Happily Evan After (Fall For You Book 1)

by Michelle Irwin

  He grinned. “Actually, there’s no need to watch you in the act to determine what I need to know about you from your toilet paper habits. Although, it might be helpful if I know whether you fold or scrunch.” He laughed to show he was joking.

  “You know, this is so crazy I might need to be institutionalized before it’s through, but I actually think you and I will get along fine.”

  “I know we will.” Evan slung his arm over her shoulder. “So what’s for dinner?”

  “How about you just order in some Chinese? I’ll finish up down here and then we can eat.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Evan left her alone in the darkroom, but she could barely concentrate. There was so much going through her head. While she set the two rolls of film in the developing tank, and even as she ran through the now-routine steps of pouring each of the chemicals into the tank in turn, her mind kept returning to the guy upstairs. She could hear his feet moving around and a few times it almost seemed like they paused outside the door at the top of the basement stairs, but he never entered.

  Becca knew she was crazy to trust him, but she did. She also strangely wanted to please him, and so she kept running the question he’d asked her earlier over and over in her mind. Who was her ideal man? What did he look like? What were her favorite features?

  Becca knew it was just a coincidence when hazel eyes, brown hair, and a solitary dimple at the edge of a lopsided smile each presented themselves as candidates for her consideration. She was certain it was an even bigger coincidence when each one earned a giant tick.

  She was just finishing hanging the developed film to dry when there was a knock on the door.

  “Becca?” Evan’s voice came through the wood. “Food’s here. I hope you don’t mind, I used the cash in your purse.”

  “I’ll be up in a minute,” Becca called back as she thought about the fact that she had a new rule to add to her list—no going through her things. Not that she minded him using her cash—she figured he probably didn’t have any of his own anyway—but she didn’t need to think about him leafing through the receipts in her purse, psycho-examining her every purchase or trying to decide her ideal partner based on the brand of tampon in her bag.

  After she’d washed up and was sitting at the kitchen table with Evan, she had the chance to ask some of the questions that had begun to form in her mind after the rush of new information had slowed. It gave her something to focus on beside the fact that she was the only one eating. “How many exactly?”

  He glanced over at her. “What?”

  “You said there were others, how many?”

  He shrugged. “I lost count after the first couple of thousand.”

  Becca’s brow scrunched. “That means you can’t have spent much more than a week with any of them?”

  “Some more, some less. Sometimes, I’d have two or three names to match at once.”

  “But not now?”

  “No, now it’s just you.” He seemed confused about the direction of her questions, but there was one thing that was evident. Assuming he wasn’t lying about when he’d first shown up, he’d been with her for a week already and she wasn’t any closer to being paired off.

  “What’s so terribly wrong with me that you’ve had to spend so much time on me?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Becca, nothing at all. I just want to take my time to find the person who is perfect for you.”

  “Why do I get extra attention?”

  He cleared his throat. “No reason at all.”

  There was definitely something he wasn’t saying, but no amount of coaxing would draw it from him so she gave up.

  One day though, she’d find out why.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As Evan sat in Becca’s bedroom, he kept all of her rules on a loop in his mind—all sixteen that she’d come up with since their first conversation. He knew that technically he didn’t have to follow them if he didn’t want to. After all, he wasn’t bound by any agreement like he was when it came to performing his cupid duties. He probably wouldn’t end up in insurmountable agony, broiling in the pits of Hell. Then again, from what he’d learned about Becca so far—maybe he would. Regardless, he followed her rules because he wanted to and because it made her happy. Above everything else, he wanted that.

  Even without the benefit of a love interest, and the additional feelings that would have stirred within her, Becca’s emotions were stronger than any he’d ever experienced before. Her simple happiness buoyed him like nothing else ever had. If he’d known it could be so fulfilling just to have a few honest conversations with his assignments, he probably would have started doing it a long time ago.

  Usually when he did take the risk to approach them directly he’d masquerade as something else; something innocuous, like a hairdresser or shop assistant. He’d always choose a profession where people were almost expected to be at least a little bit nosey.

  “What about this one?” Becca asked, lifting another dress out of her closet. It was a floral sundress that would probably match her skin tone perfectly. It’d look beautiful on her, but then the other four dresses she’d shown him would have too.

  She’d look great in any of them, can’t she just pick one? “It’s fine?”

  She stopped assessing her reflection and turned her gaze on him. Her emerald eyes were piercing and pinned him to the spot, as did the wave of annoyance that rolled through her. “Was that a question?”

  “No.”

  She lifted one brow, but mercifully her gaze softened before she turned it back onto her reflection. “It sounded like a question.”

  “I’m just not sure what was wrong with any of those other dresses.”

  “I want to look just right.”

  Apparently one of the doctors at the hospital Becca worked at was putting on a BBQ for some of her workmates and their families. She seemed to think it was going to be the best chance at meeting “the one” but Evan wasn’t sure he was convinced. Or maybe he was convinced, but didn’t like the thought of someone else coming into her life anymore.

  For three days, he’d had Becca largely to himself and he had to admit he liked it way more than was probably appropriate. When Becca returned to work the day after she’d been sent home, he’d trailed behind her—unseen by all others—but because she knew he’d been there, she’d uttered witty remarks and serious comments that he knew were meant for his ears alone. Then when they’d arrived home together that night, they’d joked about the things she’d seen and said.

  She hadn’t even gone down to her dark room once in those three days. Evan liked to imagine it was because she liked his company, but had to accept that maybe she just needed a break from the chemicals.

  Those few evenings alone with Becca were the most fun Evan had ever had. Her laugh was infectious and her smile warmed him to the core. Absorbing her happiness was a bonus, but it was more than that—he felt happiness for himself too. Felt it for perhaps the first time since Rose’s death.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't rather me go incognito like at work?" Evan wasn't sure whether he was overly happy about going to the event and being paraded around, but it would be Becca's choice. He was fast learning that it would always be Becca’s choice and he was weirdly okay with that.

  "I'll end up spending the whole day walking around talking to myself, never knowing if you're actually there."

  "I could hold your hand or something to let you know I'm there?"

  Becca looked down at her fingers with a small smile, before shaking her head. "No, I think that would be too weird. There's going to be enough other people there that you'll just be able to blend. Besides, you need to have some fun too."

  I've been having fun, spending time alone with you. The words were on his tongue, but he knew they were too heavily weighted with his desire for him to ever be able to speak them. "I just think that it's going to raise questions."

  "Trust me they'll all be too drunk by the time we get there." She laughe
d. "Besides, maybe I want to show you off a little."

  The amount of pride that filled Evan at her simple statement was really quite laughable. If he was a twelve-year-old girl, he probably would have squealed. As it was, he gave himself a mental high-five. "If that's what you want," he said, trying to ooze cool confidence despite the way his insides twisted with pleasure and nerves.

  "That's what I want,” Becca said. She looked at herself in the mirror again. “Maybe I should wear the pink one?”

  Evan resisted the urge to sigh. “Maybe you should just get dressed in something unless you want to go in those jeans and that t-shirt,” he muttered.

  “Maybe you should watch yourself or I might just need to spend the day watching sappy movies that break my heart and make me cry instead of going to this thing. Or better yet remembering exactly what Bobby Dunn did after we’d been dating for three months.”

  He laughed. “You would do that.”

  “I would,” she agreed. “Now help me pick.”

  “Go for the black one with the roses. It’s fun enough for a casual picnic but it’s flirty and—”

  “Hints at romance?” she finished for him.

  “Exactly. Roses equal romance.” Evan wouldn’t admit it to Becca, but for him roses would always remind him of his Rose, just like Becca herself did.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t make the rules; I just try to apply them to find love for people.”

  “I think roses are tacky.” She plastered a fake smile on her face and held up her hands, miming receiving a bouquet of flowers. “Oh, a dozen roses, how . . . cliché.”

  “Has anyone ever bought you a dozen roses?”

  “Well, no.”

  “I’ll tell you what, if anyone ever does, I want you to find me and tell me how tacky the moment was.”

  “Okay, maybe tacky was a little harsh. But surely there are better flowers? Prettier, unique ones.”

  He sat up straighter. “Like which ones?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, you can tell how happy I’ll be when I’m eighty based on my favorite flower.”

  He pushed himself off her bed, stood behind her and met her eye in the mirror. “No. I just think it’s interesting to learn new facts about you.”

  Evan noticed Becca’s breath hitch and her heart speed. He needed to be careful around her until she had some direction for the love his abilities roused in her—if he wasn’t careful, he’d inspire another round of lip-locking. Not that he’d complain about lip-locking. Except he was positive it would lead to butt-kicking and a certain cupid ending up on the street.

  “Wear the black one. I’ll meet you in the car in ten minutes.”

  Becca stared after the cupid with her heart lodged firmly in her throat. There were moments, tiny fleeting moments, where she was able to forget what he was and why he was in her house. In those few seconds, she’d unwittingly imagine they were just a regular couple doing regular couple things. It felt natural for him to be in her house, for them to be together, Sometimes it felt as if they’d been married for years, not strangers until a few days ago. When he’d come up and stood behind her while she was appraising dresses in the mirror, was one of those moments. He’d whispered such sweet things that she longed for him just to be hers. She could have so easily twisted in his hold and pressed her lips to his. It would have been as natural as breathing.

  One thing she’d noticed in the last few days was that her man-craziness had abated almost as soon as Evan had shown himself. Or maybe abated was the wrong word—redirected was probably a better choice. In fact, the kiss she’d shared with Evan had played on repeat in her dreams over and over. She was even able to convince herself that for a moment, he’d actually kissed her back—which was impossible.

  She snorted while she was undressing at the thought of Evan having anything more than a professional interest in her. She’d learned over the time they’d spent together that for him every moment, every action, was an opportunity to learn more about her so that he could find her perfect match. Instead of being disappointed that his sole interest was to fix her up with someone else, she was determined to do everything she could to help him in his task. He could then find his next assignment and hopefully Becca would be left happy enough and no longer so lonely.

  Pulling on the black dress with red rose print, Becca took a moment to check her reflection and she saw why Evan had picked that outfit—almost as if she could see herself in a new light. The contours of the dress hugged her figure perfectly, highlighting her hips and ass rather than accentuating them. The bust line was modest enough that she wouldn’t have to be worried about spilling out over the top, but low enough that her girls were on display in the best possible way.

  Becca lifted her mass of curls off her shoulders, trying to figure out what to do with them before deciding that she’d just leave them out. Grabbing a hair-tie just in case she regretted that decision five minutes into the BBQ, she raced through the front door and made it to the car well within the ten minutes Evan had allotted her.

  “I didn’t mean literally ten minutes,” he said as she raced through the garage door.

  She grinned at him. “I was ready, didn’t see much point in keeping you waiting.” She threw him the car keys.

  “What are these for?”

  “I told you I’d give you driving lessons. Right now, I’m not in any massive hurry to get to work, or too tired after work, so I thought it would be an ideal time for you to learn. Well, relearn.”

  “I don’t really have any I.D.”

  “It’s a ten minute drive, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  Evan looked down at the keys in his hand and she could tell he was tempted. “Maybe just this once, but I can’t become a regular chauffer for you.”

  She pulled open the passenger door. “Aww, I wanted to have my own Driving Miss Daisy relationship so badly.”

  Becca watched with amusement as Evan climbed into the driver’s seat of her Mustang and caressed the steering wheel like he was being reunited with an old lover. Desire practically burst from him and, for a moment, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “I love that smell,” he murmured.

  Becca sniffed at the air. “Armor All and old gym socks?”

  “No.” He turned and gave her a soft smile. “History.”

  “I wasn’t aware that history had a smell.”

  “It does,” he said earnestly. “It smells just like Armor All and old gym socks.” He laughed. “Or like a stuffy old attic.”

  “Are you saying my car smells like a stuffy old attic?”

  “Well, you said gym socks; that’s way worse than an old attic.” Evan pushed the key into the ignition but didn’t turn it.

  “Are you ready?” Becca asked when she noticed his reluctance. She was ready to tell him not to worry if it was going to be too hard.

  “Yeah, I just need a minute.” He took another deep breath and then turned the engine and smiled when it growled through the cabin. “This really is a great car.”

  Becca rubbed the dash. “Thanks, it was my Nana’s, she had it from new but gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. Just before . . .” Becca trailed off before she said what was on her mind—her Nana had given her the car only a few months before succumbing to illness. It was part of the reason Becca would never sell it. “She kept it in really good condition, but I put it in for an overhaul a little over a year ago now.”

  Evan seemed to understand Becca’s unspoken sentiment. But then he would with that whole I’m-reading-your-emotions-because-I’m-a-cupid thing.

  “So you’re telling me I should be careful with her?”

  “I’m telling you that usually no one gets to drive Millie, but I’ll make an exception in your case.”

  “Millie?”

  “Yeah, Millie the Mustang.” Becca giggled at the memory that accompanied the name. It was a few months after she’d moved in with her Nana that her thirteen-year-old-self had dec
ided that the car needed a name and they’d soon agreed on Millie.

  “You’ve got a ’65 V8 Mustang Fastback and you’ve called it Millie?” He appeared positively scandalized.

  “What’s wrong with Millie?” Becca felt slightly insulted that he seemed so disgusted in her choice of name.

  “Nothing,” Evan said with a little too much speed. He’d obviously realized he was treading into dangerous territory. He stroked the steering wheel again. “It’s just . . . Millie?”

  “Cars are always girls, right?”

  “I guess. I just think that a tough car needs a tough name.”

  “Millie can be tough.”

  Evan held his hands up in surrender. “If you say so.”

  “If you’re so against her name, I won’t let you drive her.”

  “This was your idea.”

  “I know that, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.”

  Evan brushed his foot across the accelerator and, based on the look on his face, Becca wouldn’t have been surprised if his apparently unused appendage was standing firm and attentive again. Her gaze slid over his crotch to check, but the position he was sitting in made it awkward for her to see—at least not without overtly staring at his groin. Instead, she focused on guiding him through getting the car moving and safely onto the street.

  Becca decided that when Evan had stated that he couldn’t drive he was overstating it a little. The closest they’d come to any major disaster during the drive was when he’d stalled it at a stop sign. By the time they arrived at Doctor Petersen’s house—or maybe retreat was a better word considering the size of it and the facilities it offered to his guests—Evan’s smile was so wide his solitary dimple ran almost the length of his cheek.

  He turned off the engine and instantly climbed from the car, moving to open Becca’s door for her, but she’d beaten him to it. Instead he offered her his arm and led her toward the house.