All's Fair in Love and Tequila

Chapter 1

Well, I’ll say this much for free: I wouldn’t touch Ed Garcia with a ten-foot pole. Not even if his life depended on it.

Actually, not even if my life depended on it.

The guy is a womanising party animal—that’s no secret. In fact, I still remember the look on his wife’s face the night I overheard her telling everyone he’d had an affair. Not only was it awkward, it was incredibly sad—the way her face crumpled; the rogue tear that rolled down her cheek that made me want to envelop her in a hug. But I hardly knew her, and it wasn’t my place.

And the only reason I generally have to put up with seeing his face more than absolutely necessary is purely due to one fact: Ed is my brother’s best mate—and has been since high school.

Brandon is my beloved (but highly annoying) younger brother. Younger—but twice my height and width, and probably more mature, despite the two extra years I have been on this earth.

And Ed is just so—

‘Um, hello. Louise. You with me?’ Kwan stood in front of my desk, clicking her shiny, red fingernails in my face and making me jump. She tapped a crocodile-print stiletto on the ground loudly, drawing attention to us from all around the office. Unlike me, she had no problem with being the centre of attention.

I wriggled my nose unconsciously—her perfume was particularly obnoxious today.

‘It’s Luisa,’ I muttered, feeling the need to sit taller in my designer chair, which was on point in our trendy office, but did nothing for my back. I looked up at her and blinked.

‘What?’ she snapped, her blood red lips in a snarl, contrasting with the pink neon letters on the wall behind her that spelled out Kwan in a Million. A ridiculous name for a creative agency, but there we were.

‘Nothing. Um. What did you say?’

An impatient sound escaped her mouth, one which I had got used to about four years ago but one which still unnerved me. This was a scary woman. ‘I said, you’re going on the Mexico marketing project. You can thank me later. Blair is going with you, and we also have a great photographer booked, Ed Garcia. And it’s an all-inclusive resort, so I don’t want you to—’

Her words evaporated into oblivion. I thought I’d heard her correctly the first time. My chest tightened, like the oxygen had been sucked out of me.

Ed Garcia.

How the hell did my boss know Ed Garcia?

I coughed, looking down at the sad cactus on my desk, realising Kwan had stopped talking. ‘Um—thank you, Kwan. I—I’m—thanks.’

She was frowning when my eyes met hers again. ‘I was kind of hoping for a bigger reaction to a free week in an all-inclusive resort. I mean …’ she swept an arm across the office, ‘I’m happy to send someone else if you want. Many other capable copywriters here.’

‘No!’ I shouted, then quickly lowered my voice once everyone in the office was staring at me again. ‘I mean, um, no … please don’t do that.’ My heart was racing thinking about the trip I’d just been offered; but the thought of losing it five seconds later almost sent me into cardiac arrest.

It didn’t help that whenever I spoke to my boss, I could see myself from above, like I was someone else looking down. I was intimidated, quiet, and never quite fast enough with my responses. I wasn’t quiet usually—just with her. Or, really, in any situation that was confrontational. And whenever Kwan looked at me, I just automatically clammed up; like I needed time to process information while she was always able to think on her feet. Not to mention, she was able to say exactly what she meant without tiptoeing around it.

I was jealous of people like that. And she was intimidating as hell.

I mean, for god’s sake, it’d been five years and she still couldn’t get my name right. Sure, it was a relatively big agency, but staff didn’t exactly stick around here for long. I shouldn’t have been that hard to remember, especially given that I sat at the desk closest to her office and could literally see her all day, every day. Besides, she always gave me the biggest clients. But clearly, my being the most senior copywriter made my name no less forgettable to her.

Kwan’s eyes narrowed, her lips in a thin line. Her new assistant stared at me from across the office through gold-framed glasses. I wanted to tell her to go away, but part of me felt sorry for the girl. I’d hate to be Kwan’s full-time assistant. Talk about a nightmare job.

‘It’s just …’ I stammered, trying to explain my response. ‘I, um, I know that photographer. The one who’s going on the Mexico holid—uh, project.’

‘You know Ed Garcia?’ Kwan frowned, or at least attempted to. Unlike her staff, her botoxed face didn’t move a whole lot these days.

‘Yeah.’

She looked puzzled. ‘Okay, and? Is there a problem here? Because I’d be more than happy to—’

I shook my head and attempted to sit up in my chair again. I was going on this project, whether I had to lie through my teeth or not. I hated Ed after what he’d done to his ex. An insult to women everywhere. But he was not about to stop me from going on this trip. ‘No. No, not a problem. I’m—thank you for sending me. You won’t be disappointed.’

She smiled the most insincere smile I’d seen in a while, and that was saying something. ‘Good.’ Tapping her hideously long nails on my desk, she eyed my laptop for a moment. ‘You get the brief for the Meg’s Pegs campaign?’

I nodded, glancing at the screen myself. ‘Thanks for sending it through.’

She looked at me with an eyebrow slightly raised, as if studying my choice of outfit or working out if I was really a human being. ‘Good. The copywriting is due on the 17th.’

‘Of June?’

‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘This year, in case you were wondering.’

She spun on her heels and walked away, stilettos clicking on the hardwood floors as she marched back to her office, leaving me in a cloud of perfume I could just about see.

‘I’d offer to water your cactus while you’re away, babe, but I’m coming along too,’ Blair said, leaning across from his desk to get closer to mine. I looked at his choice of shirt today—bright blue with little white clouds all over it, sitting a bit too tight across his stomach, creating those slight waves between the buttons.

Relief flooded through me. I didn’t know Blair well outside of work, but I was glad he was coming along—so it wasn’t just Ed and me alone in Mexico. I grimaced just thinking about that scenario. I looked at my droopy cactus, then up at Blair, and smiled. ‘Hey. If this little guy can survive months of no love, it’ll be fine while I’m in Mexico for a week.’

‘You’ve survived for months with no love.’

Shooting him an unimpressed look, I got back to my work.

‘A whole week in an all-inclusive,’ he said. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all, Luisa. Just imagine all the cocktails, the swimming, the food—oh my god, and all tanned hotties by the pool!’

Being sent overseas for a project was the idea of heaven for me—and completely unprecedented. In fact, I never travelled for work at all, unlike all my friends who seemed to be jetting off to Sydney, Hong Kong, LA and Singapore for work all the time. I was only ever in my Melbourne office, fifteen minutes from my apartment. And that was door-to-door, in peak hour. I never got sent anywhere. So no, I did not want Kwan to send someone else.

My brain had gone on strike and switched off for the day. So instead of writing, I decided to spend the final hour of the day researching: a critical part of copywriting, and one that didn’t involve the same brain cells as actual writing did. But instead of researching anything related to work, I found myself picking up my phone, hiding it in my lap and typing ‘Ed Garcia’ into my Facebook search, lifting my eyes without moving my head to make sure nobody in the office was watching. My heart beat faster, and I felt like a primary school kid about to do something naughty like throw wet toilet paper on the ceiling.

I wasn’t even remotely surprised that Ed and I weren’t friends on Facebook. But his Instagram profile was public. I clicked on it, and like some seasoned stalker, I took a screenshot of his profile photo to be able to zoom in on it. It wasn’t even a clear photo of his annoying face—it was a logo. The words Ed Garcia, Landscape & Wildlife Photographer surrounded a silhouette of a man holding a camera to his face. The outline of his bicep was clear in the image. Ugh.

Ed’s most recent post was from almost two months ago. It was a photo of a fuzzy white animal that kind of looked like a fox. I scrolled further down, trying to see if I could get a glimpse of Ed, but there were no photos of him on there. There were only—

My desk phone rang, making me jump and sending my mobile flying. It dropped and clattered onto the ground, drawing everyone’s attention to me yet again. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped the loud noise didn’t also mean a shattered screen—I could not afford a new phone right now. Picking up the receiver, I moved my chair back and bent down to pick up my mobile.

‘Louise.’ The sharp voice hissed down the line. ‘Do I pay you to sit on your phone in the office?’

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. I was busted. I glanced up from my desk, seeing Kwan’s office clearly, her door very much open. I muttered my apologies, but as usual, Kwan cut me off.

‘You’re flying on the 12th.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your flight to Mexico. It’ll be on the 12th. Open your ears.’

‘The 12th? I—’ I stopped myself as Kwan’s glare bore holes into me. ‘The 12th is great.’ I forced a smile, wondering what kind of person rings someone they are literally five metres from. She could’ve slightly raised her voice and I would have heard her.

‘Good. Tell what’s-her-name to book the flights. And don’t get too excited. You’re not going business class.’ The click of her phone followed.

I presumed ‘what’s-her-name’ was her new assistant, who was already looking over at me with wide eyes. I stood up, brushed some biscuit crumbs off my skirt and walked over to her, but she’d heard the conversation and was already onto it.

‘Thank you,’ I said as she relayed my flight details to me. ‘Um—also—please don’t put me in the window seat … if you can?’

Or anywhere near Ed Garcia, preferably.

Kwan’s eyes followed my movement as I walked back to my desk and opened my laptop again. ‘Jesus. Might wanna get a spray tan before you fly out to the North American summer, Louise.’

Looking down at myself, I frowned. I was wearing a long-sleeve top, a pencil skirt and stockings with boots. She could barely see my skin, although, admittedly, it was pretty pasty. I shivered just thinking about stripping off for a spray tan. Despite being born and bred in New York, I never ceased to be amazed by the Melbourne winter with its icy mornings and drizzle that felt like sheets of ice. I was always cold, even here in the office.

But it seemed that soon, I would be on a plane headed for the northern hemisphere summer, and I sure as hell was ready to thaw out. I closed my eyes, imagining the sun warming my face on a long stretch of beach somewhere. I couldn’t remember the last time I was even on a plane—let alone travelling overseas. I thought about my parents in New York whom I hadn’t seen in years, swallowing a lump that had forced itself into my throat. It had been a long time since I had been able to go and see them due to the pandemic. And before that, it had been a long time since I’d had the guts to actually take my entitled leave.

I was a horrible daughter. But maybe I could swing a trip to New York if I was already going to be in Mexico. My breath caught in my throat.

I’m going to Mexico. And then, as quickly as it came, the feeling of excitement was drowned out by a more sinister one: pure dread.

I’m going to Mexico … and Ed Garcia is coming with me.

Chapter 2

‘Well, well, well—nice of you to finally join us!’ Ed grinned at me from the window seat as I slammed the overhead locker repeatedly, exasperated, trying to get it to shut. A string of swear words left my mouth as I collapsed into my seat. I was that person—the one who’d been so late, she’d held up the entire plane. What a positive start to the trip.

I swiped a line of sweat from my forehead and looked out the window past Ed. It was just after seven pm, already pitch black outside, and I was exhausted from a long day of work, having raced straight to the airport once I finished. It wasn’t the plan—it was Sunday, of all days—but at the last minute, Kwan had made me go in to the office to finish something off. I was furious—but too petrified to say no. Not to mention, even on the day of my actual flight, I wouldn’t put it past her to bin it all. So I went into the totally empty office and worked all day, seething. This was going to have to change.

Despite how exhausted I was, I was way too wired to relax. I very loosely clipped my seatbelt across my lap, lest I invite claustrophobia, and tried to steady my heart rate, vaguely noticing that Ed was looking at me with a curious smile.

‘I didn’t—’ I huffed, trying to catch my breath. ‘I missed my train.’

‘How long since you travelled, Lu? You’ve …. been on a plane before, right? Did you know you’re meant to get to the airport around two hours before a flight?’ Ed winked at me, grinning. ‘At least.’

‘Yes. Thank you. I’m aware. But cheers for reminding me.’

‘I’m just joking. Sorry. Hey, do you want the window seat? I’m happy to sw—’

‘God, no. Absolutely not.’ Being on a plane wasn’t great, claustrophobia-wise, but it wasn’t as bad as the MRI I’d had a few days ago. So sitting in the aisle was a lot better than the window seat. I could get out; I could walk around. Being by the window just screamed I’m stuck, particularly if the other two people were on the larger side. Ed certainly was not, which I was grateful for—almost as grateful as I was for the fact that the seat between us was empty, which I’d only realised once the plane had started taxiing. From my very limited experience of flying internationally, this was totally unheard of.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, cursing myself quietly for almost missing the flight because I’d been too tight to pay for a taxi. But the thing was, I was saving for a house deposit—which was not easy in Melbourne, and it was causing me serious stress. Every cent, every purchase had been scrutinised over the last twenty-four months. I’d almost not had a party for my thirtieth the year before because I didn’t want to spend the money. I just really, really wanted to buy my own place.

If I was being honest, I didn’t think I would still be single and renting when I turned the big three-oh, but there we were. I knew it wasn’t the end of the world. But sometimes, it was hard not to be jealous of everyone around me who seemed to have it all: houses, babies, nice cars, designer furniture. Some of my girlfriends were onto their second or third pregnancies. It was getting to the point where I’d lost track of the names of friends’ kids, there were so many.

I wasn’t necessarily ready for all that, but I was certainly ready for my own home.

I snuck another glance at Ed as the lights dimmed, the plane turning onto the runway. Ed looked away from the window and back at me, smiling warmly. It seemed genuine—and it irked me. With a Sri Lankan mother and Mexican father, he was quite good looking. He always had been—but thankfully, I was never attracted to him. Smooth, dark skin, a head full of curls, a dimpled smile. He was about my height, which wasn’t very tall. I hadn’t seen him in a little while, but he still looked as annoying as ever. I studied his face, eyeing the ridiculous facial hair I hadn’t seen on him before, and snorted. ‘Nice moustache.’ My heart rate had slowed down a little, and I’d finally stopped sweating profusely after my sprint to the plane.

‘Thanks. I grew it myself.’ Ed’s smile turned into a massive grin.

I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next, the moustache was just so ridiculous. ‘You look like you should be on the label of a tequila bottle. Clicking your fingers.’

Ed studied me carefully, then roared with laughter in his seat. ‘Ah. It’s nice to see you, Lu.’

Nobody called me Lu. It was either Luisa or Lulu. And he’d said it twice now. I wondered if it would have annoyed me this much if it were someone else.

‘Same,’ I muttered, forcing a smile to be polite. I was going to have to be civil on this trip, even though his presence was already bugging me. ‘I’m—uh, I don’t like being called Lu, though,’ I said, hearing how whiny my voice was, but following April’s advice to stick up for myself more when I didn’t like something. As soon as I said it, I regretted it deeply. What on earth did it matter what he called me, anyway? And why was Lu so bad? I looked down at my hands, unable to face him.

‘Ah,’ Ed replied, scratching his chin in thought. His thick moustache made him look older than he was. It actually suited him, though I wasn’t usually a fan of facial hair. ‘Okay,’ he said like he’d just had a stroke of genius. ‘That’s fine. I’ll call you by your full name then.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘If only I could remember what it was. Oh! Luisabeth? No. Lusanne? Luissica? Luseppie?’

I swung my head dramatically to face him again. ‘Seriously. Luseppie?’

He shrugged, grinning, then turned back to look out at the tarmac. Shaking my head, I pulled my laptop out and powered it on, turning down the brightness.

‘Ma’am? Ma’am. You’ll need to put that away during take—’

I slammed the laptop shut and shoved it back in the seat pocket in front of me, cheeks burning. ‘Sorry,’ I muttered.

Ed was looking at me again, trying unsuccessfully to keep his lips straight. ‘Wow, Luseppie, you really have forgotten plane etiquette.’

I wanted to wipe his stupid grin from his stupid face. ‘Hey. Not all of us get to country hop every week to take photos of stuff,’ I muttered. We sat in silence during takeoff, and as soon as the seatbelt signs went off, Ed unbuckled his and slid into the middle seat so he was sitting next to me. I caught a whiff of his cologne as he moved; a soft, woody smell. It was nice, actually—for someone who looked like he should have been an ambassador for Old El Paso.

‘Don’t worry Lu—I won’t stay here the whole flight. Just wanted to chat for a bit. I haven’t seen you in ages.’

I struggled not to roll my eyes, wondering what the two of us could possibly talk about.

‘I can’t believe we’re on a project together. It’s pretty nuts, hey?’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, uninterested. ‘It is.’

‘Brandon’s really jealous! So, what do you have to do?’

‘The copywriting.’

He chuckled, feigning a surprised look. ‘No way. The copywriter doing the copywriting?’

I gave him a flat look, but was secretly surprised he actually knew my job title. Nobody ever did.

‘I actually don’t really even know what copywriters do, if I’m honest.’

There it is. I sat up in my seat. I could tell this was not going to be a short conversation. He was awake. He was energetic. And all he wanted to do was talk to me, apparently. My work would have to wait if I was going to pull off being civil to him for Brandon’s sake—and for the sake of this trip. But I really, really had to get some work done—and a long-haul flight was as good a chance as any.

‘Not many people do, really. It just means writing. Words that sell, words that tell a story. So anything you see on a website, or a brochure, or an email campaign, was probably written by copywriters. Lots of crossover with marketing and advertising …’

He nodded, looking like I’d just said the most exciting thing ever. ‘Cool.’

‘Well, it’s not exactly creative like photography.’ I nodded towards the camera bag under his seat, remembering the photos I’d seen on his Instagram. They were stunning—he certainly was talented. ‘Or, like, graphic design and stuff.’

‘Are you kidding?’ he said. ‘You’re given a blank page and you have to make it interesting, and creative, and sell stuff with it—essentially make something out of nothing? You’d be the most creative one in that whole agency.’

I scoffed, thinking about all the amazing graphic design I’d seen at the agency over the last five years. ‘I doubt it. But thanks for the enthusiasm.’ I paused. ‘So how did you get this gig, anyway?’

‘You mean—why did they hire a freelancer?’

It was really odd—not only that he’d agreed to the job taking photographs of a luxury resort, given that his photography was mostly wildlife and landscape, but also that the agency had chosen him. Of all the people. Of all the people in Melbourne, they had to choose my brother’s best mate, sleazy Ed.

Apparently, our agency had just signed the contract on one of the biggest projects of the year—the new Crystal Sands All-Inclusive Resort in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. An American guy called Marlon high up in the hotel business had bought it and insisted Kwan send over some of her team to do the marketing. He wanted to attract more Australian guests. The resort was newly renovated, with millions spent in a complete overhaul—including its leadership—but eighty per cent of their guests were from the US, and Marlon wanted to mix things up a bit. So an Australian agency was the way to go, apparently. I guess it worked in my favour that Kwan had clearly forgotten I was a New Yorker. So Marlon’s ‘all-Australian’ team consisted of me doing the copywriting, Blair doing the graphic and web design, and apparently Ed was going to do the drone footage and photography.

‘No, I just mean—how did you even find out about it?’ I asked, trying to sound neutral.

‘Your boss. We have a mutual friend who owns a photography studio. I met her in a bar, after a shoot. She asked what my background was. I think she liked what she saw.’ He winked.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

‘I meant my photography …’ he clarified.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Anyway. When I told her my dad was Mexican, she cut in saying she was sending a team to Mexico on a project. One whisky led to another, and she offered me the job.’

‘So … you slept with her.’

He chuckled. ‘No. She’s a little too … Cruella de Vil for me.’

‘When was that, anyway?’

‘Uh—a few weeks ago.’

‘So … you knew I was going on the trip?’

‘Nope. I mean, I found out eventually, of course. Don’t worry, but. I’m under strict instructions from Brandon to behave myself.’ He winked at me again. Gross. This was heading into awkward territory.

I choked on my water. ‘Um … what does that mean?’

He laughed. ‘Nothing. I think he just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t … you know, pull the moves on you or something.’

Trust my brother to say something to Ed and make this even more awkward for me. A moment of silence passed between us, and I pulled out my laptop again to do some work. Eyeing the device, Ed took the hint and moved back to his seat, taking out his headphones. He turned on his TV screen. ‘So you’re going to be doing work now?’

As if it wasn’t obvious. ‘Yeah. Probably all night.’ I grimaced. ‘And by the way—please don’t say but at the end of a sentence. There are so many things wrong with that.’ As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to scoop them up and shove them back in. I felt awful.

You are such a loser, Luisa. Sometimes, I don’t even know why I open my mouth. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just couldn’t stand incorrect grammar.

Ed was unfazed, though. ‘Well, good luck with the work. I’ll be over here watching movies and snoozing. Wake me if I snore, but.’ He grinned. ‘Or, you know, if you decide you want to join the Mile High Club.’ When I gave him another flat look, he put his headphones on and started flicking through movies—still grinning hard.

I opened my drive and pulled up the folder labelled Meg’s Pegs, sighing. What the hell do I write on a website about clothesline pegs? Honestly. They hold up your clothes until they dry. They were just the standard plastic, colourful ones. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to will some creativity to flow into my tired brain. Staring at the seat in front of me, I let my mind go numb, to a place where not a lot of thinking happened, and realised how long it had been since I gave myself a break from working. I cast a sideways glance at Ed, whose face (and annoying moustache) was illuminated by his TV screen. At least he was in a good mood.

Ed was the kind of person who was always happy. It was the polar opposite of Scott—a guy I had gone on a date with last week. The date had been okay, if a little boring. I guess he was just more the serious type—which was good; I didn’t have the time to muck around. He’d