The Wrong Mr. Right: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (The Queen’s Cove Series Book 2)

“I GOT YOU SOMETHING.”

Wyatt flashed me a tentative grin from the driver’s seat of his truck. “Oh, yeah?”

We were on the highway, his truck full of camping gear and a cooler of food, drinks, and ice. Music played on the radio and trees blurred as we drove past.

I fished the tiny figure out of the pocket of my jacket and hung it from the rearview mirror. Wyatt studied it with brief glances, alternating between the road and the swaying figure.

He snorted. “Is that supposed to be me?”

I grinned wide. “Yep.”

I had contacted someone on Etsy with the Tula music video and commissioned a 3D-printed figurine of him, merman costume and silver body paint and all. The figure was about two inches tall. I didn’t tell this to Wyatt but I had one made for myself as well. It sat on my dresser at home.

It made economic sense to buy two. The designer only had to create the design once. And this way, if Wyatt lost his, he’d have a backup.

Wyatt shot me a wry look. “I love it and hate it at the same time.”

That made me laugh. I turned and watched out the window as he drove, smiling to myself and listening to the music. My stomach rolled forward. God, he was handsome. Even the crinkles around his eyes were hot.

He reached over and gave my knee a quick squeeze, making my stomach flutter. “Thanks, bookworm.”

I thought about the way he looked yesterday in the surf shop, when I told him about doing my homework. The heated hunger in his eyes. The way his mouth pressed into an unhappy, unsatisfied line, like he was doing everything he could to hold back.

The way his gaze flared when I called him professor. I’d keep that in my back pocket for later.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled out the window.

Anticipation rolled through me and I pressed my thighs together. Maybe he’d kiss me again tonight. My stomach fluttered and I bit a grin back.

“You look cute in those glasses.”

I hadn’t worn them in a while. I rolled my eyes. “I’d rather wear my contacts but I didn’t know if it was a good idea to put dirty camping fingers in my eyes.”

“I brought lots of hand sanitizer.” His gaze raked over my face with appreciation. “I like your glasses, though.”

My chin dipped down and I played with my hair again. No one had ever said I was cute in glasses. I always thought I looked like such a dork. “Thanks.”

“You want to put on Spice Girls? I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” I already had my phone out, fingers scrolling to the playlist. “We don’t have to.”

He jerked his chin at the radio and rolled his eyes with a grin. “Go on. I know you want to.”

The opening notes of ‘Wannabe’ started and I sang loudly with them to make Wyatt laugh.

“You know all the lyrics.”

I threw my hands up. “Of course I know all the lyrics. This song is a classic. It’s carved deep in my brain.”

Forty-five minutes later, Wyatt turned off the highway and the truck bumped up a series of gravel switchbacks, higher and higher. He pulled the truck off the road and parked on the shoulder.

“There’s a clearing through those trees.” He pointed into the forest.

We climbed out of the car and Wyatt led me along a small path, worn down by footsteps, through the trees.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed.

The clearing overlooked the ocean. The area was flat with slates of rock underfoot. Fifty feet away, a cliff dropped down, too far for me to want to approach. Beyond that, deep blue water stretched all the way to the horizon. Trees towered around us.

Wyatt stood at my back, warm and solid, and I fought the urge to lean against him.

“See, down there?” He pointed to a spot. There were a few specks in the water. “That’s the cove where we hang out after surf lessons.”

“We’re so high up.”

“Mhm.” His low voice rumbled in his chest.

A deep sense of calm settled through me, like when we floated in that cove in the mornings. The forest smelled so clean and my hair moved with the light breeze. At what point did I stop spending time out in nature like this? This was where I belonged.

Right. When my mom passed. My dad didn’t want to go camping anymore because that was her thing. It broke my heart that he didn’t want to be out here anymore.

The wind whistled through the trees and I inhaled a lungful of fresh air. She’d love it here.

I glanced around the clearing. A charred pile of ash encircled by rocks lay a few feet from us. Wyatt noticed me studying it and wiggled his eyebrows in that playful way of his.

“Not many people know about this spot.” His voice was low as he watched my reaction.

“It’s a secret?”

He nodded. “Super secret. We don’t want some social media influencer ruining it for us.”

I beamed and turned back to the water. I couldn’t wait to wake up to this tomorrow morning. “I wouldn’t dare.”

We spent the next half hour unloading the truck, hauling tents, sleeping bags, a stove, and the cooler over to the clearing.

“Jesus, bookworm.” Wyatt hoisted my bag out of the back seat. “How many nights are we staying out here?”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “I brought a few books.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and I giggled more. “A few? How many do you think a few is?”

My shoulders lifted in a shrug and he pinned me with his bright gaze. I rolled my eyes. “Four. Okay? I brought four books.” I threw my hands up in exasperation. My chest shook with laughter. “I couldn’t decide. They were all sitting there like, Hannah, take us with you! Don’t leave us home alone. It’s sad here. We love you.”

Now, Wyatt was laughing, too. “You’re adorable.”

My blood turned warm and languid, and my laughter trailed off. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my pulse picked up.

He blinked and turned away. “We should keep unpacking.”

“Right.” Unpacking. Not staring at each other and feeling horny.

At one point, when I was carrying my tent from the car, a spider crawled out of it. It was the size of a dime but I still yelped in surprise, dropped the tent, and side-stepped towards Wyatt, whose arm came up around me protectively.

“Sorry.” My face heated.

He squeezed my shoulder. “It’s okay.” He scooped the spider up and moved it to the forest. When he returned, he gestured at my tent. “Your tent is older than we are.”

I nudged the rolled up bundle with my foot in case there was anything else lurking inside. “It is. It’s been in the garage for years. It’s one of those things we’ve always had and I’ve never questioned.”

He nodded, grinning, before he leaned down to unroll it.

I held my hand out to stop him. “I can do that.”

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Can you grab the newspaper from the truck? I’ll teach you how to make a fire once we set up the tents.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I already know how to make a fire.” My mom taught me as a kid.

His mouth fell open, crouched over the tent. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I guess because you don’t camp anymore—”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “I’m out of practice so might need your help, anyway.” With that, I headed to the truck. When I returned to the clearing with the newspaper in hand, Wyatt wore a funny expression, standing over the tent with his arms crossed.

“Uh, bookworm, we have a problem.” His mouth twisted and he frowned at the tent on the ground.

“What?”

He lifted it to show me.

Where the zipper should have connected to the rest of the tent, there was a big hole. The zipper lay on the ground.

“It’s ripped?”

“Looks like it.” His voice sounded strange. Kind of tight, and he wouldn’t look at me. He just stared at the zipper.

“I should have known. My dad has so much stuff in the garage that he needs to get rid of.” Anything to do with my mom.

Wyatt crouched to roll the tent back up. “You can sleep in my tent.”

I watched his hands as he rolled the fabric. They were tanned from being outside, strong, with long fingers. Clean nails. I shivered. Sleeping in Wyatt’s tent. A throb hit me between my legs and I clenched before sending him a tentative glance.

“I’ll sleep in the truck.” He stood up with the tent and walked past me, back to the truck, and I watched him walk away.

Disappointment twinged in my stomach but I waved it away. That wasn’t what this camping trip was about. It was about celebrating Wyatt’s sponsorship. It was about being out in nature because we lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It wasn’t about me being horny every time I thought about Wyatt or caught a whiff of him or imagined his hands leaving marks on my ass.

I know, baby, I know. I heard his words again in my head and I shivered.

Wyatt strode through the trees, so tall and confident in the way he moved. He held a new bundle in his hands, something blue and woven.

“What’s that?”

“This,” he said, shaking the fabric out, “is where you’re going to spend the afternoon.”

It was a hammock. After we selected two sturdy trees with a view of the water, Wyatt and I strung it up and he helped me climb in.

“Lean forward for me,” he said in a low voice, pulling me forward gently in the hammock with a little smile before placing a pillow behind my head. He dropped a blanket over me and tucked it into my sides. “Comfy?”

I nodded with wide eyes and a big smile, and he laughed and walked away. I sank into the pillow and let myself sway. I could have stayed there forever. The blanket was warm and heavy. Something about Wyatt bringing this for me, tucking me into the hammock and wanting me to lie here and read, it sent warmth through my chest.

Him taking care of me like I was something to be cherished made me never want to leave this campsite. Did he do this for other girls he hung out with? My instincts told me no.

The idea of Wyatt leaving after Pacific Rim made my heart hurt. Floating in the cove wouldn’t be the same without him beside me.

I rubbed my chest and pushed the thoughts from my head.

While I read, Wyatt puttered around the campsite, setting up his own tent and making himself a coffee, asking me if I wanted one. At one point I glanced over and he was sitting back in a camp chair, feet up on the cooler, reading one of the books I had brought with a lazy grin on his face.

Like he was enjoying himself.

I must have dozed off because when I opened my eyes, the book was on the camp chair.

A thwack! caught my attention. I sat up and searched for the source of the noise.

A shirtless Wyatt lifted an axe over his shoulder and brought it down over a piece of wood, splitting it into pieces. His abs rippled as he moved, his obliques jumped and his pecs flexed. His arms were defined and strong and his shoulders broad. I saw him shirtless nearly every day, but seeing him chopping wood like this? So masculine, primal, sweaty, and so freaking gorgeous?

I was lost.

I got pulled under from how freaking gorgeous he was.

And I was very, very wet.

“Are you serious?” I whispered under my breath.

I watched Wyatt for some time, raising the axe over his head and bringing it down to split piece after piece. At one point, he glanced over and saw me spectating before flashing me a panty-melting grin.

He knew how hot he was.

Maybe this was payback for teasing him the other morning.

I snapped a quick video of him chopping wood for social media. His fanbase was going to lose their minds.

Late afternoon rolled around and I showed Wyatt my fire-building skills. I crumpled up the newspaper, laid the sticks of kindling on top, and watched the flames ignite before stacking progressively larger pieces of wood on top. Within minutes, we had a crackling fire in front of us.

“Nice work, bookworm.” His voice was a low rumble and he flashed another one of those grins at me.

I melted.

“TO YOUR SPONSORSHIP,” I said, raising my camping mug of red wine. The fire cracked and sent a flurry of sparks near my foot. Wyatt reached out and pulled my camp chair a couple inches closer to his.

Wyatt’s mouth hitched at the side. “I don’t have it in the bag yet.”

“Yeah, but you will. And this is a big deal. Good job, professor.”

His gaze flared with heat and he watched me over the rim of his mug. “Do you want another hot dog? I brought lots.”

I shook my head. I’d already had two. “Where’d you find veggie dogs? I didn’t think they sold them in the store in Queen’s Cove.”

“I drove to Port Alberni yesterday to grab them.”

“They’re surprisingly good. Even for hot dogs.”

That made him grin. “We have to eat hot dogs when we’re camping, bookworm. It’s the rule.”

We smiled at each other for a moment. The idea of sleeping in Wyatt’s tent flashed into my head again. Would it smell like him in there? How would I sleep with that intoxicating, masculine scent in my nose?

Above us, stars winked down from the dark sky. Less light pollution in the woods made the sky look like someone had scattered a handful of glitter.

“It’s so quiet out here.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, gaze on me. “No cell service. No background noise. Just quiet.”

“I keep having the urge to check my phone. Oh, I didn’t tell you. I set up an online store.”

His eyes widened with surprise. “You did? That’s great. When did that happen?”

“A couple days ago. My social media posts picked up a bit of traction and there were a couple customers from around Vancouver Island asking about purchases. Some people wanted to order books in so it was easier to set up the store online.” I shrugged.

“Look at you.” His grin was easy. “I’m proud of you.”

My chest tightened in a good way, and my face warmed. I tried to hold back my grin but failed.

He nodded. “You’ve done a lot for the store recently. And for yourself.” He tilted his head, still watching me. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” I was fishing, but I didn’t care. I needed to know what Wyatt liked about this new me.

“I like when you do things for yourself, and when you push yourself even though you’re worried or nervous or scared.” His eyes flicked to my hair and he smiled. “I like your haircut. You look cute.”

Another flush of warmth to my face. I blinked down at my hands in my lap. “Sometimes I think that I’m turning into a new person.” I chewed my lip and thought about it. “But then I wonder, maybe this is who I actually am, and I was holding myself back from everything good.” I shrugged. “From trying things, from failing.” I lifted my gaze to him, where he watched and waited. “I hate failing at things. Or hated.” I frowned. “I don’t know anymore. I’m getting better at being bad at things.”

“Just in time for your birthday.”

A shiver of unease rolled through my stomach. My birthday loomed in the background of my mind at all times. Sometimes I could ignore it, or pretend it wasn’t there, but then I’d be paddling for a wave or reading my book or posting on social media or walking to the grocery store and it would pop into the forefront of my mind.

Thirty. I was going to be thirty in two weeks.

The store was back in the black this month. It was too soon to tell whether I had saved it or not, but the website, social media, and weekly farmer’s markets were bringing in more sales. If sales kept up, we might stay in the black into the winter.

I felt pretty the other night when I was on the date by myself. I loved my new haircut. I could surf at a beginner level and had asked guys out on dates, even if none of that panned out. I could safely check off the hot girl goal.

But I didn’t have a boyfriend, I hadn’t found true love, and I wasn’t sure if my mom would be proud of me.

I think she might, though. I was pushing myself, making changes and doing the scary things. I thought about kissing Wyatt, how I never would have done that before all this. I smiled to myself, playing with a thread on the arm of my camp chair. My mom would have loved to hear how I had kissed a boy. She would have been excited to hear that I had made the move.

Were all these things enough? Would my mom look down at me and say, yep, that’s my girl, she’s killing it? Or would she be disappointed still?

“What’s going on in that head?” Wyatt’s voice was casual but his gaze pinned me. He rubbed his jaw.

A corner of my mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Just thinking.”

He shifted in his camp chair, getting comfortable and taking another sip of wine, giving me the option to tell him more or not. I felt a bizarre pull to divulge everything to him.

“My mom, she…” I narrowed my eyes at the blanket of stars. “She went for things, you know? She had such a fun spirit, so passionate about things, and she took control over her life. She loved books so she opened a store to sell them. She always had music on in the house and she loved going on adventures around the island.”

A memory appeared in my head and a huge grin grew on my face. “I remember when the Spice Girls came to Vancouver. This was back when you either bought tickets in person or on the phone.” I leaned forward to Wyatt. “She was on hold for hours.”

“Did she get tickets?”

I shook my head, still smiling. “No, but that’s okay. I still have that memory of her.” I swallowed, and my throat was thick. “I want to do that for someone, one day. I want to shower someone in love and make them feel special. Like they’re everything to me.” Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them away, turning so Wyatt wouldn’t see. My chest twisted hard with nostalgia.

“I remember her.”

My gaze snapped to his and my eyebrows lifted. “You do?”

He took another sip of wine before answering. “Mhm. She came to my kindergarten class. She read a book about fish.”

My face lit up. “She loved volunteering for story time.”

“She was really good at reading the story. She did all the voices.”

“That sounds just like her.”

We were quiet a moment. My heart was about to crack open.

Wyatt studied my expression. “You look sad, bookworm.”

I had the urge to smile and tell him it was nothing, but this was also Wyatt, and we didn’t do that. I could be honest with him. I could tell him.

“I think my mom would look at me right now and be disappointed.”

“Sitting in the middle of a forest with one of the Rhodes boys?”

I laughed. “No.” I waved my hand at myself. “I’m living in her shadow.”

“So that’s what the whole birthday list thing is all about?”

I pressed my mouth into a line and nodded at him.

He made a noise in his throat, a mix between acknowledgement and disapproval.

I frowned.

“Now, bookworm, that bums me out.” He rubbed his jaw, and when his eyes met mine, a spark hit me in the chest. “Because I think you’re amazing. You’re thoughtful, funny, and brave, and you’re a good boss.”

“I’m not the boss.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You are. You manage the store and it’s clear Liya enjoys working for you. You run that place, however it’s broken down on paper between you and your dad.”

I didn’t say anything. He was right, I did run the business.

“You’re living life for yourself. You’re starting to be willing to fail. Your mom wouldn’t want you to be her clone. She’d want you to do whatever made you happy, whether that’s working in the bookstore or falling face first off your board or eating a huge bowl of pasta, sitting by yourself in a restaurant, looking fucking beautiful.”

My breath caught in my throat. He watched me so intently, so clearly, like I was all he could see. My heart squeezed.

“I think you’re amazing,” he repeated, softer this time. “And I don’t think your mom would be disappointed in you. She’d be proud.”

I swallowed. My heart thumped hard in my chest. Wyatt’s words etched something sweet into my heart. There was that sting of pain from the nostalgia, of memories that had passed, experiences I’d never have again. I’d never talk to her again. I’d never hug her and feel the warmth of her chest against my face. I’d never smell her light, floral perfume.

This was all I had, talking about her with Wyatt.

I wondered once if she would have liked Wyatt. Sitting there in the forest across from him, the fire crackling in front of us, him watching me with that warm gaze, I knew she would. I knew they’d get along, and that she’d give me a he’s cute! look the second he turned around.

“What are you smiling at?” A teasing grin grew on his face.

I shook my head, letting myself smile wider. “Nothing. Talking about her with you is nice.”

We watched each other for a moment. The light of the fire flickered over his face, lighting his eyes up. My gaze took him in as I memorized the moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” I tried to smile at him but my mouth twisted. I cleared my throat. “When you leave, I mean.”

He frowned but didn’t say anything. His gaze swung to the fire.

The video of Wyatt surfing flashed into my head, and that weird kick he did.

“Question for you.”

He met my gaze and nodded. “Go for it.”

“Pacific Rim, last year.” I tugged at my bottom lip with my teeth, not sure how to say it. “I was watching some footage.” My knee bounced up and down. “For social media clips. Um.” An uncomfortable laugh huffed out of my chest. “You fell off your board.”

Wyatt watched me with an unreadable expression. His hand tightened on his mug.

I tilted my head with a wince. “It wasn’t a big wave but you fell. And you kicked.” I glanced up at him to see him studying me. “You kicked your leg back and fell off your board.”

He cleared his throat and stared into the fire before he closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath. “Yep. I kicked.”

“Did you—” My words broke off and his gaze snapped up to me.

“Say it.”

I shook my head. What if I was wrong?

His eyes were bright. “Say it, bookworm.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line before he nodded. “Yep.”

“Why?” I breathed.

He raked his hair back and blew a breath out. “I don’t know, bookworm. I’ve been asking myself that question for a year. I panicked out there. It was right there.” His throat worked. “I was going to place well in the competition, and then I saw it all—surfing for a living, traveling all over the world, rubbing elbows with the best surfers.” He met my gaze. “I’d be surfing with people I’ve looked up to since I was a kid.” His hand tightened on his mug again and he shook his head. “It was so sweet that I couldn’t even look at it. I had been working towards it for so long that the idea of finally having it, it was…” He shifted. “I panicked.”

A log cracked in the fire and sparks flew.

“How are you feeling about it in a few weeks?”

I had asked him the question before but he knew what I meant this time. How are you really feeling, I was asking.

“Scared out of my fucking mind.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head at me. “The idea of doing it again scares me and the idea of doing well scares me. What the fuck is up with that? I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”

My heart ached for him. In my mind, Wyatt held a shield in front of him with the words everything is temporary engraved on it.

“Bookworm,” he said, and his gaze rested on me with such sad longing that it broke my fucking heart. “Hanging out with you on the water, it’s been the best summer of my life.”

He shot me a sad smile and my heart tumbled down a flight of stairs.

“Me too,” I whispered.

I shivered and pulled my jacket around myself more. It was cooler up here in the mountains.

“Cold?”

I slipped my hands up into my sleeves. “A little.”

“Come here.”

My stomach rolled forward. He murmured it but the authority in it, the command, made me shiver. I stood and walked to him, and he pulled me into his lap. My pulse raced as his arms came around me. He warmed me as I sank into him, pressed against his thighs and chest. His arms locked around me and I leaned my head back against him. His scent teased my nose, fresh and masculine.

“Better?” His hand brushed my arm.

I nodded with a small, shy smile.

“I have an extra jacket and toque in the car for you if you want it.”

“I’m okay like this.”

“Good. I like you like this, too.”

His mouth was so close to mine. Inches away. I had the urge to trace it, run my finger along the lines and soft skin of his mouth. The hair on the back of my neck prickled with awareness, and goosebumps rose along my skin under my jacket. The image of him shirtless that afternoon, chopping wood, flashed into my head and my pulse thrummed between my legs. A throb. Like I was empty and needed something to clench on.

I shivered. I needed him. I wanted to clench on him.

He shifted beneath me and my eyes widened when his hard length pressed into me. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Bookworm, you’re making it real hard to be a gentleman when you look up at me like that.” His chest rose and fell with a deep breath but his gaze dropped to my mouth.

“So don’t be.” The idea that he wanted me back made the heaviness between my legs intensify. The air between us crackled.

His jaw ticked again and his hands tightened on me, one on my thigh and one on my waist. The hand on my waist slid lower, to my hip. Sparks zinged up my spine.

“Bookworm.” He groaned it like he was in pain. “I’m supposed to be helping you.”

I wanted his mouth on mine again. I wanted his mouth all over me, and from the way he was looking at me like he wanted to devour me, he wanted the same thing.

I didn’t want to be shy Hannah anymore. I didn’t want to miss out on life anymore.

I shifted on his lap to get a better view of his face. I slipped my hand higher on his chest until my fingers brushed his warm, bare skin above the collar.

His eyelids fell closed. He exhaled through his nose and his fingers dug into my hip.

Something rustled in the bushes. I tensed and whipped my head around.

“What was that?” I asked, peering into the dark.

“Probably a bear.” His voice was thick.

“What?” My voice squeaked and I lifted my legs off the ground, as if that would help. I was basically climbing him.

His low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” His arm tightened around me, and I believed him.

Our gazes met. I was practically straddling him. “I know you will.” A streak of boldness hit my bloodstream and I bit my lip. “We should go into the tent. So the bears don’t eat us.”

He snorted but his eyes darkened. His gaze dropped to my mouth again. “Hannah…” I could hear the hesitation in his voice. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I want you to.” A tiny voice in my head screamed what are you doing??? but I shoved that voice aside and pressed a soft kiss on Wyatt’s mouth.

He made a noise of anguish and his fingers dug deep into my hip. I smiled against his mouth before I pulled back to gaze into his hooded eyes.

“Besides,” I murmured, watching his pained expression with enjoyment. “Don’t you think it’s time you give me more homework?”