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

by Claire Cain

  The closer we got to the ranch, the more the ball of twine in my chest wound around itself. I’d started picturing something like that nestled opposite my heart behind my ribs. Each small smile or throaty chuckle cinched it tighter. And with that sensation came the anxious, greedy desire for her to unravel it.

  My truck’s tires crunched into the light layer of snow in front of the porch steps at her little house. I hopped out and plodded carefully around, wary of hidden ice but also working to settle myself.

  I wanted to kiss her. Very much.

  She’d flirted with me, pushed me all night. She’d worn that dress and made sure I took note. I felt reasonably confident she’d be interested in the idea.

  At her car door, I held out a hand. I’d slipped my gloves off as we got closer to home since the car had heated, and selfishly, I didn’t want to be wearing thick leather gloves if I did kiss her.

  She accepted my assistance with her bare hand, also free of gloves, and the contact paired with the knowledge that she’d skipped her gloves too—such a stupid, small detail—had me swallowing hard as I shoved her door shut once she’d cleared it.

  “Thank you for coming out with me.”

  “Thanks for the invitation,” she said, her hand still in mine as we took the porch steps slowly.

  Once at her door, she turned to me, our hands still linked. I wouldn’t ask to come inside—that was about as far from my personality as it could get. Maybe she was used to men inviting themselves in, but if she was, I didn’t want to be like that. Maybe she wanted that, but I couldn’t go there yet.

  Her dark eyes sparkled with heat in the dim porch light, and my stomach twisted with wanting. The freezing air surrounding us made our breath puff out in little white clouds. My pulse hammered in my neck, all through my head. My mind reached for something to say, some other thing to offer her beyond thanking her again, because that was just overboard.

  But before I could speak, and without saying a word, she opened the door, walked inside, and pulled me in after her.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Calla

  He thought he was surprised.

  I’d surprised myself.

  I didn’t do this. I didn’t invite people in. And I had no intention of sleeping with the man, but the idea of ending the night with a peck on the cheek or whatever he was about to do, and having that potentially be the end of everything between us, tore at some essential part of me.

  We’d never circled back to whether my differences were a bad thing. Of course, I wasn’t an idiot, so I could read a few things, like the fact that whether he wanted to or not, he liked the dress. He liked the little push, a nudge into acknowledging who I was. Because if he wanted me, Calla, then he’d need to confront me, Miss Mayhem, too.

  We hadn’t fully gone there. And he seemed to believe that I didn’t have the same things in mind as he did. That should’ve consoled me, made me feel good that we were on the same page. Though right now, it only made me feel vaguely hollow and like I had a popcorn kernel stuck between my teeth.

  But at this moment, with our hands linked and me tugging him inside behind me and shutting the door, facing his searching eyes in the darkened hallway, I knew what I wanted.

  And fortunately for me, so did he.

  His smile flashed, sending my stomach dropping, just before he reached for me with his other hand and stepped into my space. Instead of a gentle touch at my cheek or cradling of my face, which was totally where I’d pegged Wyatt in terms of first kiss territory, his hand slipped into my open coat, skimming along my waist and smoothing around to my bare back.

  I gasped at the contact of his cool hands—mercifully, we hadn’t been standing outside too long or that would’ve been unpleasant. But the rough pads of his fingers dragged along my spine now, sending ripples of sensation and covering my entire body with goose bumps. It felt better than I’d imagined more than once. Then he paced us backward until my shoulders and legs hit the wall and our chests nearly touched.

  The hand that had been holding mine found my face and tilted it up just slightly, and then he kissed me. One strong press, another, and I opened to him. He groaned, a rumble so earthy and delicious, I echoed it. The gentle coaxing shifted immediately into a hungry, dizzying exchange of sensations.

  After a few minutes of truly mesmerizing kisses, he moved from my mouth along my jaw, until he reached my ear.

  “The different is very good. I love this dress. And I cannot wait to see these tattoos.”

  His hand on my back slipped past the edge of my dress and caressed my sides, gently brushing along my ribs.

  We were plastered together now, but I wanted him closer. Need and desire spiraled through me, along with a liquid heat that might melt me right there. His hands felt so good on me, but I wanted to feel him. I wanted the warmth of his skin under my fingers.

  Before I could act on that, he placed a kiss to my temple and released me, that hand at my back making a slow slide along my body before letting go.

  “See you at breakfast.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  He’d shocked the expectations right out of me with that kiss.

  He might say he wanted simple and nice, but that was exactly what Bridget Jones was talking about after she kissed Mark Darcy and she said nice boys don’t kiss that way.

  Evidently, nice boys did kiss that way. They kissed that way and touched that way and said incredibly sexy, promising things that way.

  And then, they left.

  Jenna picked up on the second ring. “You’re calling me, so it must be really good or really bad.”

  I laughed and scrubbed a hand over my clean face. I’d ditched the dress and gotten into comfortable clothes, removed my makeup, and worked on reconstituting my internal organs after Wyatt liquefied me.

  “I went out with Wyatt.”

  “Yesss. That’s my girl. How was it? Wait, you’re calling me right now?”

  I could hear the letdown in her voice at the end of that sentence. “Yes. He kissed my face off and then left.”

  The intake of breath on her side echoed my own frustration. “Why? Why did he leave?”

  “He’s old-fashioned, and we just barely started even acknowledging that we like each other. I’m not upset or even surprised he left. It was more the heat and the kiss.”

  My voice sounded shaky and a little weak. Not a complete shock since I was genuinely still reeling from the night, and especially that last encounter.

  “Ooo, okay. I like this, and I approve. Probably would’ve been out of character for you to jump into bed with him anyway.”

  I laughed because that was an understatement.

  “But you don’t sound happy about this.”

  I sipped some water, gathering my thoughts. If I scratched at the fluttering sensation when I thought about his touch, or his words, or the pretty darn smooth exit, I’d find fear underneath. Because what was rapidly becoming clear was that I wanted more of Wyatt. Yes, more kisses, for sure, but more everything. “I’m not sure what I am.”

  “Hmm. Okay. That’s fine. And, actually, when I think about it, not a surprise.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. Because you don’t really do this. So it makes sense you don’t really know how to feel.”

  “When you say ‘this,’ you mean…”

  She chuckled like she found me adorable. “A fling. A temporary feel-good engagement.”

  My chest locked up, and my mind shouted Wrong! the second her words hit my ears. Whatever this was with Wyatt, it didn’t feel like a fling. I had no intention of spending time with him and then tossing him away, and that’s what such a word implied to me. It made no sense for me to reject the idea, but I knew that wasn’t what Wyatt wanted.

  Or… was it? Had he decided to enjoy me while I was here the same way Jenna had urged me to do with him?

  That thought sank like a stone in my gut. I made a non-committal sound to avoid dead air.

  “What does t
hat sound mean?” she asked, and I could just picture her eyes narrowing in on me.

  “It just means I’m confused. I’m basically a wreck over here, and I shouldn’t be trying to—”

  “You shouldn’t be living your life based on shoulds. It’s toxic and you know it.”

  Effectively chastised, I tried again. “Fair enough, even if that’s so much easier said than done. I’ll see him at breakfast tomorrow, and I don’t want to be weird.”

  “So don’t be.”

  “But I’m all mixed up about what’s happening.”

  How could I expect either one of us to go back to before—before I knew what his hands on my skin would feel like. Before I knew his kiss felt essential.

  “You could always skip it,” she said, her words doing nothing to hide her real opinion of that option.

  “Not really. He makes me breakfast every day, and I’m paying for it, so it’d be weird and very sad for my stomach if I did.” It wasn’t an option, anyway. I wouldn’t just disappear.

  Especially since, even with the confusion, I couldn’t wait to see him again. It killed me to acknowledge it, I didn’t have all that many breakfasts with Wyatt left.

  “Then I guess you go with your big girl panties on.”

  I groaned aloud. “Ew. You just had to.”

  She cackled. “Of course I did. Now you can be horrified by my use of your least favorite phrase, and anytime you feel weird, just remember if he kissed you like he did, he’s not ambivalent.”

  I knew that, at least. Releasing a sigh, I told her good night and snuggled up with a book in bed.

  Hours after I’d settled in, I still buzzed with anticipation. Maybe even anxiety, although I couldn’t pin down exactly what made me so anxious.

  I wanted to see Wyatt. I wanted to figure out what came next, especially because I had all kinds of ideas and none of them involved not seeing him. I wanted to ignore the gut-level dread that came from wanting again, to banish the sense of impending doom that shadowed me whenever I acknowledged how much I already cared for Wyatt.

  But chances were good it was already too late.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Wyatt

  Focused on scrambling eggs, I did not turn to see Warrick let Calla in for breakfast the morning after our date.

  The low hum of their voices as they stepped inside sent a thrill through me. Kissing her had sent me off-course. Every excuse I’d made about what I was doing with her had turned to dust when I kissed her last night.

  I’d never had that kind of connection with someone. Ever. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want to explore it, even if my mind kept feebly waving its skimpy red flag, trying to remind me it was a bad idea. She wasn’t what I said I wanted. She was leaving.

  But hot damn, that kiss.

  I could hardly tell which way was up when I released her and made my exit. I’d slipped out of that house like my tail was on fire because if I hadn’t, I would’ve pressed for more. And though we’d had frequent interactions for over a month since she’d arrived, it had been our first date.

  I never kissed like that on a first date. A cheek peck, maybe the lips if there’d been great chemistry, but that? The kind of kiss that starts fires and burns down buildings? Not once in my life.

  Maybe it felt like this—so vivid and necessary and right—because I’d come to. I’d had my realization and taken off the shades. Maybe I was finally seeing the sun, straight out.

  She didn’t make sense for me, no matter how I sliced it. But maybe what I wanted, or what I’d said I wanted for so long, didn’t matter anymore. Not when it came to her.

  I still shook when I thought of it, even now, but I exhaled sharply and willed myself to return to the moment. Breakfast with Calla and Warrick. Not another intimate moment. Nothing would happen.

  “How’re those eggs coming, chef?” Warrick asked, patting my shoulder as he stomped into the kitchen.

  “One minute.” I glanced over my shoulder to catch Calla’s eyes heavy on me. Meeting her gaze sent a bolt of pleasure through me.

  “I’ll start the toast.” He popped two slices in, then clanked around collecting plates and utensils. Calla asked if she could help, and in minutes, we’d all taken seats and dug in.

  I’d kept myself from looking at her for a full two minutes after we sat. Thankfully, Warrick drew us into conversation and helped me unwind a bit.

  “So, are you ready to make some friends?” he asked between scoops of eggs.

  “Uh… yes?”

  He laughed in a way that could only be described as gleeful. “You’ll be fine. Wy told me you guys ran into two of the people who’ll be there on your date. It’ll be great.”

  I sucked in a breath right as I’d taken a bite, then began coughing hard enough Warrick stood and slapped me on the back. After a sip of water and more dramatic coughing, I cleared my throat and could finally speak. “Sorry. Wrong pipe.”

  Calla’s eyes flickered over me, and I willed the blush rising to my cheeks to stay hidden. I also said a quiet prayer that she not realize what Warrick said and how it clearly revealed I’d told him about our date, at least in part.

  “So he told you about the date?”

  Welp. So much for that hope.

  Warrick wiggled his stupid eyebrows and smiled a Cheshire grin. “Oh, yes, he did.”

  Red blossomed on her cheeks now, and her gaze met mine before ducking to her plate. “And what was the review?”

  Fortunately, I hadn’t told him much more than the details about dinner and that it went well. I definitely hadn’t shared how kissing Calla had felt like discovering a new planet.

  “Sounds like it went well from the Saint perspective. What about for you? How would you rate it?”

  My pulse, already moving at a decent clip, skyrocketed into a trilling pace.

  She tapped her chin dramatically like it took her great effort to think of an answer, then shared a heart-stopping smile. “A minus.”

  “Ohhh, minus, huh? And how could young Wyatt improve? Do you offer extra credit?”

  Curse the man, he was having way too much fun. Someday, he’d want to date someone, and I wasn’t going to do him any favors. I’d remember this moment and exact my revenge somehow. The whole conversation had me squirming in my seat. We shouldn’t be talking about this at all, let alone in front of my little brother.

  She hummed, and the sound hit me between the ribs like it always did. When she spoke, she pinned me with her gaze.

  “The minus is because it ended too early.”

  My stomach dropped low just as my heart galloped in my chest. It rocketed blood from one chamber to the next, pulsing so fast that I doubted one beat could be discerned from another. A steady hoofbeat and nothing else.

  I blinked like the wiper function of my lids would help me make sense of this moment. Her only critique was that it’d ended too early?

  Lava filled my belly, and every muscle in my body tensed.

  Warrick filled the space. “Hmm. Well, that seems easily remedied. Taking notes, Wy?”

  Bless him, he was buying me time to stop this internal systems meltdown and drum up some words. Some kind of response to her statement that essentially said she wanted more from me, more between us. Get it together, man!

  “Duly noted. Yes.”

  A beat passed, and Warrick popped up from his seat, grabbing his plate as well as our guest’s. “Well, I’m going to go change. Calla, I’ll be out front around eleven. That work?”

  She stood as she spoke. “That sounds great. I’ve got to head back for a quick meeting, but I’ll be ready.”

  She practically jogged to the entryway and grabbed her coat. Before she disappeared out the door, she leaned back into the living room and hit me with those dark eyes. “Thanks, Wyatt. Breakfast was delicious.”

  I only nodded, still too flustered by her comment moments ago to say anything. If I did speak, I’d ask her to stay or wait or something awkward that showed how much I wanted to be around her.


  The door shut behind her, and Warrick popped out of nowhere, beaming like he’d orchestrated everything.

  “Oh, man, you are in trouble.”

  I sent him a glare, and he trotted off down the hall to his room while I puttered in the kitchen, cleaning up from breakfast and muttering to myself about nosey little brothers and popstars who’d be the death of me.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Calla

  I ended the call with Kristoffer right as Warrick pulled up. My PA was just doing his job, but an hour on the phone was enough to send anyone into a draggy, irritated mood.

  Not his fault, and it was long past time since I’d only e-mailed and texted with him for the last week—we were long overdue. Especially with Rad still banging around, complaining about my telling him I’d speak to him when I returned to LA and not a minute sooner, and the press continuing to speculate on where I’d gone, he’d needed to circle the wagons and catch me up.

  In an attempt to shed the frustration that thinking about my reality bred, I inhaled slowly, then pushed out a breath and stretched my arms over my head before grabbing my coat. The call had distracted me enough that I’d forgotten to get nervous about this little let’s make friends lunch Warrick had set up.

  “All set?” He pushed my door open from his seat on the driver’s side of his SUV and smiled over at me.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I shut my door and buckled in, but my eyes immediately snagged on Wyatt shoveling the walkway of his house. “Hey, can you pull over to him?”

  “Sure thing.”

  We rumbled over snow, which I realized had gotten much deeper since I’d walked to breakfast this morning, and came to a halt next to Wyatt. I rolled the window down, and he looked up after tossing a shovelful of snow.