The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(39)

Wyatt. I had talked about Wyatt the whole time.

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. Poor Beck.

Between the disastrous date with Carter, the would-be date with Holden where he bailed, and the date with Beck where I talked about another guy the entire time, this whole dating thing was not going well.

My mom would find this funny. She’d find it hilarious. She’d laugh and tell me to not worry about it, that there were lots of other guys out there to go on terrible dates with.

I could picture it. “I just had the worst date of my life,” I’d tell her.

She’d hold a hand up. “The worst date of your life so far.”

Then we’d dissolve into giggles.

A month from now, I’d be thirty. Discomfort trickled through my stomach and I swallowed. I knew it was stupid, this rule I had imposed on myself, but I didn’t want to be thirty and single still. I had to at least try to find something special, but I was even further away than when I started this whole thing.

A tap on my window startled me. I jolted and froze. I had the overwhelming instinct to hide under my bed.

Another tap. “Bookworm?”

I relaxed and opened the curtains to see his lazy grin on the other side of the glass.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered as I slid the window open. “It’s late.”

“Wanted to see how your date went.” He gestured for me to move aside before he hoisted himself through the window.

I watched, mouth hanging open. “You can’t be in here!” Why was I whispering? I was the only one home.

There was a boy in my room. I’d never had a boy in here. My gaze darted around my room, cataloguing my belongings, seeing them in a new light. Books everywhere, some of them in neat stacks, some of them laying face-down and open, my way of marking my place when I couldn’t find a bookmark. My closet with my clothes hanging neatly. My bed with a fluffy white duvet and too many pillows.

Wyatt hovered over my dresser, reading the titles of the books stacked on top. He was so freaking tall. I had stopped noticing it when we were outside. What was one guy next to mountains and trees and the ocean? But here, in my tiny bedroom, standing so close to me, he towered.

Awareness fluttered through me. I shifted on my feet, unsure where to stand. In the small space, I could smell Wyatt, his deodorant or shampoo or body wash and a bit of the ocean, something unique and intoxicating. The muscles in his back and shoulders moved under his white t-shirt as he moved a book aside.

“So?” He picked up a necklace laying on the dresser—a silver chain with a tiny, light-blue stone.

“Avery gave me that for my birthday last year.”

“I’ve never seen you wear it.” His voice was low and his tone neutral. Not the easygoing Wyatt I knew.

He was being careful. Something was up with him.

“Did you wear it tonight?” He lay the necklace back down, turned, and leaned against the dresser. He crossed his arms and dragged his gaze down my form.

“Yes.”

Even in the dim light, his gaze burned hot. My nipples tightened. The air between us charged with electricity and I didn’t know how to respond.

He lifted his eyebrows and tilted his chin at my outfit. “That’s what you wear to bed?”

I glanced down at my pink tank top and shorts. It was a warm night but I wasn’t wearing a bra and the points of my nipples were visible through the thin fabric.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“Sometimes I wear a t-shirt.”

That put a hint of a smile on his face. “I meant the date. How’d the date go?”

“Oh. Bad.”

His gaze flared. “What did he do? Did he touch you?” He stepped forward, looming over me. “Did he push you too hard?”

I shook my head and huffed. “I was the one who behaved badly. I was a terrible date. I’m better at surfing than dating and that should tell you everything.”

“What happened?”

His authoritative tone made my stomach flutter. His dark gaze locked on my face and my skin tingled. I stared at the floor, hands clasped together, and shook my head. “The chemistry wasn’t there.”

His fist clenched at his side and I frowned. This was so not Wyatt. What was going on with him tonight?

“Did you do your homework?” he asked in a low voice, and my core fluttered. A clench around nothing.

I shivered, and goosebumps rose on my arms. Something about that line, I knew I’d be thinking about it later. Wyatt didn’t mean it in a sexy way but it sure came out like that.

Homework, right. Wyatt had told me to only do what felt right.

I gave him a tiny nod, and when I lifted my gaze to his, I saw fury flashing in his eyes.

“So you kissed him and there was no chemistry.” He raked his hand through his hair, mouth pressed into a hard line.

“Kissed him? No.” I made a noise of frustration. “We never got that far. I spent the entire time talking about—” I broke off before I said something embarrassing.

“Talking about what?” His dark gaze was back on me.

I shook my head, pressing my mouth closed.

“Talking about what, bookworm?”

“There’s a weird energy in here,” I blurted out, shaking my head. “Maybe that necklace is cursed,” I joked, but he didn’t laugh.