Inviting Trouble (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 2)

by Kylie Gilmore

  Hailey picked up a cookie. “Maybe I’ll slip something into a cookie and offer it to him.” She took a bite and grinned, chocolate stuck to her super-white front teeth. “Like a bug.”

  Mad laughed, finding the perfect beauty of Hailey easier to take when there were occasional flaws. “Do it. I’ll tell him how awesome they are and then we’ll watch him pretend he really enjoys eating bugs.”

  Hailey wiggled her pointer finger in the air, her way of saying good plan without being so rude as to speak with food in her mouth. She finished chewing and swallowed. “Can I make a suggestion?”

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She just knew she wasn’t going to like whatever came out of Hailey’s mouth next. She opened her mouth to say no when Hailey popped another cookie in Mad’s mouth and grinned.

  Mad chewed, too full of chocolately goodness to protest.

  Hailey smiled sweetly. “Let’s do a makeover for the wedding so you can make a big splash. Makeup, hair, dress with heels, the whole deal. None of this lipstick and skinny jeans half-assed stuff. We want you to look amazing. A woman that Parker can’t take his eyes off.”

  “We?” she asked around the cookie.

  Hailey dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, me and the book club ladies. It’s your turn for a happy ending.”

  The teakettle whistled, startling her. Her turn? Their book club was dubbed the Happy Endings Book Club on account of it being a romance book club. She thought it meant the happy ending in those books. Hailey actually thought it meant the members’ happy endings? Well, their newest member, Claire Jordan, did have a happy ending when she fell in love with Mad’s brother Jake. Hailey had arranged the blind date that got them together in the first place. Did Hailey have that kind of power?

  “You can’t just make a happy ending happen,” Mad pointed out, even though she fervently hoped she was wrong. She wanted Hailey to be a miracle worker.

  “Tell that to Claire,” Hailey replied, pouring hot water into their cups.

  “I wore makeup last night,” Mad said. “And my skinny jeans. Park was not impressed. This morning he saw me in a towel, practically naked and wet from the shower. And you know what I got? Nothing. He didn’t even try to peek at my boobs.”

  Hailey set tea bags into the cups and turned. “If you trust me with this, let me work my magic, I promise this will be a life-changing weekend. We’ll get you in a slutty dress. You can wear those Jimmy Choos that Claire gave you. Every guy will want you. And then we’ll launch you at Park. He won’t know what hit him.”

  “Nearly every guy there will be my brother.”

  Hailey tsked. “No, there’s Park, Frank, and Claire’s brother, Rich.” Frank was Claire’s bodyguard, former Army Special Forces. Shaved head, huge muscles, and, okay, yes, Frank was hot, but he was all business on duty. The man never even cracked a smile. Mad could just see herself pushing that stoic guy too far and then he’d snap. Blam. Mad kissing the floor, her wrists in cuffs behind her back.

  Mad snorted. “Now you’re reaching.”

  “What? Frank’s hot. I’m sure Claire’s brother will be cute.” Hailey carried their teacups to the living room. “Bring the cookies.”

  Mad grabbed the platter and a handful of napkins from the holder on the dining room table and joined her on the sofa. Her stomach was doing a weird jittery thing. “Forget it. No amount of makeup or slutty clothes will change the fact that Park sees me as anything but a mouthy twerp. Besides, you know I hate dresses. They’re uncomfortable and I feel all stiff and weird in them.”

  “Please,” Hailey begged. “Let me do my thing. I just know it’ll work. At the very least, it’ll give you some confidence.”

  Mad snagged a cookie. “I have plenty of confidence. I can kick anyone’s ass. No one messes with me.” She shoved the entire cookie in her mouth and chewed.

  Hailey sipped her tea delicately. “No one is questioning your badassery. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  Mad thought back to the very first time she’d met Hailey, showing up at her singles book club after Josh suckered her into it with a bad bet. She’d thought it was the worst idea ever to go to book club. She didn’t even read much back then, but Hailey had welcomed her despite Mad’s I wish I was anywhere but here attitude, and ultimately won her over with a combination of superhot erotic romance selections and her unwavering faith that they could be friends. Hailey had even tried to learn about sports for Mad, showing up at Mad’s Saturday basketball game and playing terribly in front of all the guys. Mad had never fit in with a group of women in her life. Hailey had made that happen.

  “Fine,” Mad barked. “I’ll wear the slutty shoes, but I’m still wearing my pants suit to the wedding.” She wasn’t even in the wedding party. That was just Josh and Hailey, the two responsible for Jake and Claire meeting. Hailey because she’d set up the blind date and Josh because he’d switched places with his identical twin and Jake went on the date with Claire for him.

  “Hair?” Hailey asked.

  She shoved a hand in her unruly hair. It was growing out from a short, spiky cut and awkward as hell. “All right, but it stays red.”

  Hailey nudged her gently in the ribs. “Makeup?”

  “If it makes you happy,” Mad huffed, rolling her eyes. She hid a smile by slurping her tea, feeling a little secretly hopeful. She sucked at all that girly stuff. And Hailey was practically an expert. She’d done the whole beauty pageant circuit as a teen and won a bunch of them.

  “Gracious as ever, Mad,” Hailey said. “You’ll be kissing my feet with gratitude by the time the weekend is over.”

  “You wish!”

  “This is going to be so fun!” Hailey exclaimed. Her smile dropped suddenly. “It’ll be good for me to focus on you. I’m a little nervous about the wedding.”

  “Why?” It wasn’t like Hailey was planning it. She just had to show up.

  “I guess I should say I’m nervous about leaving for the wedding. There’s been some break-ins in town and Ludbury House doesn’t have a security system.”

  “Really?” she asked, shocked. Clover Park had a very low crime rate. “Are the police going to keep an eye on it for you?”

  Hailey folded her hands tightly together in her lap. “Yes. They’re cruising the downtown area regularly, keeping a close eye on the situation. I just worry. Ludbury House is the cornerstone of my business—the ceremony, the reception, even my office are all there.” Ludbury House was a historic mansion owned by the town of Clover Park. The two-and-a-half-story white clapboard house was impressive with white columns and a wraparound porch. The inside was even more impressive with crystal chandeliers, a grand staircase, and antique furniture that was original to the house.

  “Don’t worry,” Mad said reassuringly. “Chief O’Hare will have the situation locked down tight. You just focus on my makeover.”

  That got Hailey right back into happy-helper mode. Mad wasn’t worried at all. The local police were excellent.

  By the time Mad left, she was torn between hopeful and nervous about the makeover. Because if all of Hailey’s best efforts failed, Mad had to face facts—Parker Shaw would never be hers.

  Chapter Five

  Park was up at the crack of dawn as usual and headed to the resort’s gym. He and Ty had arrived last night to the fancy resort in Maine where Jake and Claire’s guests were staying all expenses paid. In fact, Jake and Claire were so loaded from their respective businesses—Jake a global tech CEO and Claire a movie star with her own production company—that the entire ocean-side resort had been booked just for the wedding. A full staff was on hand, though most of the rooms were empty. Claire needed privacy for her wedding. The actual ceremony would be tomorrow on Christmas Eve at her log cabin, which he’d heard was huge, and the reception would be in the ballroom of the resort.

  He pulled open the glass door of a well-stocked workout room with weights, elliptical machines, treadmills, and stationary bikes. The morning news blared from a few wall-mounte
d TVs in front of the treadmills, but all he could see was the petite woman running on a treadmill in a midriff top that was little more than a bra and tiny shorts, skin glistening with sweat. Mad. He quickly averted his eyes, crossed to the small counter where a guy in the hotel staff shirt stood, and signed in.

  He rolled his neck, considering his options. Just about any piece of equipment was going to put her in his line of vision. How many guys saw her working out like that?

  Get to work, he told himself. It’s just Mad. That shouldn’t deter him from his usual morning run. He’d say hi, set the treadmill for a hard run, and watch TV.

  He strolled over, casual as could be, as if he had no problem working out next to a nearly naked Mad. He got on the treadmill next to her. “Hey, little bit.”

  Her head whipped toward him. “Hey, little twit.” She didn’t break stride, a perfect runner.

  “Little twit?” he asked, pressing the button for his warm-up. He started running at a slow pace. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Whadda ya think?”

  Nothing good. He turned to the TV and did his warm-up run, but he couldn’t focus on the news. He kept catching glimpses of slick skin moving in perfect athletic strides next to him.

  What the hell was she even doing here? She’d never been a morning person. He cranked up the speed a notch and glanced at her. Her hair stuck out in back like a bad case of bed head and he had the strangest urge to grip that mass of hair in his hand.

  “What’re you doing up so early?” he asked in a harsh tone because she was screwing up his focus.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, not even out of breath.

  He grunted and fixed his eyes on the TV, feeling unreasonably irritated. He worked out all the time with other people, men and women. He just needed to work harder. He cranked up the speed on the treadmill.

  She cranked up her speed.

  He glanced over at her. She raised a brow in challenge.

  He cranked it up again.

  She cranked hers up again.

  They ran full out in a race to nowhere. His heart pumping, breathing hard, making him feel fully charged, awake and alive.

  She finally slowed it down with a laugh. “Too bad—” she huffed and puffed “—it’s too cold out for a real race.”

  He slowed down a notch, still running at a good pace. “You think you could beat me? My legs are still longer.” He was five foot eleven to her little bitty size. She’d always wanted to race the guys, and she never won. Not her fault, really. She had to put twice as much into it because of her size disadvantage.

  “I could beat you and any of the guys,” she returned, doing a cool-down run. “Now you all are old and tired, and I’m still young.” She slowed to a walk and grinned. “Finally pays to be the youngest. Twenty-six last week, and I’m not even at my peak.”

  “Happy belated birthday,” he murmured as it hit him that her twenty-six wasn’t much different than his twenty-eight. In his mind, she was always much younger. They were two and a half years apart. Sometimes, growing up, like when he was ten to her seven for half the year, he’d lorded it over her, treating her like a little kid. He’d done that every time he’d hit the bigger number until she hit fifteen and things got weird.

  “You didn’t miss my birthday,” she said. “You texted.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  He slowed his treadmill, a little dazed. “I just can’t believe you’re twenty-six now.”

  She stopped her treadmill and wiped her face with a towel, tossing it over her shoulder. “Old enough for a lot of things I wasn’t legal for when you left.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t want her touching drugs. Not that they were legal. He barely tolerated her touching alcohol. His family history made him jumpy as hell at the thought.

  She grinned and he had a flash of a gap-toothed little-kid Mad grinning down at him from the top of the stairs just before hitching a leg over the railing and sliding down. He’d spent half his life terrified for her safety.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked.

  He wanted to interrogate her and then slap on a lecture, but she walked away, hips swinging with attitude, to the weight machine in the corner of the room. He could see her in his peripheral vision. He focused on his workout, running just a little bit harder every time he caught himself watching her work out—her arms, her abs, her legs, everything was smooth, toned, and strong.

  That should reassure him. She was fine. Healthy, strong, resilient.

  He ran harder.

  Finally he finished up and stepped off the treadmill. He turned to find Mad standing there, waiting for him, her skin glowing with good health. He focused on her brown eyes dancing with mischief just like he remembered.

  “You want to grab breakfast after we shower?” she asked.

  His mind flashed to Mad in the shower last week, asking for a towel and then standing in nothing but a towel out in the hallway. He shut that memory down quick. He’d been relieved not to see her much around the house after that, as she’d spent nearly all her time at the university, studying and taking final exams.

  His voice came out harsh. “With you?”

  She looked around the workout room, which only had the guy who worked there, standing behind the counter. “Who else?”

  He was feeling really weird, a little out of his head. He must’ve worked out too hard.

  She waved a hand in his face. “Are you okay?”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, give me twenty minutes.”

  “What are you, a girl? Ten.” She headed to the women’s locker room to the right.

  He barked out a laugh. Still busting his chops. He turned and went to the men’s locker room. See, Mad hadn’t changed all that much, he reassured himself.

  When he stepped out into the hallway just outside the workout room, Mad was already there, waiting for him. Her hair was still wet from the shower and slicked back, drawing attention to the delicate features of her face—her soft brown eyes, the curve of her cheek, that mouth with the full lower lip. She smelled like something citrusy, sharp and fresh. She wore a ripped black shirt that exposed her delicate collarbones, cargo shorts, and black work boots. The contrast of feminine and tomboy reminded him so much of the girl he remembered, fifteen-year-old Mad just beginning to show signs of a knockout beauty, a curvy body hiding under baggy boyish clothes. He’d tried not to notice back then. He wished he didn’t notice now.

  “Come on,” she said. “The hotel restaurant is just around the corner.”

  He followed her, stealing sideway glances at her, trying to reconcile his memory of her with the woman she was today. “You haven’t changed much.”

  She pursed her lips. “Gee, thanks.”

  “I mean, you were about this size at fifteen.”

  She grimaced. “I was this size at twelve. Haven’t grown an inch since.”

  No, she hadn’t grown taller, but she’d filled out. Don’t think about it.

  “You always wear skimpy workout clothes?” he blurted.

  She eyed him. “Everyone serious about working out wears the right clothes. Baggy stuff would get caught on the equipment.”

  “It looked like you were only wearing—” he gestured in the general area of her chest “—a, uh, you know, a, um, bikini top or something.”

  “A bra?” she asked way too loud. “Is that what you can’t say? A bra?”

  “Shh.” His neck was hot, the tips of his ears too. Mad enjoyed messing with people. And the more she could make them squirm, the better. He couldn’t let her know she’d gotten to him. “Yeah, a bra.”

  She shoved his shoulder. “You try shopping in the women’s fitness department. It’s all sports bras and half tops. The men’s stuff is way too big for me.”

  He kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t have brought it up. What did it matter if she wore skimpy stuff at the gym? Probably lots of women did.
Just because he was noticing her didn’t mean she was trying to draw extra attention to herself.

  They got to the restaurant and the waitress gestured for them to take a seat. They were the first customers. Mad went to a table for two by the window with a view of the ocean. The sky was gray; the water a bluish-gray. Maine in winter. It made you want to sit in front of a roaring fire.

  He sat across from her. “Don’t you want to dry your hair? It’s freezing.”

  She scrunched her hands in her hair, making it stick up. He wondered if those spikes were soft. “I didn’t have a hair dryer.”

  He gestured for the waitress and ordered them two coffees. Then he pulled off his gray sweatshirt and handed it to her. “Put it on.” He had a T-shirt under it.

  She crossed her arms. “I’m fine. Besides, you’ll be cold without it.”

  He shook the sweatshirt at her. “I’m cold just looking at you.”

  “Then don’t look at me.”

  “Put the damn shirt on.”

  “No.”

  He set the shirt on the side of the table and crossed his arms. She stared at his biceps. “Then we’ll both be cold.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not cold at all.”

  He heaved an exasperated breath and put the sweatshirt over the back of his chair. “So damn stubborn.”

  “So damn overprotective,” she returned. “I don’t need a protector. I could kick your ass.” Her brown eyes glittered in challenge. She was all sass and attitude, exactly like he remembered. He relaxed a bit, feeling on more stable ground now that they were both fully dressed and bantering like old times.

  “Ya think?” He laughed. “I’ve got a good sixty pounds of muscle on you.”

  “Say the word,” she said with a smile that was downright scary. “I can’t wait to see you go down.”

  He jolted. She didn’t mean that dirty, right?

  The coffee arrived. Thank God. He took a sip, leaving it black. “Sweet as always, Mad.”

  She sipped her coffee too, taking it at its full bitter strength like he did. “I wasn’t raised to be sweet and pretty.”