Meant To Be Different

by Amelia Foster

  That would be a solution. A sure one. And easy as hell. His family had always supported his dreams even though they didn’t understand them. Even though his mother had still worried. Even though his own poor decisions had impacted them negatively at times.

  No. Not a solution. This was his project. His baby. He would dig up the money from somewhere that wasn’t attached to the Carlisle family name. Too much stubborn pride coursed through his veins for him to take that path.

  Sometimes that meant he had to bunk with three other guys in a dingy motel room because that was all he’d been able to afford. But he’d treasured his success so much more knowing that he had accomplished it all without his family’s money bailing him out.

  He didn’t mind picking Tanner’s business brain. Loathe as he was to admit it, his brother was a genius there and he’d be stupid not to tap into that wealth of knowledge, but financial backing? Hell to the no. And that was what he needed right now. What he’d been so certain he had plenty of.

  Wyatt pressed his lips together in a firm line and shook his head. “Just a few glitches I’ve got to figure out for the ranch and the competition. No big deal.”

  Never once had Wyatt envied Tanner’s life. Boardroom meetings, business trips, golf course networking lunches…none of that appealed to him in the slightest. But for the past year words like stability, consistency, and family waved in front of him like a red flag before a bull. Tempting him to barrel toward a new prize.

  Gigi represented every ounce of a future he had just begun to see in clear focus. One that was currently in danger of being ripped away before he’d ever realized it. How in the hell could he admit to Gigi that he was a failure?

  Tanner moved his hands to prop them on his hips, still covered by the black dress pants he’d worn to work today. “Listen, little brother, big or small, I can help you iron out whatever issues you’re having. It’s kind of my thing, you know. Making executive decisions, crunching numbers, sanding square pegs down so they fit in round holes.”

  “Yeah, that super, duper MBA is so impressive.”

  Tanner’s face brightened as his wife entered the room behind him, and he quickly snaked an arm around her waist. Wyatt had been so completely consumed in his own issues he hadn’t even heard the mechanism as the door opened. Despite the invisible mantle weighing down his shoulders, he grinned, never willing to miss an opportunity to irritate his brother.

  “Dammit, Iz, you manage to look hot as hell even after leading…how many of those yoga classes again?” Wyatt threw his sister-in-law a wink big enough Tanner couldn’t miss it, his smile widening at his brother’s rumbling growl. Easy. Tanner made it too damn easy.

  Izzy laughed along, well used to the game Wyatt played. “You might not want to say that too loud, Wyatt. There’s someone who—”

  Her words were stolen by Gigi’s abrupt entrance. “Sorry to interrupt, Tanner, but I think your brother has a bit of explaining to do.” She dipped her chin and pinned him with a stare that absolutely shouldn’t tighten his jeans but absolutely did. “For several things.”

  Izzy laced her fingers through her husband’s hand and tugged him toward the door. She shot Wyatt a meaningful glance before squeezing Gigi’s bicep. “In case I don’t see you again tonight, it was really nice finally meeting you, Georgia.”

  In less than the time it took Wyatt to inhale, Gigi’s entire face melted into a serene smile. “Thank you so much for understanding.”

  Dark eyes darted back and forth between them. “These Carlisle boys…they are something.” With that, she softly latched the door, and the room fell into an awkward silence.

  Damn, but Gigi was a sight for sore eyes. Every part of him wanted to unload the events of the day, but she’d been so proud that her “stupid freaking cowboy” had managed to pull together a cohesive business plan. How could he admit that he was on the cusp of disaster so soon?

  “Would you like to explain this?” She held her smart phone in her hand, his last text to her shining from the screen.

  He leaned against the bed post and crossed his ankles. “Well now, Angel, that’s called a text. Handy little communication tool to send a message from one person to another without actually speaking to them in case you’re catching them at a bad time.” He intentionally deepened his accent just to annoy her.

  She huffed out an exasperated breath. “While I appreciate your insight about digital communication, Cowboy, I’d prefer it if you could tell me why you suddenly decided you were going to be busy tonight.”

  His lids slowly met and parted, his mind racing with answers. Deflections. Half-truths. Her sparkling gaze cemented his decision. Withholding information in the name of protecting her had created a scenario that made truth necessary, even if it hurt. He couldn’t expect her to trust him again if he wasn’t completely transparent.

  “Can we go to your place?”

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and her gaze darted around the room. “I…Gram…” she sighed. “She’s been agitated lately. I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

  “I swear I won’t do anything to upset her. Hell, we can sit outside.”

  Gigi’s pinched expression softened and her lips parted. She closed the distance separating them emotionally just as much as she did physically when one hand landed on his shoulder and the other on his waist. “Is it that bad, Wyatt?”

  His arms enfolded around her, and he buried his face in the auburn curtain falling over her left shoulder. “I just…I need you right now.”

  Her grip tightened infinitesimally. “Do you have everything?”

  Silencing every cell in his body that screamed in protest at the loss, Wyatt freed her from his desperate embrace. He collected the papers strewn across his bed and stuffed them in his black backpack along with a change of clothes. There was no way in hell he was back here tonight. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “Let’s go, Angel.”

  ***

  Georgia

  “Please tell me we aren’t going to play the ‘everything’s fine’ game and go back and forth ad nauseum because I am tired, hungry, and just want to find out what crawled up your ass so we can move on to much more fun things.”

  Wyatt tilted his head back and barked out a laugh. “Damn, Gigi, don’t hold back.”

  Georgia kicked her heels off as she spoke and hung her blazer on the back of one of the stools around the periphery of the island in her kitchen. “Just…be quiet. Gram is sleeping and my dad won’t be home until late if she…” Her voice trailed off, unsure she wanted to bring Wyatt into this part of her life where anguish warred with stolen moments she treasured amidst the chaos of unexpected reactions from the older woman.

  She crossed the room, pausing just a moment before winding her arms around his waist. “One of the best parts of us was always a lack of bullshit. If two stupid teenagers could figure that out, I certainly hope that mature, educated, intelligent adults could carry on the tradition.”

  His blue eyes widened as he pulled her closer into the circle of his arms. “Did you just call me mature?”

  Not a single boyfriend that dotted her past managed to hold a candle to him in any way. It never was puppy love. She’d known for a long time that at sixteen she’d managed to capture lightning in a bottle for a brief period. The genuine heart buried beneath his rhinestone cowboy persona intertwined with his boundless compassion and undeterrable sense of humor to make Wyatt Carlisle one in a million.

  Although at this moment his lame jokes were about to deepen the hole he was digging. “Don’t make me take it back.” She gripped the cotton covering his back. “I mean it, Wyatt. Your misplaced protection is what landed you in the first vat of hot water that you somehow managed to drag yourself out of. I told you that you only get to play the whole ‘looking out for me’ card once. You did that when we were eighteen. Your hand is empty now, so you better fess up.”

  Lashes longer than any man deserved rested against his cheekbones as he sucked in a shaky br
eath. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he disentangled her hands from his shirt, pulling her toward the living room. “Let’s sit down, Angel.”

  Icy steel fingers of dread curled around Georgia’s stomach and held it in their iron grasp as they sat beside each other on the sofa. “Start talking, Cowboy. I don’t do well with anticipation.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up into a smirk, void of his normal arrogance. “Why, Gigi, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried.” A quick wink preceded the rapid sobering of his face. “It’s not about us, Angel, I promise. Don’t think…don’t think it’s anything like that.”

  The avalanche of fame-induced scandals that had been blanketing her mind calmed. Momentarily. “This…whatever this is, does it affect you? Does it hurt you?”

  He pulled her hands into his and held them on his knee. His nod was barely perceptible as he focused on the spot where their two beings joined into one.

  Georgia squeezed her fingers against his hard enough to bring his gaze up to meet hers. “Wyatt, no matter what else happened between us, we were friends.” She shot him a saucy grin. “That friendship just happens to have some amazing benefits now that we’re adults, but I still want to be your friend. Hell, besides Paige, you were my best friend at the worst time in my life.” She took a deep breath. “Even if we can’t be…exactly what we were, can’t we at least be that?”

  His answering silence did nothing to lessen her unease. Maybe the whole sex only thing was sounding better and better to him than he let on.

  “I want us more than I’ve wanted anything.”

  His words slammed into her with the strength of hurricane force winds. “Us can’t happen.” She ran her thumb along the back of his hand. “But I’d like to be your friend again.”

  “You’re the reason I came home, Angel. Don’t ever doubt that.” Wyatt’s hand left hers and gripped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her auburn hair. His forehead fell against hers. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll work my ass off for another shot at us.”

  She scooted closer to him, their knees bumping against each other. “If you want me to trust you, let’s start with telling me what in the ever-loving hell is going on.”

  “This first,” he murmured seconds before his mouth met hers and clung. The passion-induced desperation that normally drove their every encounter was replaced with a tender kiss that whispered all the words neither was willing to speak out loud. His lips massaged hers gently, reverently.

  When oxygen deprivation pulled them apart, the haunted look in his eyes sent a fresh slice of pain through her heart. “Tell me, Wyatt.”

  “I let you down, Gigi.” His hands fell from her body, intensifying the chill his words had created.

  He stood and paced the length of the living room, pausing occasionally to take his hat off and run his fingers through his hair before setting it back on his head. Georgia silenced the screams in her head that he needed to just spit it out before he drove her to insanity.

  Less than a second separated his deep sigh and his heavy proclamation. “The truth is, I don’t really know what’s wrong. The consultant working on helping with the launch of RA Ranch and the competition sent me a message while I was at your office that there was a problem with the timeline for the grand opening.” He locked his fingers behind his neck and drew his brows together. “There was…something. A miscalculation? An unexpected expense? I don’t know right now, but the ending is the same. I’m short. By a lot.”

  Georgia shook her head, trying to process the information. “You mean money? Wyatt, I saw your financials. You had everything accounted for with extra built in to allow for any incidentals. I meant it when I said that your business plan was brilliant—”

  “It’s not.” He put his hands on his hips, his face mottled with fury. “It’s not a brilliant plan, and I clearly didn’t account for any issues because I only have enough money to finish the outbuildings and maybe, if I’m lucky, the house. I’ll never be able to finish the spectator area or the eating section or…” Wyatt closed his eyes, and every bit of swagger and strength melted from his body. “There isn’t gonna be a rodeo.”

  Georgia refused to accept that was a possibility. There had to be a solution. An answer. Something they could figure out together. Her mind raced with different avenues they could explore when the heavy thuds of Wyatt’s footsteps crossing her hardwood floor broke through. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  He paused with his hand on the doorknob, lips downward in a slight frown. “You were right, Gigi. I’m a stupid freaking cowboy, and I was delusional to think I could do anything this big. Sorry I dragged you into my mess. Again.”

  The soft click of the door closing behind him was a gunshot to her heart, and Georgia jumped in response. A single tear ran down her cheek, the anguish Wyatt was dealing with so real and palpable in her own soul. He was watching his dream slip away without a clear answer as to why, and his damned stubborn nature meant he was going through it alone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Georgia

  Twelve Years Earlier

  “So what kind of dramatic scene did Wyatt create to ask you to the Sweetheart Dance?”

  The girl who shared locker space beside Georgia had somehow turned into her best friend. Only one, really. All the promises from kids back home had fallen apart a couple of months after she moved. And, largely by Georgia’s own design, she hadn’t found anything more than a low level of tolerance from the kids in North Carolina. Something she suspected only happened because she was dating the great Wyatt Carlisle.

  But it didn’t stop her from sticking her tongue out at Paige’s faux dreamy tone. “If you want to make fun of Wyatt, well, you know I’m on board there, but couldn’t you come up with something better than ‘Sweetheart Dance?’ I mean, that sounds like something you’d see on one of those black and white movies my grandparents love.”

  Paige closed her locker door and absently twirled a strawberry blonde curl around her index finger. “First of all, after his stunt at Christmas? Yeah, I totally would’ve expected something big.” She blew a bubble of her bright pink gum and then sucked it back in her mouth. “Second, do you even go to the same school as I do? There have been posters up since we got back from break and nearly daily announcements about buying tickets.”

  Georgia was thankful for the pale makeup that could camouflage her flaming cheeks. She pointedly ignored anything that she thought would be meant to incite school spirit, which definitely included all the colorful banners and announcements lining the halls. Most mornings she kept her earbuds in, blaring music from her mp3 player to silence the “rah-rah, go team” hype pouring from the speakers in the class.

  But the fact the first time she was hearing about what was certain to be a ridiculous showing of teenage stupidity from her best friend rather than her boyfriend was annoying. Frustrating. And maybe just a tiny bit painful.

  Didn’t he want to go with her? There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d actually say yes. It sounded like pure torture, but…he never even asked.

  Paige poked an elbow in Georgia’s ribs. “Come on, you can tell me. Let me live vicariously through you. Was there a trail of rose petals? Did he have on a white Stetson and get down on one knee and sing some ridiculous old school country song that he changed the wording of to fit the dance?”

  The angst gnawing at her gut turned what the lunchroom called a breaded “chicken” sandwich, bringing it precariously close to making a dramatic exit. “He didn’t ask me.”

  An increasing throng of students rushing to the final class of the day stole the words she barely managed to whisper.

  Her friend leaned in closer, squinting. “What’d you say, Georgia?”

  She refused to cry. Not here, not now, and certainly not with any prying eyes around. Not even Paige. “I said he didn’t ask me. Not in a romantic way. Not in a boring way. In no way at all. I didn’t even know there was a hell on earth celebr
ation called the Sweetheart Dance until you mentioned it.”

  The other girl’s mouth fell open, and she tugged on her hair, chewing her gum with a nearly annoying fervor. “Shit, I’m sorry, Georgia. I just figured…” She lifted a shoulder and waved a hand helplessly. “I mean, he’s been like this ridiculous boyfriend doing all the stuff you’d read about in some sappy, far-fetched novel. I thought for sure he’d jump on this and surprise you with something amazing and special and…Wyatt.”

  Or at least made me aware this thing even existed. Georgia couldn’t admit, even to herself, that a larger part of her than she liked wanted to go. She wanted to have that sappy teen romance movie moment where she showed up at the dance and surprised everyone by looking totally different. And an even bigger part wanted to do that on Wyatt’s arm.

  “Well, screw him.”

  Paige’s words found a way to penetrate her mind through the myriad of emotions blanketing her psyche, and Georgia’s head snapped up. “What?”

  Her friend spun her around, urging her toward their final class of the day before the bell sounded and they both wound up in trouble. “I said, ‘Screw him.’ If he wants to play the stupid boy card, then we’re gonna play the badass girls one. We can go to the dance together.”

  In spite of the nausea still causing her abdomen to clench and cramp, Georgia laughed. Just outside of the classroom door, she turned on the thick heel of her boots and threw an arm around the other girl’s shoulders. “You might just be the best friend that ever existed.”

  When Georgia finally released her, Paige cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, I guess to be fair you probably should talk to him first.” She thinned her lips and held up an index finger between them. “But if he does anything other than an appropriate level of groveling and begging, we’re just gonna flip him off and go solo. But, ya know, solo together.”