Try Try Again by Trish Howell

  Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter 5

Affiliate Six

Chapter Seven

Affiliate EIGHT

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgments

Seducing Cinderella Excerpt

About the Author

Ask ME Over again

Gina L. Maxwell

Copyright © 2015 by Gina 50. Maxwell.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

Content and Line Editing: Kristin Anders, www.TheRomanticEditor.com

Formatting and Encompass Design: Sweet 'N Spicy Designs

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the production of the author'southward imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

The friend zone has never felt so hot.

When Trish Howell'south beau of ten years dumps her unexpectedly, she heads dorsum to her hometown for the summer to pick up the pieces of her broken life. Now she'south at the center of the dreaded gossip mill, missing the city, and bartending at the local Irish pub so she can make enough money to put pocket-sized town life in her rearview mirror in one case and for all.

The final affair Tony DiAngelo expects to see when he walks into Paddy's, is the girl he'd crushed on since they were kids. She may have friend-zoned him back then, but he isn't the scrawny, timid guy from high schoolhouse anymore, and he'll be damned if he doesn't take his shot with her, even if it means agreeing to her temporary friends-with-benefits proposal.

Equally the days go from sunny to scorching, so practice things between Trish and Tony, and the hotter things go, the harder they fall. Merely staying was never part of her plan and when Tony makes a proposal of his own, Trish's feelings are too complicated for a one-discussion respond.

Now she has to make up one's mind whether she can trust her center enough to trade her big city life for the small town love she never saw coming.

Dedication

To my babe sister, Tricia, whose own love story was the basis for this volume.

Cheers for your unconditional support, friendship, and honey.

(And for giving me artistic license to radically alter some things for the practiced of the story.)

I wish yous and TJ a lifetime of love and happiness, Shorty.

Love you more than double fudge chocolate ice cream with dark chocolate shavings...

~ Me ~

Also to my astonishing friend, KP, without whom this volume would not make a lick of sense.

CHAPTER ONE

3 THOUSAND Iv HUNDRED and twenty-six.

That's how many days of her life Trish Howell wasted with a homo who broke up with her because he decided it was "for her ain skillful." She nevertheless couldn't believe that after more than nine years of planning their lives together—matrimony, children, big house away from the city where they'd host barbeques for their urban center-dwelling friends—Nick had ended it all in a single conversation.

It wasn't every bit if their demise had been obvious with little disagreements escalating into bigger arguments. If they'd been fighting perhaps it wouldn't take felt like, afterward a decade of building a life together, he suddenly hit her over the caput with a damn ii-by-4.

Every bit it happened, he'd kissed her in the morning time before she headed off to her small nevertheless thriving aesthetician business. Afterwards a long day at piece of work, they'd enjoyed a nice dinner together then settled in to watch their favorite shows. But Nick must not have been in the mood for How I Met Your Mother that night, because instead of turning on the TV, he turned off their human relationship.

No brief satellite interruptions, no blue screen while the system rebooted for another try, no customer service number to telephone call for technical support.

Just…off.

Now Trish's once-successful life consisted of shacking upwards with her older sister Rhianna, her husband, and their two teenage kids in the dinky town she grew up in, while working equally a waitress/bartender at Paddy'south, the local Irish pub. Insult, come across Injury.

Trish pulled the lever for the Guinness on tap and watched the dark liquid fill the glass in a daze. That's how she'd moved through the world for the last 2 weeks since leaving her life behind in New York Metropolis. She merely had 2 settings: dazed in public, and cleaved in individual.

Picking up her tray of drinks, she walked around the terminate of the bar and wound her mode through the tables filled with Friday dark customers to get to the six-elevation in the back corner. She dropped off their drinks and checked on her other tables before stopping at a four-superlative that had just swapped inhabitants.

"Evening, everyone," she said, pulling out her notepad. "Can I start by getting yous some drinks while you await over the menu?"

"Oh my goodness, is that little Trish Howell?"

Trish looked up in the direction of the feminine voice and barely stopped herself from wincing. "Hi, Mrs. Madsen, how are you?" Mrs. Madsen was a friend of the family. The kind who had chats with Trish's mom afterward church, and one time a yr their families got together for a barbeque and puddle party.

"Your mom told me almost what happened with you and Nick, you poor thing, but I didn't know y'all were moving dorsum habitation." Then to the iii other ladies at the tabular array Mrs. Madsen clarified, "She would have told me, but we haven't had time to talk at church the last couple of weeks." Mrs. Madsen turned her curious gaze back to Trish. "I bet you lot're glad to exist back, aren't you lot, dearest?"

Trish did her best to lift the corners of her oral cavity into some semblance of a smile. "Words tin't limited how it feels to be back, Mrs. Madsen." Her crushed dreams and wounded pride said it all.

"Y'all're so sweet. Well, wait till I tell Henry yous're dwelling and working here at Paddy'southward..."

Trish tuned out the residuum of Mrs. Madsen's plans for filling her husband in on the town grapevine's news of the prodigal daughter's render. She focused on belongings her tight smiling and nodded every so often to keep the pretense of listening, and then made an excuse about waiting customers and promised to be dorsum before long to take their order.

She took cover behind the bar where she'd be able to keep herself decorated washing glasses and restocking supplies with limited customer interaction for a while. Noticing the garnishes needed refreshing, she grabbed several limes and began slicing them into fifty-fifty sections. Erin, the immature possessor of the pub and an old loftier school friend, emerged from the back room and joined Trish.

"Hey, hon, how you holding upward?" Erin shot her a brief concerned look every bit she grabbed two used spectacles, dipped them into the deep sink of hot, soapy water so into the sanitized water before setting them on the drying rack.

Shrugging a shoulder, Trish said, "I'm fine. Still readjusting to small town life."

She kept her focus on dividing the limes perfectly. Different how her life had been divided up by her intermission upward with Nick. Information technology'd been like a divorce where he had a loftier-powered attorney and she a public defender in a cheap suit. Nick got their apartment in Astoria, all of their new furniture—which she'd bought because her credit was better—and all of their friends.

And so, equally if losing all that hadn't been a large enough kick in the junk, she'd lost her aesthetician business. She'd been so proud of herself, taking the leap to starting time her own visitor. She worked hard to grow her clientele and earned a reputation as ane of the leading aestheticians in Queens. Clients traveled from other Burroughs and fifty-fifty New Jersey because they preferred her to anyone else.

Simply with no apartment, no human relationship, and no more than friends, Trish moved back to her hometown Podunk, Wisconsin, and that meant she had to sell her business. She deposited the entire corporeality int

o a new savings account where it would stay until she needed startup stash for her new venture. She loved being a business possessor, and wanted to do it again someday.

Hence, her need for the tiny wages and fluctuating tips of this job to comprehend the only neb she currently had, her cell telephone, and she insisted on paying something to Rhianna for letting her stay with them.

All she needed now was a clue as to where she should make all that happen.

* * * * *

What a shitty day. If at that place was ever a night Tony DiAngelo needed to have a beer or ten, it was this 1. Non only had the 24-hour interval job exhausted him—trying to go eye schoolers to pay attention three weeks earlier summertime break was a teacher's Mission: Impossible—just on his style to motorcoach his soccer team, old Mrs. Danvers t-boned him and messed up the passenger side of his car. After dealing with the headache of talking to the police and his insurance company, he finally arrived at the game just to discover his co-ed kindergarteners acting like there was a total moon, officially making his day one large clusterfuck.

Tony nodded to Jason, his good friend and the ref for the youth soccer games, who was waiting outside for him at their favorite bar in town. The original owners of Paddy'due south Pub were quondam townies who sold it to one of Tony'south friends from school. It was one of those places that everyone frequented on a regular basis. The pocket-sized size made information technology cramped as hell sometimes, but no one ever seemed to listen. There were plenty of other great local hangouts in the small town of Fort Atkinson, but none of them matched the atmosphere and good company of Paddy'due south.

Pulling open the heavy wooden door, Tony stepped inside and drew in a deep jiff of the heavenly scent of beer and fried cheese curds. He could almost feel the tension of the solar day start to skid from his shoulders.

Jason tapped him on the arm to get his attending. "Hey, lodge me a beer. I'll catch us a table."

Finding a rare open seat at the far end of the sturdy counter that ran the length of the room, Tony looked for the closest bartender to help make the end of his nighttime endurable. A brunette with a killer torso was working all the way at the other end. Tony's starved libido woke upward and yanked on its short tether. Information technology'd been a long time since he'd been tempted to unleash it, but from what he could run across, this girl could tempt him directly to hell and he wouldn't requite a damn.

Her black leggings left only the colour of her skin beneath them to the imagination. They flaunted every delicious curve from hip to calf where her tall black boots took over. Instead of the dark dark-green Paddy's T-shirt the employees were typically outfitted in, she wore a pink shirt then sparse that her black tank underneath showed through and hung off her right shoulder. Lazy night brown curls swung over her dorsum. Flashes of them raked upwards by his fingers or maybe wrapped around his paw flooded his listen.

Christ, if he kept this up, the bar wouldn't be the only difficult forest in front of him. How long had information technology been since he'd had sex? A twelvemonth? Too long, plain. Now he understood why people who were lost in the desert saw visions with pools of cool water. Imaginations were vicious bastards.

And then who the hell was she? Erin must have hired her recently, all the same she didn't act like a new hire, on border and unsure of herself. She moved easily in the infinite and mixed drinks instinctively, her hands doing all the piece of work equally she talked with the customers.

"Did you win the big game tonight, Motorcoach?"

Pulled from his thoughts, Tony turned to his friend and owner of Paddy's as she placed a Bespeak Beer in front of him. "Hey, Erin. Cheers," he said before taking several long pulls on the longneck. The taste of his favorite beer washed some of the day'south irritations away, and after draining half the canteen, he released a grateful sigh.

"That bad, huh?" she asked. Erin attended a lot of the games because her niece was on his team, so she knew how things could go from calm to crazy to tears all in a matter of minutes.

He shrugged. "First one-half was skillful, but somewhere in the third quarter, I lost them. A boy from the other team bumped into Jessica so she shoved him into a mud puddle. And so Sophia whispered something to Scottie in the huddle. She giggled, he blushed, and the side by side thing I know, he's picking dandelion bouquets instead of protecting the goal."

Pausing in her wipe down of the perfectly clean counter, she clutched the damp towel to her chest and went total-on girly. "Oh my God, that'southward so beautiful. He'due south a doll, that Scottie."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Not cute. With Scottie playing Romeo the whole second half, the Mighty Minnows vanquish the Shark Bytes 4-1, which is doubly embarrassing considering of the names." He pointed an accusing finger at Erin. "Romance has no identify on the battlefield, woman. If I didn't know better, I'd say Sophia took a ransom to throw the game."

"And what sort of ransom does a five-year-onetime little girl in pigtails have, exactly?"

"Pudding cups," he deadpanned. Erin laughed and tossed the rag at him, which he caught earlier information technology hitting his face. "I'm serious. Have yous seen the crazed look she gets in her eyes when the parents bring pudding cups for after a game? It's not pretty. I think she has a pudding problem."

Sliding off the stool, Tony winked and downed the balance of his beer. Joking around with Erin and getting his kickoff alcoholic potable under his chugalug had lifted his mood considerably.

"Pretend all you desire, Tony DiAngelo, simply everyone knows you lot're crazy well-nigh those kids."

He sighed dramatically. "Aye. Those pint-sized gremlins own my ass, and they know it. They've completely destroyed my tough-guy rep with the ladies."

He'd been trying to make a joke, but it fell flat, deflating into a lump at his feet. Erin placed a hand over his and squeezed. "There are worse traits than having a weak spot for kindergarteners, Tony. Personally, I think information technology'due south sexy and middle-melting, and the correct adult female will think so, too."

What was that saying girls had? The adept ones are taken and the rest are all gay? Tony wondered if it worked the same fashion for women. Sometimes it felt like it, especially when one of the good ones—Erin—said things like that. By her reasoning, his ex-fiancée hadn't been one of the proficient ones. It had bothered Jennifer that he put then much time and energy into coaching the youth soccer and tee brawl teams. She never quite "got" his passion for inspiring and instruction kids a dearest of sports, and values like teamwork and good sportsmanship, just like his coaches had done for him his whole life.

When she left him, he'd been devastated, but it didn't accept him long to realize she'd washed them both a favor. They weren't good together. He hadn't even loved her equally much as he should for a woman he planned to spend his life with.

Leaning over the bar, Tony kissed Erin's cheek. She was a great friend, and he was glad he decided to go out with Jason tonight instead of heading home to aqueduct surf and settle for leftovers. Tony pulled a few bills from his wallet and handed them to Erin. "I'll take 2 Points and and then we'll demand some other round whenever you get a chance to toss in an order of your famous cheese curds."

"You got information technology. I'll put the order in now and bring it dorsum in a few."

"No rush." He started to leave, just then turned effectually at the last second. He had a better idea. "Actually," he said with a smiling, "can y'all transport the new girl back? I'd similar to introduce myself and give her a proper welcome to Paddy's. You know how I hate being rude."

Erin's eyebrows shot upwards. "The new girl?" Her eyes bounced betwixt him and the girl in question withal working the other end of the dimly lit bar. "You mean that new girl?"

Tony countered with an arched forehead of his own and crossed his arms over his chest. He wondered at her hesitation. She'd made "introductions" for him plenty of times, whether he asked her to or not. Erin was a notorious matchmaker, especially with her friends. "I don't know how many you've hired recently, simply yes, that one with the amazing donkey, is who I'm referring to. Is she dating someone already?"

"No," she said carefully. Erin popped the summit on a longneck and slid information technology to a customer a few feet away. And so she did the same thing on 2 more and set them in front end o

f Tony. "She's actually coming out of a bad breakup, but that's Tr—"

"Perfect," he said, thumping the bar with his hands for emphasis. "She needs a third-political party friend to have her out and get her mind off things."

"All right, I'll ship her over," she said with a devious grin. "Good luck, hot shot."

"No such thing as luck, Erin. Yous either got information technology, or you don't." Tony snagged the open beers and started to back abroad from the counter with a big smile, pointing to his chest. "And I've got lots of it."

Erin laughed and tossed her final retort over her shoulder equally she turned to the annals. "Proficient thing, 'cause you're gonna need it."

Tony and Jason sat at a pocket-size table confronting the back wall, swapping stories nigh their students—Jason taught Phys Ed at the middle school—and trying to one-up each other, as usual. About ten minutes later, Tony felt a presence backside his right shoulder. Assuming information technology was another customer milling around, he didn't pay any attention until a manus with French manicured nails reached around him to place 2 bottles of Betoken on the tabular array.

New daughter. He smirked to himself, wondering how he could've forgotten about the brown-haired beauty tasked with bringing him their next circular. Anxious to finally see her up close, he turned to look over his shoulder, merely all he saw was her left hand spread beneath the round tray she held. He scowled when he realized she couldn't become to the side of their table because of two guys animatedly sharing a story with their friends at the next table over.

Tony studied his friend's face to gauge his interest since he had a clear view of the woman. Oh, he had plenty of interest. Also much. The guy was working his lady-killer smile, and for the first time, Tony had the urge to punch the man in his pretty confront. Tony had dibs, damn it. He'd seen her first.

Shit, maybe he shouldn't try to impress a woman immediately afterwards being with his kids. Their laws and brand of justice seemed to rub off on him.

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