The Best Laid Plans. Amy Vastine
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the hospital. He was the paramedic all the triage nurses flirted with when he brought someone into the ER. Emma could admit there was something attractive about his dark brown hair and green eyes that were always smiling.
“But that wasn’t the plan,” she said, unable to let it go.
“The plans changed, Nightingale. Is that okay?” Charlie asked. The way he looked at her made her stomach feel weird.
“Someone could have texted,” she said to Max, who was oblivious to her frustration.
“Let’s not make a big deal about this,” Lucy said, bumping Emma with her hip and glaring.
This was Kendall’s night. Emma needed to pull it together. Plans changed. Not her plans, but other people changed their plans all the time. Roll with it, she told herself.
“You can come over and help me get them to bed if you want. Floor Three has the good cable. All the movies we want at the touch of a button.” Floor Three was Charlie’s nickname for Max because he lived on the third floor of their three-flat. Charlie had a thing for nicknaming everyone he met. It was weird but oddly cute at the same time.
His invitation threw her off for a second. His eyes were locked on hers, still smiling but so intense. He had this way of making her feel as if there was no one else in this world he wanted to be looking at other than her.
Her face warmed. “I have to work tomorrow. Maybe it’s best you’ve got them.”
“Another time, maybe.”
“Maybe.” Maybe not. There was only one thing Emma knew for sure—Charlie Fletcher was not part of any of her plans. No matter how those eyes made her feel.
“IF YOU HAD to choose between the Bulls of the nineties and the Blackhawks of today, who has the most raw talent across the board?” Charlie asked as he sat on Max’s couch, watching hockey.
“That’s tough,” Max replied. “The Bulls had Jordan, the greatest player of our lifetime. There were other guys on that team with talent, but they couldn’t have won championship after championship without Jordan.”
“Exactly. You have to pick the Hawks. There isn’t one guy we can’t live without. There are threats everywhere.”
Max’s phone beeped. He checked the message and typed a quick reply. This had been going on since Charlie had gotten there.
“Everything okay?”
Max scratched the back of his head after tossing his phone on the coffee table. “I’m all for people being helpful. But sometimes people think they’re being helpful, when, in fact, they’re being a pain in the butt.”
“Someone at work?” Charlie asked just as the Blackhawks started a power play. The game was tied and would determine which team would have home-ice advantage in the playoffs.
“I wish,” Max said, his own eyes glued to the television. “I’ve been engaged for less than a week and this wedding is already making me cranky.”
The hockey puck refused to go in the goal no matter what the Hawks tried. Another shot went wide.
“Come on! We only need one goal, guys!” Charlie shouted at the screen as if the team could hear him.
“We’re going to lose this game if we don’t convert on this power play.”
“The Hawks will pull this out. We just need one. We can get one.” Charlie had faith. He believed things would work out in the end—they always did. “Don’t tell me your fiancée is driving you nuts.”
“No, not Kendall. We agreed that we wanted our wedding to be low-key. We talked about just going to the courthouse and making it official. Her sister, on the other hand, has other ideas. Emma thinks we need to have a ‘real’ wedding, and if we can’t put it together, she will.”
“Emma, huh?” The game no longer held Charlie’s interest. Emma was the complete package. She was the perfect combination of sweet, sexy, smart and interesting. Every time they bumped into one another, he became more enamored. She was cool and exuded an easy confidence, as though she always knew exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it.
“Yeah. Kendall swears there’s no one better at organizing things, but I think we should keep it simple. Just family and a justice of the peace.”
“I’m with the Nightingale on this one. You’re marrying Special K! You can’t marry a woman like that at city hall. Plus, if you have a real wedding, you’ll get gifts and I’ll get to drink out of a real glass when I come over to watch the game.” Charlie held up his plastic kiddie cup filled with Coke.
Max snorted when he laughed. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”
Finding the bright side was Charlie’s gift. He was a silver-lining kind of guy. His optimism was a trait passed down through the generations; his father and grandfather had similar personalities.
Charlie’s grandfather swore it was the power of positive thinking that had won the two elder Fletcher men the women of their dreams. Unfortunately, Charlie hadn’t experienced the same kind of luck in the romance department. Women found him funny and charming when they met him, but eventually they all broke his heart, perpetuating the nice-guys-finish-last theory.
Emma had dream-woman potential. Charlie hadn’t pursued her yet out of fear. One more failed relationship and his optimism might be lost for good. Then he’d be lonely and depressed. He couldn’t let his thoughts drift in that direction.
“What if I helped her? I could make sure she doesn’t get too carried away. Make sure it’s how you want it.”
Max lifted one eyebrow. “You want to help plan my wedding?”
“Honestly? No. But I would like to spend some time with Kendall’s sister.” Charlie grinned. “Is that wrong?”
This garnered all of Max’s attention. He sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You want to spend time with Emma? When did this happen?”
Charlie scrubbed his face with his hands. There would be no going back once the cat was out of the bag. “Pretty much since the first time I saw her.”
“What? How did I not know this?” He reached for his phone, but Charlie smacked it out of his hand.
“You can’t tell Kendall.”
“I have to tell Kendall.”
“You cannot tell Kendall.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Max said seriously. “Kendall will be told. If not now, then later.”
“Later. Please.”
“Fine.” A smile spread slowly across Max’s face. “Charlie Fletcher, I thought we were friends, but you’ve been holding out on me.”
Charlie hadn’t been intentionally keeping secrets. There wasn’t much to tell other than he had a crush. “There was nothing to say. I like her. I’ve been holding back a little because the women who somehow resist my good looks completely fall at my feet when I turn on the charm. It’s embarrassing, really.”
Max laughed into his fist. “Okay, but seriously. Emma’s cool. Now, if you were head over heels for Lucy, I’d tell you to run for your life. Emma’s usually easy to get along with, but I think she’s dating some doctor. If you let me call Kendall—” he reached for his phone “—I could find out.”
“No way.” Charlie smacked his hand again. “I have sisters. Sisters tell sisters everything. If you tell Kendall, she’ll tell Emma and things will be weird.”
“Okay, then just ask her out on a date,” Max suggested.