The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(84)

He frowned deeper, gaze snagging on the keys in my hand. My dad started pulling things out of the fridge in preparation for dinner.

“Say it.” Defensiveness clawed up my throat. If he said one negative thing about Hannah or whatever we were doing, I didn’t know how I’d react.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, the tension easing a fraction from his features. “It was nice to have Hannah here for dinner.”

The fight left me. “Oh. Yeah.”

“You’re clearly head over fucking heels for her so don’t fuck it up.”

I choked out a laugh. “I’m not going to fuck it up.”

Holden snorted. “Okay.”

“We’re…” My voice trailed off and both my dad and brother stared at me, waiting.

“You’re what?” Holden asked.

“Hanging out.” The second I said it, it felt wrong, like a lie. I frowned. I had told her I thought about us married, about her pregnant. That I was falling for her.

How could I explain it to them, though? If I said it out loud, it was real. Panic rose in me, tightening around my chest. “I have to go.” I backed out of the kitchen and held the keys up to my dad. “I’ll return it in the morning. Thanks.”

He waved me off and Holden watched with a skeptical expression.

In the garage, I lifted the protective sheet off the car, started it up, and eased it out of the garage.

As I drove through the streets of Queen’s Cove, waving to people I recognized, I thought about my aunts. Aunt Bea used to bring Aunt Rebecca coffee in bed in the mornings. I remembered her moving around the kitchen that was now mine, humming to herself, pouring coffee and adding cream right up to the rim.

The day she dropped Aunt Rebecca off at the care facility, her sobs traveled through the bedroom door. I had grabbed my board and left because I couldn’t bear to listen.

In the Porsche, I passed The Arbutus as Avery walked out and her mouth dropped when she spotted me in the car. She pointed at me.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

The bookworm’s beaming smile flashed into my head and my throat knotted. Fuck.

Husband. Pregnant.

When I spoke with the agent on the phone, the agent had told me to plan to be away for most of the year. “Oh yeah,” she had said. “When you’re not competing or training, you’ll be doing work with sponsors. You should get a roommate or someone to watch your place.”

Hannah could move into my place while I was away. I could come home to her in my bed.

And expect her to wait for me? A couple times a year, drop my bags at the door and pull her to my chest, show her how much she meant to me before I left the next week?

Have her put her life on hold for me? Her life had been on hold for years. Finally, she was living for herself, taking big swings and going for what she wanted.

And I wanted to keep her here waiting for me, suspended in time like a butterfly under glass in a museum. My throat was a knot when I swallowed.

I couldn’t do that to her. She wanted true love. So I had to either let her go, or—

I almost drove off the road when the idea rose in my head.

She could come with me.

I had pictured it before, us laughing over chips and salsa at a made-up Mexican restaurant in Northern California. She could do a lot of her work online, like ordering, social media marketing, and payroll. She could hire help for the store.

She could come with me.

My mouth kicked up in a smile.

Tonight. I’d ask her tonight when I took her out on a date.

The house was quiet when I arrived. Hannah had texted me that she was going to stop by her place to get a few things, so I suggested I pick her up there. Even through text, I could tell the idea made her excited.

I had never been on a real date, I realized. I had met women at bars for drinks and had hookups, but never gone to the effort to take someone special out with the intention of making them happy.

The idea of making Hannah happy made my heart swell.

I showered, threw product in my hair, and put on a nice shirt. Emerald green, like the car. Maybe it was too matchy. Whatever. I looked good in this shirt, and I wanted to look good for Hannah.

I drove over to her place with my pulse in my ears. My fingers drummed a beat against the steering wheel in anticipation. It had been what, less than eight hours since I’d seen her? And already I couldn’t wait.

Head over fucking heels for her.

Something caught my eye in front of the corner store, and I pulled over and parked without thinking, heading back to the car a few minutes later with my purchase.

I pulled up in front of Hannah’s house, grabbed the flowers, and knocked on the door. I tensed and flexed my free hand at my side. This nervous simmer in my stomach was rare for me. I couldn’t remember the last night I felt jittery and excited like this.

Relax, I told myself. It’s Hannah.

She opened it and shot me that shy smile I loved so much. My heart rose into my throat.

She wore a sparkly gold dress that hit her mid-thigh. It had a V-neck with a little cleavage. Smooth, tanned skin. Freckles stood out on her face and her pretty eyes glowed with excitement. Her hair fell loose around her face, wavy from the water this morning.

I’d remember the look on her face until my dying breath. She was lit from within, radiant like a fucking goddess, chewing her lip with a hint of hesitation but her eyes danced, like she knew what she was doing to me.