The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(45)

Wyatt cleared his throat. “You don’t need practice. Do you need help with the wetsuit?” He glanced over his shoulder, took one glance at me, muttered fuck, and whipped his head back around.

Interesting. A little smile grew on my mouth. “Nope.”

“Then hurry up.”

I suppressed a laugh at his impatient, frustrated tone, so unlike him.

This swimsuit was proving to be a worthwhile purchase.

My mind buzzed and I rubbed my lips together, narrowing my eyes at his back. What was this feeling coursing through me? I felt… strong, like I held the power in this situation. I dangled something in front of Wyatt like a cat, toying with him.

Thérèse flickered into my mind. I bet she held the power with men all the time.

“If you won’t practice with me,” I said, keeping my voice casual as I pulled the suit on, “maybe Beck will.”

That was a low blow. Wyatt had admitted he was jealous and here I was, exploiting that. Wyatt was always so cool and careless, and I got a glimpse of another side of him in my bedroom the other night.

I wanted more of that version of him. Passionate, desperate, needy. Like he cared about something. Me. He wanted me, as much as I would give him.

I wanted more of that.

He turned, took a step toward me, and glared down at me. “Do not do that, bookworm.”

“Do what? Make out with Beck?”

His jaw ticked. I gave him an innocent smile and blinked a few times. He made an angry noise in his throat and turned me around before he yanked the zipper up. “How does it fit.” He spat the words out like a statement, and I suppressed another grin.

I had turned the most easy-going guy in town into a cranky asshole.

I rolled my shoulders and moved my arms around. “Fits great. Way better than the rental one I was using.” When I turned, his gaze had softened a little from the hard glare. “Thank you, Wyatt.” I reached out and gave his arm a quick squeeze.

I hadn’t finished teasing him yet. I let my hand linger on his bare skin.

“Your skin is always so warm. Did you know that?”

He didn’t answer me, but his throat worked as he swallowed, staring down at me with an expression on his face like he was in pain. He gave me a tiny shrug.

I nodded, letting my hand skim down his arm before I pulled it back. “That was the first thing I noticed when you kissed me. How warm you were.”

I fought to hold eye contact with him. Deep in my brain, a version of myself was squealing and rolling on the floor at my boldness. A different version of me shushed her and gave me an encouraging wink.

Wyatt’s jaw was so tight, his frown so intense as he stared down at me. His fists clenched at his sides.

“Have you done your homework yet?” His voice was low and tight, and I thought about another thing he had said in my bedroom.

I know, baby. I know.

I shivered and shook my head. “Tonight.”

I was talking about the date. It was Monday, and I was going for a solo dinner at The Arbutus.

And of course, there was the other part of my homework. The thing I was supposed to do after by myself in my bed. The thing I had of course done many times before.

But this time would be different. I knew it.

I shivered again and a heaviness settled between my legs. I was nervous but I was also… excited? Was he going to ask me about it after? The thought should have terrified me but instead, it sent a new series of shivers down my spine.

I sighed and smiled at him before I tucked my bag into a lower shelf and walked through the door.

“Are you coming?” I called over my shoulder to where he stood. “We have waves to catch, Professor.”

I would pride myself for a long time in not laughing at his agonized expression when I called him that.





After lunch that afternoon, the bookstore was quiet so I pulled out my laptop and watched old footage of last year’s Pacific Rim. The competition was always on Labor Day weekend, and it was the last rush of tourists before the cooler fall months. All weekend, surfers walked down the main street to the beach, wetsuits on and boards tucked under arms. I didn’t watch the competition last year but instead chose to work in the store.

This year, you wouldn’t be able to drag me from it. We’d close the store if we had to.

My dad wouldn’t be back until October. Hesitation pressed on my chest. I missed him, of course. Evenings at home had been even quieter recently without him sitting on the other sofa, reading his own book.

I rolled my mouth into a flat line and glanced at the little white square sticking out of the iPad I had bought for the store. We had gone back to the farmer’s market each Saturday, selling more and more books each time. A few tourism accounts had reposted some of my content, including one of Liya at the market talking to a customer, and it drove business to us.

On Don’s blog, he had written a detailed review of each orc erotica book in the series. A website in Victoria had found it hilarious and reposted it, and we had sold out of all the books in the series. A new shipment was due to arrive the next day. Selling orc porn to my dentist was mortifying but I wasn’t in the business of sex shaming people.

I was in the business of selling romance novels.

The romance section of the store grew with every shipment. Most of my social media posts revolved around romance, because that’s what Liya and I read, and that’s what we liked talking about. Each book I posted about sold out within a week.