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

by Stephanie Archer

“I’ve always wanted to visit Sydney. I’ve heard the food is incredible.” “It’s like Vancouver but warmer, and the people are much friendlier. I fell in love several times while I was there.”

I cleared my throat and set the book back on the pile. “Something I can help you with?” “I’m here for the orc erotica.”

He snorted and I wanted to sink into this ugly carpet from the nineties. “Well, in that case, I’ll be going.” He turned and headed to the door, his network of back muscles moving as he walked. “Let me know if you find any chest hairs, I’ll come get them.”

“Quiet little Hannah is going around town asking for sex.” She choked and her face was so red, it could burst into flames. “I am not going around town asking for sex. I need your help with something.” I nodded. “Sex.”

Her head whipped around in frustration. “No! Nothing to do with sex. Or, not sex with you.” She shook her head. “Forget the sex part. I need your help with…” She bit her lip, and I raised an eyebrow. “I need your help with becoming⁠—” “A surfer.” “No—” “A homeowner.” This game was fun. “No—” “You want to travel more.” She hesitated. “Yes, but no.” “You want to enjoy your life, take it one day at a time, fully accept we’re insignificant compared to the power of the universe, and that we should enjoy every second of our lives without guilt or attachment.” Something shifted in her gaze and she chewed her lip. Her eyes met mine. I had always thought her eyes were blue but there were shades of green in them, too. “Sort of.”

She stopped short when she came around the corner and saw me. She reared back. “What are you doing here?” I snorted. “Now that’s customer service. ‘Welcome to Pemberley Books. What are you doing here?’”

“Again, what are you doing here? Do you need me to teach you how to read?” I burst out laughing. “You’re kind of mean for a shy girl.” Her eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I know you can read.”

Don’s mouth made an O. “Oh, Hannah. I’m married.” “Right,” she managed. “Married.” Her face burned, and the red flush crept down her neck to her collarbone. Don shook his head at her with pity. “Oh, honey. You’ll find someone.” He reached into his bag. “Take a can of beans.” She put her hands up. “No, that’s okay⁠—” “Please, I insist.” He pushed the can into her hands and shot her another wince. “I’m so sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression about us.” Hannah made a strangled noise in her throat. I tilted my chin at him, still smiling. “See you later, Don.”

“Hey, Div,” I called as he passed. “Hannah wants to ask you something.” Div raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to ask me out, too?” Hannah nodded, shoulders sinking. “Max told you.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “You’re right. But what about someone like Beck? If I wanted to hook up with him, how would I make that known?” The grin dropped off Wyatt’s face. “We should order.” He turned to the person running the truck and ordered a breakfast sandwich before turning to me. “Do you want the same?”

Huh. She must really want to find someone. Something weird twisted in my stomach but I focused on Hannah paddling as the wave rolled past me and caught up with her.

“Hand me your leash, would you?” I held my hand out and she undid the velcro around her ankle before tossing it to me. I fastened it around my ankle. Now she wouldn’t float away from me. “How are your feet?” She hoisted herself up on her board and wobbled into a seated position, cross-legged, before wiggling her toes. “Pretty cold but they’ll warm up out of the water.” She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun. She sighed. My throat felt tight.

But Beck. A noise came out of my throat, frustration and disapproval. Beck would be all over Hannah. What if he went too fast? What if he pushed her and she didn’t want to? What if he was selfish? My fists clenched when I thought about him touching her, his hands on her waist or in her hair. I pictured them tangled together in bed and my jaw tensed. Wrong. That was all wrong.

The idea of other people, people like Beck, seeing Hannah naked was past my comfort zone.

The day was already warm and there were a few advanced surfers behind the break, out in the bigger waves, but just Hannah and me closer to shore, the way I preferred it. Just her and me.

Her fingers dipped in the water. “Um. When I hooked up with that guy back in school, it—” She made a noise, a mix of anguish and frustration. “It didn’t hurt, exactly⁠—” Rage. Yep. That was what this feeling was. Pure, white-hot rage rattled through my veins. Someone touched Hannah and they⁠— “It wasn’t the magical experience that I always read about in books.” She covered her face with her hands. “Okay, I’m going to go die now. My funeral is next week. Please bring flowers.” I was going to ask this guy’s name, find him, and then beat the shit out of him.

I wanted to murder this guy. This fucking guy who didn’t know what he was doing put his grubby little hands all over my Hannah and made her uncomfortable. He ruined an experience for her that should have been amazing. He should have rocked her world and instead, he made her not like sex.

“I know, baby, I know.” He chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, leaning his forehead against mine once again.

Saying goodbye to all of this was going to hurt. Surfing the cold waters, the mountains, the forests, my little house on the beach. Hannah.

“More hockey player romances?” I shrugged. “People love them.” Liya studied the shirtless man on the cover. “I can see the appeal.” I snorted. “Pervert.” “You’re a pervert, too.” Her shoulder shook with laughter. “We’re both perverts,” I agreed before gesturing around at the store. “Two perverts working in a store with perverted books. My dream come true.”

“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.

My core clenched around nothing and I nodded. He dropped another quick kiss on my mouth before straightening up and walking back out the front door of the restaurant while I watched, stunned.

“I hope your date told you how gorgeous you looked.” Pink washed over her cheeks and she grinned harder. “My date was lovely. I even got lucky.”

The thought of Hannah finding someone—someone who’d be sitting across from her at The Arbutus, someone who’d get to touch her hair and kiss her and make her smile like that—it made me sick. It made me feel like something had been taken from me.

I know, baby, I know. I heard his words again in my head and I shivered.

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. And I was very, very wet. “Are you serious?” I whispered under my breath.

“You’re living life for yourself. You’re starting to be willing to fail. Your mom wouldn’t want you to be her clone. She’d want you to do whatever made you happy, whether that’s working in the bookstore or falling face first off your board or eating a huge bowl of pasta, sitting by yourself in a restaurant, looking fucking beautiful.”

I knew this feeling, too. Kissing Hannah was wading into the water every morning. Her mouth both gave me relief and turned up my need for more.

You’re so fucking beautiful, Hannah. I’ve always thought that.” His voice was a caress against my skin and I reached down blindly. His hand met mine.

“False alarm, everyone. There’s no one in distress,” he announced to the group in a loud, booming voice. “It was Hannah Nielsen and Wyatt Rhodes fooling around.”

Let every guy in town know to stay the fuck away from Hannah because she was mine. Mine? The thought jolted through me. Mine. Of course she was mine.

I nodded and sat quietly, reading the form while my mind raced. Hannah. Concussion. Hannah. Hurt. Husband. Hannah. Wife. Hannah. Pregnant.

Empathy flickered in my chest for the guy. He was my friend, and a good guy. Except for the whole hitting-on-Hannah thing. Hannah was mine. He could find someone else, and I hoped he would.

She held the bottle out to Avery. “Top up?” Avery nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I’m not working tomorrow.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrow at me with a glimmer in her eyes. “No more for you, my dear, or my previously laid-back son will have my head.” She wiggled her eyebrows with delight, like she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more.

He shrugged and kissed my neck again. “Don’t know. And I didn’t correct her.” “Does Beck think I’m pregnant?” I whispered the last word. “I corrected the nurse about that. But not about the other part.” “The wife part.” “Mhm.” Another soft kiss on my skin. “Why not?” My heart thumped against the front wall of my chest. His voice was low in my ear. “Because I liked the

“I’m falling for you, bookworm.” He whispered the words against the back of my head in the dark. Alarm spiked in my brain. Those words were all I wanted to hear, so why was my chest tight? “I’m falling for you, too.” I swallowed hard at the half-truth. I wasn’t falling for Wyatt. I was in it. I was in love with him. The thought of him leaving⁠— “What are we going to do?” I breathed. “I don’t know.”

I woke up a few mornings later with a smile on my face, Hannah in my arms, and the sun streaming into the bedroom. And I thought surfing was heaven. She was still sleeping, curled up against me, her chest rising and falling softly,

“I’m going to open up the store,” she told me as we stepped inside the house. I started to protest but she held up a hand. “If my head hurts, I’ll come home. I promise.” I nodded, my mouth set in a firm line. She had referred to my place as home, and that might have been the only reason I let it go.

“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’d thought about us married, about her pregnant. That I was falling for her.

My breath caught in my chest. Head over fucking heels indeed.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He leaned forward on his elbows, his voice low.

“Miri, please stop interrogating my girlfriend.” Wyatt towered over the table with two new salt-rimmed drinks and a smirk. Girlfriend? My stomach rolled forward.

I nodded, smiling wider. “I am. It’s the dress.” I gestured down at it, the sequins catching and reflecting the light. “It makes me bolder.” “It makes you fucking radiant,” he bit out, a hungry look passing through his eyes.

As I passed, he pulled me down and gave me a hard kiss in front of everyone. The table of women beside us lost their minds and I flushed with pride. Wyatt was mine, even if it was just for now.

“You want to go home?” I nodded. Home. When he said it like that, it hit me right in the heart. Wyatt’s house was home and I had been there a week. How could I go back to my place now?

These past few months, I had grown, but I had also grown around him. Not far from town, there was a forest trail where someone left a bike against a tree decades ago, and the tree had grown around it. They were one now. There was no cutting them apart without destroying the bike or killing the tree. My heart clutched hard. That was like Wyatt and me. He was part of me now.

“I love it when you use my mouth like you own it,” I whispered. His arousal pulsed between my legs and I moaned into his mouth. He broke our kiss and leaned back to look at me with dark eyes. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, like mine. “I take care of what’s mine.”

“This is for being brave tonight and going up on stage. Do you know how fucking proud you made me up there, baby?”

“This is for making me fall head over fucking heels for you.”

“You’re already mine. Do you need a reminder?”