Love, Laughter & Happily Ever After: A sweet romantic comedy collection

by Ellie Hall

  There. Perfect. Now to watch Calvin’s expression. He wanted a Serious Girlfriend? I’d give him one. Someone seriously crazy in love with him.

  Emphasis on crazy.

  I had two large suitcases chock-full of crazy, borrowed from my cosplaying cousin Tessa. They were perfect retribution. Not that I wasn’t grateful for his offer of a vacation from SolutionX—I’d needed one for ages but my workload never allowed—but Calvin deserved a little something served up especially for him in return for all the times he either ignored me or antagonized me.

  Tolkien might say that history was about to become legend.

  “Wow, you look just like her.” The male flight attendant’s eyes popped. “So regal.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready to disembark now?” a female attendant spoke with forced patience. “You’re the last one aboard. We’re ready to clean for the next passengers.”

  I looked behind me at the empty plane. Oops. Since elf queens don’t blanch, I simply gave them my most aristocratic nod. “You may commence.”

  I swept down the jetway, like the queen of the elves herself.

  Frankly, the dress-up kind of helped. It would take a total alter-ego to make this convincing girlfriend of Calvin thing happen. He could be such a toad. Good-looking but distinctly toad-like.

  A toad my Dream Self apparently wanted to kiss in hopes he’d turn into a prince.

  My Awake Self knew he would not.

  As I emerged, Calvin rushed up to me, horror in his eyes. “Are you a nutcase?” He held open his jacket, hugging me close and hiding me from staring crowds—and filling my senses with his very nice aftershave.

  I wriggled out of his grasp. “Hello. This is New Zealand, land of all things Lord of the Rings. Look around you.” I waved grandly at the expanse of the baggage claim where everyone else was—

  Not in costume. Of course. “I feel so at one with Middle Earth here.”

  “Halloween isn’t until next month.” He took off his jacket and wrapped me in it. “Were you thinking you were actually going to a live movie set?”

  “No.” I aimed for sounding a little hurt. It must’ve worked because he backed off.

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You make a gorgeous … whatever creature that is.” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering in a few strategic areas. “I’d ravish you if I were prince of the elves or whatever.” But then he pushed my hair back. “Are those pointy ears?”

  “Do you want me to be myself or not?” I planted my foot and shrugged off his coat, shoving it back in his arms. “Then, this is what you get. I’m Amanda, queen of the elves, which means I require a king, not a prince. Are you man enough to be my king?”

  Calvin straightened. “Oh, I’m man enough.” On either side of him, he hefted my two suitcases. “In fact, I’m man enough to hoist your luggage off the baggage claim. What have you got in here? Gold bars?”

  “Please. Only dragons hoard their gold. And they keep it underground.” I patted his arm and headed for customs. He could be my porter. I was the queen—and enjoying every second of watching him squirm. We exited to the wide New Zealand world. “It’s all the things I knew I’d need for this trip. No sense traveling light.”

  “No one would accuse you of sense.” He lofted my bags into the trunk of what must be our rental. “Look, there’s Parley. No weirdness, okay? Just be yourself.”

  This was myself. My New Zealand self. The woman who could channel the strength to feign sincere interest in Calvin Turner. “I look forward to your introducing me to the peasants.”

  “Amanda.” Calvin aimed the first serious countenance at me I’d ever seen on his face. “Quit it.”

  Two people approached, obviously Parley and his bride Ellen. I smiled at them like the Serious Girlfriend I was.

  “Calvin!” Parley gave him one of those half-hug-half-back-slap hugs. “This must be Amanda—the girl who made you say the dreaded word girlfriend.”

  “Next thing you know, he’ll be getting a houseplant. A live one.” I shook his hand.

  “Or—gasp—a pet.” Parley turned to Calvin. “You made it just in time. I thought you’d be here half an hour ago.”

  “We were.” Calvin smirked at me. “Amanda took a little detour disembarking.”

  All eyes were on me. Ellen’s sparked to life. “You didn’t tell me Calvin was dating a movie star.” She had a Kiwi accent that sounded so cute. How could I get one of those? “I’m Ellen.” She inclined her head, as if I were actual royalty. Ha. I loved her already.

  Parley didn’t seem at all fazed by my getup. “Nice to meet you, Amanda. There’s not time for lengthy introductions. We’ve got too many activities planned. Follow me in your rental car and we’ll meet you on a foothill of Ben Lomond. Everyone’s waiting. Inflatable human hamster sphere rolling contest—be there or be hexagonal.”

  “Be hexagonal! Now look who’s the nerd,” Calvin muttered after Parley and Ellen ducked into their car, and we got in ours. “Ellen had better not be changing him.”

  “Women always change their men—whether the men are aware of it or not.” I’d seen it many times.

  “Men don’t change.” Calvin darted a look at me. “I can’t believe they didn’t laugh you off the planet. You’re not wearing that all day, are you?”

  “Do you want me to take the time to change? Everyone’s waiting, they said.” I liked my dress. Besides the fact it was gorgeous, it bugged Calvin. Win. “I refuse to do this trip by halves. You should appreciate that.”

  “Well, you didn’t live up to your girlfriend role back there.” He stayed right on Parley’s bumper as we drove. “Are you serious about wanting the trip to Hobbitville or not?”

  “It’s Hobbiton,” I said reflexively, before realizing—again, too late—that he was baiting me. “There wasn’t time. Did you want me to attack you with kisses right in front of them?”

  Their lead-car took us up a winding road to the foothills of towering, snow-capped Ben Lomond.

  “Don’t forget your day trips are at stake, Amanda.”

  Was that a warning or a tease? “I will live up to my commitment”—my voice lowered and was surprisingly husky—“when it’s not tacky to do so.”

  Calvin swiveled his head toward me, an imp possessing his face. “I’ll be convinced when I experience it.”

  I straightened my crown. “I’ll be the queen of convincingness.” Why was my heart pounding?

  We pulled into the lot and parked beside Parley and Ellen. She ran up to my window. “I’m so glad you’re here. I have heard so much about Calvin but nothing about you yet. You’ll have to tell me all about yourself after this race.”

  “Race? What race?”

  “Oh, just our first race of the wedding week. You’re going to have so much fun this week, especially with your pro-acting skills to tap into.”

  “Oh, I’m not a professional actress.” Worse, it’d take far more dramatic skills than I possessed to convince the world I was good at outdoor activities. “Or a racer.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll love this.”

  I trailed after the bride-to-be, who led me to a row of tall, plastic orbs, hollow and with room for a person inside. Or—wait. Make that two persons. In the first three, couples already waited.

  “Does your girlfriend always wear the crown and gown? Because it totally rocks. Rocks and rolls?” Parley pointed to the huge plastic ball. “Get it?” He slapped Calvin’s back.

  I liked the guy more and more. His dumb puns were oddly endearing—and so different from the guy I’d pictured as the best pal of Calvin Turner, slickest of schmoozers.

  “You can stop with the dad jokes now, dude.” Calvin apparently didn’t picture Parley so goofy either. “What’s gotten into you?” He shot a look at Ellen, who was diving head-first into a sphere labeled The Bride and Groom.

  “Let’s go, Parley baby!” Ellen motioned him over.

  Parley winked at Calvin. “Love, I guess.” He jogged toward
Ellen but called over his shoulder. “You should try it sometime.”

  “I’m already trying it, pal.” Calvin slipped an arm around my waist and yanked me against his solid ribcage. “See?”

  That was my cue! “He sure is.” I rested my head on Calvin’s shoulder. “Calvin’s smitten with me.”

  Unfortunately, Parley only barked a laugh and then climbed inside his human hamster sphere with Ellen.

  “Weak effort,” Calvin whispered into my ear hotly. “No Hobbitburg for you.” His hot breath seeped down my neck.

  A weird giggle escaped my throat, maniacal, like I’d lost control of my faculties. I gurgle-choked it back. “I’m building up to it. It’s a crescendo, dude. Haven’t you ever heard of that?”

  Calvin turned and faced me, his gaze smoky and playful. “Trust me, I know about crescendos.”

  Glowing embers of Calvin’s penetrating gaze flipped all my insides to my outsides and then back again. I shuddered to rearrange myself. “Let’s just get inside that thing. Everyone’s waiting.”

  I hitched up my heavy silver skirt and marched toward our ball, in all its clear-plastic-hexagons of inflated glory. I’d show him crescendo.

  4

  Calvin

  The sphere we were supposed to enter and roll in was like something I’d seen online a while ago. Adult-sized and made of dozens of inflated hexagonal cells, with a few hexagonal openings, rather than being fully enclosed. Good, since I liked the option of breathing.

  “You ready, my queen?” I held the opening ajar for Amanda to climb inside our sphere. “You sure you want to wear the full costume? It might get dirty.” Plus, it was pointy.

  “It’s wash and wear. Elf linens are practical.” She shimmied inside the sphere while I gaped. Surprise, surprise, Ice Queen Amanda could shimmy. “Now, what are the rules of the race?”

  “According to sphere-rental dude, on the signal, we race down that lane.” I pointed at the hill in front of us. Either side of the grassy area had a ridge of earth, making it like a giant grassy bowling lane.

  Amanda gasped. “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice pitched higher. “That we’d … roll back and forth or something. Go for a walk in it. On level ground.”

  “Au contraire, ma chérie. This is Parley we’re dealing with, one of the most competitive men alive.” At least he had been until getting infected with lame jokes. Now who was he? I didn’t even know anymore.

  “You speak French?” She blinked at me. “Never mind. There’s a moat at the bottom.” She clutched the inner handlebar near the top of the sphere hard—her knuckles were white. “Are we swimming next? In that murky water?”

  “It’s to break our landing, and then we paddle across. First couple to the little island wins.” We’d better win. “Let’s show Parley that you and I are definitely a team.”

  “Paddle? Like with our arms?” She pushed her fluffy, or whatever, sleeves up to her elbows. “If this dress gets ruined …”

  So it wasn’t wash-and-wear? “It’s your own fault for wearing it.” Although, I had to admit the over-the-top gown activated my imagination.

  The starting gun sounded. All the other inflated spheres began rolling. Some were having a rough time getting any forward motion. We achieved none at all.

  “That’s our signal, Mandy-girl. Time to roll.” I hung onto my set of handles and began to walk, which pressed my torso against her back. “Forward, and—”

  At first, it was no big deal. We were at walking speed, but then—something happened and we pitched into a somersault motion. Down we went!

  Head over heels, repeat. Then, Amanda zigged when I zagged, and suddenly we were rolling sideways.

  “Calvin?” she squeaked. “I’m losing my grip.” Her fingers slipped off the handle, and with a thwack, her arms pounded against mine, and I lost my own grip. Soon our heads hit the ceiling, and Amanda was gripping my arms, which encircled her waist.

  “Yes, I speak French,” I shouted. “High school French. Je m’appelle Calvin.”

  “Je suis mort!” She made a croak-of-death sound as we careened around inside the plastic sphere. “Why did we say yes to this?”

  “Because you want me to take you to the City of Hobbits.”

  “Hobbiton. In the Shire. Get it right.” She jabbed her pointy elbow into my ribcage. Not hard, since she was already in my arms. “Oh, no!” she cried as our heads hit the ceiling of the sphere again. “My crown is gone.”

  “We aren’t going back for it.”

  “No. I mean—look.” She craned her head back and indicated where the crown’s pointed edge had embedded in one of the inflated cells of the ceiling.

  “Don’t pull it out,” I begged as she reached for it.

  Too late. She’d grabbed it, and a sinister hissing followed.

  “Oh, no. I think I popped the orb.”

  No question about it, one whole hexagonal panel was flattened in a split second just as—

  Splash! We hit the murky water of the moat.

  Upside down, and swamping fast. Oh, no! Amanda was head down!

  I rolled to the side. “Don’t drown, Amanda.” Scrambling, I tipped the sphere, but it kept rolling back to its worst possible position, with Amanda’s head down in the water and her wacky silver dress flowing down and showing me her pink bikini briefs.

  Okay, so it wasn’t the worst possible position.

  “Amanda!” I pulled at her. “Roll this direction. Flip over. Come on.” With one massive tug, I righted her, and she landed on my lap. “Can you breathe?”

  She spluttered, the spray hitting me square in the face. “I popped it.”

  “But are you all right?”

  She nodded, her face a sheepish apology. “Can we still win?”

  Seriously? She could focus on the contest in her current state? Go, Amanda Starkey. That was a move worthy of a downed-on-the-ice Reedsville Rhino.

  Around us, other couples floated or spun helplessly on the moat. “None have reached shore yet.”

  “Then we’ll show them.” She twisted around, extracting herself from my lap, and stretched an arm out one of the gaps. “You count, and I’ll row from my side and you row on yours. Team Amandavin cannot lose.”

  “Amandavin! What about Calanda? With my name first.” We paddled to the rhythm I called, making surprisingly good progress. “Or, better yet, Turnerstark?”

  “Turnerstark? Sounds like a former-Soviet republic. What about Vinnerdakey, with both our names’ last syllables?”

  “Now we sound like … a chipmunk.”

  “Calvin!” she shouted in that gurgly voice from the cartoon. “Just row us ashore!”

  We pressed and pressed, until a gust of wind swept us backward.

  Parley and Ellen approached the island.

  “They’re winning.” I didn’t stop rowing. Parley the newly minted weirdo could not beat us. He’d tell me his dad jokes gave him superpowers. “Come on.”

  “Calvin.” Eyes wide, Amanda twisted around to look at me. “Is it only me, or can you touch bottom?”

  I stretched my legs down through the holes beside where her crown had flattened the sector. Oh, yeah.

  “Run!” We Fred-Flintstoned it across the pond, tripling our speed and reaching the shore and tumbling out of the sphere, a photo-finish of the bride and groom. “We win!” I hauled Amanda’s arm into the air in triumph. Then I did my signature victory dance—the one Parley hated most—right up in his space. “Take that, pal.”

  “We need an impartial judge to make this call.” Parley pulled Ellen to his side. “And why are you celebrating with me when you should be with your sopping wet lady love over there?”

  Lady love? Oh, right. “Hey, Amanda.” I winced. She was a mess. Gorgeous, but messy.

  Ellen hurried to Amanda’s side, motioning for the inflate-a-ball staff to bring some help.

  I hung back. Ellen had it handled. I elbowed Parley.
“My Serious Girlfriend is a good competitor, right? We’re a match.”

  “I smell a fake.” Parley folded his arms and eyed me like he knew everything. “That woman is totally not your type.”

  “What do you mean? Look at her. She’s gorgeous. And I always say—”

  “Yeah, yeah, that your favorite color is blonde.” Parley had heard my junior high joke too many times. Fine, he wasn’t the only source of lame jokes. “But she’s … different.”

  Crazy, perhaps? “The elf costume is just a phase, I’m sure. She does look good in it.” My excuses sounded lame.

  “No, I mean she’s smart and funny.”

  “Are you saying that’s not my type?” I totally went for smart, funny women. “Or are you saying not funny ha-ha but funny weird?”

  “I’m not bagging on your girl. Geez.” He pushed my shoulder. “She’s not like the vapid women you usually date. It was a compliment. But also a red flag. How much are you paying her?”

  I felt all the blood drain from my face. “Dude,” was all I could manage against the pinch of the Viking helmet and the nearly audible jeers of Rhinos season ticket holders.

  At that moment, however, Amanda skipped my direction, her soaked dress clinging to her in all the right ways. She draped herself across my torso and gazed up at me with the sweetest look I’d ever received. My insides didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Cal, guess what. The hamster sphere guy said we won by a split second.” She broke into a broad grin worthy of a Hollywood starlet, her lips tempting me to dip down and meet them this instant. “How should we celebrate?”

  Uh, by making out? Right here on the grassy hill? “What do you suggest?” I placed a kiss on her forehead, hugging her to me tighter than if we were koalas. She was supple and warm—and completely unexpected. I was getting caught up in this hug, couldn’t take my eyes off her pretty smile.

  “How about a hot shower and a change of clothes?” she said.

  “Together, you mean?” I couldn’t help myself. She’d left that one wide open.

  The actress she claimed to be, she didn’t bat an eye. “You scamp!” She pecked my cheek and then took my hand and turned to Parley and Ellen. “You don’t mind, do you? We could both use a freshening up from our long trip.”