The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(48)

I shrugged again, smiling at the table. In my chest, a bubble machine spewed out fizzy, happy feelings.

“Something’s different about you.” Avery tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at me.

I bit my lip, self-consciousness rising in me, but forced myself to sit up straight. “What do you mean?”

“You just…” She hummed before shrugging. “You seem happier. I like it. Surfing must agree with you.”

She put a weird emphasis on the word surfing. Like the word surfing meant something else.

I pretended I didn’t notice.

“You must really like surfing.”

I rolled my eyes with a grin and she let out a loud laugh.

“Stop,” I told her, but couldn’t hide my grin.

“Emmett said he sees you two on the water a couple times a week while he’s out on his run.”

Each week, I spent more time with him than the last. We surfed almost every day, and he often dropped by the store to say hi to Liya and I. He brought us lunch on Saturdays at the farmer’s market. After surfing, we always got breakfast sandwiches at the truck.

I spent way more time with him than with anyone else. More than most friends would.

Almost like he was my boyfriend.

I nearly choked. Wyatt wasn’t my boyfriend. The thought was laughable. He was helping me become a hot girl so I could find a boyfriend.

“I’m helping him with his social media,” I told her with a shrug. “For Pacific Rim.”

“Right.” She nodded, eyes still narrowed. “And he’s teaching you to surf and become a hot girl.”

I gave her a tight smile and quick nod. “Mhm. Exactly.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, which isn’t much, I think he likes you.”

I stilled. The bubble machine in my chest sped up. “Why do you say that?”

“Same reason I told you at Div’s place. He doesn’t hang out with people, he just surfs. He’s kind of a loner, but people don’t realize that because he’s so hot.”

A laugh burst out of me. “He is really hot.”

“Also,” she leaned in closer to me, “if he doesn’t like you, how’d you get that hickey on your neck?”

I gasped and slapped a hand over the spot on my neck. Liya hadn’t said a word today, and neither did the hairstylist.

Oh my god. I had been walking around town with a hickey on my neck all day.

Oh my god. Elizabeth had stopped in the store today to pick a book up and her gaze had lingered on my neck. She had done a little wiggly dance. I thought she just had to use the washroom.

I slapped my forehead and my face burned with fire but before I could make an excuse—any excuse—Avery straightened up with a big smile.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll put your order in. See you in a bit.”

She disappeared into the kitchen and I opened my book, staring at the page but seeing nothing. My face was a bright red stop sign.

And then I started laughing. I laughed into my wine glass as I took a big swallow of it. Who was this woman I had become, who chopped off her hair and walked around with hickeys on her neck?

I focused on my book, sipping my wine and turning the pages until my food arrived. Avery had delivered a bowl that looked like two servings. The tomato flavor burst on my tongue and the savory cheese made me hum with delight. Mmmm, fat, salt, and flavor. I worked at the enormous bowl of pasta until I couldn’t possibly eat any more. Another glass of wine appeared in front of me, and when I glanced up from my book, half the restaurant was empty and it was dark outside.

My phone buzzed and I read Wyatt’s name on the screen.

Took this of you today. Thought you should see it.

It was a picture of me in the bookstore through the front window, shelving a book near the window and laughing about something with Liya. A soft smile on my face as I reached up to place the book in its right spot.

I looked happy.

Avery pointed at my bowl and I slipped the phone away. “Are you done? Can I pack this up?”

I nodded and sighed. “I’m so full. That was amazing.”

“Dessert?”

“Of course.”

She laughed and whisked the plate away before returning with a square of tiramisu. I dove in with enthusiasm.

This was fun, I realized, grinning to myself. The second I stopped caring if people were staring at me, I started enjoying myself.

And so what if they stared at me? They’d see Hannah Nielsen with a cute haircut, wearing a pretty dress that made her look like she might have boobs, eating an indulgent dessert and reading a book. Maybe they’d think, Hannah Nielsen’s living a good life.

Thérèse would say something like, they would be lucky to stare at you, ‘annah. I took another bite of the tiramisu and my eyes rolled back in my head.

My skin prickled and I opened my eyes. Wyatt towered over the table, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were dark, gaze heavy on me, and he frowned like I had offended him.

It was the same expression he had given me in my bedroom.

“You cut your hair.” He leaned down, resting his palms on the table, still watching me with that intense look.

All I could do was nod. My fork hovered in the air. My pulse pounded in my ears. My mouth might have hung open. What was—

He lowered his mouth to mine and the fork clattered onto the table.