Almost Perfect: A Sweet Small Town Opposites Attract Romance (Back to Silver Ridge Book 1)

by Claire Cain

  “Shooting star, Wy? Sounds like someone’s got a true-blue crush.”

  Sheridan shifted on his feet, and I turned to find Warrick, wearing a blazing smile and standing at the end of the stall.

  Damn, he wouldn’t let that go, no matter how much I ignored it. Embarrassment tugged at me, but why should I feel embarrassed? I hadn’t felt much of anything for so long. I didn’t want to feel ashamed of my interest in Calla. I didn’t want to push it away because I was too used to waiting for something instead of embracing that something—life—was already here.

  “Thought you weren’t going to make it up.” I returned to my work, pulling the brush along Sheridan’s flank.

  “Finished up a meeting early. Wanted to get Calla the info on the lunch thing, and like a genius, I forgot my laptop here yesterday. And I just…”

  His words tapered off, and I glanced at him in time to see an unusual look cross his face.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded. “I’m just tired.”

  I studied him while continuing the movement of the brush. He did look tired, now that I fully took him in. Dark smudges under his eyes, his face a little sallow, but that might’ve been the fluorescent light from the barn backlighting him. He’d thinned out a bit, but I’d assumed he was trimming down so he’d be in top form for his new boot camp endeavor.

  Resisting the urge to prod, because that wouldn’t get me anywhere right now, I nodded. “Go take a nap. There are leftover waffles, or I can make you some eggs.”

  “Nah. Got another meeting in town this afternoon.” He pulled his shoulders back and flashed his eyebrows. “Plus, I’d rather talk about this shooting star you’ve got on your mind.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks in earnest now. I knew he wouldn’t give me too much crap, since he’d been so positive about Calla every other time it’d come up, but I didn’t want to talk to him about it. I grunted, hoping the sound would tell him so.

  “Nah, you’re not getting away with that. Seriously, Wyatt.”

  The use of my full name made me reluctantly turn to face him. “Warrick.”

  “You like her.”

  My teeth clenched and jaw flexed. “Not exactly news.”

  He chuckled, and the urge to bean him with the horse brush rose all the higher.

  “I knew you found her attractive. You’re a heterosexual male with a pulse, so that’s basically a given. And I’ve suspected you two got along despite your differences. But you liking her is just…”

  Irritation flared. First, because the insinuation that anyone with a heartbeat who liked women would find Calla attractive meant he did, and there was no reason that should bother me. Second, I didn’t like the way he found it so obvious that we were different. Sure, we had different backgrounds, careers, and ways of keeping house, but in the end, we’d both grown up in Silverton. That was something.

  Wasn’t it?

  My attempts to logic away the frustration only made me more edgy. “Me liking her is what? Doesn’t mean a thing.”

  He crossed his arms and settled into that wide-legged stance that told me he wasn’t going anywhere. “Name the last woman you liked. Actively liked.”

  I stared at the brush, wondering if it would do too much damage if I did actually throw it. Solid wood handle, so it could hurt.

  With a sigh, I turned back to my job of brushing. “Leo, I guess.”

  For some reason, admitting that made a queasy, embarrassed jolt kick at me.

  “And now Calla.”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. She’s leaving in a matter of—”

  “She just extended by two weeks. And I told her to stay as long as she wanted.”

  My traitor of a heart picked up its pace again, though it wasn’t like I’d forgotten that she’d said the same hours ago. She wouldn’t be leaving in a matter of days. She was staying.

  Not for you, ya sap.

  “Good for her.”

  Warrick groaned, long and dramatic. “All right, I see how this is going to go, so I’m going to get to it so I can go eat and head out before the storm gets any worse.”

  I shot him a look but didn’t speak.

  “You can like this woman. You can date her. You can pursue her, even. Hell, court her, since I’m betting that’s the kind of language that flits through that old-timey skull of yours. It doesn’t have to be doomed to fail just because she doesn’t live here.”

  When I didn’t respond, he sighed and grumbled something about me being stubborn and seeing me later. I stayed there, smoothing Sheridan’s coat, my thoughts echoing with Warrick’s words.

  It doesn’t have to be doomed to fail. Did I think it was doomed? Was that the problem?

  That word he used swatted at a tender part of me, something I hadn’t realized was even there until right this second.

  Did I think everything was doomed? I blinked into the chestnut section of Sheridan and let the question filter down through the layers of my skin, down past muscle and bone and into my very marrow.

  God help me. I did.

  I thought of my life as destined to end. And not in the way that all people know they’ll die one day, but any minute. These years since I’d started having birthdays my father never did had grated against nature, against reason. I shouldn’t be living so much life he never got to.

  I’d buried it deep, but there it sat. Like the sand between my toes I could never stand when we visited the beach—once I realized it was there, it drove me nuts. Had I sabotaged everything because of some buried-deep suspicion that I didn’t deserve to have these days because my dad never did?

  I set a hand on Sheridan’s back, my mind a dizzy whirling mess. On the surface, no. I didn’t believe that. And I had a lot to live for—my family, and yes, even my business. But in the recesses of my weary heart?

  “Damn, Sher. There it is.” I said it aloud, and Sheridan shifted again, bobbing his head like he agreed.

  I’d never expected any of it to work. Not Samantha. Not the dates with the women on the app. None of it. It was why I hadn’t put effort into finding someone when I was younger, even though I’d sworn I wanted a family—even though I had wanted it, and desperately.

  Now that I saw this ugly, painful truth, what did it change? And did it free me from that doom, or did it double-down on it and practically guarantee it?

  NINETEEN

  Calla

  The problem with having a friend like Jenna was that she had no qualms pestering, being invasive, and pushing until she got her way.

  Like now. Her beautiful face stared back at me from the screen, a goopy green hydrating mask covering her skin like it did mine since she’d express-mailed me a home spa kit and told me to have it on by the time she called tonight or else. She’d given me a full minute of silent treatment when I’d tried to shrug off her questions about Wyatt.

  Her “So tell me about Mr. Saint” had only made dread pool low in my belly. I didn’t know what to say. Knowing she’d outlast me, I relented. “Fine. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “I want to know how you’re doing. I know you haven’t had a month-long lovefest, but you mention him anytime we talk, and when we text, I could swear half the time you’re with him. So?”

  I blew out a long, slow breath. “I like him.”

  She hooted and pumped her fist. “Yes! I knew it!”

  “It’s not like that’s a huge revelation.”

  She made a face. “Whatever. You haven’t expressed interest in a man beyond a ‘he’s pretty’ a handful of times in recent years. And you liking someone? A normal human someone?”

  “As opposed to all those alien someones I have feelings for?”

  She laughed all out, then speared me with a look like she knew my darkest secret. “I know about you and the blue aliens.”

  I shook my head and waved that off but couldn’t stifle my own laugh. “You’re nuts. An insane person.”

  “Seriously though, why are you weird about this? What’s the problem?
”

  I huffed. Aside from knowing that anything I wanted enough would be doomed? “I don’t think he likes me. Yes, he’s attracted to me. But that’s not enough for either of us. It hasn’t been the last five weeks, and especially now.”

  “What does that mean? Why now?”

  “I thought we were kind of… getting close to something. But then, he went on a date last weekend.”

  “What!?” It was a shriek heard round the world, but then Jenna wasn’t really a delicate, subtle kind of woman.

  “Yep. Last weekend. And then all this week at breakfast, it’s just been weird. His brother was there every day, and it was like he made a point to be there so Wyatt didn’t have to be alone with me or something.”

  She made a disgusted groan. “Well, I’m now suggesting you find some other quiet, sexy cowboy for your entertainment.”

  I chuckled, but my heart ached. “Yeah. Well. I’m still here at least another week. I’m not sure if I can justify staying any longer, but I wish I could.”

  “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. But listen, can we shift from stupid hot cowboys and talk about your idiot criminal manager for a sec?”

  My turn to groan. I let loose and started to scrub my hands over my face when I remembered the mask. Oops. “He’s getting more and more persistent. He calls every day, leaves a message every time. I’ve been deleting them without listening. I have nothing to say to him at this point.”

  He’d responded so terribly to the meeting before the end of the year, and this attitude about me taking a break was not working. I’d been questioning my partnership with him for years, and especially after Candy passed, but he’d been awful. It was one thing to disagree about a plan but entirely another to borderline harass me to get his point across.

  “Cut him. He’s done.”

  Jenna was a take-no-crap kind of woman, and she didn’t stand for this. She couldn’t understand why I’d kept him on for the last few years, and I’d begun to see her point more and more vividly.

  “I can’t just do that. We have a contract. But trust me, my lawyers are looking at it. I tried to get him to take a step back so we could meet when I return to LA and reevaluate with a little space from all the crapstorm of stuff we’ve been dealing with, but he wouldn’t do it. Kristoffer said Rad’s been nonstop with him, too.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Done. Doney done.”

  “Probably so. And in the meantime, I think I’m going to do the interview.”

  Jenna nodded once and pointed at me through the screen. “Yes. Good. I’ve been waiting for you to come around to that.”

  “I know. I haven’t been ready for it, but I think I’m there.”

  She’d been pushing for me to do an interview and dispel the rumors about my role in Candy’s death and anything else someone wanted to ask short of details about me and Bri. But I hadn’t been in the mindset to put myself out into the world again—after two failed albums and increasingly vitriolic responses to my every move, I just didn’t have it in me.

  But I did now. This time away had begun to bolster the part of me that knew who I was. I couldn’t have told someone who that was, exactly, but I felt her rematerializing. Between the writing, Jenna’s encouragement, and even talking to Quinn, I was remembering there was more to Miss Mayhem than the headlines and failures.

  And maybe, most importantly, there was more to me. I’d spent enough time wandering around feeling like I was watching someone live out this weird, alternate universe version of my life where Candy had died and I’d lost any musical sense or say, but the last few weeks had felt like I’d stepped back inside myself.

  “I’m proud of you. When are you thinking?”

  “Maybe a few weeks. After I’m back.” I didn’t want to put a date on it since that would mean nailing down exactly when I’d leave here. Technically, I had a week left. But Warrick had said the place was mine, so I could extend again.

  “Whenever you do it, it’ll be great. It’s been too long since people were reminded there’s a person inside those fabulous costumes. And I know you know, but you don’t want this to spiral any more than it has. It’s almost like you being gone has created this feeding frenzy of information for where you are and what you’re doing.”

  This time, I did rub my fingers over my forehead. The mask tugged at my skin, and my whole body felt claustrophobic. Time for it to come off. “Yeah. I was hoping out of sight, out of mind. But I’ll be back soon, and I’ll sit down with Danita Carl and hopefully being direct will make a difference.”

  I had my doubts, and I had heaps of dread, but between Rad hounding me to contact him, Kristoffer fending off requests for interviews, and apparently continued rumors about where I was and what I was doing, I couldn’t avoid it anymore.

  “All right. That’s enough shop talk. Time for us to get these masks off before they eat our skin away and really give them something to gossip about.” Her eyes flared and she made a terrible, brutally unflattering sad face that cracked her mask and made pieces fall off.

  I laughed, right on cue. “Thank goodness. I was about to claw this thing off my face. I love you. Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for the spa night.”

  Her warm smile made me miss her even more.

  “I love you, my friend. You’re an amazing woman, and I’m still in camp ‘get thee some cowboy’ should the occasion arise.” She wiggled her invisible brows and winked.

  I rolled my eyes so she could see, then waved and we both hung up.

  In the quiet of the living room, the fire flickered in front of me for a moment before I heaved myself to my feet and padded to the bathroom to rinse off the mask. Washing away the thick substance relieved a small bit of tension in me, but staring back at my pink, clean face, I couldn’t deny feeling raw—far more than my skin was.

  Like a fool, I’d gotten my hopes up about Wyatt. Despite everything in me warning me not to, I’d thought maybe we were getting close. Not just to something physical, but in other ways too. At this point, he knew so much about me—superficial things like my favorite food and color and travel destination, and deeply personal ones like my feelings for Candy.

  And I liked so, so much about him. I liked that he was so caring toward his mother and clearly adored his little brother. I liked how he cooked, and the way he flipped the kitchen towel over his shoulder after he’d wiped his hands on it. I liked that he was stubborn enough to insist on his opinion, but humble enough to let me have my own and take in my perspective.

  And yeah. I liked everything about how he looked. His height and his broad shoulders and those ice-blue eyes that turned gray when the sky did. And his hands. And his voice, like the perfect combination of bass notes and grit.

  I didn’t know how to squash that hope, but I’d need to so I could enjoy my last week here. Because it needed to be my last, even if it did feel like I’d just barely found my place.

  TWENTY

  Wyatt

  Mom opened the door wide and pulled me into a hug. Her hand patted my head and lower back, her movements imbued with as much comfort as possible.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said softly. When she leaned away to look me over, concern lined her brow.

  “Why are you acting so worried about me?”

  She seemed truly upset, but clearly for me. Her sweet, small smile sent a spike of alarm spiraling up my spine.

  “Come on in, and let’s sit and have a chat. I’m glad you’re here.” She shoved the door shut behind me and made her way to the teapot on her stove.

  “I am too,” I said, though I’d started doubting. Because something was going on here, and it wasn’t based on my text to her hours ago that asked if I could swing by this afternoon.

  She poured steaming water over two teabags in the little mugs she’d had my entire life. Flowery designs on a white background and vines snaking over the handles. They gave me this certain feeling of safety despite some of the hardest conversations I’d ever had took place holding one of t
hese.

  “So.” She blew into her mug as she set one in front of me and took a seat at the six-seater table she’d placed in her breakfast nook.

  “So. I’m guessing you’ve talked to Warrick, and he told you a tale.” It was the only explanation for her overt concern. Normally, she played it fairly cool when she suspected we had a problem.

  “Warrick? Telling stories? Never.”

  I raised a brow in response and took a sip of the scalding water. It’d move from painfully hot to too cold in the next five minutes thanks to the altitude.

  “He may have mentioned you’re a little twisted up about Calla.” She pressed her lips together, staying a smile.

  If I hadn’t spent the last week running myself ragged—both physically, on the treadmill, and mentally—I might’ve stalled or tried to pretend that wasn’t it. I didn’t love talking to her about these things in the same way I didn’t want to talk to anyone about them. But lately, it seemed like that was all I talked about with Warrick, and so why not add her to my advisory committee? I couldn’t figure it out on my own, obviously enough.

  And more importantly, more than anyone else, she might understand how I’d been feeling. What I’d just realized this time last week about how I’d truly been feeling.

  “I am.”

  Her brows rose. “Tell me.”

  “I like her. A lot. But she’s leaving.”

  “So? Air travel was invented quite a while ago. It’s this amazing thing.”

  I never needed to wonder where the sass originated from when it came to Warrick. Pure Jane, and my grandma too, rest her soul.

  “I feel like her time coming to an end should be the end, but the thought of not seeing her again, even as little as I do, seems wrong.”

  “And why do you feel like it should be the end?”

  “We’re too different. She’s bold and lives her life in the spotlight—good, bad, ugly. She’s a mess in more than one way, and I think that’d drive me crazy. Plus I’m… boring. I’m this small-town man, and I’ve been just fine with that my whole life. I never wanted something different.” I slugged down a sip of tea. Already almost lukewarm.