Falling for Mister Wrong

by Lizzie Shane

  You were amazing. Encore tonight? XO Will.

  It was simple, no overflowing outpouring of romance, but it still made her heart race. And yes, he’d just signed it with a “kiss” but she was already feeling the dizzy potential for the L word.

  Not that she was going to rush into saying it. She’d learned her lesson about rushing into things with Daniel. She had all the time in the world with Will. They weren’t on a nationally televised commitment schedule. They could take their time, enjoy one another, learn one another, and if she was falling head over heels for him… well, she could take her sweet time about telling anyone that.

  She couldn’t tell anyone about him until the show ended anyway. Just a few more weeks now and she’d be free. Free to be with Will and shout it from the rooftops. No more paparazzi. No more talk of LA or comebacks. Just skiing and playing the piano and Tuller Springs.

  Heaven.

  Caitlyn bounced out of bed, tied on her short green Chinese silk robe, and scrambled down the steps. Will—prince among men—had tidied up their nest already and left another note on the café table, along with a cooling to-go cup from Java Hut and a paper bag she found held one of their giant chocolate croissants. She flipped open the second note.

  No expense spared on chocolate in this house. If you haven’t had Java Hut’s choco-croissants, you haven’t lived. And after last night’s acrobatics I figured you could use the fuel. XO Will.

  She sat at the table, eating her croissant, drinking her lukewarm coffee and gazing out at the mountain, wondering which of the little figures zipping down the slopes was Will.

  This was it. The life she’d always wanted. Right here in front of her. Now she just had to hold onto it.

  “Will.”

  He looked up, expecting to find his four o’clock private lesson and instead found Tria standing next to the giant ski school sign, both arms wrapped tight around herself, either out of her nerves or an attempt to keep herself warm. Her blonde hair was still pixie short, just the edges of it sticking out from beneath her bright red hat. She hadn’t changed.

  He’d expected the sight of her to hit him hard. He’d managed not to lay eyes on her in the last seven months—no small feat in a town the size of Tuller Springs. He’d thought his heart would leap or ache or something when he saw her again, but there was no melodramatic reaction from the organ in his chest.

  “I’m working, Tria.”

  “I know and I wouldn’t be here, but you won’t take my calls.”

  “Because we’re supposed to be communicating through our lawyers. Anything you have to say to me you can say through them.”

  “This isn’t about the money,” she snapped, and it was the uncharacteristic sharpness that caught his attention. “I convinced Andy to sell the house.”

  It may have been the first time since The Wedding That Wasn’t that it hadn’t been “we” between her and Andy.

  “Our real estate agent says the market has dipped and we’re going to take a loss and when she starts talking about equity I have no idea what she’s talking about. I’m not sure where we’re going to find the money, but we’ll pay you back. We’ll do all that. But I need you to forgive Andy.”

  The bark of harsh laughter burst out of his mouth.

  Tria’s expression turned pleading. “He misses you, Will. You guys have been best friends since you were eight. He loves you. We both do.”

  “Then maybe you should have thought of that.”

  “Do you think this was easy for us? Do you think I just woke up one day and thought, Hey, I think I’ll break Will’s heart?”

  “You aren’t actually trying to make me feel sorry for you because cheating on me with my best friend was so hard on the two of you, are you?”

  Her anger deflated. “No. I just want you to stop hating him. Hate me if you want. I deserve it. But Andy’s having a really hard time. I tried giving you time to cool off. I thought eventually you’d come around on your own, but now…”

  He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t. But… “What happened?”

  Tria grimaced. “He messed up his knee again at a competition last week. He’s out for the season. Thank God he had insurance this time.”

  Will scrubbed a hand across his face. “He’s an idiot.”

  But that wasn’t new. He and Andy had been inseparable since they were eight years old. Both addicted to the rush of fresh powder and both resisting the siren call of snowboards when all of their friends had begun switching over. Will had preferred Alpine events, the few times he’d competed, but Andy had gone nuts for moguls.

  Andy had skipped college, choosing instead to try his skis on the competitive circuit. He’d been good—and he’d always considered himself too good to lower himself to teaching—but he hadn’t been good enough to win the cash purses and sponsorship money to really be able to support himself as a pro athlete. He’d been nineteen when he blew out his knee for the first time and he’d never come back all the way after that, though to hear him talk the next season was always the one where he was going to dominate. Andy was a big talker. And a big dreamer. It had always been part of his charm, even when Will wanted to shake some sense into him.

  “He’s Andy,” Tria said with a shrug.

  “I always thought you had more sense than to fall for his bullshit,” he heard himself saying.

  Only when shock played briefly over her face did he realize it was the first time he’d even implied a question about why or how she and Andy had gotten together.

  “He’s a child,” she acknowledged cautiously. “I know that. But I love him.”

  “And you didn’t love me.”

  “Of course I did. I do. Just not the way I love him.” She wrapped her arms tight around her middle again, her breath fogging the air, but he had stopped feeling the cold—he was iced from the inside out. “I couldn’t marry you. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”

  Fair. As if she had ever cared about fair. As if agreeing to marry him when she had feelings for Andy in the first place—even if she hadn’t known they were reciprocated—was fair. As if waiting until he’d bought her a freaking house to tell him that she was having second thoughts was fair.

  His face must have shown some of his thoughts, because she stepped forward. “Will…”

  A woman wearing rental skis made her way awkwardly toward the Ski School sign. “I have a lesson to teach.”

  “But Andy—”

  “He’s your problem now.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Caitlyn’s last lesson finished up at six-thirty. Barely five minutes later, a knock sounded on her door and her heart rate went from allegro to vivace. Will.

  She all but danced over to the door, flinging it open.

  “Surprise!”

  Holy Hadyn.

  “Daniel.”

  He reached for her and she stumbled back, dodging his embrace, which he took as an invitation to enter her apartment.

  “You can’t be here! What if someone sees you—”

  “It’s all good,” he beamed. “The network arranged it. We were supposed to have our getaway next weekend anyway, but I pulled some strings and convinced them that it would be better for us to have a quiet weekend in. Just the two of us, here in good old Tuller Springs. I know how upset you were on our last call that I hadn’t seen where you live.”

  “That wasn’t why I was upset.”

  He waved his hand in a close enough gesture, turning to survey her apartment. “This is cute. Very rustic with all the wood. I can see why you like it so much, sweetheart. It’s so homey.”

  Caitlyn couldn’t seem to get her brain working at a proper speed. Her ex-fiancé had just shown up at her apartment, thought he was staying the weekend, didn’t seem to think he was an ex, and her new... whatever Will was… would be here any minute since she’d sent him a text earlier agreeing to the encore he’d suggested in his note this morning.

  Daniel seemed to have completed his survey of the apar
tment and turned to her, extending his arms. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you in person.”

  Caitlyn backed away from his approach. “Daniel, we broke up.” And I had wild no holds barred sex with someone else.

  He dropped his arms, but his smile stayed determined. “You wanted to take a break. I get that.”

  “I don’t think you do, because I don’t want a break. I want a break-up. I want out, Daniel. No more wedding. No more us.”

  His smile faltered. “You don’t mean that.”

  And as soon as he wasn’t smiling, guilt surged. “I’m sorry, but I really do.”

  “Why?” he asked, more peeved than heartbroken. “The least you owe me is an explanation.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but if she knew one thing about Daniel it was that explanations were invitations for him to argue himself into getting his way—usually when you didn’t even realize you were arguing. Sometimes it felt like the only thing she did know about him was how persuasive he could be. Maybe she could start there.

  “We got engaged too quickly. You don’t know me and I certainly don’t know you. I don’t even know which Bond you most like.”

  “I think I know you better than you think,” he argued, “and we owe it to ourselves to give this a shot. Our compatibility tests were off the charts. And James Bond? No problem! I’m most like Daniel Craig in looks—there aren’t many blond Bonds—but I think I have more of Sean Connery’s attitude—”

  “Oh Christ. I didn’t mean which one you are most like. Which one you like the most. Do you even hear yourself?”

  “Give me a break, Caitlyn, I just misheard you. I’m not perfect, no matter what they call me.”

  No, you just think you are. “Why do you want to marry me, Daniel?”

  “I love you.”

  Somehow she managed not to yell you don’t even know who I am! “And Marcy? Did you love her?” He’d certainly professed his undying love to her on national television in the last season, even bursting into tears when she’d broken it off with him. He wasn’t crying now. But then, she might not have been the one he really wanted. “What about Elena?”

  His earnest, persuasive expression faltered. “Okay, I know the stuff with Elena looked bad and the press coverage of our love life hasn’t exactly made things easier, but we knew this was going to be the most difficult part going in. If we could just get past this, it’s going to be good for us in the end.”

  “How?”

  He blinked, taken aback by her outburst. “It’s necessary. For the show.”

  “Oh, I get that. I see how making our lives a sideshow raises ratings. What I don’t see is how you running around devoting all your time to publicity is good for us.”

  “The show—”

  “Will you shut up about the damn show! I am not the show. You keep saying it’s good and it’s necessary for the show, like that’s supposed to make me feel better, as if what’s good for the ratings is automatically good for us. How? How do a few extra viewers do us a single bit of good?”

  “Caitlyn, sweetheart, I realize you’re upset—”

  “Answer the question, Daniel. How? Is it all about making you a bigger celebrity?”

  “Both of our careers can benefit—”

  “God, you haven’t been listening at all, have you?” She flung up her hands, almost feeling strange that there were no cameras rushing in to capture her histrionics. This was Daniel. There were always cameras when there was drama around Daniel. “I don’t want to be a celebrity. I don’t want the kind of career that benefits from notoriety. I don’t care how many people watch us or talk about us. I went on the show to find love. I was looking for you, or who I thought you were, and it’s become increasingly clear to me that you can’t say the same.”

  His face was blank with shock. “Caitlyn.”

  “Do you know what I saw on the last episode? It wasn’t you. It was me. I know that girl I became on the dates with you. I recognized the woman with the slightly glazed expression in the designer clothes. That was who I was when I was performing, making excuses for my unhappiness, telling myself it was just jitters or nerves or the price I had to pay for my art, when really I was miserable and letting other people tell me what I wanted out of life. I let you tell me what I wanted, Daniel, and I shouldn’t have done that. I am twice the idiot for letting it happen again, but I fought too hard to get away from that trap last time and I’m not going to let myself fall back into it with you.”

  “Caitlyn, whatever you want—”

  “Stay right there.” She climbed the stairs to the loft, using her hands for balance as she scrambled up them. The Rock of Ages was right where she’d left it, tucked in the back of her nightstand. She popped the box open and looked at it one last time, searching for a sliver of doubt, but she didn’t feel a single shred of regret. It was time to get rid of the damn thing.

  She snapped the box shut, climbed down, and walked over to Daniel. Taking his hand, she put the ring box into it and pushed his fingers into a fist over it. He looked so confused she felt horrible… but the relief that it was really, officially over was so immense her guilt couldn’t touch it.

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, but I’m positive it isn’t me. I’m sorry, Daniel.”

  She almost said she should have said no when he proposed, but that would have embarrassed him on national television and she didn’t think she could have done that to him. She could have told him as soon as the cameras stopped rolling, but she hadn’t been sure. Once it was done, it was so much harder to undo. Part of her wished she’d left early like Sidney had, leaving the field open for Samantha and Elena, but there had never been a moment when she thought No, this is the wrong guy for me. Not until she was home with his ring on her finger, weighing her down like an anvil.

  “You’ll reconsider,” he said softly. No one had powers of denial like Daniel. “Take all the time you need to think about things. When you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure. And I think you should go.”

  He didn’t resist when she guided him to the door. The network would have arranged transportation for him, but she asked anyway. “Do you need a ride anywhere?”

  “No. No, I’m good.”

  And then the man she had once agreed to marry walked out of her life. She would see him again at the reunion show, but the fairy tale was over.

  Thank God.

  Caitlyn closed the door and pressed a palm flat against it. She could have handled that better. She could have been kinder. Gentler. She’d lost her temper when he’d kept trying to talk her into agreeing with him without ever listening to her. But she doubted there was ever a good way to break up with someone. The best that could be said was that it was done. They were done.

  A whisper of sound drifted up from the apartment below. The deck door opening. She’d never heard Will moving around down there in the past, but she’d never had reason to listen either. Now she was attuned to every subtle creak and thud. He’d be taking off his gear, stripping down and jumping in the shower to warm up and wash off the sweat of the day.

  The image of him in the shower, warm water running in rivulets down the muscles she’d familiarized herself with last night, made her breath quicken with anticipation. How long before he dried himself off and came up here to kiss her senseless?

  And what was stopping her from going down there and kissing him senseless? He wasn’t Mister Perfect, picking between a bevy of Suitorettes and always the one in control. Caitlyn could take the initiative too.

  Do what feels right. It won’t be the wrong thing.

  For once she trusted that was the truth. With him.

  Caitlyn darted out of her apartment before she could lose her nerve. Her feet were light on the stairs, her knock a rapid staccato to match her racing heart. She rocked anxiously from foot to foot. Do what feels right. Do what feels right.

  The door swung open and she did what felt right. Up on her toes, one hand behind his neck, drawing him down as she stret
ched up, lips to lips, then a rapid accelerando, a rush of lust and momentum. His arms came around her and he lifted her against him, giving her a better angle on the kiss, though he broke it to murmur, “Hello, there.”

  “I missed you.” She framed his face with her hands, bringing their mouths back together for that perfect resonating chord of want that only he seemed to be able to strike.

  He didn’t bother trying to speak again, backing into his apartment, her feet dangling off the floor as he carried her pressed against his chest. She had only the vaguest sense of his apartment—smaller than hers and darker, like he’d said, but none of that mattered when they fell onto the luxurious softness of his duvet.

  He was still wearing the T-shirt and jeans he wore under his snow gear when he taught. He hadn’t instantly stripped down as she’d envisioned. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered as soon as he laid her on the bed. “I haven’t seen you naked in hours.”

  He laughed, obediently tugging off his shirt. “I think I like this new aggressive side of you.”

  So do I. She’d never seduced anyone before, or been the aggressor in any sort of sexual sense. She’d never felt like she could, but this was Will. And with Will everything seemed possible. Even being aggressive and naughty. She unbuttoned her own blouse, reveling in the way his eyes locked onto her fingers. “Why are you still wearing your pants?” she purred.

  “Just slow I guess.” Then he stripped them down his legs and he was naked and oh my, she had a feeling being the aggressive seductress was going to be very, very good.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  For the next two weeks, Caitlyn had to resist the urge to pinch herself. Every moment the show had tried to force and fabricate with Daniel seemed to happen naturally with Will. He was funny, spontaneous, and romantic, turning even the most ordinary moments into so much more. The evening he’d found her in the chalet’s shared laundry and boosted her up on the machine… She’d never think of the spin cycle the same way again.

  It wasn’t all sex either—though she had no complaints in that department. He seemed to have an instinctive awareness of when the media speculation and increasing tide of reporters and lookie-loos into Tuller Springs were getting to her. He’d traded shifts again one Saturday to steal her away for another directionless drive. Playing life by ear, he’d said, and she’d slipped off her shoes, tucked her feet beneath her on the passenger seat, and felt all the cares of the world falling farther and farther behind as their little bubble of contentment rolled down the highway.