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

ANOTHER WAVE ROLLED in and he caught it, shooting forward on his board, riding it toward the shore. He was so at ease, like he was more comfortable on water than on land. Above us, blue skies stretched over the mountains, trees, and ocean. A few other early bird surfers dotted the ocean around us, but Wyatt had the big waves to himself.

I took another video of him on Liya’s nice camera I had borrowed.

He paddled his board back out before the break and waited for the next one. I unzipped the top half of my wetsuit and let it hang off my waist. My muscles ached from my disastrous surf lesson the other day. The day was warm already and my hair was almost dry from me falling off my board again this morning. I saw why Wyatt preferred to surf first thing in the morning, even if the water was ice-cold.

On the shore, I recorded more video as he caught another wave. He carved the water so gracefully, gliding over the surface like it was made of ice. Through the zoom lens, I watched the muscles on his torso ripple as he balanced. He made it look so easy, when I had inhaled face-full after face-full of water this morning. My nasal cavity still burned and my hair hung around my shoulders in frizzy tendrils. I knew better than to wear mascara this morning, though. I didn’t care if I looked tired and my eyes disappeared behind my pale eyelashes, it was better than wiping the smears off around my eyes afterward.

Wyatt rode a wave closer to shore and paddled in, grinning from ear to ear. I took a sneaky picture of him as he shook the water off his hair, carrying his board in, and I laughed to myself. We’ll make a social media star of you yet, Wyatt.

Up close, he was gorgeous like this, all muscle and dripping water and bright eyes. A smile from ear to ear. I blinked, taken aback. My pulse picked up.

I shook myself. Wyatt wasn’t my type.

Someone like Beck, he was my type. A handsome, kind man who read books and took an interest in things I liked. If things worked out with us, Beck and I could read books together every evening.

I nearly snorted. If things worked out? He was a hot doctor, and every single girl in town was interested in him. He probably only agreed to the date because he felt bad for me.

“Bookworm?” Wyatt was right in front of me.

I jolted to attention. “Hi. Yes.”

His mouth twitched with amusement at my daydreaming. “Didn’t realize you were still out here.”

I held up the camera. “I was getting some footage.”

He shrugged. “Okay. Let’s get breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

He nodded and kept walking.

I checked the time before jogging to keep up with him. “I have to be at the bookstore by ten.”

“We’ll get you there in time.”

I picked up my board again, letting my camera hang from the strap on my shoulder, and we walked along the sand towards the surf shop.

“So, did you figure out what my brand is?”

A big smile lifted on my face. In the evenings, I had been reading about marketing and social media engagement, and the thing that resonated most with me was that a brand should be authentic to the person or business, and unique.

“I did,” I told him, pulling my too-eager smile back as we walked over the sand. “It’s this.” I gestured out at the water behind us.

His eyebrows rose in amusement. “Surfing?”

I laughed. “No. I mean, partially surfing, but being out in nature and being in Queen’s Cove. It’s part of you. Queen’s Cove is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and you surfing with the mountains in the background…” I sighed and shook my head. “Gorgeous.”

“You think I’m gorgeous?” The side of his mouth hitched further in a roguish grin.

I stumbled on the sand and huffed an embarrassed laugh. Of course, I did. “I meant the mountains. The mountains are gorgeous.”

“Mhm. You like this social media thing.”

Warmth filled my chest and I nodded. “I do. It’s fun.”

“Glad someone enjoys it. How are your dates going?”

My stomach tied itself into a knot. “I think I’m going to cancel.”

Every time I remembered asking all those guys out, I shuddered with embarrassment. Now I had to go out and make conversation with men in a public place, when I’d rather be in my pajamas at home under a blanket with a glass of wine and the latest Talia Hibbert book.

But I’d been doing that for years and it got me nowhere.

“What? No.” He shook his head. “You can’t cancel, bookworm. The hard part is over.”

“The hard part is not over; the hard part is me having to spend time around people and convince them to like me.”

He frowned. “You don’t need to convince anyone to like you. People either like you, or they don’t know you well enough, or they don’t matter. You can leave your board there.” He gestured to the sand in front of the shop. “Carter’s teaching a beginner class this morning.”

I set the board down on the sand and dusted my hands off. “I’m meeting him at the bar tonight.”

Amusement grew on his features. “Better get your dart game ready.”

I groaned. “I don’t want to go.”

He nudged my arm. “Come on, bookworm. This is how you figure out what you like.”

“By dating half the town?”

“Yep.”

“Are you only saying that because that’s your method?”

Another flash of teeth, wolfish this time. “Except we don’t really date, if you know what I mean.”

A quick stab hit me in the gut. I made a grumbly noise and rolled my eyes. Why did I care if Wyatt had hooked up with every girl in town? I didn’t. In fact, that was why I was here. Because Wyatt was so good at dating and meeting people. Wyatt knew hot girls. I should be getting tips from him instead of making it weird.

He tilted his chin across the street. “Leave your suit on, we can sit outside the food truck. I’m going to put my board away.”

He disappeared into the shop with his board and returned a minute later. We wandered barefoot across the street to the small patio with picnic tables. Music played and greasy food smells wafted out of the truck. Something sizzled inside.

We studied the small menu and I shot him a side-long glance. “So, say I wanted to hook up with Carter, what would I do?”

He crowed with laughter. “You don’t.”

No, I didn’t, but I wanted to know what I would do in case it ever came up with anyone else. “Maybe I do.”

The look he gave me made me feel like he could see inside my brain. He shook his head, still laughing. “Your body language with him told me you don’t.”

I thought about getting naked with Carter and my face automatically pulled into a grimace.

Wyatt laughed again and pointed at my face. “You’d rather go back out on the water and bail off your board all morning than go anywhere near Carter’s bed.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “You’re right. But what about someone like Beck? If I wanted to hook up with him, how would I make that known?”

The grin dropped off Wyatt’s face. “We should order.” He turned to the person running the truck and ordered a breakfast sandwich before turning to me. “Do you want the same?”

“Uh, sure.” I blinked. “Thanks. Wait.” I glanced between us, still in our wetsuits. “I don’t have any money on me. Neither do you.”

“He has a tab,” the woman in the truck called out.

“Oh. Thanks, Wyatt.”

He winked. “Don’t mention it.”

We took a seat at a picnic table and within a few minutes, our food arrived.

My foot tapped a rhythm on the ground while we ate. What if Carter tried to kiss me tonight? I cringed. I really didn’t want to kiss him. Was it unethical if I went on a date with the guy and I didn’t even like him, not as more than a friend? I didn’t want to lead him on. Maybe Wyatt was right in that I needed the practice to figure out what I wanted.

I didn’t want Carter, though.

“You’re still thinking about the date with Carter tonight?”

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded at Wyatt.

He studied me for a moment. A piece of hair had fallen into his eyes, and he pushed it back. “Would it make you feel better if I was there?”

I snorted. “Like, on our date?”

There was that lazy grin again. “No, at the bar. If you get uncomfortable or something, you can give me a signal and I’ll jump in to help.”

I straightened up. “Yes. That would be amazing.” I tilted my head at him. “You’d do that for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Relax, bookworm. I’m going to a bar to have a beer. It’s not a big deal.”

My face warmed. “Right. I know. I just appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How about I touch my ear?” I asked, brushing my fingers over my earlobe. “Like this. If I need help.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth hitched in amusement. “Sure. I doubt you’re going to need my help, but I’ll be there in case you do.”

There was a flutter in my stomach. Nerves about the date that night, probably. “Thanks, Wyatt.”

“HANNAH! HANNAH! WATCH! WATCH ME!”

I shot Carter a tight smile and nodded. “I’m watching.”

His friends crouched down, grabbed his legs, and flipped him upside down. He chugged the beer but choked, coughing and spraying it everywhere. The group of his friends gathering nearby—six other guys—all groaned and laughed.

“Almost got that one.” He wiped his mouth and dropped into the seat across from me. Beer splattered the collar of his shirt.

“Almost,” I agreed, playing with the condensation on my glass.

Across the bar, Wyatt sat back in his seat, watching with amusement in his eyes. His gaze rested on me but I refused to meet it. I didn’t know whether it was because I was embarrassed or because I’d start laughing and never stop.

I took another sip of my beer and shuddered. Gross. I didn’t like beer, but Carter had bought a pitcher and placed a glass in front of me when I arrived, and I didn’t want to be that girl. You know. The one who made a big fuss.

“I bet you’ve read like, lots of books.” Carter suppressed a burp against his fist.

I played with the paper coaster under my glass. “I mostly like romance, but I was reading this book by a sleep researcher that I couldn’t put down. It’s amazing how sleep is tied to almost every aspect of our health.” His foot bumped mine and I shifted, tucking my feet further under my bar stool.

He smiled at me. His eyes were glassy. “Wow. That’s cool.”

I didn’t know what to say so I shrugged. “You moved here from Calgary?”

He nodded and put his arms in the air. “C-TOWN, BABY!” His friends all turned from where they stood at the dart board and cheered. He shrugged at me. “No surfing there, though.”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“You ever been?”

Another shake of my head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “That’s cool, that’s cool.” He slugged back half his beer.

I squirmed in my seat and glanced around, again avoiding Wyatt. This whole thing was a huge mistake, and I was totally failing on my date. I couldn’t even hold a conversation. My chest was tight at the awkwardness.

The silence stretched between us and embarrassment burned in my stomach. He clearly regretted saying yes.

Carter slapped the table and I jumped. “You know what we need to do? A beer bong.”

His friends in the corner raised their arms and cheered. “Beer bong! Beer bong!” They surrounded our table, chanting, and one of them produced a long tube with a funnel.

“You guys brought a beer bong to the bar?” I asked Carter.

He nodded. “I bring it everywhere. You never know when you’re going to need it.” He moved to a kneeling position and his friends cheered again.

The entire bar was staring at us.

Oh my god. My face heated and I glanced around for Wyatt, already tugging on my ear. He wasn’t in his spot. He sat there a second ago and now he wasn’t there. His beer was still there, though.

Carter held the bong up and one friend poured his beer into the funnel. Carter’s throat worked as he chugged.

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” His friends cheered as the rest of the bar patrons watched with open mouths.

I wanted to die. My gaze darted around the bar again. My earlobe was about to come off, I was pulling it so hard.

Beer trickled from the corners of Carter’s mouth, down his neck, soaking the collar of his t-shirt. Male cheers boomed around me as he finished, stood up, and raised his arms in the air with victory. He pointed straight at me and panic streaked through me.

“You’re up!”

I shook my head and opened my mouth to protest but a warm hand landed on my shoulder.

“Why don’t you join me at my table for a bit?” Wyatt said in my ear. His breath tickled my skin and made me shiver.

Olivia, the bartender, was right behind him, and she was pissed. Her hot pink hair was tied up into a messy bun on top of her head. She glared at the group of Carter’s friends. She was half the size of some of them but they recoiled from her in fear.

“Out.” She pointed at the door. “No frat boy bullshit in here. Bars are where people come to be depressed. No chanting.”

“Come on, bookworm.” Wyatt’s hand came to the small of my back and he gave me a gentle push away from Carter and his friends.

We approached his table and I glanced over my shoulder at Carter disappearing through the door. He didn’t even look back to see where I went. My face heated more. I could feel it crawling down my neck.

I took a seat across from Wyatt’s spot. “I think that was me falling off my board.” Face first into the water, nose burning and choking on seawater.

He shook his head, that familiar amused expression back on his face. “You’re doing great. Carter fucked up this date, not you.” He tilted his head again.

Olivia appeared at the table and placed two champagne flutes between Wyatt and me.

“Hey, Hannah.” She shot me a wink. Olivia had grown up in Queen’s Cove too, but she was a year younger than me. She lived in Vancouver during the year, working on her PhD, and returned home every summer to help with her dad’s bar during the busy tourist season. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Are you going to sing?”

“Sing?” My eyes went wide, and I glanced between her and Wyatt with alarm. “Why would I sing?”

Olivia nodded at the corner of the bar, where a mic stand stood. “It’s karaoke night.”

I burst out laughing. “God, no. I can’t sing at all.” I shook my head. “No. No. I would never.”

Wyatt grinned across the table and I rolled my eyes at him. “How’s school?” I asked Olivia.

She tilted a shoulder. “It’s good. I submit my thesis next year.” Someone leaned against the bar, waiting to place their order. “I should go. Drop in again and say hey sometime.”

She left and I turned back to Wyatt, pointing at the champagne flutes. “What’s this for?”

“You had your first bad date, and we’re celebrating.” He lifted his glass and when I lifted mine, he clinked it.

“Champagne?” It sparkled on my tongue, and I made a pleased humming noise. “Didn’t think you were a champagne drinker.”

He shrugged. “You don’t like beer.”

I winced. “Was it that noticeable?”

“You gagged every time you took a sip.”

I shook with laughter. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Don’t bother. Don’t drink something you don’t like. Order the good stuff next time, Hannah. Order what you like. You deserve it.”

He was watching me in an intense way that made my stomach flutter. “There isn’t going to be a next time. Look how awkward I was with Carter. I’m terrible at conversation.”

“You weren’t terrible talking with Olivia.”

“That’s different. I’m not attracted to Olivia.”

“And you are attracted to Carter?” His voice was wry.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”

He leaned back in his chair, arm resting on the table, easy gaze on me. “Sometimes people don’t click, but that doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.” He shrugged and spread out, taking up all the room. “Just move on.”

“Just move on. Like that.”

“Mhm. You’re going to the gallery with Holden soon?”

I nodded and took another sip. “Saturday. I hope I’m not awkward around him.”

“It’s impossible for you to out-awkward Holden.”

We grinned at each other.

“Hello, Queen’s Cove!” Joe, the bar owner and Olivia’s dad, crowed into the mic in the corner and cheers rose up around the bar. “Are you ready for some karaoke?” More cheers.

I glanced at Wyatt with excitement, and he grinned back at me.

“First up is our favorite photographer and blogger, Don, singing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart.’”

I remembered a couple days ago when Don shoved the can of beans into my hands, feeling sorry for me, and when Wyatt’s gaze met mine, I knew he was thinking of the same thing. We both burst into laughter.

“He felt so sorry for me,” I whispered as Don warbled through the song.

Wyatt shrugged. “It’s okay to make an ass of yourself once in a while. Are you still embarrassed about it?”

I took another sip of champagne. The sharp stab of embarrassment had turned into more of an annoying flicker. “A little.” I snorted again. “It’s more funny now.” I glanced at my almost-empty glass. It must have been the champagne making me care less.

Wyatt slid his full glass over to me and took another sip of his beer.

We watched Don finish his karaoke song and cheered for him and all the others who sang. The energy in the bar was so fun, supportive, and silly. Everyone knew each other. It didn’t matter if people were bad at singing, everyone got big cheers and applause.

Community, I realized with a sweet, happy hum in my heart. This was my community. I loved this little town.

“What would you sing up there?” Wyatt asked as Olivia brought another glass of champagne for me and a beer for Wyatt.

“Oh, another? I’m going to get silly.”

“So get silly.” Wyatt’s gaze flicked over me. “I’ll walk you home.” He glanced over to the empty corner with the dart boards.

I snorted. The champagne had loosened the laughs from me. “I can’t do worse than Carter.” I pictured the beer running down his chin and cringed.

“You’re doing great, bookworm.” Our eyes met and his gaze warmed me all the way to my toes in my sneakers. “Just great.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me more about why you want to be a hot girl.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be?”

He raised an eyebrow, pinning me with his gaze.

I squirmed. My skin prickled like he could see through my clothes. “I’m never going to meet someone hiding in my bookstore.”

He considered this but didn’t say anything.

“I’m turning thirty in a few months.” I played with the stem of my glass, spinning it in a slow circle on the table. “There are a lot of things I haven’t done yet.” I shrugged, staring at the bubbles in the glass, rising to the surface. “By the time she was thirty, my mom had done so much. She had traveled all over the world, gotten married, had me, started her own business.”

He watched me, listening closely, and my mouth snapped shut. He sipped his beer, waiting for me to go on. My face heated.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

He blanched and laughed. “Do what? Listen while you talk?”

A noise of frustration came out of my throat, but I laughed. “That watching thing you do.”

“You don’t like it when I watch you?” His tone dripped with innuendo and my face warmed further.

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. You’re trying to make me uncomfortable so I’ll say more.”

He shot me a roguish grin.

“You like to push my boundaries.”

His eyes were warm but mischievous. “Mhm.” He took another sip of his beer, regarding me over the rim. “You’re so locked up, bookworm, but sometimes you let out another person who I think might be the real you.” He snorted. “Like when you asked if you needed to teach me to read.”

I buried my face in my hands and he laughed. “That was so mean. I’m sorry.”

“I liked it.”

I lifted my gaze to his and laughter bubbled out of me. Something occurred to me and I straightened up. “I forgot to tell you.” I pulled my phone out. “Your social media is doing so well. A bunch of the other surfers recognized you from events.” I showed him the main account pages where I had posted footage from the other morning. On the photo app, there was a shot of him at the food truck, shirtless with the top of his wetsuit hanging from his waist. On the video app, I had posted footage of him gliding through the water.

At least half the comments on every video were about how hot Wyatt was. I had smiled as I read them, but at the same time, something pinched under my ribs.

He glanced at the videos and read through some comments before he set my phone back down on the table. “Thanks for doing that.”

“Of course. You’re helping me with, um…” I shrugged, suddenly embarrassed to say it out loud. “It’s fine. I like doing social media stuff.”

“Why don’t you do it for the store? You like it and it would be good for business.”

“Oh. Um.” My mouth twisted to the side and my stomach tightened. My dad had phoned from Salt Spring the other morning and I was this close to asking him about social media for the store, but I had chickened out. “You know, it’s not really our thing.”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes at me.

“I mean,” I sucked a breath in and shifted in my seat. “My dad likes to keep the store the way my mom had it.”

His eyebrows pulled together and his eyes narrowed further.

One of my shoulders lifted in a shrug and I shook my head. “It’s fine.”

He was doing that watching thing again. I avoided his gaze and focused on sipping my drink.

“He doesn’t want you to make any changes?”

I sighed. It was hard to explain. “He says we have a small-town charm, and anytime I bring up the website or ripping out that ugly carpet, he gets uncomfortable. It was my mom’s store and he still misses her.” My heart twisted. “I do, too.”

Wyatt nodded slowly. “So, say your dad changed his mind and was on board for whatever changes you wanted to make, and you had enough money to make it happen. What would you do?”

I bit my lip, a smile growing on my face. “First, I’d get rid of that ugly maroon carpet. I hate that fucking carpet.”

Wyatt burst out laughing. “Whoa, bookworm, language.”

I laughed with him. “Sorry. It’s like something out of a prison or a high school. I’d paint the inside a lighter color to brighten the place up, and add a pretty wallpaper. Something floral.” I leaned in, gaze locked with Wyatt. “Something bold, frivolous, fun, and wild. I’d have a ton of plants inside if I could get them to grow. I’d take photos every day around the store and post them to social media so people around the world could picture themselves there.” I tilted my head, thinking. “We could have a cool chair near the window that people could sit in and take pictures in. We’d have to get a better website so people could place orders online.”

I remembered something I had seen online. “Oh, and the lighting. I’d get new lighting, something pretty, some antique chandeliers or something fluffy and silly.”

“Fluffy lighting,” Wyatt repeated with a grin.

“You heard me. Fluffy. Books are all about fantasy, getting immersed in a story and characters. People read as an escape, and I want stepping into the store to be like that, too. Plus,” I shrugged, playing with the end of my ponytail, “why fit in? Why not do something memorable and cool?”

His gaze traveled over my face and he nodded.

“I think if we had endless funds, I’d have the mural repainted. Right now it’s faded and crumbling, and it could be spectacular. And the books on the mural?” My nose wrinkled. “They’re outdated. Sure, some of them are classics, but those books leave out a lot of people.” I chewed my lip, thinking about Liya, Max, and Div.

He nodded. “They’re for straight white people.”

“Exactly. And I know my mom didn’t mean to leave anyone out, but I know better. I sell lots of books for lots of people. I don’t want anyone to feel excluded.” A memory passed through my mind and I smiled. “My mom used to say, there’s a story for every soul.” I leaned my chin on my palm. Something happy fizzed in my chest, talking Wyatt’s ear off like this about silly dreams. “I believe it. I believe the right book is out there for everyone. I love that part of my job.”

He sipped his beer and watched me with a warm gaze. “Updating the mural is a great idea.”

I clasped my hands together. “I don’t know. My dad would never go for it. All my ideas are kind of out there.”

He raised an amused eyebrow. “Even more out there than feathery lighting?”

My chest shook with laughter. “I said fluffy lighting. And yes, even more out there than that.” I hesitated. “I’d make the store into a romance-only bookstore.”

I waited for him to tell me this was a terrible idea, but he only crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head at me. “Because you like romance books?”

I shook my head, sucking in a breath and gathering my thoughts. “It’s more than that. Yes, I love romance books, but so do so many others. Romance is the number-one selling genre. Every year, romance sells double the next highest genre, crime and thriller. Most bookstores have a couple shelves dedicated to romance, and you’re lucky if the staff read romance and can recommend books. People buy a lot of romance online because they either can’t get the books in stores, or they’re embarrassed.”

I leaned forward. “One time, Avery and I were in Victoria, and I went into a bookstore to see if they had a certain romance book, and the guy laughed at me.”

Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

My nostrils flared and I swallowed. My stomach boiled at the memory. “He laughed at me, Wyatt, for wanting to read a book with a happy ending.” My eyes narrowed. “That guy was a dick.” I shrugged. “I want to create a space where people aren’t embarrassed to read books that make them happy. No women are killed in romance books the way they always seem to be in crime novels.” The champagne fizzed on my tongue again as I sipped it. “There are tons of regular bookstores on the island where people can buy other genres, not to mention overnight delivery services. If it were up to me, I’d create something special, unlike any other store around here. Besides, my store is kind of small. It would be so easy to fill it up with romance. I can always special-order other books for people who want them and don’t want to go to Port Alberni.” That was a larger town on the island that had a big bookstore.

I tipped the remainder of my drink back and realized that Wyatt and most of the people sitting near us watched me, listening. I froze and my face flushed.

“And that’s enough from me,” I said with a laugh. I cleared my throat. “That’s what I’d do with the store if I could.”

Wyatt rubbed his jaw. “You’ve thought a lot about it.”

A long sigh escaped me. “Well, the store has been kind of struggling, and my mind wanders sometimes.”

“Do you agree that your mom would want you to keep the store the same as she had it?”

My stomach clenched. My mom was like the store I wanted to create—bold, fun, silly, and wild.

“No,” I whispered. My throat was tight. “She’d love my ideas.” I lifted my gaze to his.

Wyatt shrugged and rubbed his thumb up and down the condensation on his beer. “Look, bookworm, for what it’s worth, if the store isn’t doing well, you need to change something.”

I wanted to, but in order to do that, I had to go against what my dad wanted. Panic and guilt clawed at me, so I changed the subject. “Are you nervous about Pacific Rim?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m not really thinking about it.”

“Why not?”

He sighed and hesitated, like he was organizing the thoughts in his head. “It won’t change anything, worrying about it. I’ll still go surfing every day. I’ll still give my A-game out there.” That lazy smile hitched. “You’ve got my sponsorship covered with social media.” He tilted his chin to my phone and I smiled in return.

“Say you did well, what would happen then?”

“I’d get a sponsorship and start traveling more. There are surf events all over the world, in Australia, Indonesia, Hawaii…” A crease formed between his eyebrows and he lost that lazy, amused smile. “I’d have to leave Queen’s Cove.”

“You’d miss it.”

The corner of his mouth hitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He’d miss it but he didn’t want to admit it. “No point in discussing what hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, if you left Queen’s Cove, the town would miss you,” I told him.

He sat forward and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The screen lit up with an incoming call. Josie.

My stomach sank and I frowned. Of course Wyatt had girls calling him.

“You can answer that if you want,” I told him. My voice sounded tight.

He declined the call and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Not important.” He gestured to the stage. “What would you sing?”

“Spice Girls.” I answered before I even thought about it. I put both hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “I love Spice Girls, Wyatt. You have no idea.”

He leaned on his elbows towards me, our gazes locked. “Which Spice Girl are you?”

“I mean, I look like Baby Spice.” I pointed at my pale hair. “But I think deep down, I want to be Ginger. I mean,” I rolled my eyes. “Everybody wants to be Ginger. You could never find the Ginger Spice Barbie. She was the coolest, the bravest, and she didn’t care what people thought. She was so badass.” I sighed.

He listened with a smile on his face, like I was talking about the most interesting thing in the world.

“She wore this one dress, it was a Union Jack and it was so short that her black underwear was visible.” I said the last words in a whisper, holding eye contact with him. I shook my head. “I was just a kid but I couldn’t believe it. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen at the time.”

The gold sequinned dress popped into my head. I had slipped the box under my bed and it had sat there untouched for a couple weeks.

Wyatt’s eyes were bright, like he wanted to burst out laughing.

“You can laugh,” I told him. “It’s okay. I can take it.”

His grin reached from ear to ear. “I won’t laugh at you. Now what’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Huh?”

“You said at the time. That was twenty years ago. What’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen now?”

“Um.” My tongue twisted. All I could picture was Wyatt on the surfboard a couple days ago, and then walking on the sand toward me, shaking the water out of his hair. Water running down his bare skin. Lean muscle with a dusting of hair across his chest. I swallowed. “Um. I don’t know. Oh!” A laugh burst out of my mouth. “I saw some merman in a Eurovision music video a couple weeks ago. That was pretty sexy.”

That made him laugh. Nice save on my part. “That would be my karaoke song, only because I heard it so many times on set that day. I dreamed the lyrics for a week.”

I laughed and tipped back the rest of my drink before inspecting the empty glass.

“I forgot how much I like champagne.”

“You look cute tonight,” Wyatt said, and my mouth parted in surprise.

When I stood in front of my closet earlier tonight, I forced myself to pick an outfit that a hot girl would wear. I wore a light pink top that had hung in my closet for two years. It had tiny bees embroidered on it, barely visible except up close. I bought it on a whim a couple years ago, but it was too dressy to wear to the store. Although I wanted to wear my typical jeans tonight, I forced myself to wear a tan suede skirt.

I still wore my sneakers, though. Something stubborn in me wouldn’t let them go.

“Oh.” I blinked about six times in a row. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” He nodded and kept watching me with that half-amused, half-thoughtful expression.

We watched the rest of the karaoke night without talking, just cheering and laughing and enjoying the music and vibrancy of our little community pub, but I held his attention the entire time. Little shivers ran down my neck every time our eyes met.

Later that night, as I brushed my teeth, I replayed the evening. Why didn’t Avery and I go out to the bar more often? Even though the date with Carter had been awkward, the rest of the evening was so fun. Wyatt was so easy to talk to, I didn’t know why I had been so shy around him for so long.

I mean, I guess I knew a little. You look cute tonight. I kept hearing it in my head, and each time I did, my stomach fluttered and I bit my lip. I gave myself a shy grin in the mirror.

He probably said that to all the women in his life. He probably said that to his mom, to Avery. To women he felt platonic towards. Or worse. Maybe he felt bad for me and wanted to give me a confidence boost. I winced. I really, really hoped he didn’t feel bad for me.

I’d have to do a better job on my date with Holden on Saturday. I was going to show Wyatt that I could do this.

The conversation with Wyatt about the bookstore popped back into my head, how I rambled on about all the changes I would make, and the fluttery warmth in my stomach as I pictured what the store would look like. What it could be.

Before my guilt could get in the way, I opened a social media account for the store and posted a picture I had taken of Liya the other day surrounded by a new shipment of books.

My dad didn’t want the store to change, but my dad also wasn’t involved in the store and had no idea how bad the finances had gotten.

I had a business to run, and we couldn’t keep my mom’s memory alive if the store went under.