FULL NOVELXO The Wrong Mr. Right: Chapter 12
I SHOULDN’T HAVE DONE it.
A wave roared past me as I hung out on my board behind the break the next morning, sun rising over the horizon and splashing the sky with colors.
Hannah was becoming one of my closest friends, and I was climbing through her window, making out with her, kissing her like it was curing me of something.
It did, kind of. I had been wondering for weeks what that sweet little mouth would taste like, what she would sound like as I stole her breath.
It cured me and in exchange, handed me a new ailment.
I could not stop thinking about that fucking kiss.
Her mouth.
Her tits in that thin top.
Her ass in those little shorts. Those shorts were a fucking crime.
The raspy moan she let out as she rubbed against me.
I rested my head on my board, closing my eyes, bobbing in the water.
Fuuuuuuuuuuck.
Erections were uncomfortable at the best of times, but in a wetsuit? Fucking torture.
The yips and laughs of two surfers closer to the shore brought me back to the present. I inhaled a deep breath and let it out to center myself. I was out here to catch waves, not fantasize about her.
It was different with Hannah. I’d never been close friends with someone I hooked up with. I’d never noticed how their eyes looked in the sunlight or pictured their smile later in the day. There was a constellation of freckles over Hannah’s nose and cheeks that I itched to trace with my fingertip while she told me about a book she was reading.
I had never told a woman she was beautiful before.
I had definitely never told a woman to take herself on a date, and then come home and make herself come.
I rubbed my chest. What did I always tell myself? Here for a good time, not a long time. There was no point in getting involved with Hannah. Even if I did stay in Queen’s Cove, I couldn’t imagine it lasting. We were so different. I had never pictured myself in something long-term.
The thought of some faceless guy with his hands all over her, towering over her in her bedroom like I did last night, scooping her up into his lap, it made me want to break something.
I shook the image out of my head. Focus, I told myself. Channel it back into the water.
The next wave approached, and I paddled hard to catch it, snapping up at the last minute and coasting along the surface. Adrenaline shot through me as I worked to keep my balance on the board, as my muscles tensed and gave to keep me upright. My heart beat hard in my chest and I threw my weight, turning the board and carving into the surf before coasting toward the shore. Adrenaline hit my bloodstream and satisfaction flooded my chest.
Fuck, that felt incredible. Almost as good as last night.
Again and again, I swam out behind the break and caught waves. I focused on my body, on reading the waves, and on listening to my intuition as they approached. Hannah crept into my mind a few times, but that only drove my focus. Pretending she was on shore watching me made my movements sharper, more intentional. It made each wave I caught worth more.
I swallowed, floating behind the break with my feet in the water. I wished she was here this morning, which made no sense because if she was, I wouldn’t be training, I’d be floating off in the cove, staring at the sky and talking to her about her store or the town or some book she was reading.
A pang of something hit me in the chest. Homesickness, which also made zero sense, because I was right here in Queen’s Cove.
Saying goodbye to all of this was going to hurt. Surfing the cold waters, the mountains, the forests, my little house on the beach. Hannah.
The way she gazed up at me last night in her room, so trusting, her eyes all hazy and fucking gorgeous, it felt fucking incredible. To have her look at me like she wanted me, it readjusted something in my chest and that piece wouldn’t go back to where it was before. Now that I had tasted her, heard that little moan, I couldn’t forget it.
I groaned and put my head on the board again, an ugly tightness trickling into my chest. She trusted me and I took advantage of that. I was helping her find someone. I was helping her come out of her shell, showing her it was okay to screw up, fail, and embarrass herself.
I thought about the expression on her gorgeous face after she got up on her board the first time she caught a wave. My heart squeezed in my chest at the memory of that huge smile, stretched ear to ear, her eyes lit up with pride and disbelief.
That was what we should be doing more of—surfing. Not making out. Not me squeezing the smooth skin of her ass. Not raking my fingers through her soft hair. Someone with my dating history hooking up with someone with her dating history? It had wrong stamped all over it.
It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew better.
When I returned home that morning, my mom sat on the front steps, drinking a coffee with two more on the deck beside her.
“Hey, Mom,” I called to her.
“Good morning, honey.” She reached for a coffee and handed it to me. “No Hannah today?”
“Thanks.” I took a sip and shook my head. “Not today. Tomorrow.”
She smiled softly and raised an eyebrow. “You two have been spending a lot of time together.”
I took a seat beside her and shrugged. “I’ve been giving her surf lessons.”
She made a humming noise of acknowledgement. “And the farmer’s market?”
I didn’t answer her. Elizabeth was perceptive like a hawk. My chest twisted hard and I knew she knew. She knew I thought about Hannah like that. I didn’t want to talk about it with her, though. Hannah was special and private right now. That hesitation I thought about in the water, about my history versus hers? Talking about Hannah meant people would point that out to me. I shrugged again.
She took another sip of her coffee and studied the ocean. “Hannah is a very sweet girl.”
I thought about the way Hannah had ground herself against me last night. Not that sweet.
“She hasn’t had it easy, since Claire passed. It’s been hard on her and Frank, just the two of them.”
Irritation prickled at the back of my neck. “You know she runs the bookstore basically on her own?”
She paused. “No. I thought she and Frank ran it together.”
“He’s stepped back in the past few years. She runs the entire business by herself.” I gestured at the water. “She got up on her board last week. She surfed. She’s terrible at surfing. She has zero balance.” I shook my head. “But she kept trying and got up on her board and caught a few waves.” My words rushed out with an edge to them. “She’s not this wimpy little flower.”
My mom’s head reared back. “I didn’t say she was.”
“She works hard and she doesn’t give up. People don’t give her enough credit.”
She watched me, a little knowing grin growing on her face.
Busted.
I rolled my eyes, but a grin grew on my face too. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re friends.”
It tasted wrong, saying it.
“Hmm.” She leaned back on her hands, studying the sparkling ocean. “Friends.”
“Yep.”
We were quiet for a few moments.
“I don’t know what’s going on in that brain of yours, Wy.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “I never have. You’re like the water in that way, it’s hard to see under the surface.” She pressed her mouth into a line, nodding. “You were always so fearless.” She laughed and rubbed her forehead. “Sweetheart, the years you have taken off my life with your stunts out there.”
A smile lifted on my face.
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just hope you apply that same fearlessness to all aspects of your life.”
I frowned. “Okay.” What?
“What time is it?” She checked her phone and hopped up. “Avery’s mother and I are going to visit Katherine and do some gardening.” Katherine Waters owned an inn, The Water’s Edge, and the past few years, she had been sick. People in town helped her out around the inn, fixing leaking taps and weeding the garden. Holden had worked there for a few summers as a teenager and still dropped by often.
My mom stood and dusted off her pants. “Family dinner on Sunday. Bring Hannah. I want more women around.” I opened my mouth—to say what?—but she was already down the walkway and out of my front yard. “Bye, honey!”
“Bye, Mom.”
I sat there a few minutes, staring at the water, before getting up and heading inside. I had a missed call and a voicemail on my phone.
“Hey Wyatt, this is Emilio Sanchez with Billabong. Saw you compete in Australia last year and loved what I saw. It’s obvious that you have a presence in the surfing world, seeing how your social media has taken off. I’d like to speak to you about being part of the Billabong team. We’ll be out in Queen’s Cove for the Pacific Rim Worlds. Call me back.”
I listened to the message a couple times, sitting on the step and staring at my phone.
Whatever Hannah was doing on social media, it was working. It was happening.
Surfing the best spots in the world. Surfing every day. The rush of catching powerful, crashing waves. I blew a shaky breath out. This was what I always wanted.
So why was my chest tight and weird like this?