The Funny Thing about Love: Feel Good Sweet Romance stories

by Laura Burton

  And I was happy. The girl I was willing to shed my fast lane life for, though, was presently casting furtive looks in another man’s direction. Gavin Fitzhughes stood against the far wall, sipping on a glass of champagne as he scouted the room. His gaze stalled on Ellie, and I steeled myself.

  “You have an admirer,” I said, a glutton for punishment.

  “What do you mean?”

  She looked in the direction of my pointed glance, trying to be unobtrusive and failing. I stifled a smile and played along.

  “My old buddy Gavin over there.” I waggled my fingertips at him in a girlish wave and Ellie hissed.

  “Stop that!” She smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell me about your history with him.”

  “We don’t have a history.” Over her shoulder, I saw Gavin watching us with gimlet eye. I winked at him and stroked my fingers over the soft skin of Ellie’s back. I saw the precise moment he noticed, his lips thinning and spine straightening. I knew it! Triumph coursed through me. Since the rehearsal, I’d had the vague feeling that Gavin’s pursuit of Ellie was less a result of her allure and more because of some ages old score he wanted to settle with me. Game on, old friend.

  Ellie shivered at my touch. “That’s not the impression I gathered at the rehearsal dinner,” she responded. “Stop that.”

  “Stop this?” I swept my fingers down her spine.

  “Yes!”

  “But why? Your skin is so soft.”

  “I’m not a cat, Madden. Stop petting me. Back to Gavin.”

  I sighed and conceded. “Maybe a very small history.”

  “Good? Bad? Run far and run fast? Inquiring minds want to know.”

  I chewed on the corner of my lip. It would make me happy as a pig in slop to tell her about Gavin. How I dated a girl he had dated, and he didn’t care too much for it. But as much as I hate to admit it, that doesn’t necessarily make him a terrible person. And I have no proof that he’s interested in Ellie because of me. “He’s fine, Els. He liked some of the same girls I did, but that’s not a big deal.”

  “What would I do with a man like that?” She ran a hand through her hair, pulling it over the side of her face. “The last guy I went out with was painfully honest about my shortfalls.”

  Ire rose in me and I forced my hands not to tighten on her waist. “What do you mean?”

  “He was in some line of work that required a lot of public appearances. He just made it clear that I was not a spotlight kind of girl. I wasn’t flashy enough, not confident enough. On a good day I’m a six. Maybe a seven. A guy like that…he needs a ten-plus.” She spoke matter-of-factly but with a barely concealed hurt.

  “A six?”

  She blushed. “Well, sure. When I fix my hair, and put actual makeup on, I think I can pass as a six. But on the regular I’m probably a four or five.”

  “Ellie—”

  She barreled right along with whatever she was babbling about, unaware that she just sent my head spinning. A four? She had no concept of how gorgeous she was, how natural and unpretentious. How my heart physically ached and my skin drew tight when I saw her.

  “Clearly he was a moron who didn’t know what he was talking about,” I interrupted. “You’re perfect, Els. And as to what you’d do with a man like that…” I couldn’t help but tease her. “What wouldn’t you do with him?”

  Her cheeks flushed hotter and she swatted my chest. “Not helpful!”

  “Dance with him,” I told her. “Flirt with him.”

  “I don’t have the first idea how to flirt.”

  “Do I need to give you lessons in flirting?” I paused. “On second thought, maybe you should just be yourself.” I shuddered inwardly. If she actually knew what she was doing… she’d be a hazard to the men of the world.

  She pulled us to a halt. “No. You need to help me, Madden! You’re a guy. You know what guys like.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I’m hopeless—”

  “Hey.” I placed a finger against her lips. “I told you: none of that.” She nodded, and I led her to a small table set against the perimeter of the pavilion. We were both quiet for a few minutes, as I watched her watching Gavin. She chewed on her bottom lip and a surge of frustration rose within me.

  I wasn’t certain when she had lost confidence in herself. Or perhaps she never really had it, and I had failed to notice? I was drafted during my senior year of college, so it was possible I missed the signs of her insecurity in the single year I was there with her.

  It bothered me. Even if I wasn’t her immediate choice, Ellie deserved every happiness.

  “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen.” She looked at me, startled, and I offered a grin before continuing. “I’ll be your Man Mentor, Ellie. Your Cozy-Up Coach. Your Love Leader—”

  She giggled and it was the cutest sound I’d heard all day. “I get it! So, what do I do?”

  “Either he’s going to man up and come over here to ask you to dance, or you will woman up and pretend it’s Sadie Hawkins. Either way, once you’re dancing, you need to make sure he sees you’re interested.”

  “How?”

  “Do all that girlie stuff. That girls do,” I explained. Her expression was blank, and I sighed. How did she not know this stuff? I thought it was inherent in the girl gene. “Bat your eyes. Giggle. Do that hair flip thing. Bite your lip.” I demonstrated and her eyes took on a faraway expression. “Smile a lot.” I bared my teeth in what was more likely a grimace than a smile. “Tell him how manly his shoulders are and ask lots of questions.”

  She tried to find him in the crowd, her lips pursed doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Especially the lip thing. Dudes love that.” I gave her a little shove. “Go get your man.”

  Tentative, she rose from the table. I stretched my legs out and relaxed back in the chair as I watched her cross the floor, prepared to watch her break my heart just a little.

  Chapter Six—MADDEN

  I scratched my head as I read my email. How on earth... going back to my sent mail, I pulled up the message I had sent to Janna Edison and compared the email address I had used to the one she had given me a while back.

  It was different. Crud.

  The woman had been getting relentless in her pursuit, bordering on harassment. I was polite at the rehearsal. I’d tried being nice, if honest with her. I’d tried ignoring her calls and avoiding events I knew she’d also be attending.

  I couldn’t avoid Rafe and Bee’s wedding, though, and she was particularly obtuse that evening. The email had been my last resort before public humiliation.

  Transposing those letters, though. I shook my head at my own mistake.

  Somehow, NCgirlJE became NCgirlEJ. Maybe the address had already been stored in my contacts?

  Yep. NCgirlEJ was already in my contacts. I tapped through a few more screens to see who it was.

  Ellery James.

  Oh, cheese and crackers.

  I sat back in my chair, gaze fixed in disbelief on the small screen of my phone. Ellie and I hadn’t emailed each other a lot. In fact, I think we may have sent two in the entire three years I’d been on the island. We tended to text or call if we needed to connect. So, there was a chance, albeit small, that she didn’t know who this email came from.

  At least, that was what I was going with. Realistically, I knew she was clever enough to figure it out if she was so inclined.

  I read her response again, hearing her cheeky voice in the words.

  To: NCgirlEJ

  From: plyr87@gmail.com

  Subject: RE: email

  Plyr87: new phone, who dis?

  In all seriousness, you’ve got the wrong girl. I’m sorry to hear you’re so having so much trouble with one little female. Maybe you should sic another woman on her? Surely you have a friend that could take care of that for you?

  She had to know it was me. I scratched my head. Right? That comment about siccing a woman friend on the problem… she was referring to herself. It
was classic Els.

  Right?

  I came to a quick decision. I was going to reply. How could I not? But I’d keep up this fun little pretense. I wouldn’t know it was her, either. We’d be two completely random strangers, exchanging emails.

  At least, that was my story, and I was sticking to it.

  I pondered my reply, and then began to type.

  To: NCgirlEJ

  From: plyr87@gmail.com

  Subject: RE: email

  Dear E,

  Apologies for getting you in the middle of all that. It looks like I typed a wrong letter. I appreciate your heads up on how I might take care of my little problem. As a matter of fact, I do indeed have a woman friend that might be helpful in this situation. I had not considered that, but it’s a fantastic idea.

  I’m going to go drown my relationship woes with a cold one and a ball game, and then I’ll ask if she’d like to help me out.

  I logged out of my email and tapped a finger thoughtfully on my phone, wondering if she’d reply or ignore it. I guessed I’d find out.

  Several days later, she still hadn’t responded. I was settling back into my beat-up Lazy Boy with a cold beer when my phone pinged with a notification. I lifted it and swiped to see a single word from Ellie. The first word made me raise an eyebrow.

  Ellie: help

  Me: what’s wrong?

  Ellie: need guy help

  Me: I am a guy. I can assist.

  Ellie: just get over here

  Curious what had Ellie all hyped up, I put on my shoes and walked out the back door. Ellie leased the guest cottage that sat on the back side of the large lot that my beach house sat upon, our proximity part of the reason we’d been able to establish such a close relationship as adults. If I wasn’t hanging out at her place, she was over at mine. She even stocked my favorite beer in her refrigerator.

  After the brief walk across the property, I stood on the porch and raised my hand to knock. The door flew open before I made contact, and Ellie pulled me inside. I took a moment to appreciate her attire—a short black satin robe with pale pink roses splashed across its expanse, belted tightly around her waist—and then followed. She had a pair of humongous sloth-shaped slippers on her feet.

  “Nice outfit,” I said, hiding my smile when her cheeks pinkened. That blush was just too easy. “What’s up?”

  “I am in need of my first lesson.” When I looked at her blankly, she expanded. “My man mentoring? Dating guru?”

  I rubbed at the scruff on my jaw. “Oh, yeah. What’s your question?”

  Ellie took my hand in hers and started tugging me toward the back of the house. “I need you to dress me for tonight.”

  “Ah…” I pulled my wayward thoughts firmly away from the idea of an undressed Ellie. “Say what now?”

  “Did you forget? Tonight is my date with Gavin.”

  Hovering in the doorway to her bedroom, I raised my hands and linked my fingers at the back of my neck. I hadn’t forgotten, but I wasn’t going to admit that I’d been fixating on it for the past week, either. And it was hard for my brain to function at the moment, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She had a comfortable-looking bohemian quilt on her unmade bed, clothes littering every surface, and stacks of books covering every square inch. It was a reminder of her as a kid—her bookworm and slob tendencies. When she was a kid, I never saw her without a book in her hand. She wore a hole in one she particularly liked, her finger rubbing through the back cover where she held it as she read.

  “I’m really not good with chick fashion,” I started.

  Ellie whirled to face me and motioned me into the room. “You don’t need to be. You just need to provide your opinion on which one of these outfits a guy would like the most.” She gestured to the bed, where piles of clothes blended in with the quilt, and waited.

  Ellie was nervous, I realized. So nervous her hands trembled the slightest bit as she gestured toward the bed. It hit me suddenly that Gavin might be more of a challenge than I’d given him credit for, if he had the ability to make my girl shake.

  “Well, how can I tell with them laying on the bed like that?” I scratched at the bristle on my chin, uncomfortable with the topic. “I can’t see what they do to your curves or anything.”

  “Oh.” Face red again, Ellie looked from me to the clothes. “I guess I’ll try them on for you. Go… sit on the couch.”

  I groaned. “Can I at least put the game on, kid?” She snickered and pushed me out of her room, swinging the door closed.

  Except it didn’t quite close. As I turned to walk away, I caught sight of the crack where the door had hit the jamb and bounced back a couple of inches. Before I could say anything, Ellie stepped to the bed and whipped the robe from her body, exposing peaches and cream skin and ripe curves encased in... oh, William Shatner, she was wearing matching underwear.

  Fist to my mouth, I spun around and walked back down the hall and into the open living room. I sank into an armchair to wait, its large proportions fitting my broad frame to perfection, and willed my brain to erase that image.

  I recited the alphabet. I counted to twenty in Spanish. I hummed Mary Had a Little Lamb. I thought about my grandma.

  Nothing worked, though. The sight of Ellie in that lacy, electric blue confection was burned indelibly into my retinas.

  I lowered my head to my hands and groaned. This was so bad. Why did girls even wear matching underwear—especially if they were going out on a date? What was she thinking?

  Minutes later, I heard the door open and Ellie emerged.

  Raising my head, I eyed her from under my brow as she made her way toward me. She was wearing a short denim skirt, cowboy boots, and an off-the-shoulder top. Her legs were tan and toned and way too much of them was showing. Same with her shoulders. “Nope.”

  She spread her arms to the sides and looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with it? It shows off my curves.”

  “Exactly,” I gritted out.

  She stopped and spread her arms to the sides, looking down at herself. “I thought that was the point...to look attractive?”

  “It shows off your curves. It shows off your skin. It shows off your shoulders and the fact that you’re not wearing a —” I stopped. Looked at the ceiling. “You know. It’s too racy.”

  “Too racy.” Her voice was flat.

  “It’s revealing! You know what I mean. You don’t want to give him the wrong impression. Go try something else.” I made a shooing motion.

  With a huff, Ellie turned and flounced back to her room. She reminded me of a bratty teenager, and I couldn’t help but grin.

  The next outfit was some kind of one piece in a silky black fabric. It reminded me of something a toddler would wear, only hot. It had thin straps at the shoulders and was gathered at the waist and ankles. I wanted to play with those straps, see if they were as flimsy as they appeared. Especially since it was obvious she was still not wearing a you know.

  With difficulty I pulled my mind out of that gutter and shook my head. Nope. “That’s a no.” At Ellie’s look I shrugged. “Looks like baby clothes.”

  Ellie turned to leave, muttering under her breath just loud enough for me to hear. “I’m beginning to regret asking for your help.”

  “Aww, don’t be that way, Els.” The slam of the bedroom door was my only response.

  When she stepped in front of me again, she was wearing a pair of dark skinny jeans with rips in the thighs and a pair of strappy heels. She had a slouchy shirt on that looked a little like a sweatshirt. It was simple and kind of perfect, as she was covered from head to toe.

  I put my finger on my lip and stood.

  I walked over to stand before her and perused her without speaking. She bit her lip and focused on my chest as I moved into her line of vision. I made a circle with my finger, indicating that she spin for me. She did, watching me nervously, and I struggled to keep a straight face.

  I tugged at her collar, which had slipped to reveal the electric blue
strap of her bra, up to her chin, and gave her shoulders a pat.

  “Looks good,” I told her, and her face brightened.

  “It’s acceptable?”

  “Yep.” I pitched my voice a little higher. “It’s super cute, babe.”

  Her fist shot in the air. “Yes! Okay. Make-up next. Smoky eye? Red lip?”

  I didn’t know what a smoky eye was, but red lips sounded good. I needed to think in terms of sabotage, though. In the event Ellie lost her mind and actually fell-in-like with this dude, I needed to ensure he wasn’t terribly attracted to her.

  Mean? Maybe. But all was fair when it came to matters of the heart, and a man had to do what a man had to do.

  I could play this one of two ways. I could tell her to wear way too much make-up, or none at all. Guys appreciated it when they could tell a girl made an effort to look good for them, but too much… well, it was too much. I wasn’t sure which end of the spectrum would be more effective with Gavin. Should I tell her to look like she couldn't care less, or would the fake face look repel him better?

  Gavin would want someone polished. “Make-up is nice and all, but if you really want to impress him, go bare-faced. Au naturel,” I decided. Liar, liar, pants on fire. I was almost ashamed but steeled my resolve. All was fair in love and war, right? And the sooner I got rid of Gavin, the sooner I could make my move.

  “Yeah?” Her expression was doubtful.

  “Trust me. And don’t do too much to your hair, either. Put it up in one of those pony things.”

  “This is not at all what I was expecting.”

  Slinging my arm around Ellie’s shoulders, I walked her back into the living room. “This is why you asked for my expert advice. Now. Where is he taking you? And what do you do if he kisses you?”

  “Kisses me?”

  “It is something that happens every now and then when a boy and a girl like each other.”

  “Right.” She moved her fingers to her temples and massaged as she turned and paced away from me.

  “Ellie?”

  “I’m fine. It’ll be fine.” She was talking more to herself than to me. I caught hold of her shoulders and turned her to face me.