You Make It Easy: A best friend's brother romance (Love in Everton Book 5) Read online




  Table of Contents

  title page

  copyright

  social media

  dedication

  reader note

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  chapter 20

  chapter 21

  chapter 22

  chapter 23

  chapter 24

  chapter 25

  chapter 26

  chapter 27

  chapter 28

  chapter 29

  sneak peek - then i met you

  sneak peek - make you mine

  books by fabiola francisco

  acknowledgments

  about the author

  Copyright © 2020 by Fabiola Francisco

  Publication Date: July 15, 2020

  You Make It Easy (Love in Everton, Book 5)

  All rights reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and contains material protected under the International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design by Amy Queau, Q Designs

  Editing by Rebecca Kettner, Editing Ninja

  Cover photo by Deposit Photo

  Interior Design by Cary Hart

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  For the shy girls hiding behind books. You also shine.

  Abbie

  I look at the couple through the lens of my camera as they say their vows and snap a photograph. I smile and move to a different angle, taking more pictures as the wedding continues.

  I’ve known Axel Bentley and Lia Montgomery since I was young, being that we all live in a small town, but I recently became friends with them when two of my best friends started dating Axel’s friends. My tight-knit circle of best friends—all four of us, so more like a square than a circle—expanded into a group that included some of Everton’s most popular families.

  I mean, Knox Bentley, Axel’s brother, is a famous country singer for God’s sake.

  And here was little ol’ Abbie, socializing with them. Well, that’s not entirely true. Socializing and I go together like mud pies and wedding dresses. I’m the quiet observer. Leave me behind a camera to capture the silent moments most people miss. This is what I’m meant to do, and I can’t be more grateful that Axel and Lia hired me as their wedding photographer. A job like this pays me more than my usual smaller shoots for family portraits and senior pictures.

  The cheers coming from the guests snap me back to the present before they get swept away with the breeze, and I see Axel kissing Lia. Another smile takes over my face as I lift the camera and aim, doing what I do best.

  “This is a gorgeous wedding.” My best friend, Averly, stands next to me.

  “How’s the momma-to-be?” I smile at her.

  “I’m happy that morning sickness has simmered down. This child is determined to make me pay for all future stomach flu it will get,” Averly takes a deep breath, her hand cradling her belly.

  “Complain all you want, but you can’t wait to have this baby.” I lift my eyebrows as I look at her.

  “I can’t.” Her smile lights up her face.

  “It is a beautiful wedding, and all because you have the perfect setting for it. How’s business?”

  Averly owns The Farmhouse, Everton’s newest bed and breakfast, surrounded by beautiful nature and stunning mountains. I wait for her answer as I take photos of Axel and Lia walking down the aisle marked by the white Chiavari chairs where guests sit. It’s a warm July day, perfect for an outdoor wedding, and Averly’s bed and breakfast is set on a stunning property. Axel and Lia wanted the ceremony to be held near the creek that runs through it, and I’m sure having the wedding here has helped Averly’s new business.

  “It’s good. We’re booked this weekend, which obviously it’s only four rooms so that doesn’t seem like a lot, but we’ve had steady guests, especially now in the summer.”

  “It’s going great.” I place a gentle hand on her arm. Averly is the definition of a perfectionist. Everything she does has to be planned to a T, perfectly executed, and long-lasting. I know she’s nervous about going on maternity leave so soon after opening her bed and breakfast, but she has a few months to get everything running smoothly.

  “Yeah, that’s what Eli says.” She sighs and nods. “I’m going to check on the reception area.”

  I nod and get back to work. Moving to the front where the ceremony took place, I gather Axel and Lia, so I can take photos of them under the floral arch wrapped in green eucalyptus leaves, blush pink roses, white peonies, and peach dahlias. It’s a beautiful contrast of colors with the pine trees as a backdrop—a photographer’s dream.

  After taking family pictures, pictures of the newlyweds, and with their best man and maid of honor, I guide Axel and Lia through the forested area while the guests have a cocktail before the reception.

  This is where I feel most free and myself. Being a photographer allows me the creative freedom I crave. It’s a solitary job, but that works for me. I prefer it over working in an office full of people I’m forced to interact with.

  As we’re walking back toward the cocktail and reception area, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sneak a glance and frown.

  “I’m sorry, do you guys mind if I answer this? I’ll be quick, I promise. It’s my landlord, and he never calls,” my eyebrows pull down as I look at Axel and Lia.

  “Of course,” Lia responds without hesitation.

  “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”

  They nod and walk toward their guests while I stay behind and answer my call. Why would he be calling? I pay my rent on time every month, so I don’t owe him anything. Unless… What if my apartment caught fire or something? I didn’t leave any candles burning, and I didn’t even cook breakfast this morning.

  Worry fills me as my heart pounds in my chest.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi Abbie, it’s Mr. Westfield.”
/>   “Yes, hi, how are you?” I pace in a circle as I wait for him to tell me why he called.

  “I’m sorry to bother you on a Saturday morning, but I needed to talk to you. I hate to do this over the phone.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, wondering what the heck he’s getting at.

  “My daughter and her husband are moving back to Everton, and I’ll need the apartment for them.”

  “Wh-what?” I stutter.

  “I do hate to do this. You’ve been a great tenant.”

  “Uh, okay. When do I need to move by?” I squeeze my eyes shut, trapping my tears.

  “I’ll give you a month, so you can find a new place.” As if he were doing me a favor. Apartments in Everton are hard to come by. This can’t be happening.

  I thank him and hang up, walking toward the wedding reception in a daze. I have a job to do, and one I need now more than ever if I’m going to have to find a new apartment and pay a deposit. I slap a smile on my face as I nod at guests. It’s a small wedding, intimate, which allows me to capture heartwarming moments, but right now, my mind is starting to shut down. The weight of my conversation with Mr. Westfield is starting to crush every rational thought as panic hits.

  Where am I going to live?

  Goodness, I’m going to have to move back in with my parents. I close my eyes and tilt my head back toward the sky. The bright sunshine warms my face.

  “Hey,” I drop my head and blink my eyes open, seeing Poppy, another of my best friends, through the light specks that filtered through my closed eyelids.

  “Hey.” A tight smile forces my lips to stretch. Now is not the time to talk about my new living situation.

  “Pretty wedding, right?” Poppy smiles freely.

  “It is,” I nod. “Your dress is beautiful.” I look at her teal off-the-shoulder dress, the knee-length skirt opening in big pleats. Bold floral prints stamp the satin fabric. It has a retro-modern feel with the tailored body and A-line skirt. It’s something only Poppy can pull off.

  “Thanks.” She does a small bow. “I loved it when I saw it in the store. The shoes were not the smartest choice,” she lifts her nude, strappy heel. “Thankfully, Lia gave guests those heel stopper thingies to prevent the heel from digging into the dirt. Of course, I cracked the first pair, so I stole Averly’s since she’s in flats.” Poppy gives me a mischievous smile.

  I giggle and look at the wedding. “It’s the perfect place for a wedding,” I sigh.

  “Yeah.” Poppy turns and joins me in people-watching as guests drink and chat, some laughing and others greeting Axel and Lia.

  “I should get back to work.”

  “Are you okay? You looked upset when I came over.” Poppy narrows her eyes toward me with the careful scrutiny of a teacher that she possesses.

  “Yeah,” I smile. It probably looks completely awkward, but that’s normal for me.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon and into the evening making a plan to search for apartments as soon as I get home tonight. I’m tempted to reach for my phone and download one of those home-search apps, but I’ve never allowed anything to interfere with my job, and I never will.

  Abbie

  “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird for the last few days,” Averly calls me out as we sit in Faith’s living room for our book club meeting. Faith is my third best friend and completes my circle of close girlfriends.

  “I have not,” I defend with a firm shake of my head.

  “You can’t deny anything to a pregnant woman.” Averly points at me with narrowed eyes. She watches me closely as I attempt to hold in my emotions. It’s been five days since Mr. Westfield called to tell me I needed to move. I got home after the wedding and checked every website I could think of for rental listings but haven’t found anything that would work for me. There was a ranch house with four bedrooms on three acres of land. It’s way too big for me, and I couldn’t afford it even if I wanted to clean all that space alone.

  “You’re really milking this pregnancy thing. How many months do you have left?” I cross my arms and cock my head.

  “I can’t drink wine, and I spent the first three months puking up everything I ate. Hell, everything I so much as smelled. Want to complain?” Averly stands to refill her glass of water as if emphasizing her point. She should’ve been a lawyer.

  “Not when you’re moody like this,” I quip, leaning back against the sofa and releasing a deep breath from my mouth, my lips vibrating with the force.

  “Just tell us what’s going on.” She crosses her arm under the one holding her glass of water.

  I sigh, gulping a deep breath and looking at my three best friends. We’ve been through so much together since we were young girls. I know I can tell them anything, but I don’t want them to pity me or burden them. Poppy now lives with her boyfriend, Harris. Averly got married to Eli a few months ago and is blissfully enjoying their marriage. Faith, well, she’s single, too, but she’s got her stuff together. I don’t want them to feel like they need to disrupt their happy routines to find a solution for me when I’m responsible for myself.

  Sure, I’m an introvert. I’m shy around people I don’t know too well, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle my life. I can. I totally can. If I repeat it enough, I’ll almost sound convincing.

  How bad would it be to move back in with my parents for a while? I inwardly cringe. I love them, I really do, but I’ve been living on my own for a few years now. The idea of having to go back home makes me feel like I’m moving backward in life instead of evolving into adulthood. Add in my two teenage sisters with their hormones and attitudes, and I want to run in the other direction. My family is amazing, but I need my own space.

  “My landlord called me the other day and told me his daughter and son-in-law are moving back to Everton, so he needs me to move out of the apartment since his daughter will be moving in.”

  “What?” Poppy’s eyes widen. “Can he do that? Break a contract without notice?”

  “He’s giving me a month, so that was my notice. I’ll get my security deposit back, but yeah, he can do that as long as he gives me the length of time we agreed upon when I signed the contract.” I reach over and grab my wineglass from the coffee table, taking a healthy gulp.

  “The problem is that housing in Everton is limited, we all know that, and I’ve had zero luck finding a place.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, making Averly eye me with an annoyed look, handing me a napkin.

  I roll my eyes purposely and take it from her hands. She’s already using her mom brain, and the baby isn’t even born yet.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Faith asks, her eyebrows furrowing.

  “I’ll keep searching. Worst case scenario, I move back home until an apartment opens up,” I shrug, defeated. What else can I do?

  “Darn, too bad that Melissa already moved into the cottage. If not, you could live there,” Averly slumps back on the armchair she’s sitting on. Melissa is the manager she hired for the bed and breakfast, and Averly offered her on-property housing so she’d be within reach.

  “Kick her out,” I joke.

  “If I didn’t need her, I would,” Averly says bitterly. The control freak in her has anxiety about someone else running her business in a few months while she’s out for maternity leave.

  “We need to think,” Poppy speaks up, straightening next to me. She grabs her phone and begins tapping the screen.

  “I already checked that app before coming over.” I lean over her shoulder as I look at what she’s doing.

  “And nothing?” Her brows furrow in a worry.

  I shake my head. “I still have three weeks to find a place, and I’m hoping something will open up by then.” I offer a small, unconvincing smile to the three pairs of narrowed eyes staring back at me.

  “I’m okay, really. I don’t need the three of you to go crazy searching for a place for me to live.”

  “Okay,” they all mumble, shrugging.

  A few hours l
ater, I’m walking into my apartment, closing the door behind me and leaning against the hardwood. I scan the living room and kitchen combo. I should start packing if I need to get this all squared away in three weeks.

  I love this apartment. It’s right in the center of town, walking distance to everything I love. It’s given me four great years of independence, and I’ll definitely miss it.

  Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I drag my feet toward the couch and drop my body as I take my laptop from the coffee table. Once the screen is on, I type a search for rental apartments in the browser and hold my breath as it loads. I click on different sites, checking what’s available. Some bigger houses are for sale, but I’m not ready to commit to such a big expense, and a couple of apartments for rent that are way out of my price range.

  When did rent get so expensive here?

  My phone flashes with a notification, stealing my attention. I eye it while I debate whether or not I want to check it. I’ve never been one to consider online dating apps, but since two of my best friends found love within a few months and the prospects in Everton are becoming slimmer than ever, I would have to rely on a tourist passing through or someone outside of Everton—both options not exactly easy to come by, especially as a photographer with my own small business to run.

  Being as shy as I am, this is a way to see what’s out there without having to awkwardly confront people at a bar. Honestly, unless a guy is coming up to me, I’m not talking to him. I don’t have the courage to just stalk up to a guy and introduce myself. I’d probably trip on the way.

  I sigh, frustrated with the lack of living properties online, and swipe my phone to life. I press on the icon for Perfect Match, the only dating app that seemed like it would lead to a real relationship and not a one-night-stand agreement. I wrongly judged it. I don’t think any app is off-limits to the hooking up mentality.

  I never expected some of the propositions I’ve gotten, including a couple looking for a third person to join their sexcapades every now and then. If I would ever have a threesome, I better be in the middle of a cowboy sandwich—no way will I be one slice of the bread in that sandwich. But let’s be real, I can barely come up with interesting conversation topics when I see a guy I like, let alone have the grace to enjoy two men at once.