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

by Stephanie Archer

When my mom was thirty, she had it all—a partner, me, a business she loved, and a great life. The store was hers, and my dad trusted me to run it. I couldn’t let them both down, even if she was gone. I had to find a way to turn the store around.

“Why do you want my copy of Pride and Prejudice?” she answered as soon as I called her back. “I want to read it.” She snorted. “Why?” “I’m curious about it.” I pictured Hannah’s eyes lighting up, talking about it. There must be something good in that book.

Wyatt wasn’t my type. Someone like Beck, he was my type. A handsome, kind man who read books and took an interest in things I liked.

“Why’d you do that? I thought you guys were friends.” He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. “I was jealous, okay? I’m jealous because he looks at you like he wants to fuck you.” His jaw ticked.

“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. He took another step toward me and I backed up, the backs of my knees hitting the bed. “Talking. About. What.” I threw my hands up. “You. Talking about you. Oh my god. You’re so pushy.” I rolled my eyes, acting like he annoyed me, when really, my heart raced, my skin tingled, and my nipples pinched hard. I had all this energy and nowhere for it to go. I put my hands on his chest to push him back a step but he grabbed my wrists and looked down at me.

“Jesus fucking Christ, bookworm, where’d you learn to kiss like this,” Wyatt groaned against my mouth in between kisses. “I thought about you all fucking night. All day. I was going insane, thinking about his hands on you.”

I felt the sharp sting of his hand on my butt before I registered the noise of the slap, and I could barely gasp before his hand smoothed over the fabric of my shorts.

“How am I supposed to control myself around you when you wear little shorts like this?” His hand slipped beneath the hem, over my bare skin, and I whimpered against his mouth. “I don’t want you to control yourself.”

“Hannah,” he gasped against my mouth. “You can’t do that.” “Sorry,” I whispered. “Didn’t mean to. Just felt so good.” “I know, baby, I know.”

“Because you need to know what you like by yourself before you can enjoy it with someone else.”

To have her look at me like she wanted me, it readjusted something in my chest and that piece wouldn’t go back to where it was before.

“Don’t practice with Beck.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. His gaze locked on mine. “You want to practice? You practice with me.”

It was so easy to rest my gaze on her. Like it belonged there. Like looking at her was healthy for my soul.

“What’s that?” “This,” he said, shaking the fabric out, “is where you’re going to spend the afternoon.” It was a hammock. After we selected two sturdy trees with a view of the water, Wyatt and I strung it up and he helped me climb in. “Lean forward for me,” he said in a low voice, pulling me forward gently in the hammock with a little smile before placing a pillow behind my head. He dropped a blanket over me and tucked it into my sides. “Comfy?”

Him taking care of me like I was something to be cherished made me never want to leave this campsite.

At one point I glanced over and he was sitting back in a camp chair, feet up on the cooler, reading one of the books I had brought with a lazy grin on his face. Like he was enjoying himself.

I saw him shirtless nearly every day, but seeing him chopping wood like this? So masculine, primal, sweaty, and so freaking gorgeous? I was lost. I got pulled under from how freaking gorgeous he was.

“It’s so quiet out here.” “Mhm.” He nodded, gaze on me. “No cell service. No background noise. Just quiet.”

“Hanging out with you on the water, it’s been the best summer of my life.”

“Do you like that?” My other hand came to her jaw. “Do you like it when I take control?” She nodded with a whimper and sucked on my tongue. Fuck. I was done. I was so done.

“I’m not going to tell you again, Hannah. Keep your eyes open while I fuck you with my fingers.”

You out there having fun without me, bookworm? I grinned at my phone. Yep. Sitting alone at the bar, like you taught me. Having the best time! Attagirl. Can’t wait to hear all about it.

“Because I liked the idea of it.” My brain skidded like it was slipping on ice. “But you…” I wasn’t sure how to word it. “Yeah, I know.” His teeth scored my skin and I sucked a breath in. “Just wanted you to know that.”

sure looks like what’s good for him is you.”

Tea is the least horny beverage.

he pulled my pink-socked feet into his lap. “Wyatt.” I raised an eyebrow. He cracked the book open to where my bookmark marked the page and cleared his throat. “Watching TV before bed isn’t good for sleep anyway.” And then he began to read my book out loud.

“Hand.” I held mine open on my stomach and he pressed his palm into mine.

Give it to me like a good girl. Come for me.”

“I’m falling for you, bookworm.” He whispered the words against the back of my head in the dark.

“Romance makes people happy. Things aren’t dumb because women like them.”

The idea of making Hannah happy made my heart swell.

“Miri, please stop interrogating my girlfriend.”

“I’m coming with you if the offer still stands. Wherever you go, I want to be there too, because I love you. And I’m in love with you. I lied when I said you were my practice guy.” Her face crumpled. “That was a terrible, terrible lie, and I said it because I wanted to make it sound like you didn’t mean anything but you do.” Her gaze lifted to me, pained and full of affection. “You mean everything to me. I want to be brave with you.” “You mean everything to me, bookworm.” My words were soft but immediate. Instinctive. “The offer still stands.”