Love Times Two: A Romantic Comedy

  Love Times Two

  A Romantic Comedy

  Maggie Dallen

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  What the critics say about Maggie’s books:

  Other books by Maggie Dallen

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Maggie Dallen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Prologue

  Mark and the rest of the bar staff watched in varying degrees of horror and amusement as the wasted brunette belted out “Purple Rain” in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, surrounded by a handful of her giggling friends.

  “How much do you want to bet that She-Prince over there tosses her cookies all over the bar tonight,” the waitress Melody mused.

  “Dude, I am not cleaning that up.” The barback shouted to be heard over the drunk chick’s wailing but Mark couldn’t tear his eyes away. Sure she was making a massacre of a Prince song, but she was still freakin’ hot.

  The barback came behind the bar for a better view of the spectacle. “You need to kick her and her friends out of here before they go from annoying drunk to messy drunk.”

  “At least she’s not crying anymore,” Melody pointed out.

  They all nodded in agreement at that. There was nothing worse than a crying drunk and this poor lightweight had been a weepy mess for the first hour after she’d arrived. That was before she’d discovered the jukebox.

  “Seriously, man, cut her off.” The barback moved away to clear off some empty glasses.

  “She’s only had two drinks,” Mark called after him. But he did cut her off. The drunk hottie and her friends, for good measure. It was a relief to ignore them since the bar filled up with a late crowd that had him hustling all night.

  Despite the ban on liquor, she never left. He would catch sight of her, dancing in the midst of a crowd or crying on a friend’s shoulder at the end of the bar. And then, hours later, the weepy cutie was his last customer of the night. She was slumped over the bar, her cheek resting on the wood. Shit. Was she asleep?

  But then he heard her murmur, “Gonna die alone,” for what must have been the tenth time that night. Nope, not asleep. Her hand was slowly reaching out for the half-full glass of whiskey next to her head. Where the hell had she gotten that?

  “Oh no you don’t.” Mark hurried over and moved it out of reach, ignoring her moan of complaint.

  “One more sip.” She lifted her head then and those eyes were a punch in the gut.

  Before he could tell her yet again that she’d been cut off, the drunken beauty swung her head from left to right and back again, her dark curls bouncing around her pixie features which were crinkled up in confusion. “Where are my friends?”

  He didn’t even try to disguise his annoyance. Some friends. “They left an hour ago, remember?” They’d been all too happy to help this little slip of a woman get wasted—in record time, he might add—but one by one they’d peeled off, making their excuses and giving their poor, weepy friend hugs on their way out the door.

  So now, he was stuck with her.

  In any other circumstances he’d be ecstatic to find himself alone in the bar with a hot, single woman. He figured ‘single’ was a fair assessment given her mantra of the evening. But one who alternated between weeping uncontrollably and singing along to the jukebox, loudly and off-key—there was nothing even remotely sexy about this scenario.

  Apparently just now realizing that she was all alone, she turned to him with those big blue eyes and her lower lip so firmly jutted out, she looked like a little kid. “I’m gonna die alone,” she said again, this time with a trembling lower lip, as another round of tears welled up in her eyes.

  “You’re not going to die alone.” Despite himself, he couldn’t help but laugh. She was so…pathetic. But so adorable. For the millionth time he cursed her flaky friends who’d left her for him to take care of. They didn’t know him from Adam, what if he was a player with no scruples? What if he was something far, far worse?

  “You don’t know that,” she was saying now, shaking her head back and forth before dropping it back down onto the bar, burying her face in her arms.

  “Hey, whatever it is, it’s not that bad. You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.” He paused before adding, “Well, not tomorrow morning. You’ll probably feel like hell tomorrow morning. But the next day. You’ll definitely feel better about everything then.”

  She didn’t stir.

  Mark sighed as he cleared off the rest of the glasses from the bar. “Come on, miss, why don’t you tell me where you live and I’ll call you a cab.”

  When she still didn’t answer, he came back and gently shook her shoulder.

  Her only response was a snore.

  1

  Long after the last student left her classroom, Elizabeth sat staring at her phone. She had the nagging feeling that today’s date was significant but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Was it Mom or Dad’s birthday? No. Those were months off. She mentally ran through her best friends’ birthdays and the birthdays of their kids. Nope.

  Was it Jason’s birthday? Just thinking of her cheating ex made her nauseous. No. Not his birthday either. And not their anniversary, thank God. She was just starting to recover from the epic hangover she’d gotten from their breakup two weeks before. Her liver would never survive their anniversary.

  The memory of that next morning, waking up in a stranger’s bed, head aching, mouth reeking, eyes swollen. It was like a bad dream she couldn’t shake. The horrible guilt and shame as she slinked off, tiptoeing out of the studio apartment to keep from waking the hot bartender who was sprawled half naked next to her in the bed.

  Ugh. Don’t go there. That morning is a distant memory that will be locked away until the end of time. There was clearly a reason her memory had a convenient black hole where that night should have been. But everyone had their bad nights, right? So what if hers happened to be an epic doozy of a bad night—it was all in the past.

  Squinting at the calendar on her phone, Elizabeth racked her brain. It would come to her. She just needed a minute.

  A text popped up from her twin sister, Connie. “Be here by six for the interview.”

  The interview. Oh crap. Crappity crap crap, crap on a stick. This was not good.

  The bottom of her stomach gave way and she sucked in air so quickly she thought she might hyperventilate. It was with shaky fingers that she dialed her sister. This was not how she’d wanted to tell her family the wedding was off. Not that she wanted to tell them at all. Especially not Connie.

  That’s what happen when you procrastinate, her inner schoolmarm chastised.

  Shut up.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re running late,” Connie answered. “You know how important this feature is to me.”

  Oh yes, she knew. Everyone knew. When Connie first came up with the idea of a double wedding, Elizabeth had been on board. After all, her sister loved planning events and it would save herself and Jason some money if all the costs were split between the two couples.

  Connie had been in event planning heaven ever since. During what must have been a t
affeta-induced high, Connie managed to sell the fact that they were twins having a double wedding to a national bridal magazine. Once news spread, this publicity opened all kinds of doors, it had gotten them the venue of Connie’s dream and a celebrity caterer—well, the closest thing to a celebrity caterer one could find in their small town. All because they were the adorable double-trouble twins. They actually weren’t identical in any way, but still…America loved weddings and a twins’ double wedding was ‘double the pleasure, double the fun.’

  Except that one of the twins walked in on her fiancé having sex with her former friend.

  Somehow Elizabeth doubted that was the story American Bride wanted to hear.

  “Listen, Con, I uh…I can’t do the interview.”

  The silence at the other end of the line was deafening. Elizabeth cringed as she waited for her sister’s response.

  “Excuse me?”

  That was it. So typically Connie. Ice dripped from the words and Elizabeth found herself twirling her hair around her finger like one of the teens she taught.

  “Um, see, the thing is….Jason and I. We called off the wedding.”

  Silence.

  Dammit. Why hadn’t she told her sister sooner? Maybe because she was afraid of this.

  “Why?”

  Elizabeth drew in a deep breath before finally wussing out. “I don’t want to talk about it.” And she didn’t. She really didn’t. Especially not with Connie, who had never liked Jason. The thought of hearing an ‘I told you so’ right now was more than she could bear.

  Fortunately Elizabeth hadn’t expected sympathy, because she certainly didn’t get it. “Fine. Don’t talk about it but you are not backing out of this interview.”

  “But—”

  She could practically see her sister’s scowl as she cut her off. “Listen to me, Lizzie. I have planned our dream wedding and you will not ruin this for me. I’m sure this is just cold feet and you and Jason will make up eventually. And when you do, you will thank me for holding this wedding together.”

  No, she wanted to scream. This is not cold feet! This is a penis in another woman’s vagina. This would not be patched up with a bouquet of flowers and a good talk.

  But she didn’t say any of that. She just flapped her mouth in a vague attempt to find an excuse. “Jason won’t be there. It’s supposed to be with both couples,” she pointed out.

  “Let me handle the interview. You just show up here on time.”

  Any further protests were cut off with a dial tone.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mark said as he shoved one arm into a long-sleeved shirt.

  His best friend’s voice lowered to the point where he could barely hear him. “Please, man, I’ll owe you.”

  “Is this your fiancée’s idea?” He refused to call Connie by her name. Petty, sure, but it was a passive way of protesting his best friend’s colossal mistake of an engagement.

  Robbie’s lack of a response was answer enough—this was her idea.

  “Why the hell do you need me to take part in an interview?”

  Robbie sighed and for one brief moment, Mark took pity on his quiet, kind friend who’d somehow gotten himself involved with a she-devil. “Look, it’s a long story. But we really need someone to pretend to be her sister’s fiancé.”

  “What happened to the real fiancé? Did the twin eat him alive?” If Connie’s twin was anything like her, he hoped like hell the poor fiancé had fled the country. If only he could take Robbie with him. Save yourselves!

  “Very funny,” Robbie sighed. Mark bit back any more jokes at his friend’s new family’s expense. He could go on for hours about how ridiculous this double wedding had become but it would fall on deaf ears. Besides, as best man he was supposed to be supporting his friend—even though what he really wanted to do was sabotage this Titanic of a marriage.

  Mark sighed his surrender. “Fine. But you owe me.”

  “Whatever you want,” Robbie agreed with a triumphant grin. Mark watched his friend head toward the door. Probably trying to escape before Mark had a chance to change his mind. Smart man.

  Mark called out after him. “My bike is in the shop again. You’re paying for my cab to your house tonight.”

  “Done,” Robbie shouted as he headed out the door.

  Mark heard the insanity before he saw it.

  The door to Robbie and Connie’s home was cracked open so he let himself in. Connie’s harsh voice had him wincing in sympathy for Robbie.

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  He heard a soft, female voice respond but he couldn’t make out the words. So it wasn’t Robbie who was in trouble this time, good for him. Must be the sister.

  The kitchen was a mass of commotion. Connie, with her perfectly coifed blonde hair, was moving around the room, straightening up an already tidy kitchen. Robbie was putting together a tray of cheese and crackers and the sister—

  She turned then and whatever mental faculties he’d had fled for their lives.

  Holy shit. It was her. The girl from that night. That night.

  Luckily for him, she was the center of her sister’s attention and Robbie was focused on his appetizers so no one saw his epic loss of dignity. No one except her.

  But if she noticed that his mouth fell open and his eyes bulged out of his head, she didn’t let on. She was too busy staring at him. But not in the shocked way that he was staring at her. No. Her expression was blank. She was basically looking right through him as if he was a complete stranger, and an uninteresting one at that.

  Right. He was just the bartender who gave her a shoulder to cry on and quite possibly saved her life. Why would she remember him? But he remembered her. God, she was beautiful. More beautiful now in the clear light of day, without that adorably dopey drunken expression when she’d smiled up at him before passing out. Just the memory of that look had him grinning now. Connie, she-witch that she was, apparently sensed his presence and spun around to face him.

  Her pretty features, which were almost always furrowed in some sort of serious expression, creased into a forced smile. “Mark, thank you so much for coming. We’re so grateful you could be here.”

  Grateful? He looked to his girl from the bar and she looked…pale. He would describe her as tired. Hungry, maybe. There was no gratitude in sight.

  Robbie came over and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good friend, man.”

  He did his best to match his friend’s jovial tone. “What’s a best man for?”

  That earned him a hug from Connie and a nervous laugh from Robbie. They both turned to his mystery woman who still stared, expressionless.

  Initial surprise gone, the pieces of this bizarre little puzzle started to click into place. He was here to play the fourth in this double engagement. Which meant his formerly charming, now creepily staring, crush from two weeks before was in fact….no. No, no, no. It couldn’t be—she couldn’t be—

  “Mark, I don’t think you’ve met Connie’s twin sister,” Robbie started.

  Shit. His mystery lady was the twin? This could not be happening.

  He took a step forward, interrupting the awesomely awkward silence they’d once again slipped into, and reached out a hand. “I’m Mark.”

  There was another silence during which he, Robbie, and Connie waited for her to take his hand. He could practically feel his best friend’s tension. What the hell was going on here?

  The tension broke when she took his hand. So small, so soft. So brief. “Elizabeth,” she mumbled before snatching her hand back.

  He looked from her to his friend and finally to Connie, waiting for someone to tell him what he was doing here. “So, I hear I’ll be playing the role of fiancé number two?”

  The whole double wedding thing was ridiculous; it was tacky and silly and exactly the sort of—

  His internal rambling came to an abrupt end as the second piece of this puzzle clicked into place. The double wedding. The twin sister. The girl from the ba
r that night. It was her.

  That meant she was not only a sibling to the spawn-of-Satan, as Mark affectionately thought of her, but she was also….engaged?

  Maybe Connie saw the horror on his face because she rushed to his side. “Unfortunately Lizzie’s fiancé couldn’t be here tonight but we couldn’t cancel this interview….”

  Mark found himself nodding as she spoke but he was barely paying attention. He could make out every other word, enough to know that this woman—his drunk girl—was happily engaged but her fiancé….very important doctor….called into surgery…blah blah blah.

  By the end of Connie’s speech, this much was clear—Mark was to fill in and pretend so the all-important article could be written and his best friend’s disaster of a wedding could go off without a hitch. Wonderful.

  He glanced over at Robbie to see him silently pleading with a look that said ‘please help me or Connie will destroy my life.’ Only Robbie’s oldest friend would know that look.

  Sorry, man. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. This pleading look on his friend’s face was the very reason he couldn’t help him. Connie was ruining him. He’d known it from the start but he’d thought his friend would wake up and come to his senses. Instead, he’d proposed. And somehow he’d managed to talk him into being the best man. But his assistance ended here. He would take a stand. And if a failed interview brought about the end of their engagement? All the better.

  But before he could say so, Elizabeth finally spoke up. “You don’t have to do this.”

  All three of them looked to her in surprise. He glanced over at the other two. Well, Connie’s expression was more irrational anger than surprise but judging by Robbie’s astonishment, the twin sister might as well have declared herself a man.

  Apparently Robbie wasn’t the only one who kowtowed to Connie.

  Elizabeth’s tongue flicked out to lick her lips and Mark froze. No, he heated. That innocent little gesture set his entire body into overdrive and he was pretty sure he could feel the neural pathways fizzing out. They were all looking at him now, waiting for him to speak.