Until Merri
Suzanne Halliday
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Suzanne Halliday
Happily Ever Alpha World books
UNTIL MERRI
Copyright © 2019 by Suzanne Halliday
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published by Boom Factory Publishing, LLC.
Suzanne Halliday CONTRIBUTOR to the Original Works was granted permission by Aurora Rose Reynolds, ORIGINAL AUTHOR, to use the copyrighted characters and/ or worlds created by Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Work; all copyright protection to the characters and/ or worlds of Aurora Rose Reynolds in the Original Works are and shall continue to be retained by Aurora Rose Reynolds. You can find all of Aurora Rose Reynolds Original Works on most major retailers.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Edited by editing4indies.com
Cover by Kari March Design
Dedication
Friends, Love
and
Happily Ever Afters
Chapter One
The view from the fifty-yard line of the friend zone looked perfectly reasonable to a casual observer, but Tom was sick and damn tired of being stuck in the middle.
“Why do I need all this stuff again?”
He looked up in time to find Merri practically on top of him. She waved three remote controls in his face while he knelt next to her entertainment center and tried to make sense of the miles of wires and unnecessary cables crammed behind the unit. From a knees-on-floor vantage point, he was eyeballs to boobs.
And this is what being stuck in the middle of the friend zone feels like.
Pushing his glasses up to his head, he dusted his hands on his pants while getting to his feet. The grunt at the end of the endeavor had more to do with mileage than age. At thirty-six, he wasn’t ready for the senior discount at the homestyle buffet, but he was a card-carrying recipient of a Purple Heart. He couldn’t tell you where the fuck it was, though. Maybe his mom had it, but frankly, he didn’t care.
“This one is for the Apple TV. Be careful with it. Mine is so sensitive that if I think about using it, the unit powers up.”
Merri scoffed. “Be serious, Tom.”
“I am being serious. Now zip the lip and let me finish.” He took a second remote from her hand and pointed it at the TV. “This one is for your satellite system. It does all the major stuff, but you need the one that came with the TV for Netflix and whatever apps you use.”
“Blow me.”
“Now, now, now,” he tsk’d. “We’ve been over this. Remember? The anatomy lesson? Blowing you isn’t really an option.”
The remote controls sailed through the air and hit the sofa back. They dropped onto the cushions, and he groaned.
“Yeah, so, uh, Millicent,” he quipped, using the name she hated with all her might. “When the remotes go missing, remember to check under the sofa cushions.”
“Are you trying to annoy me, Tom Franklin, or is this your default setting?”
He grinned. Annoying was good, right? His inner nerd did the calculations and determined that, yes, annoying ranked higher than flat-out disregard. He’d take it and shut up.
“Tell you what, sweet cheeks. You don’t worry your pretty head of tousled hair about any of this”—his hand indicated the royal mess of her living room—“and I’ll print you out a cheat sheet. If you pretend to be nice for longer than five minutes, I might be persuaded to use colored ink and laminate it too.”
“Excuse you.” She snicker-laughed. “Don’t treat me like a girl.”
“Ah, god,” he drawled. His hand slapped dramatically across his eyes, and he shook his head. “Again, Merri. The anatomy lesson, remember? Newsflash, sweetheart, you are a girl.”
His right bicep absorbed a pretty good jab.
“Ow! Fuck.” She shook out her hand as she swore. “When did you get steel implants?”
For shits and grins, he did some Schwarzenegger bodybuilder moves until she cracked up and smirked.
She eyed him. “You know what they say about dudes who work out, right?”
Tom considered her crossed arm body language, cocked hip, arched brow, and snotty smirk. Was there another female on the planet half as fascinating as this feisty one? Nope. Not as far as he could tell.
“I thought you were going to be nice,” he muttered in a growl of mock irritation.
She laughed and did one of those haughty hair flip moves. Her tone was drier than vermouth when she lobbed a verbal salvo.
“Dudes who work out have teeny-tiny cojones. Steroids, bad news. And no love life.” Her triumphant sneer was so Merri.
He turned to the referee in his mind and signaled for a time-out. She’d uttered the words love life. That goddamn ball stuck at midfield was going to get covered by grass if it didn’t start moving. Was that his opening? Should balls-out flirting be part of his answer?
It hit him like a thunderbolt right between the eyes. The answer for how to get the ball moving came easier than he imagined, courtesy of his dad.
First, though, was the bossy miss staring him down. His lip curled in a playful half-sneer.
“Nice try. I don’t work out. Don’t need to.” He made some arm gestures and grinned. “My pitching arm does great off-season now that the baseball complex has a training barn. Clocked an eighty-six when they used the radar gun on me last week.”
She scowled, and he chuckled. Bringing up baseball was a surefire way to get her going. Merri was a softballer and a good one. She played in high school and did intramurals through college. But being good at softball was an insult in her mind. And why? Because softball was for girls, and she wanted to play real ball on the boy’s team. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if he played in the adult men’s league because he liked it or because it annoyed the shit out of her.
There was that word again. Annoy. Hmm. Yep, yep. Time to replace being annoying with something a bit more … unf. The chemistry between them was unmistakable, and he’d been Mr. Nice Guy long enough.
“Whatever,” she bit out. “I still have the better batting average, so there.”
He snorted. “Yeah, because I’m a chiropractic mess. Thanks, Army. Pitching—yes. Batting—no. Running—depends.”
Her face fell. Despite all of Merri’s bravado, she was a softy. Not only that, but they’d been friends long enough that she played a part in his recovery after bidding the military a one-finger good-bye salute. A fancy gold and purple medal was nice and all, but he’d much prefer to not have been in a war or gotten fucked up. Their easy closeness gave her a front row seat during a shitty time.
“Damn, I’m sorry.” She stepped over a pile of crap and grabbed him for a quick, fierce hug.
For a split second, he knew what heaven was like. Merri hugged—like really, really hugged. She wasn’t a fan o
f going through the motions. With her, it was heartfelt and meaningful.
Plus, she smelled like a million bucks.
Oh yeah, and her tits. Fucking A, when she hugged him like this, her tits were hard to ignore.
She stepped away and dipped her head for a second. Lately, when they had physical contact, she hid her expression. He spent weeks having one worried moment after another, fearing something was wrong. Until recently, when she wasn’t quick enough to disguise the look in her eyes, and he had his first glimmer of what was going on behind the veil.
Millicent Merriweather wasn’t immune to him as a man. He smiled.
For no reason, he took his glasses off and slid them into the pocket of his shirt. She did a double take and made a cute face.
And then something happened. Something mind-boggling. She gave him a coy smile, and Tom was certain the scientists at Cal Tech felt the planet shimmy on its axis.
“Dammit,” she jokingly muttered. “You’re doing that Clark Kent thing again. Stop it.”
He jolted and looked at her strangely. “Who? Clark Kent? You mean Superman?”
His mind went mushy when she blushed. Actually, goddamn blushed.
“Yeah, you know. Mild-mannered, glasses-wearing regular guy by day. And then the glasses come off.” She giggled, then shrugged and feathered her hair behind both ears.
There was a lot of shit he knew, and a lot of shit he didn’t know, but Tom was positive that what had just passed between them qualified as flirting. Farm team flirting—not even junior league—but everything had to start somewhere.
Was this really happening?
He took a reading. She was blushing and fiddling with her hair after more or less telling him that taking off his glasses was a power move.
Awesome.
He mentally walked to the pitcher’s mound, fingering the ball in his hand. Should he toss an easy one, a fastball, or a curve? In the end, the decision was simple. Just throw one down the middle and hope it crosses the plate. It was what she did with it that mattered.
“I’d take them off more often, but your beauty blinds me. A shame.” He sniggered. “Because the X-ray vision doesn’t work through contact lenses.”
She blinked in slow motion. Her face was a cross between perplexed and amused.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. He got through three Mississippis before she found her voice.
“Did you just … wait, what?” She chuckled as her hands came up. “What the hell are we talking about? I seem to have lost the thread.”
Feeling brave and cocky, he drawled, “Well, I sort of thought we were flirting, but if you’re confused, I guess my technique needs some work.”
More blinking. This time, she shook her head like someone trying to make sense of nonsense. He laughed at the wordplay.
“Wait, what?” she asked again, only with obvious interest.
The military had taught him many things. First and foremost was how to hurry up and wait. But they also taught him about sensing when to pull back. There wasn’t a fucking thing wrong with watching and waiting after pitching one straight down the middle.
Leaving her hanging, he put his glasses back on and snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot.”
Dashing back to the entertainment center, he knelt, fussing with the wires, but basically did nothing. Arranging the cords connecting all the components, he changed the subject back to why he was at her place to begin with.
“I put a new strip behind the unit. Surge protector. Everything is plugged into one thing. I tagged each line so you can tell what’s what.”
“I hate technology.”
“No, you don’t.” He chuckled.
“Okay, maybe I said that wrong. Technology hates me. It’s a thing,” she declared.
He laughed. His back complained when he stood, but he shook it off and took a deep breath. Using his shoulder, he gave the unit a hefty shove and slid it into place against the living room wall. Maybe not a bright idea, he thought as a spasm shot into his neck. Definitely time to schedule an appointment with Dr. Schwartz.
“You’re all set. Between Netflix, the satellite lineup, Amazon Prime, Apple TV, and all your apps, you have more than enough crap to watch.”
When she reached across the coffee table for the discarded controls, she leaned too far and nearly lost her balance. He put his arm around her waist and hauled her upright before she did a face-plant.
Damn. She smelled better than good. He closed his eyes and inhaled with his nose an inch from her hair.
Releasing her before things got awkward, Tom rushed around the room to tidy the mess he made. Her chocolate eyes watched him, and he wondered what she was thinking.
“Um, yo.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Am I making dinner or what?”
Merri asked the question while scratching her elbow. It was an unconscious move. A stress reflex.
Leaning to one side, he pitched a handful of crumpled trash into a bin and raised his hands in victory when the ball of crap sailed straight and landed true. At the same time, he pondered her vibe and checked out her face. She was nervous. Why?
Time for a joke or a bad pun. He was made the crown prince of non sequiturs after discovering early on that baffling with bullshit was a solid tactical move.
“Target’s having a sale on Christmas decorations.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her head shook slightly. He enjoyed her confusion. Merri walked through life with an air of confidence that sometimes bordered on the cocky, so nudging her out of the box sometimes resulted in a glimpse of her inner self. Pulling the rug out or pivoting to a one-eighty subject change threw her off.
“Huh?” Her tone was an uncertain mutter.
He answered in a matter-of-fact voice. “Didn’t you mention wanting to get some stuff for the school?”
“Oh, right. I did say that. There isn’t enough extra in the budget for a holiday refresh.” She shrugged like donating a shit ton of stuff to the school she worked for was no big deal. Especially since, as the bookkeeper, she managed the school’s purse strings.
“I was gonna Secret Elf something for each classroom.”
She fiddled with an earring and tried to pass off her act of kindness as nothing. The bigness of her heart was really something.
“So dinner? I have chicken soup in the Instant Pot. Interested?”
Tom grinned. “Will biscuits be made available?”
“Pfft, of course. Grandma Merriweather says a meal without bread is a crime. I’ll come through, even if all I have on hand is the heel from a loaf of shitty white bread.”
“You wanna know what else is a crime?” he asked.
Her smile broadened. “This oughta be good,” she murmured snarkily.
“I know you love your newest kitchen gadget, but that thing robs the senses. The house should smell like whatever you’re making. Isn’t the aroma part of the foodie experience?”
Her nose went up. “I smell it.”
“Barely,” he growled.
“Point taken. You get off on the full gastronomical adventure. Not just a destination event.”
Acknowledging her clever comeback with a slow clap, he wagged his eyebrows and winked. “Remember that T-shirt we saw at the barbecue festival?”
He saw a flash of happiness in her chocolatey eyes, and then she dropped her head back to laugh. They had the best fucking time ever at the all-day pig roast and barbecue competition. He was glad the memory made her smile.
“Hell yeah, I remember the T-shirt. You sniggered like an idiot.”
“Well, what did you expect? It’s true—what the shirt said. Ya ain’t doing it right if it’s not all over your face.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. With one hand, she asked for the rest of it. “Okay. Go ahead. Say the rest.”
He chuckled. And grinned. Like a doofus. “Finger-lickin’ good.”
Her expression was priceless. Nobody could pull off long suffering like his sweet c
heeks. With a wicked smirk, she said, “So when they handed out characteristics and abilities, do ya think all the women were in the line marked ‘patience,’ and the men queued up for ‘sexual innuendo’?”
Scratching his facial scruff, he considered the question. “Your tone implies patience is a virtue while making everything about sex is not.”
“Nah,” she hooted in her uniquely quirky way. “It’s all good. So, nerd man, yes or no to chicken soup?”
“You don’t have to feed me because I fixed one of your screwy messes.” He didn’t want her to think every favor needed a payback.
“I know. Does that mean you’ll stay?”
Jesus. There was never any question about him staying, but her asking came from the fifty-yard line. That uneasy place where their relationship teetered. Were they just friends or something more?
He answered from his heart. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.”
“Great!” She smacked her hands together and looked around. “Hey. What pairs with chicken noodle comfort food? Beer? Wine? An umbrella drink?”
“I’m sure a food snob would have a coronary, but why don’t we crack open a bottle of the cabernet you dragged home from your Napa Valley vacation?”
“Ah!” She gasped, and her eyes twinkled. “The Beaulieu Cabernet? Yes!”
They high-fived. “Good choice, Benjamin Franklin.”
She worked overtime on playing with his name. The girl was known for her name issues.
“I’ll go throw some biscuits in the oven, and you do whatever it is that you do.”
Oh, man—she just gave him such a huge opening. A wide grin covered his face. “Can I watch?”
“Watch what?” She looked at him with suspicion.
“You. In the kitchen. We can, uh, talk and stuff. You know.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
Her apprehension was adorable. She thought he was up to something—another side effect of being stuck in the friend zone.
Until Merri: Happily Ever Alpha World Page 1