He turned on his heel to leave. He'd said what he'd wanted to say. It was up to Shelby's brother whether he made any attempt to patch things up, but maybe Matt had made him think.
His hand on the door, those jaunty bells were poised to jangle when Wilder asked, "What'd you say your name was again?"
Chapter 8
Three months later
Shelby stared at Wilder in shock when he appeared at the door to her L.A. apartment. The building had great security, but he was on the "always allowed" list, so no doorman had buzzed to let her know he was coming up.
They'd had phone conversations here and there over the past few months, including one just two days after she'd left Sawyer Creek. Wilder had admitted that he'd been hard on her, and had assured her that he still loved her and wanted things to be better between them. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, but Shelby had been reeling from the events of the weekend, so she hadn't questioned it.
She'd thought that maybe—slowly—they were getting to that better place.
Since then, she'd hunkered down and spent endless hours in the recording studio. Her execs and manager were thrilled. And since she had no personal life to speak of, no one else in L.A. seemed to care. The loneliness would overtake her if she dwelled on it too long, though, so she kept her focus on the music.
She'd been in the studio for ten hours today, and it was late on a Friday night. What was her brother doing here?
"You look—"
"Don't say it." She whacked him on the arm, then pushed some wayward strands of hair out of her face. She'd changed into a pair of old, comfortable sweats and thrown her hair into a messy bun the moment she'd gotten home. "It was a long day behind the mic." Her vocal chords were tired, and she'd gone slightly hoarse after recording all week. Thankfully, it was the weekend, and she'd have a chance to recover.
"I can hear it in your voice." He embraced her, and she relished the contact. When had she last been on the receiving end of a genuine hug? She thought of Sawyer Creek, which of course conjured an image of Matt. She pushed the thought away.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were the Chinese takeout I ordered."
"You got any of that tea that soothes your throat?" He released her and strode into the apartment. As he moved, he threw another question over his shoulder and back into the hallway. "Junior, you know how to make tea?"
Shelby followed the line of his voice, and another man stepped into view.
Matt.
He looked slightly chagrined, but mostly intense as his eyes devoured her. He'd cut his hair and wore a pale blue button-down—fitted perfectly to his broad chest and shoulders—untucked over dark-washed jeans. He looked nothing like the farm boy she'd met before.
"What…?"
Wilder had brought Matt to her doorstep. Why? The sudden drop in her stomach made her feel as if she were in an elevator on free fall. She'd thought things were progressing with her brother, but here he was throwing another of her past mistakes in her face.
"Invite him in," Wilder called. She glanced his way, but her brother had already disappeared into the kitchen. He hadn't sounded angry or seemed frustrated when he'd hugged her hello.
"I can boil water," the man she hadn't been able to forget said quietly.
She held the door open, sagging against it as he stepped past her.
He stopped just inside the room, and she let the door swing shut. Her apartment wasn't huge—thanks to the high cost of living in the city—and she wondered what he thought of her view of the sparkling city beyond.
"What are you doing here?" With my brother?
Wilder poked his head through the kitchen doorway. "Junior has a few things to say to you, and I figured you wouldn't let him in without a little trickery."
Yeah, he had that right.
"Please stop calling me that," Matt said to Wilder, though he didn't take his eyes off Shelby.
Wilder snickered and disappeared back into the kitchen.
"How do you know each other?" Shelby waved one hand between Matt and the kitchen. She felt awkward and off-kilter.
"Your brother gave me a job." He smiled that mesmerizing lazy smile of his.
She felt a little smacked by his admission. And a little betrayed.
In the weeks after the wedding-that-wasn't, she'd thought about Matt. A lot. With a little distance, she'd realized she'd been overwhelmed by the whole experience, and her feelings had been magnified about the short time they'd spent together. What had he really done to her, other than lying about the fact that he'd known who she was? He hadn't posted photos of her online—she'd checked—or sold her sob story about her relationship with Wilder to the media. She'd overreacted and ruined the best relationship she’d had since... since ever. Ruined the only relationship she’d ever had with a man who truly knew her and cared about her.
Typical, dramatic Shelby.
But Matt working for her brother was… She wasn’t sure what it was, and she wasn't sure she liked it.
The microwave beeped.
"Aw, stop looking at him like that," Wilder said from the kitchen. He knew where her thoughts had gone. "After he hitchhiked to my office and read me the riot act for being so hard on you, I figured it was the least I could do."
Matt had done that?
"I never told you I hitchhiked." Matt still hadn't taken his eyes off her, and she read the mix of hope and desperation in his gaze.
Or maybe that's what she hoped it was, because she felt the same way.
"It wasn't that hard of a deduction, considering the way you smelled that morning." Wilder walked out of the kitchen with a fragrant, steaming mug in hand. "We got a hotel room for the weekend, down the street. I'm beat, and I'm going to head back over there. If you strike out," he said to Matt, "I'll expect you back in half an hour. And if you don’t, I’ll expect you back in an hour."
A flush crept up Matt's neck.
Wilder pressed the mug into Shelby's hands, and added a kiss to her temple. "Don't let him strike out," he whispered. "He's a good guy."
After he'd shown himself out, Matt stayed firmly planted, a question in his eyes. "If this isn't okay, I'll go."
She didn't want him to leave. "Come on in and have a seat."
Matt followed Shelby into her living room and perched on the edge of the sofa while she took the chair across, curling her legs beneath her and cupping the mug in her hands.
She looked beautiful, if a little worn out. There were fine lines around her eyes and mouth, and her exhaustion was evident in the way her shoulders sagged. None of it detracted from her beauty. She was even more stunning than he remembered, and he'd revisited his memories of her every day.
When she spoke, her voice was husky. "It's too short for you."
At first, her words didn't make sense. She gestured to the sofa where he was sitting.
Ah. The couch.
He vividly remembered the morning when she'd seen where he'd slept. His face heated, but he wouldn't be ashamed of that. Not anymore.
"I have my own place now," he said, pride coloring his voice. "It's a studio, not as big as this"—he looked around—"but it's mine."
"Good for you." Her face shone with sincerity.
"I'm taking some hours at a community college." He still felt a little awkward walking into class with kids who seemed so much younger than he was, but there were older people in the night classes, too. "I don't know how long it'll take me to finish, but I'm going to get my degree."
He might not be doing exactly what he was passionate about yet, but he was making strides. Mostly thanks to her brother.
"What's it like working for Wilder? I always imagine him being a bossy pain in the rear."
Laughter lit Matt's eyes. "He's a fair boss. I like the work. It can be tiring, though." He'd started out as the muscle, riding along with drivers to move endless pieces of furniture and boxes. He'd recently gotten his commercial license, and Wilder was letting him drive now if the schedule allowed
.
"And your mom?"
He shrugged. "I haven't spoken to her since I left."
"I'm sorry."
He was, too. He could only hope there might be a way to patch things up in the future, but he didn't see how. At least not without extensive family counseling.
"You've been staying out of the media spotlight," he said.
She took another sip of her tea and set the mug on a table at her elbow. "Thank goodness, right?"
"Even if you'd been in the tabloids, I know the real you." It was a bold statement, but it was true.
Her eyes were downcast, and she bit her lip. "How can you say that? We were together for what? A day?"
His heart was in his throat, but something inside was pushing him to stand. This was his moment. He wouldn't waste it.
He went to her and stretched out his hands.
For a beat, she stared at his shoes, and he wondered if he'd made a monumental mistake in coming here.
But then she placed her hands in his, and he pulled her to her feet. "Maybe we haven't known each other that long in a conventional sense, but my heart recognized yours."
Her expression softened, and she smiled shyly up at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He let go of one of her hands to brush his thumb across the apple of her cheek. He swallowed hard. "I know I messed up. I should've been honest from the start. I can only promise that you'll get honesty from me, always, from here on out."
She placed her hand over his. "I'll take it. And I’ll make the same promise."
He closed his eyes, letting his forehead drop against hers. "It's going to be awhile before I can afford plane tickets again, but I was hoping you'd unblock my number from your phone." Maybe it was dumb to say it like that, since he had a new number anyway, but the meaning was the same.
"I never blocked you in the first place," she whispered.
His eyes flew open as joy spiraled through him, and he gave her what was sure to be the goofiest smile ever known.
She smiled back, affection warming her gaze. "Was unblock my phone number a hint that you were going to kiss me again?"
He'd be a fool to turn down an invitation like that. He tugged her close and claimed her lips the way he'd been thinking about since she’d stormed away from him at the wedding.
She looped one arm around his neck and the other around his waist, clutching him tighter.
Just then, the door opened. "I forgot my keys—"
They broke apart, but Shelby didn't look guilty at being caught. Matt was relieved.
Wilder whistled as he sauntered into the kitchen and then back out. "The delivery guy is right behind me."
Within seconds, he was back out the door, shutting it behind him.
Matt groaned and reached for Shelby, resting his chin atop her head. Maybe having her brother for a boss wasn't the best idea.
Shelby dissolved into a giggling fit.
And a knock sounded at the door.
"The Chinese food?" he asked.
"Yep." She stepped away, and he straightened. "Stay and share it with me? I ordered plenty."
He did.
Epilogue
"Ah-ha," Shelby cried as she spotted the two long fishing poles and tackle box on a blanket by the edge of the water. She'd known there was a reason Matt had insisted he drive her the two hours to this secluded Malibu beach.
She hadn't expected a surprise fishing excursion. She may have been expecting something a little smaller and sparklier.
Oh well. The sun was setting, and this was still a romantic date. Matt had said he had some news. Maybe it was about his graduation from the University of Texas coming up in a few weeks.
He was scanning for paparazzi, a skill he'd learned on their third official date in L.A. when they'd been besieged by cameramen in a tiny neighborhood coffee shop. But the beach was empty, except for a couple of surfers almost out of eyesight.
"It's perfect," she said, clasping his hand in hers.
The sand was still warm between her toes, and they strolled across the beach.
He adjusted the spread of the blanket so it protected her from the sand as she sat, and he sank down beside her, his long legs stretched in front of him.
The sky burned with hues of pink and orange as waves crashed along the shore. A gull cried overhead.
"It's no muddy pond in Sawyer Creek, but it'll have to do," he teased.
"It's perfect." She leaned her head on his shoulder, and his arm came around her waist. She didn't need a ring to know she belonged with Matt Kincaid. They'd talked about marriage in a distant sort of way. He was getting ready to graduate, which meant things would change. They hadn't talked about whether he might take a job in L.A. or what the future might hold.
It'd been three and a half years of long-distance phone calls and late night I love yous over video chat. They'd spent most of last summer together when she'd taken two months off and sublet an apartment in Austin to be near him. They'd managed around his work schedule to spend every available hour together. She'd cooked for him—not very well—and they'd explored the city on foot. He had a dog now, Whopper, a little mix of uncertain ancestry that shared his apartment. Shelby loved the pup almost as much as she loved Matt and hoped that both her guys would be moving out here soon.
"So, I said I had some news," Matt started.
She angled her head on his shoulder.
"I got a job offer from a firm in downtown L.A."
"Really?" Her instant excitement waned, and she winced slightly. "The daily commute would suck. Are you going to take it?"
He rubbed his chin over her hair. "The commute would be a lot less than a plane ride. And it's a starting point for a new life here. I can climb the ladder, or if I don't like the commute, I can look for something else. But at least we can be together."
"I like the sound of that. I need to see Whopper every day."
He tickled her side, and she squirmed away from the touch. He didn't let her get far but tucked her back in beside him. "What's your tour schedule look like this fall?"
"I cut some dates, doubled up in some of the larger metropolitan areas. Maybe you can travel with me sometimes, if you have vacation."
"Count on it."
In the last three years, he'd seen her perform a handful of times. The first night he'd stood backstage and watched her performance from the wings, and when she'd come offstage after the final encore, drenched in sweat and hoarse in the best way, he'd pulled her to him and kissed her passionately.
He made her feel beautiful, just for doing what she loved.
She'd written a love song for his ears only, and when she played it for him on an acoustic guitar, he'd gotten choked up. He'd kissed her passionately then, too.
The sun dipped further behind the horizon. Their window for fishing was rapidly disappearing unless he had a much bigger blacklight this time.
"I've never fished in the ocean," she said. "Should we...?"
"Go for it." His hand caressed her back as she sat up.
She moved to the tackle box and lifted the lid.
On the otherwise empty top shelf was a black velvet box, popped open. A diamond solitaire winked up at her in the waning light.
She went lightheaded, and her breath caught in her chest. "Matt...?"
He was beside her, on both knees, taking her hands in his. "Shelby, I fell in love with you that first night, and I've been falling ever since. You've taught me how to fly, and I want to spend the rest of my life flying side-by-side with you. Will you marry me?"
Emotion choked her, so she nodded fiercely, fighting the tears.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, please."
He whooped and slipped the ring on her finger, then pulled her into a tight embrace.
With a giggle, she raised her hand to swipe at the tears that had slipped free.
He bent his head to kiss them away. "I love you, Shelby. Always will."
"I love you, too."
He kissed her, bu
t only for a moment before a group of people came running toward them from the direction of the parking lot.
Shelby tensed, but it wasn't reporters. It was her family, cheering and yelling.
Matt had planned all of this.
She gave him a little shove, but he only smiled at her, happiness shining from within, reflecting what she knew was showing on her face, too.
Shelby Caine hadn't gone looking for trouble in Sawyer Creek, but she'd found it anyway. She’d have never guessed that, along with a little trouble, she’d find a lifetime of happiness. And it'd led her to the exact place she was meant to be.
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Quinn never should’ve agreed to a fake wedding date… especially not with the best man.
Maid of honor Quinn Evans has been dreading this wedding weekend. All because of her awful ex-boyfriend. When Wilder, the best man, suggests they fake a fling for the weekend, she refuses. She doesn’t need to showcase exactly her awkward she is by pretending to date a player like him. Even if he is a successful, wealthy businessman.
Wilder Caine has a reputation of living up to his name. He likes women and isn’t ashamed of it. He has enough family responsibility to deal with for his brother’s wedding. He doesn’t need more drama. But there’s something about Quinn that he can’t walk away from.
Someone New: sweet contemporary romance (Jilted in Sawyer Creek Book 2) Page 6
