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

by Ellie Hall

  My skin burned where she’d kissed it. Was she wearing pepper spray lip gloss, or was I affected by her this much? I touched the area lightly as we headed for our car. “Good timing,” I said while helping her inside. “Parley was giving me the third degree about us.”

  “I heard. That’s why I came running. Were they convinced?”

  Maybe not, but I had been for a moment. “It’s still iffy. Parley is dying to humiliate me at the Rhinos game.” I explained the terms of the bet.

  She blinked, as if in disbelief. “Why do fans even care what hat you wear to a sporting event? Seems trivial.”

  “Would you wear orc rags to a fancy elf wedding at Rivendell?”

  Amanda’s mouth dropped to her chest. “Riv—? How—?”

  “What? I wasn’t raised in a cave.” Though, she might’ve debated that. “I went to junior high movie marathons. Tolkien isn’t obscure.” I’d seen both series. A few times, actually, and read the books. More than once. “In fact, I dressed up as Legolas—that warrior elf with the long blond wig and the good archery skills, in case you forgot who he was—for Halloween three years in a row as a kid.” It had gotten all the girls’ attention, for sure.

  “I know who Legolas is.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “Are you mad about something?”

  At the bottom of Ben Lomond’s winding road, she finally replied. “It can’t all be my responsibility to convince your buddy that we’re a couple. You have to be convincing, too.”

  We pulled into the parking lot of the posh-looking Lake Wakatipu Hotel at the base of the mountain. “Oh, trust me. I can be convincing.”

  “You’re not even bothering.”

  “Do you want me to bother you?” I shut down the car and hustled to open her door. She made me want to do old-fashioned things for her, like get her door and carry her luggage. And also say suggestive things. “I can make you very bothered, Amanda.”

  I helped her to her feet.

  Angling her back against the car, I placed a hand on either side of her, palms flat against the steel, kind of like when she’d let me pin her to the panel in the elevator. My engines revved. “For instance, I can bother you like this.” I came in close, my lips nearly grazing the skin of her neck.

  “Calvin.” Her voice was sultry.

  I traced a fingertip along her jaw, and then lightly across her collarbone. “Are you feeling bothered at all?”

  Her pupils dilated, and she inhaled a tiny gasp. “Calvin. They’re not even here to see.”

  “No, but you are.” I stepped closer, our bodies a breath apart. “And until you’re convinced that I’m into you, it’s going to be hard to convince others.”

  “You’re not into me.” She winced. “This is an exchange of services.”

  “I’m at your service, Amanda.”

  She blinked a half dozen times. It was pretty, and her gaze held me captive. “Please, Calvin. Don’t try to confuse me.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I’m not experienced at games.”

  Was this a game?

  Honestly, I had always been interested. She was definitely giving me the time of day now. Was this my shot at melting icy Amanda?

  My inner critic folded his arms and glared me down.

  Do I deserve the time of day from Amanda Starkey?

  I dropped my captor’s stance and backed off.

  “We should go check in.” I pulled her suitcases from the trunk and stacked my one small carry-on atop her huge case. “I’ll see you after we clean up. There’s dinner with the wedding party tonight aboard a steamship out on the lake. Fancy dress.”

  5

  Amanda

  Why was it taking me so long to catch my breath? Standing close to Calvin had happened before, but my heart had never raced like that around a guy. So wrong! Calvin was still the womanizing twerp I’d always known him to be. Nothing had changed just because we’d flown in a plane to the South Seas.

  Or had it?

  “Let me take those.” Mr. Unexpected Gentleman moves appeared again out of nowhere. He carried my suitcases up the two flights of stairs. He put the key in my hotel room door.

  I stared at him with dreamy eyes. A little haze formed around him, like I was in a movie, and I might have let out a stupid sigh.

  “I have the adjoining room.” He hoisted my luggage onto the bed like it was nothing, and my eyes may have lingered on his biceps.

  “Should we meet for dinner?” he asked. After I managed a mute uh-huh, he disappeared into the other room with his one reasonably sized bag.

  I fingered my Galadriel crown and gazed at the door between our rooms beside the fireplace. Calvin was on the other side. Changing. Showering.

  I shook myself free.

  Minutes later, the hot water pounded over my shoulders, clearing pond-guck from my hair and crevices. Had Calvin honestly dressed up for Halloween as a warrior elf—more than once? That couldn’t be true! But if it were, something inside me definitely tripped a wire, and all my love alarms were screaming. I’d better pull the plug on them, tout de suite.

  Speaking of—what the heck? He spoke French, too? In my wildest— No, I didn’t want to acknowledge that a man speaking French was my other Achilles heel, crush-wise. I’d been a goner ever since I saw that movie where the teenage girls go to France and fall in love with the rich French guys. Speak français to me, baby. I’d even vacationed in Paris in hopes of my own romance, but never expected that Calvin Turner could be …

  No. No, no, nope. Every single one of those breadcrumbs marked a trail to Shallow-ville. Calvin was a one-note flirt. The guy had charmed his way up the ranks of SolutionX.

  We were nothing alike. For one, he was a total sports guy, part of Reedsville’s tedious rhinoceros cult. For another, he didn’t care about art or history. He didn’t paint fantastic pictures in his mind about faraway places. Calvin didn’t dream in color—unless those colors were team colors or the colors of lipstick and bikinis his harem wore.

  Plus, he’d spent plenty of time bagging on the hobbit quote picture at my desk.

  Why? When he obviously went through his own Tolkien phase? He might try to hide it, but a fan was obvious to another fan.

  Maybe there was one Calvin Mystery to solve. I dried off from my shower and selected something to wear.

  Okay, there were a lot of mysteries to solve, one of them being what my hormones’ problem was when it came to Calvin. They should absolutely get in line with my logic, which shouted that the guy was all wrong for us—for all the parts of us.

  Now, for what to wear to irritate him most at dinner. I rifled through my suitcase and came up with the perfect thing.

  “Calvin?” I knocked on his door once my hair was tamed and my dress adjusted. “You ready for dinner?”

  He appeared at our adjoining door wearing—oh, my lands.

  “You look …” I spluttered. He looked like he was posing for one of those magazines featuring men who cared about fashion. Although, I’m pretty sure women bought most of the copies at the check stands. “Wow.”

  “Too much for an engagement send-off dinner on the SS Earnshaw? They said fancy.” He looked up from a folded pamphlet featuring a steamship on its cover and looked at me for the first time. “Oh, Amanda.”

  “Right?” I spun in a circle, my deep blue velvet maxi dress with bell sleeves—of course. Always the Celtic-style bell sleeves. “You like it, eh?”

  “I mean …”

  Oh, good! He hated it. It took everything in me not to cackle with delight. “You assume that no one in Middle Earth is dressing like I am, but you watch. It’s actually a perfect choice.” I clung to his arm. “Now, take your Serious Girlfriend to dinner.”

  We descended the grand staircase. “There’s nothing I can take seriously about you, girlfriend most of all, in that outfit,” he muttered.

  I linked my arm through his, clinging tightly. Mmm, his cologne, which I was totally ignoring.

  Down at the lake’s large dock, the o
ld steamship was harbored. “It’s cool.” I hadn’t been expecting something so authentic.

  “The brochure says it’s a hundred-year-old Edwardian-era twin-screw steamer. It is also the only remaining commercial passenger-carrying coal-fired steamship in the southern hemisphere.”

  Look at Calvin, reading a brochure. Also outside my expectations.

  We met up with the other guests, including Parley’s parents and Ellen’s whole family, about twenty of us in all.

  “You’re breathtaking!” Ellen embraced me and then stepped back, holding both my hands. “You’re ethereal. Mom, isn’t she ethereal?” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t you wish I’d thought of putting my bridesmaids in this style of dress?”

  Her mom smiled like the wedding plans were wearing on her.

  Ellen leaned in conspiratorially. “You’ve fired up my nostalgia for my Tolkien phase. We all went through it, right?”

  “I’m still in mine.” I smiled—mostly for Calvin’s benefit. He glowered back. “But if you’re serious about the dresses, I might be able to help you. How many bridesmaids do you have?”

  “Just three.” She bounced up and down. “You’re not serious.”

  Calvin stepped up and tugged at my arm. “No, she’s not serious. Come on, Arwen Daughter of Elrond. We’re seated near the best man and his wife.”

  He recognized an Arwen costume?

  We squished into seats on the deck of the SS Earnshaw, and a beautiful meal was brought to us in five courses. I ate all five courses with gusto, ending with the delicious fruit-topped meringue.

  “Anybody want second desserts?” Parley asked. “Calvin and Amanda? More sugar for the sweethearts?”

  This was my chance to be convincing. “Much as I’d love to, if I eat one more strawberry I might pop out of this dress.” I rested a hand on my distended stomach.

  “I wouldn’t mind the sight of that,” Calvin whispered so only I could hear.

  I flushed and dipped my head. He shouldn’t have been able to raise these reactions. He was the office player. I was the girl he’d always ignored.

  “No dessert for them. They’ve got enough sugar with their sweet nothings.” Parley chortled at his pun.

  Calvin reached for my hand and stroked the center of it, sending tingles up my arm. He pressed his nose and lips right up to my ear. “They’re buying what you’re selling. Even in that crazy dress you’re doing great. You win a trip to one hobbit site.”

  His warm breath down my neck shot fireworks through me. He was so deliciously near. Since I did need to be convincing, I turned my face toward his, our lips almost brushing, when—

  Ellen held up a glass toward us. “To the next couple in line for nuptials.”

  Calvin straightened and pulled away. “Nuptials,” he breathed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.

  Nuptials! Me, with Calvin? Hardly. I fumbled but managed to lift my goblet.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Parley cough-spoke into his elbow. “But still, salud.” Parley held up his glass and waited.

  It took long seconds, but Calvin finally lifted his glass. “Salud,” he croaked before fake-sipping from its edge.

  Wow, he clearly did have a terror of commitment—seemingly beyond dating every girl in sight and dropping them. Half of me wanted to roll my eyes, but my more compassionate half was curious. What had happened to make him so resistant to lasting love?

  “At the bride’s request, something different in lieu of traditional speeches.” Ellen’s mom stood up and passed papers and pencils around. “Who’s ready to play the newlywed game?”

  “No one here is newlywed.” Parley pushed his aside. “Yet.”

  “Oh, Parley, honey. Play along.” Ellen rested her head on his shoulder. “Whoever wins gets first pick of the horses for tomorrow’s excursion.”

  Horses! “Are we going riding?” I sat up straighter. I loved horses and it had been forever.

  Calvin pulled me by my waist and muttered a warning. “Please, no costumes when we ride.”

  “Aw, but I have the perfect Riders of Rohan costume. It’s black leather. Very form-fitting.”

  His jaw fish-dropped and shut a couple of times. Victory!

  Standing at the head of the table, Ellen’s mother clapped for attention. “Pencils, everyone. Now, you’re answering these questions twice—one column is for your own answer, the other for how you think your partner will answer. A point for each matching answer.”

  I readied my pencil.

  “What is your favorite color?”

  Easy. Blue, I wrote in my own column.

  Then, I saw the blank column beside it—uh-oh. How on earth was I supposed to know Calvin’s favorite color? My heart pounded. I was going to blow our cover with every single answer.

  Until … a memory from our fated elevator breakdown smacked me.

  Your eyes are the color of emeralds.

  It was worth a shot. G-r-e-e-n, I wrote in Calvin’s column, and then added, like emeralds and my eyes.

  Ooh, that’d get them. Even if it was wrong, they’d have to give us props for looking like a couple. I rubbed my hands together. This was the best strategy possible!

  We were going to win this game, even if we lost.

  And then, the next question hit me like a truck. “Where did you have your first kiss?”

  We’ve never kissed.

  6

  Calvin

  “Good bullet-dodge with your on the lips answer to the question about our first kiss.” Brilliant, actually. I should’ve thought of it. Instead, I said in the elevator—which was where I’d first seriously wanted to. There’d been times before that, when I’d seen her slaving away in her cubicle at SolutionX, the no-nonsense bun in her hair looking so sexy and serious at the same time, and it’d crossed my mind.

  “I can’t believe you wrote that my favorite food was shrimp.” Amanda made a gagging noise as we walked back up the trail to the hotel. The night was warm and a breeze caught the fluttering folds of her dress. “Hello, chocolate?”

  “It’s not a food.” I reached for her hand. I mean, we had to make a showing, right? “It’s a dessert.”

  “Depends on how you eat it.”

  There was no way she ate chocolate as a meal and looked the way she did. “You’re the one who wrote that my favorite movie was Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”

  “At least we got a laugh.”

  True, they’d laughed—which, I’ll admit, was a pretty good tactic.

  She leaned her head back and looked at the night sky. “The sky is huge here. More stars than I’ve ever seen outside the glitter on my popcorn ceiling.” Her creamy soft neck drew me like a lure.

  “I hate to inform you, those shards of metal on your ceiling aren’t stars.”

  “That depends on your imagination.”

  My imagination was taking me to a lot of places right now. We crossed the gravel, our feet crunching. “I never knew you spent a semester in Paris. What was that like?”

  Amanda turned to me with one of those broad smiles. “It was amazing.” She described the food, the walks in the arrondissements, Notre Dame, the Right Bank. “Basically, it was my own la vie en rose.”

  “I thought you were obsessed with all things Middle Earth. How does hobbit-free France fit?”

  “I’m a woman of many passions.” Somehow she made the word passion seem seductive, even in that context. Every minute I spent with her, I was drawn to her more and more.

  Parley and Ellen caught up to us, jogging.

  “Wasn’t it cool to be on Lake Wakatipu? They filmed several scenes there in the movies you love.”

  “Really?” Amanda brightened. “So cool!”

  Oh, yeah. I squinted at her. “See? I promised you I’d show you one filming site. I already made good on it.”

  She smirked back. “You’re a cheater.”

  “You guys had better rest up for tomorrow. You lost that quiz battle hard core.” Parley flicked an invis
ible speck off my shoulder. “Made me wonder for a second whether you were a real couple.”

  My scalp went hot.

  “Parley.” Amanda clung closer to my side. She’d better be selling us. “How could you doubt?” Suddenly, she rose up on tiptoe, her face close—and then she was kissing me. I didn’t even have time to inhale. The world tipped on its side faster than a human hamster sphere hitting a bump.

  Of course, my hesitation didn’t last. I got up to speed with her strawberry-laced lips in no time and pulled her against me. Her whole frame was supple, nothing icy about it. I was the one who melted into her warmth. A soft sigh escaped her mouth, turning me momentarily into her slave. When we pulled apart, our gazes remained locked, and I swam in her eyes’ emerald depths.

  “Whoa, now.” Ellen cleared her throat. “We didn’t mean to set off a firestorm of desire there.”

  “Yeah.” Parley smacked my back. “I’d say get a room, but you’ve already got one.” He chuckled and Ellen and Parley left us in the silver moonlight.

  When they were out of earshot, I was still blinking at Amanda. “What was that?”

  “That, my dear Calvin, was acting.”

  “Acting. Right.” I coughed. “Best-actress-worthy.” We walked again toward the hotel, still collecting all the little pieces of me that her kiss had shattered into the air around me.

  “Thank you.” She sounded proud of herself—and not very affected by my kiss.

  Ouch. But women loved to kiss me. They begged for more kisses. What was going on, and why didn’t I have my usual manly effect on Amanda Starkey? “Shine those skills up for tomorrow when you have to act like you’re great at archery.”

  “I am great at archery.” She kept pace with me, but we didn’t hold hands. I wasn’t ready for more contact. I wasn’t asbestos. “I’ll bet I’m better than you.”

  Bet? My neck stiffened. “That’s a bet you’ll lose.”

  “And if I win?” She oozed confidence—likely sourced from the triumph of seeing me go to pieces in the wake of her explosive kiss. “You have to take me to see a waterfall. There are a few nearby.”