be an issue, I didn’t think it wise to turn down a meal.”

  Soraya’s eyes gleamed and she grinned. “Well damn, with the way Falcon ran out of Rigby’s the other night like his ass was on fire, I didn’t think he had it in him to get near the flame again so soon. Good job.”

  I kept my focus on wiggling my toes. “Hawk. I have a date with Hawk.” I muttered the words in shame which only proved how I really felt about the decision I’d made to accept the date.

  “Wait, Hawk? Why?”

  “Because he’s good-looking, fun to talk to, and not a brooding prick who only speaks in grunts—”

  “He’s safe.”

  I sighed. “He’s a good prospect.”

  Soraya crossed her arms and tapped her foot, a sneer on her face. “He’s bullshit and you’re scared.”

  “Or smart.” Despite all the evidence to the contrary parading through my head since last night.

  “You’re your own worst enemy. You’re never going to be happy dating Hawk and you damn well know it. You’ll hurt, Falcon will hurt, and most of all you’ll have used Hawk to get at Falcon which would make you a giant asshole.”

  “That is not an Ada approved response.” I dropped onto the love seat, the air rushing from my lungs as her words shone a spotlight on the harsh truth.

  “Yeah, well, you get Ada approved responses when you email. You should be happy, this is far more direction and an instant response. You’re welcome.”

  My life in shambles, the modest trifecta I had was my kindness, my ability to put others at ease, and to work the problems with calm confidence.

  Well, when those problems weren’t my life. I hold everything together when I’m out there. Give me a nuclear family at war with each other and I can have them ready to get matching tattoos by the time my bride and groom walk down the aisle. I’d never met a problem I couldn’t solve. Sure, sometimes I had to get super creative, I had to manipulate, but I got the job done. Most importantly, everyone walked away happy.

  When it came to my personal life, I usually played it safe at first. Cycles of safe guys, polite friends—Soraya excluded since she didn’t do the polite thing—and aimed straight down the road of success no matter how ho-hum my personal existence became.

  Rinse and repeat.

  Until the itch to break free took over, the urge shunning the quest for perfection, and in those moments, my dissatisfaction grew so large it suffocated me.

  I’d get a burr up my ass to spice things up, break free of my self-imposed prison. Hungry to find something or someone who could launch my passion from its autopilot status, I’d make reckless choices.

  Like now. Like this date. One more piece of a mountain of reckless choices I’d been making over the past forty-eight hours. I’d be hurting someone who didn’t deserve to be hurt, all because I harbored old hurts and didn’t have any way to vent them.

  I held my head in my hands, the time forgotten. Hopelessness settled into my shoulders. I had to get out of this. “What the hell am I doing?”

  “You’re scared and horny. The combo means you’ve probably got less than one percent chance of having mind-blowing sex with Hawk and ninety-nine percent chance of burning the city down. Why don’t you put all of your sexual frustration into something useful, like coming up with a career plan and canceling your booty call disguised as a free meal.”

  “He’s going to be here in less than an hour. I can’t cancel now.” Oh, the whiny note in my voice could suck it.

  Soraya shrugged. “Lie to him.”

  “What? That’s crappy.”

  “Crappier than letting him think he has a chance with you when he doesn’t?”

  She had a damn point. “Lie to him and tell him what?”

  “Tell him you have the shits,” she said, letting out a bark of laughter followed by a snort.

  “I am so not doing that.”

  “I’m telling you, it will get you off the phone in a matter of seconds, and the chances of him asking you to reschedule are practically nonexistent. Unless he’s desperate, but that kind of desperation you definitely should avoid.”

  “You know telling him that all but guarantees I’ll get karma shits. No, thanks.” A throb started its staccato beat right behind my right eye. I glanced at the clock. Forty-two minutes. And being in the city meant he might be heading out any moment…or already on his way.

  Soraya held up her hands. “Okay, so in the interest of not being so gross, tell him you’re running a fever.”

  And having a stroke maybe. “It could work. Fever implies contagious,” I added.

  “Yup, or you could just tell him you’ve got a lady bone for Falcon.”

  I gnashed my teeth. “No.”

  “What? No witty comeback?” Soraya asked sweetly.

  “I don’t have lady bone.” I so did and the thing practically had rabies with how bad it salivated at the thought of climbing that tree.

  “Girl, you have so much bone you’d swipe a display of china clean off a shelf if you spin around too fast. When you came back to the table Friday night, you looked thoroughly fucked and you weren’t gone more than a handful of minutes and your clothes weren’t one bit disheveled. So, we know Falcon did that to you all without even getting in those panties.”

  “Depends on your definition of in,” I muttered.

  “Ha! I knew it!” Soraya squealed.

  “Shhhhhh! Jesus, I have neighbors.”

  Soraya settled in my easy chair and crossed her legs. “Details. I want all the details. But first, go call Hawk.”

  I limped to my bedroom, refusing to do this in front of Soraya. I hated lying. Oh, I did it when I needed to for my job, but only when necessary to pull off a successful wedding. Lying to a good guy—well, he deserved better.

  Finding his number in my recents, I hit the green button and waited. A lump of dread lodged in my throat.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” he said.

  I wished one last time for the excitement in his voice to do something for me, but nothing. My girly region continued to slumber.

  “Hi, look, I’m so sorry to do this last minute, but…I…well—” The lie would not make its way past my lips. I kicked my big toe against the carpet and pain shot through my foot.

  I froze, staring down at the tinge of color blossoming there, saving me from myself. “I stubbed three of my toes, and I’m beginning to think I might have done more damage than I thought. I’m going to need to put my foot up and ice it. Rain check?” I winced. My toe saved me from lying, but then I’d gone and left him an open to reschedule.

  “That’s too bad. Do you need to go to the hospital? I can come by and take you.”

  “You’re sweet to offer, but I think I’m going to
take it easy and watch it for the night. I’ll see how I am in the morning.”

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “I was really looking forward to—well, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you make sure the foot’s good to go. I’ll check on you tomorrow if you don’t mind?”

  “I’d like that,” I said before I could think through my response. Every word coming from my mouth appeased him which was in my nature…at least when it came to business transactions. This wasn’t one of my clients, dammit.

  “Good,” he said, his voice brightening considerably.

  We said our goodbyes and before I could do anything else stupid—like plummeting over the edge of reason by calling my parents to confess that I, their only living child they’d put so much hope into was a total, jobless loser who might have to move home. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on the sundae of my humiliation.

  Since I trusted my emotions about as much as I trusted a cobra staring me down, I plugged in my phone on my nightstand and joined Soraya in my living room.

  Ill-advised drunk dialing had nothing on the urge to verbal diarrhea my confession the same way some people ripped off Band-Aids. Only, I wouldn’t tell them about Falcon. I couldn’t.

  They hadn’t uttered his name since the last time we had all seen him.

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on their feelings. Anger, but not necessarily at Falcon. Ambling through grief. Retreating into silence as they quite possibly grieved the loss of two sons when Ethan died twisted in a hunk of metal.

  I ached with my own sorrow tucked in next to my heart, squeezing against the bruise that never quite healed there.

  One thing at a time. Maybe one day I’d be able to do something about that. After physical survival.

  I stopped in the living room, leaned on my good foot, and dropped my hands on my hips. “Okay, I’m officially dateless, jobless, and the pain surging through my toe right now does not bode well for tomorrow. Happy?”

  “No, not at all. What is this?” Soraya asked with my contract in her grip.

  “Funny you should ask. It’s the final nail in my coffin.”

  “Why do you say that?” she asked, flipping the first page.

  “Page three, section five,” I said, heading for the refrigerator. “Did you drive?”

  “Nope, so if you’ve got alcohol, I want some,” she said without looking up, her shrewd eyes on the words in front of her.

  “Good. Drinking alone is too pathetic and I need a babysitter.”

  “What the fuck? A two-hundred-mile radius? What the hell does she expect you to do?” Soraya shouted as though my kitchen wasn’t ten short feet from where she sat.

  “Wither and die would be my guess.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup,” I said, twisting the corkscrew into my last bottle of pinot. “I wouldn’t have even pulled it out of my filing cabinet had she not dropped a nasty gram in my voicemail warning me about it.”

  Soraya slapped the back of her hand against the papers in a huff. “There’s got to be a way out of this. Some sort of loophole.”

  “Well, I’m not a lawyer and I can’t really afford one at the moment. I mean, I could donate plasma, but it’s not going to even pay for a consultation in this city, but hey, if I wanted to do a free personal injury consult against the maker of the damn basket I demolished my foot on, maybe that frivolous lawsuit could bear some fruit.” I smirked. “In a few years.”

  “Funny, there’s no way you’re that destitute. Right?”

  “No, but it won’t be long before my money runs out. The price I paid for not wanting a roommate,” I said, handing Soraya a glass of wine while gesturing around the room with the bottle clutched in my other hand.

  “You know, Graham and I never had a real wedding and we’ve been talking about having some sort of celebration or laid-back ceremony for friends and family. Something the kids could be involved in. If you’d just let us hire you—”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Soraya said with a glare.

  “I value our friendship.”

  “So do I.”

  I grabbed the forgotten clip from my hair and let the strands fall where they may. “You’d be a horrible bridezilla.”

  “Hey, I like what I like. And I expect people to have their shit together. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, but it rarely happens in weddings.”

  “Tell me about it. The dress shopping yesterday was a shitshow. A total breakdown in communication. They were clearly instructed to only show us dresses they can get inside of a seven-to ten-day window.”

  “There couldn’t have been very much to choose from.”

  “That’s the thing, they showed us thirty-two dresses.”

  “Yeah, something there isn’t right. There’s no way they have so many they can get on such short notice.”

  Soraya kicked off her heels and tucked her legs up under her as she sank into the chair. “That’s what I thought. But then, how do you know which ones out of those they paraded in front of us are possible? Hopefully we picked the right ones, but I doubt it. I’m not that lucky. Are you that lucky?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Unemployed, no hope of continuing my career, a busted-up foot, a canceled date with the wrong guy while l lust after the right one.”

  “The right one, huh,” Soraya said with a wink.

  “Well, not really the right one, but—”

  “Oh, no. You said he was the right one. So why aren’t you going after him?”

  “There’s a lot to unpack there. I’d prefer someone with his temperament, but no history,” I said, sinking onto the little patch of heaven called my couch, propping a pillow behind me and one under my foot. I forgot the ice, but I brought a straw. I dropped that bad boy into my stemless wine glass and prepared to sip my way to oblivion.

  Someone like Falcon…he for sure had to smell like sin, have nearly black eyes designed to sway me to indulge in my reckless side, muscles that flexed and vibrated, barely restrained with lust, and if he could maybe repeat his line, “You grew up good, kid” well that would be great.

  “You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”

  “God, yes.” I fanned my face, sucked back more wine, and burped. I was totally bringing sexy back with my gloriousness.

  “Oh, yeah, you keep holding out. The more you run into him, the worse it’s going to get until you both lose your shit.”

  “Well, random run-ins shouldn’t be a problem. I’m willing to bet I won’t see him again. After all, he’s been hiding this long.”

  “What’s the deal with that anyway? Did he just disappear after your brother died?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my throat thick.

  “Was he there that night? You know, when Ethan—”

  “No, he wasn’t there. Well, that’s not quite true; he was with Ethan earlier in the evening, but he wasn’t in the car.”

  I couldn’t do this, talk about this. Guilt-wrapped despair drifted in like fog swirling around my ankles, ready to climb higher with every detail. The past was dead and buried. Literally.

  “Give Casper my number. If the dresses don’t work out, I’ll fix it,” I said, grasping at what I could.

  “Oh,” Soraya said with a lilt in her tone. “Subtle change of subject. So now you’re okay mixing business with friendship?”

  “If it gets you to leave the Falcon situation alone, yes.”

  Soraya let out a frustrated sigh of temporary surrender. “Fine, but we’re not through with our discussion.”

  “Okay, mom,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I don’t hold out much hope Casper and Cole’s wedding is going to come off without a hitch.”

  “There’s always a hitch. Often hundreds. The trick is to know how to manage them so it looks like they were part of the plan all along.”

  “See, that right there. You say it so matter-of-fact. I bet you could walk into a backwoods country wedding and find a way for the bride to
carry her grandpa’s lucky saw in her bouquet or something and make it look totally natural.”

  “You bet your ass I could,” I said, taking a gulp of my wine to wash down the threat of tears. My job required the utmost professionalism, calm, but it also gave me so many surprises. Maybe that’s why I could do it so well and not get bored. It thrilled me to know my day would change fifty times over before my head hit my pillow.

  “I get why Vera wouldn’t want you working for a competitor. You might even be the first ex-employee she’s entertained pursuing for violating terms, but you know, her wording is what’s bothering me. She said you can’t work for her current competitors,” Soraya said, her voice trailing off.

  Slurp, slurp, slurp. “Yeah, I caught that part.”

  “But current competitors would be competitors on the date of signing the contract, right? And by a stretch, from then until the final day of employment which was Friday.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Any bridal companies that launch after Friday would be fair game,” Soraya said.

  “It’s not like opening a new McDonald’s. You know how long I might have to wait for a new bridal company to just pop up out of thin air?”

  “Oh, honey, not if you are the new company,” Soraya said with a little bob of her head and dancing eyes.

  I twisted, angled my head in her direction, the straw popping out of my glass and dripping on my shirt. “You’re suggesting I open my own company?”

  “That’s exactly what I suggest.”

  “With what money?”

  “Mine. As a silent partner, of course. I trust you implicitly.”

  I fought to take a deep breath, my lungs all of a sudden having the capacity of a tiny-ass water balloon. “What will Graham have to say about this arrangement?”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s made a few hefty personal financial decisions without clearing them with me so if he’s smart, he’ll keep his ornery trap shut. So, what do you say?”

  “And if he has a brain fart and opens his mouth anyway?”

  “I’ll shove a tit in it. Problem solved.”

  I choked out a laugh. My heart knocked against my ribs and my pulse raced as possibilities opened up before me. I could do this. I really could do this.