Chapter One
Elizabeth Owens was on a mission: Operation Get a Life. And kicking it off with a bachelorette party should have been like storming the beach at Normandy. But this was more like being that guy who had to stay home and fill out the paperwork.
She’d thought she knew a little something about bachelorette parties. After all, she’d spent the majority of her last decade watching rom-coms, many of which featured a bachelorette party. Based on her extensive research, bachelorette parties were a guaranteed rocking time, which also served as the catalyst for learning important life lessons by the end of the crazy night.
When Cindy invited her out, even though they were only work friends, Elizabeth had jumped at the chance. But not just because she was overdue for a crazy night and a little personal clarity. She couldn’t take another evening in a house that echoed with silence now that Megan was gone. So after work she’d raced home, stripped off her scrubs, and wriggled into something tight and short exhumed from the depths of her closet. Slapping on an extra coat of mascara while singing “Bad Girls” by M.I.A., she’d told herself she was about to have an epic time. Like she used to have back in college. Before. And tonight would only be the beginning. The City of Boston was her new playground and she was ready to climb some monkey bars.
She looked around the table of assembled women and barely repressed a sigh. Staying home and watching reruns of Matlock would have been more epic. This wasn’t at all what Hollywood had led her to expect. Everyone was glued to their phones. That is, until one of them would arrange the straw in her drink, hold up her phone, and say, “Ready?”
It was like triggering a sleeper agent. But instead of knocking over the table in a rush to go kill the president, the others merely cocked their heads and pursed their lips for the Instagram pic before listlessly returning to their phones.
Elizabeth was feeling like the subject of a total bait and switch. She’d put on high heels for this, and not even the bride-to-be had the simple decency to dance on a table. Surely she wasn’t the only one who needed to have some fun?
“Who’s ready for another round?” she asked in a peppy voice. “Don’t speak, because I already know the answer—everybody!”
They looked at her like she had three heads. She refused to let her smile fizzle. They were going to have fun, damn it. “Okay. I’ll just head on over to the bar.”
She teetered in her unfamiliar footwear across the floor of the Thorny Rose to the scarred wooden bar. She wedged herself into the one inch of free space, accidentally bumping the man seated to her left. She automatically touched his shoulder where she’d hit him. It was pleasantly firm. She dropped her hand before she could give it a squeeze.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
He looked up at her with a smile. “Feel free to hit me anytime,” he said.
He was all the colors of autumn, from the red glints in his hair to the green of his eyes. The fall changed everything. When she was young, it meant a new school year, with new teachers, subjects, and friends. And then later, it had been fall when she received the phone call that changed the trajectory of her life. And now this fall Megan was gone. Exactly like she wanted, Elizabeth reminded herself, forcing down the pang of loneliness conjured up by that thought.
The cute guy was still smiling at her. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a sign it was genuine. “I will,” she said inanely.
“No, I’m Will,” he said. At her blank look he added, “That’s my name.”
Pull yourself together, woman. You used to be good at this. “I’m Elizabeth.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Elizabeth.” The way he said her name felt like a caress. He stood up, the action putting him right up against her thanks to the crowd clustered at the bar. She was at six feet with an assist from the heels and he was eye-level. She resisted the urge to look away from the sudden intimacy.
Instead, she angled her body slightly his way. “What kind of shots should I order? I’m trying to liven up a bachelorette party.” She jerked her thumb back toward the table of bored women.
“That’s not much of a bachelorette party.” He shook his head sadly. “Shouldn’t someone be wearing a tiara?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“At least get matching T-shirts made. Show some enthusiasm.”
“So you’re an expert on bachelorette parties?”
“Maybe I am. You shouldn’t make assumptions.”
God, it was fun to flirt. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Oops, a little too Sexy Baby. She dropped her hand. “Movies gave me the impression there were usually strippers involved.”
“There could be,” he said. “If you want to throw dollar bills and not touch me, I’m game.”
“But you’d need to be wearing a G-string.”
“How do you know I’m not? There you go with your assumptions again. Speaking of assumptions, it’s not your party, is it?”
“Hers.” She pointed at a texting Cindy. “I’m here to meet more single ladies.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Not like that. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I need single friends. All my friends are wifed up. And as much as I like their boyfriends or husbands, it would be nice to not be the fifth wheel for once.”
“You’re not looking for a boyfriend?”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Just out of a relationship?”
She folded her arms. “Not really.” She wasn’t about to empty her baggage, no matter how cute he was. Tonight was about mindless fun.
He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay,” he said. “Regardless, there’s only one way to save your night.”
“And what’s that?”
He gave her a teasing, challenging look. “Kamikaze shots. That is, if you can handle them.”
“So you think women can’t do shots?” she asked in mock outrage. She leaned over the bar and raised a hand to flag down the bartender.
“Not true. My sister can drink me, my brother, and our father under the table. But not my mom.”
“You have a lot of drinking contests in your family?”
“We didn’t have cable growing up.”
The bartender approached. “What can I get you?”
“Eight kamikaze shots, please,” she said.
“Make that ten,” Will said. “You’re having one.”
“That adds up to nine,” she said.
“I’m having one, too, which makes ten.”
“So, I’m buying you drinks now?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Vinnie, put this on my brother’s tab.” He looked back at her. “My brother’s going to marry a doctor, so he’ll be able to pay it back.”
Vinnie snorted. “Nice try, Will.” To Elizabeth he asked, “This for a bachelorette party?”
She nodded.
“Then this round’s on the house. But only this round and he—” he pointed at Will “—is paying for his own.”
Will put a hand over his heart. “That hurts. I thought we were friends.”
“Tell you what. Stick around past closing tonight. I’ve got a bottle of the good scotch I usually save for your brother behind the bar.”
“Deal,” Will said.
Vinnie started pulling bottles out and Will turned back to her. When he smiled at her, she felt a bit like a cat basking in the sunshine of his attention. He was a master at this flirting game.
“I hate to break it to you,” she said, “but doctors make crap these days unless they specialize. Source: I’m a nurse who knows doctors and hears them whine about their student loans and malpractice insurance policies. So, I wouldn’t be counting on your brother’s fiancée to be your meal ticket.”
“There goes my champagne and caviar dreams.”
“Prosecco’s the same thing for half the price tag and caviar is overrated,” she said while watching his mouth. His lips were perfect. Not too thin and not too full. Perfect for kissing. It had been so long since she’d kissed someone—not since college. The last guy she’d been with had worn a goatee and thought Fight Club was the best movie ever made. Will probably wouldn’t puke taquitos on her shoes after ripping two beer bongs either.
No, Will was just straight up nonstop sex that would be both hot and fun. And that was exactly what she needed.
* * *
Will MacGregor was a catch. Decent-looking, gainfully employed, and with an easy temper. Even his mom said he’d been a happy baby. Bonus, he was a champ in the sack—no way every woman he’d ever slept with had been faking it. So why did he keep waking up alone the morning after?
It was that freaking calendar. Nothing but meaningless hookups since he’d posed for it. Sleeping with him had become the equivalent of collecting a Pokémon. After a night with him, they’d go home, pick up a Sharpie and draw a giant X over his Mr. October picture. Only two left to collect the set! But he’d come up with a solution. No one got into his pants before the third date. He was more than just a hot piece of ass.
And recently he’d gotten a wake-up call about the utter capriciousness of the universe—how short our time on this little rock really was, how everything could end with one little combustible chemically combining with oxygen... He shook himself to keep his brain from wandering down that memory lane. Plus, he wasn’t about to get metaphysical on anyone’s ass, he just wanted something real.
Elizabeth, the tall blonde with the marathon legs and generous smile, was about to become the toughest challenge in his new wait-to-have-sex rule. No matter how fun it was to flirt, and how badly he wanted to kiss her, he wasn’t giving in to hormones tonight. Even though they were so close that all it would take was the slightest angle of his head and... He took a swallow of his beer.
Vinnie lined up the shot glasses and began pouring with a heavy hand. The Thorny Rose was only down the street from the firehouse, so the crew of Engine 8 were off-duty regulars. Probably much to the chagrin of the staff. Will made sure to tip extra well to make up for it. And, in the time-honored bartender tradition, Vinnie reciprocated by making the drinks strong.
“I’ll bring the shots to you,” Will said to Elizabeth. “Go join your friends.” He needed a second to pull himself together. He was in full-court press mode and he needed to take it down a notch or two, or three. He wanted to learn more about this woman than what she sounded like screaming his name.
“I can carry them.” She flexed a taut bicep. “I’m pretty strong.”
“You let me bring you the drinks and maybe later, I’ll let you bench-press me. How’s that sound?” That sounds like you’re propositioning her, you idiot. Keep it PG.
She gave him a heavy-lidded look that shot straight to his groin. “Like a deal.”
She walked away and his hands twitched for his sketchbook. There was something about the shape of her face, the way her brows arched over her eyes, the rounding of her chin that kept her face from becoming too angular and made him want to capture her on paper.
He let himself hope that this time it might be different. Maybe, just maybe, she was the one.
* * *
Elizabeth floated back into her seat. She could feel the goofy grin on her face but was powerless to remove it. When she sat down she was instantly assailed by eight sets of curious eyes.
“Who was that guy?” Cindy asked.
“He looks cute from over here,” Jenna added. “Is he cute?”
Marissa narrowed her eyes. “He kind of looks familiar.”
“Don’t stare,” Cindy said.
“He’s coming over here, so you can all check him out,” Elizabeth said. “And he’s bringing shots.” She casually looked around the bar, pretending that she hadn’t been staring at Will, waiting for him to come back to her like she was an eager puppy. He was only a guy she’d just met—someone to practice her rusty flirting skills on.
She inadvertently caught the eye of a cute, preppy-type dude at a neighboring table. He smiled at her and gave a casual salute with his beer bottle. It would be a simple thing to just smile back. It would be enough encouragement for him to come over. Hooking up was a numbers game and a table of nine women was just good math. He’d probably bring his friends—more guys to practice on.
She quickly looked away.
Will approached carrying a tray laden with filled shot glasses. He moved as good as he looked, nimbly balancing the tray while weaving through the crowd. “Ladies,” he said, placing the tray down on the table. His loose body posture suggested he wasn’t at all shy approaching a table full of women.
Definitely a player. Good thing she was ready to play. No pain, no loss, no grief, no feelings except pleasure.
He snagged a chair and dragged it next to Elizabeth’s seat, giving her a conspiratorial grin as though they were old friends instead of almost strangers. When he sat down, his leg nudged hers. She pressed back, not sure if her boldness or his nearness was responsible for the shot of excitement that rippled through her.
The rest of the bachelorette party attendees greeted him with waves and hellos except for Marissa. She drummed one set of glossy nails on the tabletop. “Do I know you?” she asked.
Will’s smile stayed fixed, but Elizabeth could feel his body tighten from where their legs touched. “I don’t think so,” he said pleasantly.
“You look so familiar.”
“I guess I just have one of those faces. So, who’s the bride-to-be? Let’s toast to her.”
Elizabeth began passing out the shots. When everyone held one, she lifted her glass. “Here’s to Cindy and her soon-to-be husband, Todd. May all your ups and downs be between the sheets.”
“I will definitely drink to that,” Cindy said.
Elizabeth tipped back the shot glass and let the liquor burn down her throat. She gave a little shudder and slammed the empty glass on the table. Will was staring at her with another one of his smiles.
“What?”
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘skål’ and chuck it in the fire?”
“That makes no sense.”
He reached for the napkin dispenser in the center of the table. “Does anyone have a pencil?”
Purses were fished through until Cindy held a pen triumphantly aloft. “I do.”
“Thanks.”
Everyone watched as he scribbled something on the cocktail napkin. He finished with a flourish and then slid it over to Elizabeth.
It was a sketch of a stereotypical Viking woman complete with braids and horned helmet. “Is this me?”
“Only if you like it.”
“It’s all right,” she said with mock indifference. She placed the napkin carefully in the inner pocket in her bag where it wouldn’t get torn.
Cries of “Ooh, do me!” and “No, me next,” came from around the table.
He did a quick succession of doodles—Cindy in a puffy white dress, Marissa as the Red Queen complete with a speech bubble of “off with their heads,” Jenna as Rosie the Riveter—until everyone had a cocktail napkin sketch of their own to tuck away. He made a show of shaking his hand out just as Vinnie brought another round of shots over.
Cheers went around the table and the women grabbed for glasses. Elizabeth brushed fingers with Will when she reached for hers and it made her want to giggle like a twelve-year-old. He gave her a little wink, which should have been ridiculously cheesy. Instead, she had the sudden desire to drag him to a dark corner of the bar and see if he kissed as good as he talked.
“Sláinte!” Will said.
She tipped the shot back. And then realized she hadn’t thought about Megan for hours.
* * *
The shot went down faster than his good intentions. Elizabeth shuddered and slammed her shot glass down on the table. She looked up at him with a mischievous grin and he wanted to drag her into the bathroom and go for it right against the wall. A lightning-quick expression of worry crossed over her face. She pulled her phone out but then gave a little head shake, as though clearing away whatever thought she’d had.
He held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
He waved his hand. “C’mon, blondie.”
She passed over her phone. He held it up, gave a big grin, and snapped a selfie before going to her contacts and inputting his number. “Here you go.” He handed it back. “Call me.”
She tilted her head to the side, moistened her lips...it would be so easy to take her hand and lead her from this bar, hail a cab, and try to keep their hands off each other during the trip to his apartment. They’d rush to his door, he’d fumble with the keys, anticipation and lust mixing in a cocktail stronger than the tequila. But then afterwards, he’d wake up next to a stranger, all the fun and excitement of the night reduced to a tawdry encounter. She’d slink out with smeared makeup and impractical shoes into the unforgiving daylight while he downed a pot of coffee with an aspirin chaser. He would promise to call and she’d pretend she wanted him to, but they’d never see each other again.
This time would be different. He wasn’t going to keep making the same mistake.
He summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to stand up from the table. With a wave to the assembled women, he said, “Have a fun night.”
“You’re leaving?” Elizabeth asked.
“You have my number.” He walked out without a backwards glance, hoping like hell his gamble would pay off and she’d call him.
Otherwise, he was just going to have to haunt the Thorny Rose in the hopes that someday she’d walk back in again.
* * *
Elizabeth clutched her phone dumbly as she watched her sure thing amble off. No big deal. Plenty of buses in the ocean/fishes that go by. So why did the night suddenly feel as deflated as an old beach ball?
She turned back to the table, reminding herself that she was here to have fun and make some awesome new friends. “Who wants another round?” But she didn’t want to stay in this bar anymore. Change of scenery. Forget him. “Better idea. Let’s go over to the Hong Kong for scorpion bowls and meat on a stick.”
Her suggestion was met with a round of cheers and they trooped out giddily into the warm night, a much livelier group than they’d been pre-shots and pre-Will.