Mr. Wrong Number (Mr. Wrong Number, #1)

by Lynn Painter

Mr. Wrong Number: Well, good night, then, Miss Misdial. Me: Good night to you, Mr. Wrong Number.

Roommate Colin was cockily attractive, but Smart-Businessman Colin was downright delicious.

Seriously? He was flexing his hand like he was Mr. Darcy at freaking Netherfield?

Today she was wearing a white sundress with a pair of Chuck Taylors, which was a ridiculous combination but so incredibly Olivia that it looked good on her. The dress hit her in all the good spots, and she did the bun-in-hair, glasses-on-nose combo that I pretty much always appreciated. Yeah, I definitely had perverted librarian issues.

The smell of her perfume, the green hue of her eyes, the tilt of her pink mouth; it all worked together to destroy me.

I plugged my phone into the charger and shut off the light. Screw him, too. Boys sucked.

I hadn’t expected her to be at the Marshall breakfast—she never went—and something about the way she’d looked at me while inhaling soggy pancakes messed with my head. It was almost like I missed her, and that wasn’t remotely okay.

“So you and Olivia . . . ?” I nodded, hating myself. Jack touched the front of his tousled hair. “Dammit, Beck, I think you fucked up my hair.”

And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. It was that I couldn’t. I could not do this.

She bit down hard on my bottom lip and I grunted and wondered when I’d become so in tune with Olivia. And not just in tune, but obsessed with her responses.

There was something about the way he noticed little things—my missing tights, how early I liked to eat dinner—that made me feel like I mattered to him. Even if only temporarily.

“You want to stop the elevator?” I looked into his eyes, and he looked disoriented and disheveled and absolutely delicious. I just nodded. Which made his nostrils flare and his eyes ignite. And then the damned elevator dinged.

“You’re dressed like a douchebag on the prowl.

“Oh, my God, you are so adorable I want to pinch your fucking cheeks. Look at you, all insecure about the ex.” “I’m not insecure about the ex, you shit. I’m just curious.” “Sure. Okay.” He did his stupid little half smile, clearly not believing me. “No one really knows what happened with that dude. She met him right after she moved to Chicago and fell madly in love, full-bore Olivia-style. Moved in with him like three months after they started dating.” I hated Eli.

She was funny, messy, clumsy, smart, and the sexiest human I’d ever met.

For some reason, I found his friendship with his sister adorable.

My fingers grasped his, squeezing, as he proceeded to completely obliterate any remaining doubts I had that I was madly in love with him.

“I love you.” Everything went quiet in the world as his words crashed into me. “What?” He swallowed again, his throat moving hard before he said, “I love you. I know I screwed everything up and I know we were going to keep it casual, but I somehow fell in love with you. I can’t believe it myself, but in spite of our lifetime of hatred for each other, I am completely lost without you in my life.”

“I keep telling Mr. Wrong Number I don’t need him anymore but he just won’t let me go.” He tossed his phone beside mine and rolled on top of me. “Can you blame him? When you find your perfect Misdial, you can’t let her go.” I felt his words pulse through my veins like thick honey. I whispered, “I love you, Mr. Wrong Number.” Colin kissed the tip of my nose. “I love you, too, Miss Misdial.”