Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)

A familiar feeling rushes over me. It’s how I felt the other night when I saw Miller carrying Chloe. It's the feeling of falling. He understands, and he’s so good to both of us.





Ally: So I’m forgiven?





Miller: That would imply you did something bad. Were you a bad girl, Ally? Oh wait, you were naughty. Please do more naughty things.





And we’re good, so good, so I move on.





Ally: Want to send me the words and music for your new song?





Miller: Check your email. ?





Ally: I see it! Also, I’m no longer Aunt Ally.





Miller: WHAT???? Are you OK?





Ally: Gah! Didn’t mean to freak you out! It’s all good. She doesn’t call me Aunt Ally anymore. It started tonight. Apparently, I’m just Ally now!





Miller: That is completely awesome!





I sink back onto my couch, open the email from him, and dive into the song, singing softly to get the feel for his new tune. Once I have the basics down, I grab my knitting bag and work on Sam’s hat, still humming. As I work the row, I decide that I’m doing okay with Chloe, despite having to figure things out on the fly.

Maybe I deserve a reward too.

Even if I don’t know right now how to knit Miller, Chloe, and me into any sort of pattern that makes sense, I know one thing: I want to see him again, and I’ve been given a golden chance.



Ally: Chloe is sleeping at a friend’s house tomorrow night. Would you like to spend the night with me?





His response arrives faster than any message I’ve received in my life.





Miller: gif of nerdy dude in glasses pumping his fist and shouting YES





As I finish the hat, I decide maybe we can manage it all—Hot Stuff, and friendship, and benefits.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?





Chapter 24





Ally



I suck.

I flub so many lines I’m ready to send myself back to high school. I have factions of robots waiting to take over a zombie-infested school in the not-so-distant future, but the last few chapters of the sports-radio teen star story are killing me.

“Can’t win ’em all,” Kristy says with a shrug when I mispronounce horrors as whores.

I bang my forehead on the desk. “That word is a horror,” I mumble into the mic.

“Could be worse.” Kristy’s voice booms in my headset. “The author could have used peculiarly.”

Raising my face, I clutch my cheeks and gasp, like I’m screaming in a slasher flick. “Never peculiarly,” I say, since that’s cruel and unusual punishment to a hard-working voice artist.

I take a deep breath, count to three, clear my mind, and then return to the final chapter, giving my all to the character as she comes to terms with being a girl who loves sports radio in love with a boy who wants nothing to do with a ball, a field, or a racket.

With laser focus, I nail the ending.

It’s two hours later than I expected though, which knocks me off schedule for starting the undead tale. Plus, Miller’s going to be here any minute, and we’re supposed to rehearse.

I check my phone for any change in plans, and an email message blinks at me.



Extra pickups needed for the Casey Stern book. Sorry! But we want to wrap it up before the holiday break.



It’s Angie at Butler Press, and I call her back. “Hey, I’m at my regular studio. Can I do them here?”

She pauses before answering, and that’s a clear no. “Well, if there’s any chance you can just scoot up here, we’d prefer it. We really want the same sound environment.”

What the client wants, the client gets. “I’m on my way. See you in thirty.”

I wave goodbye to Kristy, call a Lyft, and ring Miller on my way down the stairs.

“What’s a five-letter word for where I plan to spend the rest of the night?” he says as he answers.

A laugh bursts from my chest. “I have no idea. Couch?”

“Nope. Inside you.”

I count off. “Miller,” I say, deadpan. “That’s nine letters plus a space.”

“Oh, excuse me. I meant p-u-s-s-y.”

My jaw drops. “You’re filthy.”

In an ever-so-innocent voice, he says, “I spelled it out.”

“Oh, well, then you’re a cupcake.”

“I’d like to eat you like a cupcake.”

I laugh, since I don’t think I’m going to be able to call up the serious side of my friend right now. “I have to head to Butler Press for an hour. I’m going to be late for rehearsal.”

“Then I’ll hang out longer with Campbell. We’re having lunch.”

A kernel of worry digs into me. “Are you talking this way in front of him?”

“He’s in the little boys’ room. Don’t worry. I’d never say words like I want to fuck you till you come hard, scream my name, and beg me for another in front of him.” Miller pauses. “Oh, hey, Cam.”

I blush at his antics. “Miller,” I chide. “Does he know you’re talking to me?”

“Hi, Ally,” I hear Campbell say.

I sigh, then whisper, “Does he know?”

“That I always talk to you like this? Yes.”

Since I’m not going to get a straight answer out of a most-festive Miller, I switch gears. “I won’t be back at the studio to rehearse for another hour, hour and a half. Can we push our rehearsal back? I checked, and the studio is open.” But before he can answer, an idea hits me. “Unless you want to go start with Campbell? Rehearse it with him till I get there, and do any final fine-tuning?”

“Brains, beauty, and a plan. If I’m ever trapped on a desert island, I want it to be with you.”

“Let’s hope we’re only trapped for a day or two, because I’m terrible at fishing.”

“Me too. I’m excellent, however, at using UberEats.”

As the car slogs uptown, something occurs to me. Tonight’s a desert-island kind of night, and I want Miller to know how much I want to be stuck with him on that island.

Since I’m quite skilled at using UberEats too, I order him a surprise at the studio.





Chapter 25





Miller



When I hang up with Ally, Campbell shoots me a look across the table at Willy G’s, his favorite diner. “So you need me to save the day?”

“Yes. Can you ride in on your white horse, please?”

“But of course. I save my loyal steed for occasions like this.”

“Seriously though. You want to help me for an hour or so? Unless you have a lesson.”

He shakes his head. “My schedule is your schedule.” He glances around to make sure no one is listening. “Don’t repeat what I’m about to say.”

I press a finger to my lips. “Your secret will be safe with me.”

He whispers conspiratorially, “I don’t hate playing with you.”

I toss a french fry at him. “Thank you. Thank you very much for the not-hate.”

“You’re welcome. And the truth is, it’s the opposite of not-hate.”

“Thanks. I not-hate playing with you too.”

He grabs his Diet Coke and downs some, then clears his throat. “Also, what’s the deal with you and Ally?”

I do my best confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Gee, I wonder?”

“Spit it out, bro.”

He scratches his jaw. “Call me crazy, but I picked up on this vibe from the two of you at my house, and from the way you were just talking to her. Is there anything more?”

I take a breath and debate whether to tell him, but in my hesitation, he finds the answer.

He smacks a palm on the Formica. “I always knew the two of you could be something. Glad to see it took me for it to happen.”

“First off, nothing is really happening. We don’t want to mess with our friendship. Second, you’re taking credit?”

“Hell, yeah. I love credit. Also, how exactly is the not-really-happening part working out for you?”

“It’s going . . .” My voice trails off as I debate how much to say, then I decide to err on the side of he’s-already-figured-it-out. “It’s going as well as a friendship can go with a woman you’ve wanted for six years.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“That sounds like I need to pay.” He plunks down some cash for the bill, and I can’t argue with that.