So Screwed

by Melissa Marino

  “Abel sent it!”

  She stepped toward the arrangement, circling it with her lip curled. “And he thought sending you this was the way to go?”

  I poked one of the petals. “It’s all so weird and…creepy. This is all your fault!”

  “My fault?” she shouted, slapping her hand to her chest.

  “Because you told me to! You encouraged it.”

  She waved her hand above it. “Well, you have to get it out of here before a client comes in and thinks we’re exchanging weddings for funerals.”

  * * *

  I had to say something to Abel. I mean, that was just good manners. Plus, it was going to be a double-whammy type of call. Thanks for the flowers, and never contact me again, weirdo. My judgment was seriously lacking for even considering going out with this guy. Callie was right. I should’ve stayed clear.

  “Anything else?” Bridget asked.

  “No. Just Mrs. McGovern. But I have it taken care of.”

  She smiled. “Just how I like it. Okay, I’m running out to meet the Lake people at Red Loft. I swear to hell if that incompetent coordinator didn’t get those extra tables in there for the wedding Saturday, I’m going to level her with one look.”

  She was so badass. I hoped one day to be just like her.

  Once she left, I sat down at my desk and called the number Abel put on the card. I took a sip of my coffee and tried to tell myself the butterflies I was feeling as the phone rang were just my stomach complaining it hadn’t had breakfast and not that I was going to be hearing Abel’s sexy voice. If anything would be my downfall at that point, it would’ve been that.

  On the fifth ring, he picked up, but I didn’t hear anything right away. A rough throat clearing, followed by a couple rounds of coughs were the first sounds before I heard a very raspy, very sexy “Hello?”

  “Abel?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I cleared my own throat loudly, hoping to rouse him out of his sleepiness. Christ. Just don’t answer the phone if you’re still sleeping at ten a.m., especially if you’re going to sound so hot doing it.

  “This is Evelyn. Owens. Evelyn Owens. I got your flowers and was calling to say thank you, but that I’d have to decline the dinner invitation.”

  There was a pause, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “Wait. The flowers? You didn’t like them?”

  “They were…fine.”

  “Fine? Wow. You must really think I’m a dick to call flowers I sent fine. Don’t hold back.”

  “Look, I said thank you, but you don’t have to get snotty because I don’t want to go out with you.”

  “I don’t care if you don’t want to go out with me. You could at least be cool when you’re calling someone to wake them up and then act all ungrateful.”

  Oh hell no.

  “First off, I didn’t know you’d still be sleeping at ten.”

  “I’m a bartender. I don’t get home until three, and by the time I unwind and shit…well, you get the point.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “In any case, I was being tactful in regards to the so-called flowers. I have no idea what you were trying to prove by sending such an arrangement, but I wasn’t impressed. I was secondhand embarrassed on your behalf.”

  “I very thoughtfully picked out that seasonal mixed bouquet!”

  “A bouquet? For what? The cemetery?”

  “That vase was extra.”

  “There was no vase. Where the hell could they even put one?”

  He paused. “They didn’t deliver the flowers in a vase?”

  “No, I think it was a tad too large for one, don’t you think?”

  “Ah. No. Just how big is it?”

  I glanced at it and couldn’t even begin to explain. “Let me take a picture and send it to you,” I said.

  After considering if I should stand on my desk to get the full effect, I decided that if I stood far enough back I could get the entire thing in the picture. I snapped the picture and sent it to him.

  “Okay. Just sent it,” I said.

  He was quiet for several moments before I heard him take in a sharp breath. “What the fuck is that? I didn’t send that!”

  “Your card was sitting all pretty on top of it,” I said. “I had to get a ladder to get to it.”

  “Ha-ha. Let me call you back.”

  He hung up before I could say another word.

  I set my phone on my desk and leaned back in my chair as I considered what my next move should be. Everything about Abel’s delivery, both with flowers and in most other actions, was always riddled with ridiculousness. There was an innocence in his ability to be oblivious and a sexiness to his will to behave without fear. He spoke his mind, and while that sometimes included a level of inappropriateness, the boldness was growing on me.

  Five minutes later, he called me back.

  “So, apparently the flowers I ordered for you were delivered to Vana’s Mortuary, and the arrangement you received belonged at a funeral there.”

  I started laughing, not only because it was the perfect explanation, but also that the guy probably couldn’t have been any more embarrassed.

  “Thank you,” he said with a sigh. “Rejected by the girl who received the Treasured Moments standing spray of flowers.”

  “No, no,” I said, catching my breath. “I feel bad. I do. If it had happened to me, I would’ve died.”

  “Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that the flowers were the reason you didn’t want to have dinner with me?”

  I picked up a pen and started twirling it around my finger. How could I answer that? I wasn’t going to let him know I was hoping he’d call or text to ask me out. That I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since the night before.

  I bit down on the edge of my pen and had an idea. “Presumption is a good word for it. For now, I have to do something with the flowers. Bridget was freaking out. If a client comes in and sees it, well, it just doesn’t fit in with the rest of the bridal decor. I’m not quite sure what to do with them. I don’t just want to throw them in the Dumpster.”

  “The florist said he would come pick them up, but it would be a few hours.”

  “Hmm. I guess I could move it down the long hallway or something until they come, but I don’t know if I could by myself.”

  Come on, Abel. Follow me here.

  “Of course you shouldn’t. In fact, I’m going to call that asshole florist and tell them to come pick it up immediately.”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Don’t do that. They already messed up once today.”

  There was a long pause, one in which I was hoping he was connecting the dots. I casted out, dangling the bait.

  “Any maintenance people to help you in the building?” he asked.

  Maybe I was losing my touch.

  “That’s not their job, you know, helping us move stuff. I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Thanks again—”

  “Wait,” he said.

  Wait.

  “You aren’t going to try to move it yourself? I mean, I saw yesterday how nicely you dressed for work, and you shouldn’t be getting all dirty and stuff,” he said.

  So close. Bring it around, buddy.

  “Do you want me to stop by and move it for you?”

  Bingo.

  “Would you do that? I’d really appreciate it.”

  “How about we make a deal?” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice, the smile that drew his dimples in and made me remember what it was like to feel flutters.

  “Yes?” I said, smiling, hoping he could hear it, too.

  “How about I come by in about an hour, get rid of the memorial of my humiliation, and take you to lunch as an apology.”

  Fist pump.

  “I can’t agree to that,” I said.

  I heard him whisper “shit” under his breath. “You confuse the hell out of me.”

  “What I will agree to is taking you to lunch for helping me out. Deal?”

  He
laughed, deep and strong. “Absolutely.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  Chapter Six

  ABEL—

  Jesus Christ. That girl. Feisty. Sexy. The mix of both was so captivating. She was going to eat me alive, and I already knew I’d let her and enjoy it.

  There was no other explanation for me getting up after a few hours’ sleep to go move some flowers and have lunch. After a quick shower, where I drank extra-strong coffee from my Captain America shower mug, and deciding that glasses would have to do because contacts weren’t happening this morning, I was off.

  I thought about driving to her work, but it was a quick “L” trip there. The energy of the Chicago train and streets was just the extra wake-up call I needed. Her office building was situated almost on the direct opposite side of WET. I always loved knowing the white-collar workers probably wished for a hidden bar in the building. They had no idea what was happening right underneath their noses as they left work for the day.

  I walked to the elevator, and after scanning the directory to see where By Invitation Only was, I headed up to the fifth floor. Once I exited, my hands began to shake. I turned the corner, and the glass door was immediately to my right. The first thing I noticed was her.

  She was staring at her computer, her eyebrows creased in concentration. She was wearing a white shirt, or blouse, or whatever the hell they called it. It was cut low, but not too low. Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears, and her lips, Jesus. They were that same red, like the perfect red, painted with a lipstick that made the color look like her own. My mind wondered what it would be like to kiss her lips, that mouth, and wipe it all away. I didn’t even give a shit that most of it would end up on me.

  God. Her. Those lips. Around me. I strained against the zipper of my jeans.

  “Hi,” she said, opening the door. She smiled but looked confused. Well, maybe it was confusion, or maybe it was something more like weirded out. “Why are you just standing there? Come in.”

  I stepped in, and she was right there in front of me. She smelled and looked like something out of a wet dream, while I sported a Hummer-sized hard-on.

  “Glasses, huh?” she asked, grinning. “They suit you.”

  “Yeah,” I said, touching my black rims. “And I wasn’t just standing there on purpose. I, ah, was making sure this was it. I wasn’t sure, you know. Well, I mean the name was on the door, but you looked busy. I didn’t want to barge in and disturb you. Are these the flowers? Duh. Of course they are. Okay, well, I’ll take them and be right back.”

  “Oh, well, there’s no rush,” she said.

  Yes, there is. I need this…covered.

  The damn thing was in fact an atrocity and definitely was heavier than I expected. It made the He-Man let me carry this thing out like the strong man that I am act look weak. I didn’t need any more help looking like a jackass.

  “Okay, well, if you want to do it now, I was going to have you put it outside at the end of the hallway. There’s only empty offices down there so, until the florist comes to get them, they’ll be safe.”

  “Cool. Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

  I dragged the thing down the hall, which seemed to expand more and more, like the scene from Poltergeist. Carnations and huge leaves left a trail behind me, and there was no room to even give a fuck. I was pretty sure I’d blown it, and if she did believe the flowers were a mix-up, I came across as such a huge tool and lost all credibility.

  When I got back to the office, Bridget was standing next to Evelyn’s desk. As soon as I opened the door, they stopped talking and stared at me. They’d obviously been talking about me. It showed.

  “Hey Bridget,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  “Hey there, Abel. I saw you picked quite the declaration in terms of flowers for Evelyn.”

  “It was an accident,” I explained. “The flowers I got—”

  She walked over and punched me in the arm. “I know. I just wanted to see you squirm. Thanks for getting it out of here because, well, I can’t have that shit in my office.” She continued past me and into her own office. “I’ll need her back in an hour. So, if you want to eat and have a little post-lunch make out, you’ll need to make it quick.”

  “Whatever,” Evelyn said. I watched as she stood and was finally able to get the full view of her, without the distraction of flower removal. Her shirt was tucked into a tight, slim skirt and every inch of her curves—Jesus, that ass—was perfectly in place.

  “You want anything?” Evelyn shouted to Bridget.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Evelyn looked at me, her eyebrows raised in question. Going out was her idea, her offer, so I wanted it to be all in her hands. Plus, I wanted to see what she would come up with.

  “It’s up to you. It’s your date, right?” I winked, and instead of her looking like she was put off, she smiled.

  “Lou Mitchell’s,” Evelyn shouted.

  “Ugh,” Bridget said. “Do I eat delicious greasiness or snack on my cucumber slices?”

  Evelyn swung her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait and find out if she wants something?”

  “It was more of a rhetorical question than anything. She’ll sit there and talk herself in and out of getting something while we waited.”

  I followed her to the elevator, noticing that her shoes were black heels with a small strap that wrapped around her ankle. It was both professional and sexy. It was a fine line, and most women couldn’t pull it off, but she did. As I trailed behind, I noticed her strong, toned legs. She had to work out. Or run.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, as the elevator doors closed. Her eyes drifted downward, her long lashes following, and I thought maybe she was just as nervous as I was. “You know, for helping with the flowers,” she added quickly.

  “No problem,” I said.

  She smelled amazing—sweetness, and vanilla, and something. Without thinking, I moved closer, inhaling deeply.

  “Are you…smelling me?” she asked, pushing herself to the back of the elevator and as far away from me as possible.

  “No. I mean…it’s just, you smell really nice and—”

  The elevator opened, and she stepped out as quickly as she could. Meanwhile, I tucked what was left of my dignity back into my pants.

  * * *

  Lou Mitchell’s was a Chicago institution. It had been around for over eighty years and was visited by presidents, celebrities, and average people on any given day. They have the most delicious breakfast that’s served all day. There were many early mornings while in college spent there with friends after pulling an all-nighter or partying and needing to refuel my body with enough fat and carbs to send someone into cardiac arrest. It was that good.

  I held the door open for her, a gust of wind blowing her hair back into me. It was something she used on her hair that added to whatever else she used to make her smell so good. She had no idea I was sending those flowers or that I’d be seeing her today, so why did it seem like when she woke up in the morning, she made an effort to do everything in her power to assure she drove me absolutely crazy.

  “Welcome to Lou Mitchell’s,” a smiling older woman said. She held out a basket to us. “Would you like a doughnut hole?”

  “Yes!” she squealed. “They have the doughnut holes.”

  She reached into the basket and pulled out two doughnut holes. “Here,” she said, holding one out to me.

  I didn’t know of any other place that gave you warm doughnut holes as you entered, but it was one of the things that made Lou’s special. I popped one into my mouth and resisted the urge to groan, they were that good. Good or not, moaning after I was caught sniffing her was just going to up the chances of getting slapped.

  We slid into opposite sides of a booth that was tucked away in back near the kitchen.

  “Mmm,” she said, licking the tip of one of her fingers. “Yummy, right?�
��

  She was fucking kidding me with this, right?

  A small dusting of powdered sugar was left on her lower lip. “Definitely yummy. You have a little on—”

  I leaned across the table, brushing my finger against her lip. “You have a tiny bit here.”

  My finger skimmed across her lower lip, pausing movement as I reached the corner of her mouth. The palm of my hand instinctively rested against her cheek, and the moment I realized what I was doing, was when I was going to pull away for fear it was too much.

  But the look she was giving me, the way her blue eyes held tight on mine and how still she was as my palm settled against her face, told me I had nothing to fear.

  A small smile appeared from her, and while it was fleeting, it was totally fucking there.

  I pulled away from her, returning her grin as I did.

  “Thanks,” she said, picking up her napkin and going over the area again.

  The waitress came over to take our order.

  Evelyn was ready. “Can I get the Denver omelet, please? And can you add cheddar cheese to that? Thanks. Oh, and a side of pancakes. I’ll just drink water, too.”

  My jaw dropped. A girl who wasn’t afraid to eat and eat well. “Nicely done,” I said, impressed.

  She shrugged. “What’s life if you can’t…indulge every once in a while, right?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “So…,” she said.

  “So…”

  “Have you been working at WET long?” She snorted after she said it, covering her mouth. “It sounds so much dirtier out loud than it did in my head.”

  “Imagine working there.” I took a sip of my water as she watched me, her eyes scanning across my face.

  “I’ve been there over two years. Worked there a night a week when I was finishing up school, graduated college and I couldn’t find a teaching job. Now, I’m working there full-time. Not my dream job, but I’m lucky to have it.”

  “Sucks about the teaching thing. I have some friends going through the same thing.”

  “I had no idea it would be so hard. You figure, we live in Chicago, there should always be a need for teachers.”