The Schemer

by Avery Flynn

  “Whatever the chef wants,” she responded, and smacked him on his perfect, round ass, laughing all the way to the shower.

  …

  Tyler hadn’t ever brought anyone—let alone a woman—to Frankie Hartigan’s poker night. Then again, he’d never had someone like Everly to bring. The other women he dated would have taken one look at the one-story bungalow across the harbor from their penthouses and asked to go back home. Everly had made herself at home the second Frankie’s twin brother, Finian, had opened the door and asked her to marry him. She’d told the hulking firefighter that she’d had a wedding dress in cold storage for years just waiting for him. He’d immediately broken out into a cold sweat, which was the only thing that kept Tyler from coldcocking one of his oldest friends. Sure, he would have felt bad afterward, but even the idea of the other guy touching Everly had his Waterbury up.

  “You’re not really here with this idiot, are you?” Finian asked, busting Tyler’s balls as usual.

  “It’s totally a pity date,” Everly said with a wink.

  The other man threw back his head and laughed, curled an arm around Everly, and pulled her into the house he shared with Frankie, calling out to everyone assembled that Tyler had finally found himself a keeper.

  He hadn’t, but the idea didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have. They’d agreed on the island that they were just keeping it casual. They knew exactly where they stood—a little fun, some good times, and no strings attached. That was all it could be, and they both knew it.

  So why is the fact that Finian is touching her getting your hackles up?

  Tyler shoved the unnerving thought to the back of his brain and put on his game face. Poker night with the Hartigans was a serious affair. They didn’t play for money. Nope. It was all pride and bragging rights.

  “Everyone, this is Everly Ribinski,” Finian said, addressing the assembled bunch of Hartigans. “That big carrottop is my twin and fellow firefighter, Frankie; obviously we’re not identical because I’m so much prettier. That card shark over there is Fallon. She’s an emergency room nurse, but don’t let the Florence Nightingale thing fool ya, she’s been known to bluff on a total bust of a hand. And over in the corner on his phone as if he were saving the world instead of ordering six pizzas is our baby brother, Ford. He’s a cop, but we try not to hold the fact that he didn’t grow up to be a firefighter against him.”

  Ford flipped off his brother.

  Fallon rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Finian, don’t scare the girl.”

  “I’m not scaring her,” Finian said. “I’m welcoming her to the crazy.”

  “Well, if she came with Tyler, she’s already used to that,” Fallon said with a laugh. “You wanna beer? You’re gonna need it to deal with all the testosterone.”

  Everly smiled. “I’d love one, thanks.”

  And just like that, the Hartigans welcomed her into the monthly cutthroat family poker night. After she’d won the third hand in the row, they were asking him if he’d brought a hustler. She took the ribbing in stride. That was the thing with Everly—she always did. The woman did not get fazed. She had a comeback for every teasing insult and a laugh for every joke. If he wasn’t already fucking her every chance he got, he’d be damn jealous as hell of the guy who got to.

  That was probably why he’d folded on a full house and again on a flush. His attention sidetracked every time she twirled a silky strand of dark hair around her finger and he got mesmerized by her mouth every time she took a sip of beer. He’d never wanted to be a beer bottle in his life, but the was before he’d seen her drink from one.

  “Holy hell, T,” Frankie said a few hours later in the kitchen when they were grabbing another round of beers. “Where did you find her and does she have a sister? Or better yet, has she figured out that she can do better than you yet?”

  Tyler twisted off the cap on one of the beers with a little more force than necessary. “If she has, she sure wouldn’t be going for you.”

  “And this is the one who’s been driving you nuts?”

  “The very one.” Only now she was driving him to distraction.

  “So how did all of this happen?”

  Tyler took a long drink, taking the time to remind himself that Frankie loved nothing more than giving him shit just like Tyler did to him. “This?”

  “Getting serious with Everly.”

  “We’re not. We’re just having some fun.”

  The look Frankie gave him was as close to pitying as the man could do. “Uh-huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.

  “I guess I just missed all the other times when you brought a woman you were just having some fun with to poker night.”

  “Very funny.” Yeah, the redheaded giant was a fucking comedian.

  “I’m a riot.” Frankie grinned. “That’s why the ladies all love me.”

  “Right up until they want to nut punch you.”

  “Pretty much.” He grabbed four of the beers, two in each hand, and gave Tyler a serious look. “You sure it’s nothing serious between you and Everly?”

  He nodded and forced his voice to remain neutral. “Completely.”

  “So you wouldn’t care if I asked her out?”

  The rush of oh hell no burned Tyler up from the inside out, and he took a step forward before it had even registered what he was doing. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  “Just having some fun, huh?” Frankie asked with a laugh and strolled back out into the other room.

  Tyler grabbed the other two beers but stood in the kitchen sucking in some deep breaths and telling himself to get his shit under control. The competition of poker night must have been what had brought that reaction out in him. It had to be. He and Everly really were just having fun. That’s all it could be, and he was good with that. More than good. He was fucking thrilled.

  …

  The next cooking class happened at Wheat & Rye’s restaurant kitchen Saturday morning before it opened. Everly sat at the special VIP table in the corner watching Tyler’s third attempt at pasta. The man was hopeless, but he wasn’t giving up. That was more than a little sexy—just like the rest of him. Finally, he set down a plate of pasta with vodka sauce and two forks on the table in front of her.

  “Feeling brave?” he asked.

  She took a deep inhale of the mouth-watering scent wafting up from the plate. “Always.”

  “I believe it.”

  They shared a grin and dove into what turned out to be one of the best dishes of pasta she’d ever had. Heath joined them, and they had a fun lunch of restaurant gossip and laughter. By the time they left the restaurant, slipping her hand into his as they walked down the street seemed natural. This was trouble. She knew it, but it felt too good to pretend it didn’t. God, she was going to regret this at some point, but for now she was going to enjoy it just like they’d agreed. Even the sun was out and the wind had died down. It was like Mother Nature was smiling at them as they walked the ten long city blocks from Wheat & Rye to their building.

  However, right as they turned the corner onto Eighth Avenue, a storm cloud in the form of Irena strode straight toward them.

  The other woman stopped directly in front of them, forcing the couple walking behind her to swerve at the last second or slam into her. “Imagine running into you two.”

  “Hello, Irena,” Tyler said, tension tightening his voice.

  “I hear the island was productive,” she said with a smile as fake as the watches the street dealers sold to the tourists. “Alberto said he just can’t wait to talk to you about your ideas for the hotel expansion. I warned him that you brought some baggage with you, but he said he couldn’t back out of the meeting, since it had already been set up.”

  “Baggage?” Everly asked, as if the woman in front of her didn’t have the entire discounted luggage section at Dylan’s department store hanging around her neck.

  “Hasn’t he told you, honey?” I
rena asked in mock sincerity. “He’s not all that he seems. The bank account might be bigger, but you can’t ever take the Waterbury out of the boy or the history of familial violence. Is your dad out yet or is he still spending time behind bars?”

  Everly’s brain stuttered as she tried to process that. Tyler’s dad was in prison? Domestic violence? He’d never said a word. It wasn’t like they were actually boyfriend and girlfriend, but that was some pretty heavy shit to leave out of things.

  The vein in Tyler’s temple pulsed. “He’s out.”

  “How lovely,” Irena said. “Did you have a nice family reunion?”

  Tyler didn’t flinch, but he’d need some serious dental work soon if he didn’t stop grinding his teeth like that.

  Everly wasn’t good with a dental drill, but she’d learned a lot about putting punk-ass bitches in their place while growing up. And if Irena needed anything, it was to learn she didn’t get to treat people like that—especially not the ones Everly cared about.

  Puffing out her chest, she took a step forward, using the extra inches from her high heels to look down her nose at the ex-fiancée from hell.

  “You need to shut your mouth.”

  Irena didn’t even blink. “How’s the next line in this movie go? Or you’ll shut it for me?”

  “Something like that.” Okay, she’d never actually hit another person in her life, but this woman didn’t know that, and she obviously loved to stereotype everyone who didn’t come from her elite little world.

  “Oh, honey.” Irena slathered on the fake pity. “This isn’t Hollywood, it’s Harbor City. And the gutter rats don’t get to take over the city. You may be just fine on the fringes, but neither of you will ever really be a part of it.” She turned her attention back to Tyler, cruelty erasing any bit of beauty the woman had. “Alberto might be humoring you now, but he won’t accept your offer, Tyler. Face it—you’re just not good enough. You never have been and you never will be.” She let out a mean chuckle. “You think I went looking for something better on the night before our wedding because I was horny? Even you aren’t that clueless. I did it because I knew I was worth more than anything you could offer and I was done playing with a Waterbury loser.”

  “Why you snobby piece of shit—” Everly’s fingers were curled into a fist before she knew it, but Tyler clamped his hand down on her forearm.

  “Good night, Irena,” he said, the gravel in his voice more of a warning than Everly’s posturing.

  Then, he began walking past Irena, taking Everly with him. It didn’t make sense, but she went with it. She knew it wasn’t her fight. He wasn’t one of her people, after all. But standing up for Tyler came as natural as breathing. Shit. She really was going to be in trouble soon.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Everything inside Tyler was cold enough to give his internal organs freezer burn—just as it should be. Meanwhile, Everly was a fucking wildfire, stewing in silent fury the entire rest of the way home. The side of him that was always observing, always prepping for disaster, took note. A loud, passionate Everly was dangerous, but a silent Everly was deadly—at least for the poor asshole she was pissed off at.

  “What in the hell was that?” Everly asked, pacing from one end of bookshelves lining a large wall in his apartment to the other. “How in the world did you not just let loose on her?”

  He didn’t break his stride as he headed straight for the fridge and the cold beer inside it. “Because I know where that leads.”

  She threw her hands up in frustration. “To putting someone in their place?”

  He grabbed two bottles and headed over to where she’d wear a groove into his hardwood floor if she didn’t stop. After twisting off the cap on each beer, he handed her one. She took a sip, looking at him expectantly, and continued pacing. Everly wouldn’t let this go. That wasn’t the type of woman she was.

  However, explaining his upbringing was not something he ever did. Not to Sawyer. Not to Frankie or his family. Not to any of the helpful teachers who asked about the dark circles under his eyes—the only marks they could see. By the time he was old enough to realize that he could go for help, the worst of the physical stuff was in the past. He’d gotten bigger and smarter and knew when to keep his fucking mouth shut and plot his future. The fact that he towered over both his parents by the time he was fourteen hadn’t hurt. The two assholes who’d made him hadn’t taught him much, but they imparted one crucial lesson—don’t let anything stand between you and where you want to be.

  “Not to putting someone in their place,” he said. “To becoming like my parents.”

  Her feet jerked to a stop and she whipped around, the righteous indignation lighting her up from the inside like an avenging angel tempered by concern. “What do you mean?”

  “My dad is everything Irena said he was—a worthless asshole who wasn’t above backhanding my mom when he thought she deserved it. In return, it all flowed downhill.” And he had been at the bottom. “I can’t tell you the number of times my mom swung that wooden spoon of hers and swore that I’d grow up to be just like him—just another Waterbury asshole who couldn’t keep his emotions in check.”

  So when he’d gotten that scholarship to prep school in Harbor City, he’d promised himself that he’d be more than he was, that he’d leave that combustible house behind him and never look back. And he hadn’t. Ever.

  Everly set her beer down in front of his collector’s edition of The Lord of the Rings and crossed over to him, winding her long arms around and snuggling her head into the pocket of his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, but she’s wrong; that’s not you.”

  “That’s only because I won’t let it be.” He’d gotten rid of the accent. Changed his wardrobe. Limited connections to his working-class roots. He’d become a new man.

  “Is that why this deal with Alberto is so important to you?”

  His first instinct was to lie, to shut down this conversation he’d never had with anyone, but the truth came out anyway. “Partly.”

  “Tell me.” She broke away from him, going back and picking up her beer off the shelf.

  How in the world she knew that he needed space for his confession, he had no idea, but she did. That fact should have given him pause, but he was in too deep for that. That was a problem. A big one. Everly was the one woman who had the ability to tie him right back to the one thing he’d spent most of his life running away from, and if he wasn’t careful he’d go with her, smiling like a happy idiot. Forget it being a problem. It was a fucking disaster.

  “I want to prove them wrong. All of them.” If he closed his eyes, he could picture each one, from his parents to Irena to the society assholes who still called him “Scholarship Boy” when they thought he was out of earshot. “I want to show them that where I came from doesn’t define who I am.” God, he sounded pathetic. Weak. This wasn’t the image he projected. He was success personified, not some kid whining about his rough childhood. “Nothing like screwing with a guy with parental issues to really make you rethink your dating decisions, huh?”

  A wry laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. “You don’t have the market cornered there.”

  Heat rushed up from the pit of his belly. “Tell me.” So he could track down the people who wronged her and make them pay.

  The pacing started again, but this time it was slower, more deliberate, almost like a hiker lost in the woods afraid that if she stopped moving she’d lose the last bit of hope she had left.

  “My dad was an asshole, too, just a different kind.” She took a swig from her beer, turning at the end of the bookshelf and heading back toward Tyler. “He was a bigwig in the financial district. He and my mom met when she worked for him as his secretary. She fell in love. He thought she was the kind of girl you fucked but certainly never married.” She took another drink and set the half-filled bottle on the bookshelf, this time in front of Great Expectations. “When she got pregnant with me, she thought everything would change between them, and it did, bu
t not the way she thought. He fired her. Promised to pay child support without fighting her if—and only if—she promised to go quietly. So she did—and it broke her.”

  “What do you mean ‘broke her’?”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and in that moment there was no one in the world Tyler hated more than Everly’s dick of a dad. No wonder she’d been so hard on him in the beginning. He couldn’t discount there were some similarities between them—especially when he’d started things off by suggesting she lose her blue-collar accent. He wanted to kick his own ass again for that ridiculous comment.

  She bit her lip like she was struggling not to share too much. He just waited patiently, hoping she felt comfortable enough to open up to him more.

  She took a deep breath. “Nunni used to tell me that my mom wasn’t always sad all the time and that she’d come back from it, but she didn’t. When she died, I went to live with Nunni.”

  Probably the right choice, but it wasn’t the one a lot of courts would sanction if there’d been a custody fight. “Not your dad?”

  “I’d have to really concentrate to even pick that man out of a lineup.” She shrugged, but it was only a shadow of her normal attitude. “I only saw him a few times before my mom died.”

  There were some people who deserved a little Waterbury justice. That asshole was definitely one of them. “Who is he?”

  She shook her head, her long black strands giving her a temporary curtain. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Needing to do something—anything—and since tracking down her dad and exacting revenge was a fight for another day, Tyler strode over to her and enveloped her, pulling her against him and holding her tight. “Our parents were real gems.”

  As their bodies melded together, a dam seemed to break in Everly. Her shoulders shook as he stroked her back, trying to offer comfort.

  “My mom was all right,” Everly said, her voice a little shaky as she still clung to him. “She just couldn’t handle the hand she’d been dealt. I realized how true that was when I walked into our apartment after school one day and found her hanging in the bathroom linen closet.”