Wrong Number, Right Woman

by Jae

  Table of Contents

  Other Books by Jae

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Other Books from Ylva Publishing

  About Jae

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  www.ylva-publishing.com

  Other Books by Jae

  Happily Ever After

  Standalone Romances:

  The Roommate Arrangement

  Paper Love

  Just for Show

  Falling Hard

  Heart Trouble

  Under a Falling Star

  Something in the Wine

  Shaken to the Core

  Fair Oaks Series:

  Perfect Rhythm

  Not the Marrying Kind

  The Hollywood Series:

  Departure from the Script

  Damage Control

  Just Physical

  The Hollywood Collection (box set)

  Portland Police Bureau Series:

  Conflict of Interest

  Next of Kin

  The Vampire Diet Series:

  Good Enough to Eat

  The Oregon Series:

  Backwards to Oregon

  Beyond the Trail

  Hidden Truths

  The Complete Oregon series (box set)

  The Shape-Shifter Series:

  Second Nature

  Natural Family Disasters

  Manhattan Moon

  True Nature

  Acknowledgments

  A huge shout-out to my wonderful team of beta readers. Some have been working with me for years, while others joined the team to provide expertise on Portland, Oregon, where Wrong Number, Right Woman is set. Thanks so much to A.C., Anne-France, Caitlin, Chris Zett, Claire Jarrett, Danielle, Erin, Laure, Louisa, Maggie, Melanie, Tina, and Trish.

  I’m also grateful to my sensitivity readers, Claire Anderson and Mey Rude, for taking the time to read the novel and making sure I portrayed Heather in a respectful and realistic way.

  I’d also like to thank my editor, Alexa Bitsko, and the team at Ylva Publishing.

  Thank you to all the people in my Facebook Reader Group, who provide great support and book recommendations, and especially to Nia, who suggested the name for the grocery store where Denny works.

  Last but not least, thank you to my readers for letting me keep you up way beyond your bedtime with yet another novel.

  Chapter 1

  Denny made it to the bus stop with two minutes to spare. Right before the end of her shift, a customer had dropped a bottle of ketchup in aisle three, and Denny’s boss had sent her to clean up the mess, making her late. How fitting for April Fools’ Day!

  Still in her Grocery Port uniform, with spatters of half-dried ketchup all over her shirt and pants, she huffed to a stop at the corner where the bus would drop off her niece. She bent over to catch her breath. Christ, she really needed to get back in shape.

  Not that she had ever been in shape.

  Her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

  When she pulled it out, she wasn’t surprised to see it was a text from her sister.

  Did you do it?

  Before she could ask for clarification, a new text bubble popped up beneath the first one. You didn’t, did you? Stop being such a chickenshit and ask her out already!

  Denny wiped the mistlike Portland drizzle off the small screen before typing, Would you stop it? The bus isn’t even here yet. Besides, who says I want to ask her out? Just because two women are gay doesn’t mean they are interested in each other. If she even is gay.

  Her sister’s reply was almost instant. Oh, she is gay—and interested, trust me. I saw her smile at you the last time we dropped Bella off at the bus together.

  Denny stabbed at the keyboard on the phone screen as if that would finally make her sister listen. I smile at customers all day long. It’s called being friendly. Part of the job, nothing more.

  But what if it’s more? Salem’s predictable reply popped up within seconds. Maybe she likes you. She had added a row of kissy-face smileys.

  Yeah, sure, Denny wrote back.

  What have you got to lose? You haven’t been on a single date since Bella was in first grade. That was more than four years ago, Denny!

  Denny groaned and typed, Thanks for keeping track.

  This time, it took a while before Salem’s answer appeared. I just worry about you. You’re too amazing to end up alone.

  The last word made Denny grip the phone more tightly. She stared up at the overcast sky, then firmly shook her head. Bullshit. She wasn’t alone, was she? She had her niece and her sister, as annoying as Salem could be. She was fine.

  The big, yellow school bus rumbled around the corner, saving her from having to reply to Salem’s text. It pulled up to the curb only steps from Denny, with its lights flashing and the stop sign extended.

  When the bus door swung open, Denny sucked in her belly and plucked her shirt away from her hips, hoping to hide her love handles before she stepped up to the bus.

  “Hi.” The driver—Ms. Burkhart—smiled at her.

  Denny froze, staring up at her. What was she supposed to say? Even if she wanted to go out with her, could she really ask the woman out while she was working, in front of about fifty kids? “Um, hi.”

  Two girls in the first row of seats nudged each other and giggled.

  Sweat trickled down Denny’s spine. She reached up to adjust her glasses.

  The giggling got louder.

  Shit, had she just smeared ketchup all over her face?

  Ms. Burkhart’s smile broadened. “Looks like you had quite the April Fools’ Day.”

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  Ms. Burkhart took one hand off the oversized steering wheel, ran it through her blonde locks, several shades lighter than Denny’s sandy hair, and then pointed at Denny’s ketchup-spattered shirt.

  “Oh. Yeah. That. It’s not blood—just ketchup,” Denny blurted out. God, she was bad at this. So, so bad. It was almost as if she was watching herself from far away, witnessing the train wreck, but she still couldn’t avoid making a fool of herself.

  Bella bounded down the three steps and paused on the last one. “You’re blocking the door.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Denny stumbled back. It was a relief to have the eye contact between her and Ms. Burkhart interrupted.

  Bella jumped out of the bus. “Bye, Ms. Burkhart,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Bye, Bella,” Ms. Burkhart answered. “See you in the morning.” She nodded at Denny and lifted her hand to press the button that would close the door.

  It was now or never. Her sister’s words echoed through Denny’s mind. What have you got to lose? Ms. Burkhart seemed kind. Even if she wasn’t interested in her, she wouldn’t reject her too harshly…would she?

  Denny gave herself a mental kick and opened her mouth to ask. “Um…”

  “Yes?” Ms. Burkhart waited, her finger hovering over the button.

  “Thanks for d
ropping her off safely,” Denny finally got out. What? That wasn’t what she had wanted to say!

  Ms. Burkhart tipped an imaginary hat. “My pleasure.”

  A nod, then the door closed between them.

  The red lights stopped flashing, and the bus pulled away and continued down the street.

  Denny’s shoulders slumped. Well, maybe it was better that way. Asking Ms. Burkhart out while she was at work might have gotten her in trouble. And even if she had said yes to having coffee with her, Denny probably would have ended up embarrassing herself even more.

  “What’s for dinner?” her niece asked from behind her. “I’m starving.”

  Denny laughed and shook off the feeling of defeat that had settled over her. She joined Bella and loosely wrapped one arm around her shoulders as they walked the three blocks toward home. “What else is new?”

  Bella leaned into her half embrace—a moment of closeness that had become rarer since she’d become a tween—and directed a puppy-dog look at her. “Can we get French fries?”

  “Nope. Your mom will be home from work in an hour. We’ll have dinner then.”

  “Please?”

  From the first moment Denny had held her newborn niece, she knew she would always have a hard time telling her no. But because Bella and her mom were living with her, Denny had taken on more of a parental role, not that of an aunt who saw her niece occasionally and could spoil her rotten. She knew she had to be firm. “No, Bella. Not today. Getting takeout is a treat, not something we can do all the time. Besides, the zucchini will go to waste if we don’t eat them today.”

  “Ew. Zucchini.” Bella wrinkled her nose.

  She looked so much like the pouting three-year-old she had once been that Denny struggled not to laugh. “I’ll tell you what. If you finish all your homework tonight and don’t complain about dinner, I might pick up some ricotta cheesecake from your favorite Italian bakery after work tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Bella rushed ahead of Denny as if running would speed up the process of getting cheesecake.

  Denny watched her with a fond grin. Good old bribery. Works every time. Now if only her moves were as successful when it came to charming women. Sighing, she followed Bella up the driveway to the two-story townhouse complex where they lived.

  Half an hour later, Denny spooned the tomato sauce filling into the scooped-out zucchini and sprinkled shredded cheese and a bit of basil over them. Once the zucchini boats sizzled away in the oven, she dropped onto a chair next to Bella, who was doing her math homework at the dining room table. Whew. It felt good to be off her feet.

  Just as she reached for her phone to see if she had beaten her personal record of walking twenty-five thousand steps at work, the device buzzed with an incoming text message.

  “Yeah, yeah. Bawk, bawk, baawk. I’m a chicken. I know,” Denny muttered. She tapped her messages icon to read her sister’s inevitable admonition.

  But the new message wasn’t from Salem. Denny didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was 503, the same as her own. Maybe one of her colleagues had a new phone or something. She opened the message to read it.

  A red SOS emoji jumped out at her, along with: Help! I’m hopelessly overthinking my first-date outfit.

  Denny chuckled. Someone was asking her of all people for advice on fashion and dating? Everyone who knew her was well aware that she had no interest in the former and no talent for the latter. Was this an April Fools’ Day joke? Had Julie, her work wife, borrowed someone’s phone to prank her?

  Another message from the same unknown number popped up beneath the first one. What do you think? This…?

  A photo appeared on her screen.

  That was definitely not Julie. The selfie, shot in front of a closet with a mirrored door, showed a stranger. A cute stranger, Denny had to admit. The young woman’s glossy chestnut hair was tucked behind one ear, while the other side grazed her shoulder. A pair of black skinny jeans hugged her narrow waist and slim hips, and an off-the-shoulder top revealed tantalizing hints of fair skin. Her lips quirked up in a self-deprecating grin, and her dark eyes twinkled as if she was poking fun at herself for obsessing over what to wear.

  After a couple of minutes, a second picture arrived, along with the question: Or this one?

  The photo showed the same woman in a different outfit. A tight top stretched across her small breasts, and a flowing skirt that ended above her knees made her look like a ballet dancer, lithe and graceful.

  Denny’s gaze trailed down the stranger’s slender legs—then she burst out laughing.

  Instead of the sensible yet sexy heels she’d been wearing in the first picture, a pair of canary-yellow sneakers now graced the woman’s feet.

  Bella looked up from where she was trying to multiply fractions. “What’s that?” She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of what was on Denny’s screen.

  Denny hesitated. But why hide the messages from her niece? It wasn’t as if the stranger had sent her nude pictures. She turned the phone so Bella could see the photos. “Someone is asking for fashion advice. I think she has the wrong number.”

  Bella giggled and pointed at the baggy sweatpants and the worn T-shirt Denny had put on after taking a shower. “If she’s asking you for fashion advice, she’s clearly got the wrong number.”

  “Hardy-har-har.” Denny gave her a playful nudge that made Bella giggle even harder. “If you think I’m so fashion-challenged, maybe you should have someone else make your Halloween costume this year.”

  The giggling stopped abruptly, and Bella pretended to be focused on the phone. “So what are you going to tell her?”

  Denny shrugged. “Sorry, wrong number?”

  Bella looked back at her with wide eyes. “But she needs help.”

  Aww. Now that Bella was getting closer to puberty, she sometimes acted cool and aloof, but she couldn’t hide her big heart. “Okay, then let’s see if we can help her.” Denny still wasn’t sure how helpful she could be, though. Unlike her, the stranger clearly didn’t shop in the men’s section. She held out the phone to Bella and scrolled back and forth between the two images. “Which one?”

  “Sneakers with a skirt?” Bella burst into giggles again.

  Denny studied the photo once more. The canary-yellow sneakers made her smile. “I don’t know. I kind of like it.”

  “Mm-hmm, me too. Just be yourself, right?”

  It was what Denny and Salem had told her when she had come home crying a few years ago after someone at school had bullied her because she wasn’t wearing the right brand of clothes. Apparently, their words had gotten through to Bella after all. Denny smiled and nodded. “Right.”

  A string of new messages appeared on the phone, moving the photo up the screen until all Denny could see was the yellow sneakers.

  Heather???

  Hello?

  Which one?

  Help me out here, please. I really don’t want to give the wrong impression.

  Denny pulled the phone closer to her. Without letting herself overthink it the way she usually did when she talked to women, she typed, I’m not Heather, and as someone just reminded me, I’m not the best person to ask for fashion advice, but I’d definitely go with the second one.

  Several seconds ticked by. They bent their heads over the phone, waiting for a reply, but none came.

  Bella reached over and tapped the screen as if that would encourage the stranger to answer.

  Still nothing.

  Bella shot her an accusatory look. “Oh no. I think you scared her off.”

  Yeah, apparently, she had that effect on women. Denny was about to put her phone away when a new message arrived after all.

  Heather? Please tell me this is an April Fools’ Day joke.

  No, sorry, Denny typed back. It’s not a joke. You’ve got the wrong number.

  Again, there was a short pause before the reply came. Oh shit. I’m so sorry. My friend just got a new phone. She must have given me the wrong number, or I put it in wr
ong.

  Don’t worry about it, Denny replied.

  She waited for a few more seconds, but no answer came. None was needed. She had gotten accidental text messages a time or two before, and the short back-and-forth always ended at this point. But unlike the other times, she found herself a little regretful. She wanted to know more about the woman with the yellow sneakers.

  Bella nudged her. “Tell her you think the outfit is cute.”

  “I already told her to go with the sneaker one. Anything more would make me sound like a creep.” When Bella reached for the phone, Denny pulled it away and stuffed it into the pocket of her sweatpants. “Come on. Your mom will be home soon. Let’s set the table. You can finish your homework later.”

  Bella got the plates while Denny took knives and forks out of the drawer. When she placed the glasses on the table, her phone vibrated against her thigh.

  “Ooh! Is it Sneaker Girl?” Bella rushed around the table to stand next to her.

  “Sneaker Woman.” Denny wasn’t great at guessing women’s ages, but the stranger was probably at least ten years younger than her own forty-one, in her late twenties or early thirties.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Bella waved her hand. “Is it her? Check!”

  Denny pulled out the phone.

  Yes. It was a new text from Sneaker Woman.

  So, she had written, are you sure about that?

  That I’m not Heather? 100% positive. But I can check my ID to make sure, if you want. Denny added a grinning smiley face.

  “Maybe you should send her a picture,” said Bella, who had read the message along with her. “To prove that you’re not Heather.”

  Denny shot her a no-way-in-hell look. “Remember what your mom and I told you about putting pictures of yourself online or sending them to strangers?”

  “But she sent you photos of herself already,” Bella pointed out.

  “By accident.”

  Bella scrunched up her nose but gave up arguing and leaned closer to read the reply.

  Sneaker Woman had answered with a rolling-on-the-floor-laughing emoji. No, that’s fine. I’ll trust you to know your own name. I meant about the outfit.