How to Steal Your Best Friend's Fiancé (How to Rom Com Series Book 2) Read online

  “You wanted me to get it?” I asked.

  “It would have been nice.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was sleeping. You said you were getting up at six. I had things planned out.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  I moved closer to Miranda. I tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was going to wake you up with my tongue. Start at your neck. Work my way down. Write you a quick love letter with my tongue between your legs. And then I was going to get your coffee.”

  “Yeah, good luck with that,” she said.

  She turned and walked to the kitchen and put her coffee down.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as I stared into the living room.

  “I’m stressed, Liam,” she said. “And you know, when I get stressed… I just…”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s okay. If there’s anything I can do to help you.”

  “You just want to get laid.”

  I laughed. I slowly turned. “It’s not just about that, Miranda.”

  “Of course it is. You want me to be young again. Things change. People change.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” I said. “I want you to be happy. It’s been a while since we… enjoyed each other’s company.”

  “I think you enjoyed yourself in the shower Saturday night.

  I stepped toward her. “I did. But you didn’t.”

  “Don’t tell me what I enjoy or not,” she said. “It’s actually easier that way.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “We’re so busy, Liam. I know you have needs. I needed a shower. You got a hand job plus a shower. It’s a win for everyone.”

  I touched her back and moved closer to her.

  I took a handful of her hair and pulled it out of the way with force.

  “I don’t like that,” I growled. “I want to fuck you, Miranda. I want to fuck my fiancée so she remembers why she’s marrying me.”

  “Which is?” she whispered.

  “You’re marrying me for my cock and nothing else,” I said.

  I brushed my lips to the back of her neck.

  Her knees bent and she spread her hands across the counter.

  I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

  My right hand moved down to the end of her skirt. My fingertips moved along her warm skin, all the way up to her panties. I flirted with her panty line, moving along her ass, playing… touching… tempting…

  “We need this, Miranda,” I whispered. “Overworked and stress isn’t good. Let’s forget about everything for one day. Just you and me. We can close all the windows and shades and just camp out here. We can put our mattress on the living room floor. Like we used to do. Remember that?” My fingers slipped between her legs. “We’d get high and sip whiskey and just fuck all day…”

  Miranda pressed her ass back against me and rocked up and down.

  “Oh, fuck, keep going,” I whispered.

  I started to lift her skirt.

  Her phone rang out from the living room.

  “Shit. Liam.”

  “No,” I growled.

  “Liam,” she said.

  She pushed away from the counter and spun around me like a football player making a move to go score a touchdown.

  “I have to take that call,” she said. “We’re not in college anymore. We’re adults. Act like it. We can’t have a damn quick fuck right before work.”

  I watched Miranda walk away.

  Maybe she was right.

  Or maybe she wasn’t.

  I held the apartment door for her and snuck a kiss to her cheek as we exited.

  “That prick is going down,” she said.

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said. “My vicious girl is ready to attack.”

  “Girl?”

  “I always call you that.”

  “I’m not a girl, Liam.”

  “My vicious woman. My vicious fiancée. That sounds brutal too.”

  “Brutal,” Miranda said. “Just what every woman wants to be described as.”

  She was having a shit morning and I was the punching bag.

  That I could live with.

  We walked outside to the busy street.

  Miranda breezed by Dale, the doorman, but I stopped.

  I put my fist out.

  We hit fists, then elbows, then fists again.

  He nodded to me.

  “How’s the grandson’s science project?” I asked.

  “Oh, Liam, you should see it. He made a light bulb light up with a freaking potato.”

  “Maybe that’s why I always feel so bright after eating fries,” I said.

  Dale laughed. “You’re not eating fries ever.”

  “I do all the time. That’s why I have to go to the gym so much. Helps keep my figure.”

  “Wait until you get to be my age,” Dale said as he patted his round stomach. “Ladies love the grandpa bod.”

  “That’s a thing?” I asked.

  “It is for me,” he said with a wink.

  We laughed and I went to track down Miranda.

  She was halfway down the block, on her phone again.

  I rubbed my jaw.

  When she opened her eyes, it was business until she shut them at night.

  If she even shut them at all.

  She was brilliant and beautiful.

  And she loved to argue.

  That made her one of the best lawyers around.

  As for me, I settled and enjoyed corporate law. I mostly worked with people pissing over patents and copyrights and trademarks. It was a lot of paperwork, but every company in the city needed a good lawyer or fifty on staff to protect their ass. And they had no problems dishing out six figure paychecks to make that happen.

  Could I have done more?

  Of course.

  Sometimes I thought about it too.

  But seeing what it did to Miranda…

  She stopped walking and looked back. “Are your legs broke?”

  I jogged to catch up. “I was talking to Dale.”

  “Who?”

  “The doorman.”

  “Why were you talking to him?”

  “He’s a human,” I said. “Nice guy.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Miranda said.

  I grabbed her hand. “Hey. We have to fill out those quizzes still.”

  “I know.”

  “Some of the questions are kind of crazy. First date restaurant. First date clothes. So many little details.”

  “Nobody is going to say we can’t get married if we don’t know the answers,” Miranda said. “It’s just to get a feel for our relationship. Then they figure out the vibe, you know? That’s all.”

  “I know that. I’m not-”

  “I really have to go,” she said. She jumped to her toes and kissed my cheek. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”

  She started to hurry off.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She looked back. “Remember back in college when you stood up to that asshole professor? Rigweed?”

  “Yeah,” Miranda said.

  “You were in a white hoodie with messy hair and you just ripped him to shreds. And each time he came back at you, you had a rebuttal. It was the only time anyone ever saw him step back and sit down.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “The quiz… it has a question about when you first thought about marrying the other person. That was it for me.”

  “Liam,” she said. “We can’t live in the past.”

  Miranda walked into the road and waved her arms to get cars to stop to let her cross.

  I stood there and took a deep breath.

  First date restaurant? A little hot dog place called Telly’s.

  First date clothes? She wore a navy blue, long sleeve shirt and light blue jeans.

  Miranda was out of sight, swallowed up by the busy city morning traffic.

  My phone had been buzzing for the last hour with calls, texts, and emails.

  I finally checked and saw that
a patent was about to get pulled.

  That wasn’t good.

  I jogged to track down a ride, my fingers typing away at a few texts.

  In the back of my mind, I kept picturing Miranda in that white hoodie and then in that navy-blue shirt.

  The past wasn’t the worst place to rest sometimes.

  She wanted to live in the present and nothing else.

  Again, she wasn’t wrong.

  But what kind of present was this that we were living?

  Chapter Two

  Emily

  My eyes popped open and I sat up on my own couch.

  I looked around the mostly dark living room, in dire need to know what time it was.

  When I looked at my phone, I realized I was late.

  “Shit,” was my standard response in the morning.

  I was terrible at waking up on time.

  Worst yet, I owned my own business, which meant I wasn’t allowed to be late.

  I kind of inherited the family bakery business.

  Trust me, the entire gig was not as joyful as it probably sounded.

  At first glance, I was the granddaughter who took over the business to keep it alive and keep the family name going. I was the granddaughter who put in a lot of hours, on a lot of days, and always smiled at each and every customer. I was the granddaughter who hung up pictures of her grandmother to show off where and when the bakery started.

  That was all that fake crap kind of thing you’d see on some cheesy movie.

  I wasn’t a small town woman with a small town business and a small town house.

  I lived in the city and it was busy, competitive, and owning the bakery was…

  “Shit,” I said again as I rubbed my forehead.

  I stood up and looked at my clothes.

  I always changed when I came home from the bakery, which meant nobody had seen me in the clothes I was wearing.

  In other words - I was dressed for the day.

  I swiped my phone off the table and my keys off the kitchen counter.

  I spotted a note on the counter and read it.

  Wake me, no matter what, in the morning.

  We need to talk about something.

  Please, don’t forget.

  Jon

  “Jon,” I whispered.

  My apartment wasn’t big at all, so it was a hop, skip and a jump and I was in the bedroom.

  That’s where Jon was sleeping.

  Which meant last night I had fallen asleep on the couch and he went to bed without me. He didn’t carry me to bed like he usually did. Unless, of course, I yelled at him. Which I was known to do. Sometimes I would get into a really comfy spot on the couch and that was it. There was no moving me.

  Jon looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to wake him.

  Even though his note said to.

  I crept to the nightstand and looked at his phone.

  I wasn’t the snooping type of girlfriend, I was just checking for his alarm.

  It was set for thirty minutes from then.

  So he was fine.

  I gently put his phone back down and turned.

  When I did, I suddenly became an octopus. All eight of my new arms swung around and I knocked the lamp off the nightstand to the floor.

  I jumped, and screamed.

  Then Jon did the same.

  He did some kind of crazy pushup thing and was then standing by the bed.

  “Jon, it’s me,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I was just checking on you.”

  “What the fu… what time is it?” he asked, gasping for a breath.

  “It’s early. But I’m late. As always. I have to go.”

  I stepped over the lamp.

  Jon jumped from the bed wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt.

  “Wait a second,” he called out. “We have to talk, Emily.”

  “We can talk later,” I said. “I seriously can’t be much later. This is a bad look on me.”

  “Emily,” he said.

  I looked back and blew him a kiss. “Go back to sleep. I’ll get more light bulbs from the store later. Sorry for waking you.”

  I shut the bedroom door and hurried to the door.

  Then I remembered I left my keys on the counter.

  I was a mess.

  And this was just my normal.

  “You’re late.”

  “I know, Ember,” I said. I pointed to her cigarette. “And you’re smoking. Those will kill you.”

  “So will boredom,” she said.

  “Didn’t Lucy open up?” I asked.

  “Of course she did,” Ember said. “The place is in full swing.”

  “Then why are you bored?”

  Ember tilted her head to the side.

  “You don’t need to stay here,” I said. “You shouldn’t. You’re too good at what you do.”

  “I can’t leave this place,” she said. “You need me.”

  Ember had beautiful dark hair, a permanent tan, brown eyes, and an attitude that made her feisty as anyone I’d ever met. She was a genius when it came to being in a kitchen. I took a chance on her right out of culinary school and it paid off. Only now she was so much better than this bakery, but she didn’t want to leave me because I was the one who gave her a shot.

  Plus, if she left and I was in charge of the food… yikes.

  People drove an hour away to come here to buy something Ember baked.

  And her cooking - which I experienced off the clock as a friend - was better than her baking.

  “You really shouldn’t smoke,” I said. “I’m not going to stop saying it. It will kill you.”

  “So will the sun,” Ember said.

  “What? Cancer? You can put on sunscreen. You can’t put a smoke screen on your lungs.”

  “Now there’s an invention,” Ember said. “Kind of like taking the pill so you don’t get pregnant, right? Imagine that. You inhale something that protects your lungs so you can smoke as much as you want. Then you can screw and smoke and not get cancer or pregnant.”

  “Well, if the chef dream doesn’t work out, there’s your fall back,” I said.

  Ember laughed. She dropped her cigarette into a cup of coffee.

  It sizzled and died.

  She dumped the coffee into the dumpster and we went inside the bakery.

  Lucy was another lifesaver for the bakery.

  She had been a customer when it was my grandmother’s. And when her husband passed away, my grandmother sent baked goods for free for the service.

  When I took the place over, Lucy showed up and demanded to work.

  I wasn’t in a position to argue.

  In fact, part of me wanted to change the name of the place to Lucy’s.

  Meow’s Nose wasn’t the most appetizing name for a bakery.

  The way my family told it, my grandmother baked a lot and she had a cat named Meow and that cat would judge her baked goods. If the cat rubbed its nose to a cupcake, cake or whatever, that meant it was good. If the cat sniffed and walked away, that meant it wasn’t good.

  So that’s where the name came from.

  “Hey, Lucy,” I said, touching her back as I walked by her.

  “Hey,” she said. “Uh, Robert called and wants to talk about ordering. I wrote out the checks for the bills that were piling up. We’re good to send them all out.”

  “You’re the best,” I said.

  “I also called Henry to help with two of the big bulbs. They keep flickering and one made a buzzing sound that was driving me crazy.”

  “I hate that sound,” I said. “Hey, are you going to splash a little perfume on your wrists and neck for when he shows up?”

  “Stop that talk,” Lucy said. She leaned toward me. “You’re lucky I’m not mad at you for being late.”

  “I own the place, I can be as late as I want,” I teased.

  “Oh, please. You’re not mean like that. Not at all. Now, if you were that rotten bitch that owns the building… well…”

  “Hey, hey,
hey,” I said. “She’s my friend.”

  “Friend?”

  “Miranda and I have known each other since college,” I said. “She’s just got a different personality than I do.”

  “Yeah,” Lucy said. “You’re not a bitch.” She looked forward at the counter. “Good morning. Sorry about that.”

  The customer waiting grinned. “I don’t like bitches either.”

  “See?” Lucy asked.

  “She doesn’t know who we’re talking about,” I said. “Just take the order. And throw in a muffin for free. Our customers don’t need to hear about our personal problems.”

  Lucy and the customer laughed.

  I walked through the front of the bakery and just did a quick check on everything.

  There were a handful of people sitting down.

  Drinking coffee. Enjoying the baked goods.

  Earbuds in ears. Laptops open.

  And then there was the normal line of people getting their coffees to go.

  And then there was the order sheet in the back for the birthday cakes, cupcakes, and all kinds of events and parties.

  The bakery looked busy.

  And it was busy.

  The only issue… busy and profitable were two different words.

  And I didn’t want to let the business go.

  Even though it was sort of costing me everything I had in life.

  The morning rush kept up and that kept me busy.

  I had a clipboard on the counter, going through the current orders when I looked up and saw Jon coming into the bakery.

  I put my pen down, smiled and waved.

  He had his hands in the pockets of his tan, dirty leather jacket.

  I loved the smell of that jacket.

  It was so old and beat up but it looked really good on him.

  Jon was kind of classically handsome. He had a dimple in his chin and kept a little scruff on his face that matched his messy hair. I liked that he could just be dressed down and look good.

  We had been together for seven months now.

  Which felt like a lifetime yet it felt like it went by in seven months.

  He came into the bakery one day to pick up an order for a friend and ended up leaving with my number.

  I wasn’t the kind of person that just gave out my number either.

  But Jon was different.

  He was…