The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(38)

A twinge hit me in the gut. She wanted long term. True love. If I did well next month, I’d be on a plane, and she’d still be here.

Beck, though. Beck would stay in Queen’s Cove, same as Hannah. Despite wanting to smack the look off his face every time he smiled at Hannah, he was a decent guy.

I wanted Hannah to be happy.

The thought of him touching Hannah made my fists clench, though.

“Wyatt?”

“Mmm?” My gaze snapped back to hers.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Is the third date rule real? Where you should sleep with someone on the third date?”

My stomach twisted and I could feel it all over my face, this anguish. This torn feeling.

“Bookworm, if you’re worried about things with Beck, just do what feels right.”

She frowned at me. The wheels turned in her head.

I shrugged, hoisting myself up onto my board so I could lay beside her. “Even if he does buy you dinner, you don’t owe him anything. You don’t have to sleep with him or even kiss him tonight. The third date rule is bullshit. You can sleep with him on the first date or the tenth date or never, if that’s what you want.” We locked eyes. “You’re the boss. Understand?”

She gave me a tiny nod.

“Beck is a good guy and he’ll be patient with you. He better be.”

She made a humming, thinking noise and let out a breath, laying back on her board and gazing up at the sky. She relaxed and we floated, listening to seagulls, waves hitting the shore, and the occasional laugh of someone on the beach or whoop of one of the other surfers.

Later, as we padded across the sand back to the surf shop, Hannah grinned at me.

“I always feel so much better after being out on the water in the mornings with you.”

My heart squeezed. “The water will do that.”

She shook her head. “It’s not just the water. I like hanging out with you. You always make me feel better about things I’m worried about.”

Heart, meet sledgehammer. I had the urge to pull her in for a hug but I held back. Instead, I shrugged. Casual, like always. Noncommittal. “You can talk to me about this stuff. Hope you know that.”

She nodded. “I know.” She reached out and gave my arm a quick squeeze. The contact of her cold hand against my skin sent a jolt through me. “So, what’s my homework, professor?”

“Professor?” I lifted an eyebrow and ignored the way my cock stirred when she called me that.

“You have a nickname for me.” She shrugged, a cute little smile on her face.

I beamed at her, so hard my face hurt. “I like it.”

“So, homework.”

“Right. Uhhh…” I thought, narrowing my eyes. “Easy one today. When you go on the date tonight—” even saying the words made me sick, “—only do what you want. Don’t do anything you don’t want to. Wear whatever you want. Drink champagne, not beer.” I took a step closer to her and her mouth parted. “And if you don’t want to kiss him, don’t.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I held her gaze for a moment. Her blue-green eyes were so pretty. “Okay.”

There. Knowing her, she’d stick to her homework, even if it was difficult. Even if he pressured her. The tension in my chest settled a fraction.

But what if she wanted to push things further with Beck? I remembered the way she laughed at the farmer’s market, when he talked easily with her. The way she looked up at him, starstruck.

The tension in my chest was back.





I thought about Hannah’s date with Beck all day. I thought about it as I taught surf lessons, as I helped a customer buy a wetsuit, as I ordered replacement surf boards, as I surfed that evening.

She was probably out on his boat now, I realized as I checked the time on my phone that evening. Was he putting his arm around her, doing that cheesy yawn-and-stretch thing? No. No way. Beck didn’t play games like that; he’d just ask her to put his arm around her.

And she might say yes.

Hmm. Didn’t like that idea. Not one bit.

I thought about her when I scarfed down a late dinner in my kitchen. I thought about her as I finished Pride and Prejudice, setting the book on my night table and staring at it for a few minutes. I glanced at the time again.

I should have gone to sleep if I wanted to be up the next morning bright and early for our surf lesson. Antsy energy bounced around inside my head and through my limbs. I pulled a t-shirt over my head, slipped my shoes on, and headed out the door.

I was going to pay the bookworm a visit.





11





Hannah





“I think you’re on a date with the wrong guy, Hannah.”

Beck’s words replayed in my head as I lied in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. How he winced as he implied I was a bad date. I blew a breath out, frowning.

I had done everything right. With Beck, I still blushed under his gaze, but I forced myself to make conversation instead of clamming up like I wanted to. I asked him about the clinic, about his time in Vancouver going to school, about his volunteer work in South America in between university and medical school. I talked about the surf lessons I had been doing with Wyatt, about the social media stuff I had been doing for him, about the bookstore, something Liya and I had been laughing about the other day, about Wyatt’s idea for me to do social media for the bookstore. I talked about the Emily Carr exhibit we had gone to. About the breakfast food truck we frequented after surf lessons. About the farmer’s market book stand and how many books we had sold.