The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(35)

I was changing. I knew that. I didn’t know if I liked it, though. My mom would have told me to find someone who would like me for me, whether it was the shy version of myself who didn’t talk to guys or the girl who hid in the bookstore all day. But my mom wasn’t like me, so it was easy for her to say that.

Who was this new version, with tanned skin, the one who got up on a surfboard and asked hot doctors out on dates?

My mom’s laugh rang out in my memory, the loud, high sound stinging me with nostalgia in the middle of my chest.

I bet she’d like Wyatt. They both had that easy disposition, quick to smile and not take life too seriously. I swallowed.

My phone rang and my dad’s picture lit up the screen.

“Hi, Dad.”

“There’s my Hannah Banana.” His voice came through on the other end. “How was your day, honey?”

“Good.” I wandered into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, staring out the window. “How’s Salt Spring?”

“Busy but beautiful. These goats eat a lot.”

I grinned. We had visited my uncle a few times as a kid and I had fond memories of feeding the goats.

“Sell some books today?”

Another stab of guilt. This would be the time to tell him about the farmer’s market, about all the books we sold, and how the store hadn’t been breaking even for a while. My mouth twisted. “A few.”

If I told him the store wasn’t doing well, he’d worry, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it from Salt Spring. A little spike of bravery rose in me.

“Hey, Dad, I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Go for it.”

The past few days, as I spent more time on social media, I had found a few accounts from local artists. One artist, Naya Kaur, had caught my eye with her paintings. Her style was colorful, and whimsical, characterized by detail and nature. Her latest collected depicted people daydreaming in forests. One of her paintings was of a woman laying in a hammock, staring at the sky through the trees.

I’d been thinking about that painting for a couple days now. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It reminded me of laying on my surfboard next to Wyatt, staring up at the sky.

Without a doubt, Naya was the right artist to redo the mural outside the store. If we had more days like today at the farmer’s market, we could afford it.

“The mural outside the store is in pretty rough shape.”

He didn’t say anything, and my stomach clenched. I swallowed my anxiety.

“Um, and, like, parts of it are crumbling.” I cleared my throat. Shit. I should have practiced this. “What do you think about someone fixing it up a bit? We don’t have to change it, just fill in some of the faded parts. Revive it.”

He made a humming noise and my heart sunk. I’d heard that noise before.

“I don’t know, honey.” He made a huffing noise. “Did someone complain or something?”

“No, but—” I gathered my thoughts. My heart pounded in my chest. “It looks bad. I think it would be good for business to have a new mural.”

“A new mural?” His voice went high.

“The same mural,” I added quickly. “Fixed up a bit.”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “I think we should keep it as is. We can talk about it when I get back.”

I exhaled through my nose and clenched my jaw. That meant no. He just didn’t want to say it outright.

My dad would never let me make a single change to the store. That was clear.

“Alright well, I have to make dinner now.” My tone was sharper than I meant. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh. Okay. Goodnight, honey. Love you.”

“Bye. Love you, too.”

We hung up and I stared at the phone a moment before I pulled up Naya’s social media and wrote out a DM.

Hi, Naya. Your work is beautiful. Any chance you would be interested in painting a mural outside Pemberley Books?





10





Wyatt





Hannah paddled hard through the water, hopped up on her board as the wave lifted her, and coasted toward the shore with ease. I rested my elbows on the board, floating in the water and watching her with a smile.

The day was already warm and there were a few advanced surfers behind the break out in the bigger waves, but just Hannah and I closer to shore, the way I preferred it.

Just her and I.

It was Wednesday morning, and tonight, Hannah would go out with Beck. Something weird and grouchy simmered in my stomach. At the farmer’s market on Saturday, she wasn’t as relaxed and talkative with him as she was with me. The knot in my chest loosened. She was at ease around me.

Or she was so attracted to Beck that he made her nervous.

The tension was back.

“I still can’t believe how fast I go once I catch the wave,” she said as she paddled back to me. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes were bright in the morning sun and I could do this all day, watch her when I should be training.

Right. Training.

I would still go out every morning after Hannah and I were done, and then again in the evenings. If everything at the shop was taken care of, I’d go in the afternoons as well. Mornings were for Hannah and I, though.