An Inconvenient Plan (Happy Endings Book Club, Book 10) Read online




  Table of Contents

  An Inconvenient Plan

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  An Inconvenient Plan

  Happy Endings Book Club Series, Book 10

  © 2018 Kylie Gilmore

  Get your next FREE book when you sign up for my newsletter: https://www.kyliegilmore.com/newsletter

  Hailey Adams’s strategy for a hugely successful wedding planning business is finally paying off, and now it’s time to focus on her own happy ending. After a stinging rejection from her sexy frenemy, Josh Campbell, a prince falls into her lap. And he’s a swoony, romantic contrast to the gruff bartender she can’t seem to quit.

  Josh’s plan to keep his distance from Hailey is derailed when competition shows up in the form of a playboy prince. It’s one damn inconvenience after another as Josh has to show up a prince, win over Hailey’s rat-dog who hates him, and get Hailey to stop fighting with him long enough to see they belong together. Impossible woman!

  Can these longtime frenemies let down their defenses in time to discover their own happy ending? Or will Hailey be swept off her feet by a fairy tale come true?

  Author’s Note

  The Happy Endings Book Club was inspired by my own wish for a romance book club. Hailey’s purpose in starting the book club was to help her friends find their happy ending and now it’s finally her turn! I think this might be my favorite story I’ve ever written. These two needed each other. Enjoy Josh and Hailey’s frenemies-to-lovers romance! Read on and join the club!

  Hidden Hollywood (Book 1)

  Inviting Trouble (Book 2)

  So Revealing (Book 3)

  Formal Arrangement (Book 4)

  Bad Boy Done Wrong (Book 5)

  Mess With Me (Book 6)

  Resisting Fate (Book 7)

  Chance of Romance (Book 8)

  Wicked Flirt (Book 9)

  An Inconvenient Plan (Book 10)

  A Happy Endings Wedding (Book 11)

  Click to see all of Kylie’s books on Amazon

  Sign up for my newsletter to be emailed when the next book releases.

  Visit https://www.kyliegilmore.com for more fun stuff.

  Find me on Facebook and Twitter.

  Chapter One

  The Night That Went Wrong…

  Josh Campbell drove an oddly quiet Hailey Adams to his apartment, the tension thick in the air. So, okay, maybe there’d been some bad blood between them over the years, but it was mostly in good fun. At least that was how he’d seen it. But tonight at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill, Hailey had been shaken by the news that their parents—his dad and her mom—were shacking up after only five weeks of dating. He’d never seen his dad in love before, but it was written all over his goofy lovesick face. Hailey’s mom, Brandy, had the exact same dopey expression, so they were a good match.

  In any case, he’d been enjoying his usual sparring with Hailey when she blew up at him and then got all teary. Her friends had made it clear that he’d hurt her feelings and needed to make things right. It was ladies’ night and he’d been way outnumbered. But it wasn’t just that. Now that their parents were serious about each other, he figured he should be the bigger person and apologize. Not like she was a complete innocent in all their sparring. Whatever. He’d apologized and offered to right the wrong between them—the wrong that had started it all—him keeping her money for his work as her paid escort. He never should’ve taken her money and he knew it. Part of their twisted history. Now she was going back to his place to get the money with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner on death row.

  Yup, Saint Josh here, taking the high road with Hailey for the sake of their families. If he and Hailey kept fighting, it might cause a rift between their parents. His dad hadn’t had a serious relationship since Josh’s beauty-queen mom walked out on him and their six kids more than twenty years ago. No visits, no phone calls, not even a card. His dad deserved this happiness with Brandy.

  The Josh-Hailey feud must die.

  Their one-upmanship had gotten a little out of hand. He took full responsibility for his part in it—calling her princess for her snooty ways, slipping a ghost pepper into her nachos that probably torched her taste buds for a week, refusing to serve her favorite mojito drink for months at a time, tweaking her nose at every opportunity. She was so easy to rile up that he found it impossible to resist.

  Hailey’s part in their feud had been much worse than his. First off, she’d started a rumor that he was impotent that had tanked his sex life and led to a lot of sympathy from the women who came into the bar. And then she’d “fixed” that terrible rumor by implying the real issue was a tiny dick. Devious brilliant woman knew just where to strike. No guy could prove himself without whipping it out. She was a worthy opponent, he’d give her that.

  He parked in front of the old Victorian in Clover Park he called home, at least the first-floor apartment on the right. Hailey stayed frozen in place in the passenger seat of his Miata convertible, staring straight ahead. He got out, walked around, and opened the passenger-side door for her. His dad had drilled gentleman manners into him. Most women were ridiculously grateful for his manners like they were starved for a kind gesture from the opposite sex. He liked being the guy who showed them not all men were scum.

  Hailey got out without a word, and he shut the door behind her. She glanced sideways at him like maybe she was nervous. No big deal, just a simple exchange. Sure, he could’ve brought the stupid shoebox of money to her, but it was the principle of the thing. If she was going to renege on their original agreement, then she could go to his place and get it. Which he’d told her many times, admittedly just to see her blow up at the idea of being alone with him at his place. She hilariously called his place a “den of sin.” Even better, she called him beast or cad or, his personal favorite, scoundrel. Her old-fashioned turn of phrase slayed him.

  He walked ahead of her to the front door of the house, unlocked it, and held it open. She took her time catching up to him. Once she was in the front foyer, he unlocked his apartment door and held it for her. She cautiously stepped inside, looking all around. Maybe she was looking for the whips and chains in his so-called den of sin. The beige sofa and worn wooden coffee table were probably a shock.

  She removed her white wool coat, setting it over the end of the sofa. She wore a blue dress that clung to every perfect tempting curve. Add in her long silky strawberry blond hair, pale blue eyes, and flawless skin and it was easy to see why she’d won so many beauty-queen pageants. He reminded himself of every reason why he shouldn’t be with her—they fought nonstop, their parents, his aversion to beauty queens—and turned from temptation. Not only was his crap mom a beauty queen, so was his ex. No more beauty queens for him.

  He headed toward his bedroom, where he’d stashed the shoebox in the back of the closet. She followed closely behind, her floral scent strong, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, her quickened breath audible. He wanted to tell her to calm the fuck down because he wasn’t going to do anything to her, but he knew part of his irritation was that he got jumpy with so
meone being close behind him. Leftover trauma from his old life as a paratrooper in the army, dropped from a plane into enemy territory, often in the dead of night, engaging in hand-to-hand combat.

  He recognized the tension for what it was, reminded himself where he was now and why, and kept going. The PTSD was behind him, mostly, after ten years, but it never really went away. There were always reminders—his quick-trigger reflexes if someone grabbed him from behind, occasional insomnia and nightmares. He liked a bar between him and a crowd, wanted his back to the wall in any situation, and preferred a high five or a cheek slap to touching anywhere else. He’d let a woman in close when it suited him, but even then he preferred to have control. No sudden moves, nothing behind his back, and nobody got hurt.

  He sped up, leaving more space between them. He just had to give her the money and get out of here before either of them did something they’d regret. Like have another fight or, the flip side, something physical. He got the feeling she wanted him, but didn’t want to want him. He got it because he had the exact same problem. Why else would she keep coming back for more? If he really bugged her that much, she’d completely ignore him. Either way—fight or fuck—would be a disaster. It was time to make amends.

  “I know what you want,” she said from behind him. Not close, but her flowery scent lingered.

  He opened the closet door, ignoring her. Mission Shoebox, get ’er done.

  “You want a clear affirmation of desire and consent,” she said.

  He stilled, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Alert! Danger, danger. Her odd phrasing did nothing to take away from her intent for something that absolutely could not happen. Complete the mission! He moved quickly, shoving some shit out of the way on the high shelf where he’d stashed the box.

  Her voice was breathy and sexy as hell. “You told me that once.”

  He didn’t remember saying that. If he did, he’d been messing with her. He grabbed the shoebox and turned to face her.

  Her dress dropped, pooling at her feet. His mouth went dry. Sweet Jesus. She was stunning standing there in a light blue lace bra, matching thong, and black heels. Full breasts, toned body with smooth creamy skin, a sweet curve of hip, the lacey revealing thong. Better than any centerfold. Kill me now.

  “I desire,” she said, “and I consent. So let’s do this. We both know that’s where this has been heading since day one.”

  “This wasn’t the plan,” he croaked. He tore his gaze away, forcing his mind back to the mission—high road, ending the feud. No temptation was worth the inevitable crash and burn, and then they’d be stuck together forever because of their love-goggled parents.

  He met her eyes, desperately trying to focus on her face. “Princess, that’s not how this is going to go.” He congratulated himself on the gentlemanly move. He was showing great consideration and restraint.

  Hailey blinked a few times like she wasn’t comprehending.

  He waited for her to catch up.

  Finally, she said, “You’ve been flirting with me for years. Wasn’t that your version of flirting? Fighting with me? Why else would you be so surprised you hurt my feelings?”

  “That wasn’t flirting. I was playing with you. When I flirt—” he leaned close to demonstrate, tucking the shoebox under one arm “—it’s much more close up.”

  Her breath warmed his lips. “Like this?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Yeah.” He snagged her dress off the floor and handed it to her with the shoebox of money. “You should go.”

  “You’re rejecting me?” she asked in a small voice.

  He stroked her hair to soothe the rejection, surprised at how soft it was. He’d thought it was hair-sprayed into perfection. “I’m taking the high road for the sake of our family. I just wanted you to come over, get the money, and, you know, bury the hatchet.”

  She kicked his shin, and he jumped back. “Go to hell!” she hollered and then hurled the shoebox at him.

  He threw an arm up before the box could hit his head. The lid popped off on contact, and money flew everywhere—twenties, tens, fives, and singles—a five-hundred-dollar mess. She’d basically emptied her wallet every time he’d showed up for a wedding. All part of her business plan as a wedding planner. His part in the transaction was not so commercial—he couldn’t stay away from her. He either needed to be committed for insanity or commit. Holy shit. Was he ready for a commitment? With her? He swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly want to get further entangled with the most high-maintenance difficult woman on the planet. Doomed to fail, he reminded himself. Glued together forever by family. Hailey the beauty queen was off-limits.

  She stepped into her dress and pulled it up in jerky motions.

  “Hailey—”

  “No, call me princess. Make sure you really sneer.” Her luscious breasts disappeared from view as she finished getting the sleeveless dress in place, reached back, and worked at the zipper. “I’ll call you what you really are—a jackass!” That was much worse than her usual cad, beast, or scoundrel.

  She marched to the front door.

  He followed. Her dress was only halfway zipped up she was in such a hurry. “Come on. I’m trying to do the right thing.” She grabbed the doorknob, and he caught up to her, snagging her by the hips. “Hold up.”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  “Zipper.” He pushed her long hair over one satiny soft shoulder, barely resisting sinking his teeth into the exposed skin along the nape of her neck. No, no, no. He did the zipper for her. He really should be named a saint for this, except he could never earn sainthood because he did it slowly, greedily taking her in. The curve of her ass, the dip in her lower back, the straight line of her spine, all that skin. Finally he stopped torturing himself, finishing the zipper between her shoulder blades. Definitely Saint Josh here.

  She turned. Her pale blue eyes reflected desire, anger, and hurt, all wrapped up together.

  His voice came out gruff. “New start tomorrow. Clean slate.”

  She lifted her chin in her usual haughty way. He couldn’t work up much ire with the memory of her near-naked body burned into his brain. “Maybe I don’t want a new start.”

  “Then I’ll have to try extra hard to convince you. We’re probably going to be family soon.”

  She whirled, raced out of the apartment, and slammed the door behind her.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, turned, and spotted her coat hanging over the sofa. He snagged it and went out the door, but she was already gone. Geez, she moved fast.

  He caught up with her marching down the sidewalk, huddled against the cold. It was the middle of February in Connecticut, dead of winter. “You forgot your coat.”

  She took it and put it on, never breaking stride. “Thank you.”

  He kept up. “You’re just going to walk back to Garner’s? It’s a good twenty-minute walk in the cold. I’ll drive you.”

  “No.”

  “Come on. You’re being stubborn to your own detriment.”

  She stopped suddenly, surprising him. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to spend even one more minute with you? My pride is in tatters, and I don’t want to hear one more stupid thing out of your mouth.”

  “Would it help if I offered my desire and consent too?” Not that he’d act on it. He was just trying to restore her tattered pride. Tattered. Another old-fashioned word that would’ve made him laugh if it weren’t for the grim truth that she’d rather walk home in the bitter cold than drive in a car with him. FUBAR. Mission fail.

  She jabbed a finger in his chest. “This is exactly why I don’t want to talk to you. You think it’s all a game, that I have no feelings whatsoever.”

  “I don’t think that. I was trying to give you back your pride.”

  “Too late.”

  “I’m getting my car. I’m driving you.”

  “Do whatever you want. It’s no concern of mine.”

  He jogged back, got the car, and drove alon
gside her. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars to get in this car.” That was the shoebox money.

  She stopped walking.

  He stopped the car.

  She walked over to the passenger door and kicked it. “Hey!” he said at the same time as she said “Ouch!”

  “Stop beating up my car and get in!” he barked.

  She kept walking, limping a little, chin raised. He wanted to grab her and shove her in the car, but he knew she’d fight him tooth and claw. Damn, this woman was a lot of work. She drove him bat-shit crazy, and he was only going to see more of her now that their parents were living together. FUBAR and NWGBFU! (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition and Now We’re Gonna Be Family, Ugh!). Why had he thought it would be an easy thing to right the wrong? Nothing with this woman was easy.

  Her limp was more pronounced now, but she never slowed her pace. He had to admire her gumption. She was a trooper with a real fighting spirit, though not a rational one.

  “Did you break your toe?” he asked, driving at a snail’s pace.

  “No.”

  “What can I say?”

  She stared straight ahead. “Nothing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She held up a palm like shut it.

  “Hailey, come on.”

  “Good day, sir!” She sped up.

  He bit back a laugh. Swear to God, where did she get this stuff from? He followed her all the way back to her place, an old colonial in Clover Park, much closer to Garner’s. He’d passed the old house before, but never knew she lived there. Despite all their fighting, usually at Garner’s, the bar he worked at and managed, he didn’t actually know her that well. What he did know about her was through his sister, Mad, who was close with Hailey. He watched her go around to the back of the house, probably to get in through a back entrance.

  He drove off, parked in the lot behind Garner’s, and then just sat there for a few minutes, trying to come up with a game plan for when he walked back into ladies’ night and all of Hailey’s friends saw him alone. There would be questions. They’d left together and everyone knew it was to settle their dispute over the money. He finally decided to keep his mouth shut. He’d let Hailey tell the story any way she wanted to, even if it sounded like he was in the wrong. He wasn’t the one who’d stripped down…don’t think about it.