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

by Claire Cain

  She tasted so damn good, I groaned, and she let out a sound too. Her hands slipped into my hair and her nails scratched against my scalp, sending a shudder through me.

  “You’re so ridiculously handsome, Wyatt.” She whispered this, like it was a secret she wanted me to keep.

  “You’re killing me,” I said, then found her mouth again. And I didn’t stop there. I pulled her close, then slipped my hands under her sweater to that stretch of skin exposed by her silly half shirt.

  She arched into the contact, deepened the kiss, and things erupted into a frantic, blazing series of sensations that turned my mind to mush. I couldn’t have said how long we drew closer and kissed like there was no tomorrow, but when we finally broke apart, we were both breathing heavily.

  “What was it you were trying?” I asked, smiling at how her hair had come loose from her braid and her eyes still had that heated, yearning look in them.

  Her eyes narrowed just a touch, and she set her hand between my pecs over the thin material of my T-shirt. She had to feel my heart, still a kick drum beat just to the left of her warm palm.

  “I wanted to see if you’d run away again.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Calla

  Wyatt’s Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed, but he didn’t shrink away from me. From my implied question.

  I still sat astride him, essentially pinning him down. I’d wanted to be close to him, yes, but I also wanted to make clear that I wanted this. There’d be no way he could be confused about that or set me gently away like he had however many times to date.

  His muscular chest felt amazing under my hand, but it was that pounding heart that made my own clutch. Being close to him had become more and more essential. Every minute I had with him demanded another.

  “I haven’t been running away, have I?” He looked truly distressed by this thought.

  “Running away might be a bit dramatic, but… yes. That’s what it’s felt like, at least.”

  I hoped he’d hear me out and not avoid this. We’d had great conversations over the last few weeks, but Wyatt wasn’t all that verbose. I just hoped he’d help me understand.

  One of his large, beautiful hands rose up from my waist to cup my cheek. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel bad. I don’t know what I’m doing. I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone, but I can’t have you. There’s a pretty insane tension to any moment like this because of that.”

  His thumb arced over the apple of my cheek. My mind reached for something beyond simply saying, “If you want me, take me!” because that was what half of my brain was screaming. But the other half heard the most important part of his statement—he didn’t think he could have me. Not because of who I was, if I had to guess, but because of what he wanted.

  “For the record, you can have me. But I’m guessing this has less to do with any given moment and more to do with what happens after.”

  He nodded once. “You’ll leave.”

  My turn to swallow down reassurances that might try to tumble out, because at some point, I had to, despite my denying it. Didn’t I?

  I’d gone back and forth about that a thousand times. I loved it here. Yes, right here, in Wyatt’s lap, but also here in Silverton. In the mountains that I suspected were sewn into my DNA at birth. I felt vital and free here.

  I ducked my head to level our eyes. “I don’t know exactly what will happen, but I can tell you with all honesty I want to stay. I want to so much it hurts, and like I told you, I’m trying to figure out what it’d look like.”

  He studied me, maybe looking for signs of veracity or simply absorbing the moment. My hand on his chest slipped down to the top of what I’d recently discovered were some truly magnificent abs. No real surprise since Wyatt was exacting with himself in a way that no doubt translated to his fitness. Plus, I didn’t totally understand what he did, especially now that he’d “stepped back” from his business, but he didn’t exactly live a sedentary life.

  My hand smoothed over his stomach, but suddenly, he caught me at my wrist. Startled, I looked up to find his heated gaze searing into me.

  “I can’t think when you do that.” Then he pressed a kiss to the back of my hand and guided it to rest at his side.

  I didn’t loose the smile I wanted to. We’d just made out like high school students on prom night—if the movies were to be believed, since I’d missed all of that coming-of-age classic stuff.

  “I believe that you want that. But it doesn’t change that we want different things, does it?” He squeezed me on either side of my waist—sadly over my cardigan.

  Though probably for the best, because his calloused hands on the smooth skin of my back and belly had been nothing short of glorious, and it’d be far too distracting now.

  “Help me understand what that means? What do you want?” There. Let’s spell it out and be crystal-clear here.

  His broad chest expanded with a large inhale before he said, “You know this already. I want a family. Wife, kids, maybe another dog. I want to build a life with someone.”

  My throat tightened and my mind screamed so loud, I closed my eyes—the thought came before I could stop it. I want that too!

  I’d never imagined being in a place to feel that way, let alone be with someone who I thought might actually be the kind of person I wanted. He was particular and could be judgmental, but he was loyal and generous and kind. He was so capable and warm. He was a softie with his horse and put perfect little garnishes on everything he made, even canned tomato soup.

  And leading man hot without the baggage of a Hollywood heartthrob.

  I shifted off his lap and curled up at his side. Pinning him down didn’t feel right, and no part of me wanted him to feel stuck in this conversation.

  “I do want those things, Wyatt. I know I’ve made it sound like I don’t, but I haven’t ever—” My voice caught, and I cleared my throat to stay the course. “I’ve never been with someone who made me think past the moment. My life has never been in a place where I felt like I could. I’ve been on this hamster wheel, and after fifteen years, I’ve just stepped off.”

  I laced my fingers with his. “I’m not going to pretend I’ve always wanted what you do. That just isn’t true. But the last month has convinced me that there’s more to life than the way I was living. It’s why I’m trying to figure out how to stay. And it’s why I want to try with you.”

  He might not realize what an insanely huge thing this was, me saying these words to him. Me allowing myself to feel that I could even express the desire. And the weeks leading up to this, I’d pushed away the feeling, the reality that I wanted him, like it was my job. But in this moment, despite the fear of admitting that I wanted him, a little hope mingled in. I could want him without it being over immediately, couldn’t I? I already had, truth be told, and here we were. In this sweet, soft embrace. If I got just a little before it all imploded, I’d take it.

  His hand squeezed mine, and he pulled me into a hug with his other one. We stayed curled into each other for several minutes, his warm, clean scent surrounding me. When he leaned back, he smiled cautiously.

  “Let’s try, then.”

  Bright light burst through me like a sunrise cresting the mountains. “Okay, let’s.”

  His smile was slow to grow wider, but when it did, it made my heart feel too big for my chest. A balloon inflating larger by the second, so large it’d end up carrying me away.

  He was beautiful and thoughtful, and if I was understanding him, all mine. The fire of our earlier kisses had banked low during our conversation, and though we’d just decided to try out a relationship, I felt oddly shy. In truth, I had no idea what that meant.

  Wyatt must’ve felt the same, because he leaned in for a chaste kiss, then backed away. “How about we get to bed? Warrick said he’s planning to be up here early as long as they’ve plowed the canyon.”

  “Sure. Yeah. Sounds good.”

  We went our separate ways to ready for bed, which felt so
unnatural. But the intimacy of brushing teeth side by side didn’t seem right either. There was so much we hadn’t shared, and as much as I was eager to experience any number of things with him, I also didn’t really know how to proceed. I hadn’t even casually dated someone in close to a decade, and even then, it’d never been like this.

  It’d never felt so full and combustible while also being calming and somehow pure. The mix had me unsure, and the last thing I wanted was to pressure him. But I also didn’t want to seem like I didn’t need to be near him, because that felt more and more like a requirement.

  I knocked on his door after washing my face and brushing teeth. He’d left it cracked open, not closed completely, which I took to mean he wasn’t sleeping just yet.

  My stomach dipped when he stepped into the open space and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Just wanted to say good night.” My voice came out gritty and low. I’d been talking a lot today, plus the cold… my vocal cords were shot.

  “Glad you did. Come here.”

  He held open his arms, and I stepped into them, hooking my arms under his and holding on over his shoulders, bodies pressed close.

  For some insane reason, heartache tinged the hug. Almost like this was goodbye, though of course it wasn’t. But the prospect of spending all night without him, or all day tomorrow for that matter, seemed utterly awful.

  “Hope you sleep well,” he said, gruff and soft in my ear, and squeezed me lightly with both arms.

  My heart pattered wildly in my chest, and I kissed his neck, then his cheek, then stepped away. “Night, Wyatt. See you in the morning.”

  I turned and padded in the direction of my room before he said, “Let me know what you need.”

  And it was that wording that stopped me before I reached my door. Let me know what you need like he knew I needed something. Like maybe he knew I needed him. He hadn’t said, “Let me know if you need anything,” a possibility. He knew.

  So that was the reason I turned around, walked straight back to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Wyatt

  Some events in life mark a shift, after which nothing is ever the same. I’d had a small handful of moments like this—some good, like the day I met Sheridan or filing the paperwork for expanding the ranch years ago, and others soul-scarring, like losing my father.

  I now recognized that Calla Rice coming to live at the guesthouse was akin to an earthquake on my house of cards.

  But just now? I didn’t mind that there was a mess on the theoretical floor of my mind. Because today, I woke with Calla in my bed. Outside, the world lay shrouded in wintry darkness, though I could tell the main power had come back on. No humming generator sound. Even that news couldn’t cause disappointment to break through the moment since it meant Calla would go back to her place today.

  Or… would she? Of course, yes, she would. But would she stay over there?

  She shifted next to me, curling into her side and closer to my chest. I ducked my chin to inhale the sweet scent of her shampoo. She smelled so good. She felt so good.

  “Morning,” she said, not moving her face or opening her eyes.

  My heart cracked open and spilled warmth into my chest. “Morning.”

  I pulled her closer to me, running a hand under her shirt across the smooth skin of her back.

  We had no reason to roll out of bed early or worry about anything. When was the last time I’d stayed in bed and just snoozed and relaxed?

  Possibly never. It hadn’t been something that appealed to me. Normally, I felt a little anxious to start the day, to get going on what list of things awaited me. But today presented no such anxieties. For that matter, I couldn’t remember feeling more certain that I didn’t want to leave the bed. I hadn’t felt such permeating peace.

  She made a groaning, pained noise but still didn’t open her eyes. It sounded truly miserable, and I laughed and squeezed her close. “Didn’t sleep well?”

  “No, I slept okay. I just want to be able to sleep in. And my brain is now fully awake.” She loosed a regretful sigh.

  “Sorry, honey. Wish I could help. But I say we lay here a while longer, even if we’re both awake.” I smoothed a path from her neck down her spine to her hip. Once again, the utter beauty of her body hit me, but I didn’t let myself get dragged into those thoughts. “Tell me about your lyrics.”

  She rolled onto her back and let her head drop to the side before her eyes finally opened. Meeting her gaze made my stomach drop low and my blood heat. We’d made love hours ago, we’d spent the night together, and she only needed to look at me to send my heart racing again.

  It didn’t hurt that we’d woken up in the same bed and that I’d been caressing her back, but those eyes did me in.

  “They’re lines I wrote.” She pulled the shirt up to bare the taut, lovely skin of her stomach. Slanted, sprawling script started at her midline and wrapped around to her back. On our date, I’d wished to discover the full tattoos. I hadn’t properly admired them last night, but I’d read the words.

  Surprise jumped through me. “They’re your songs?”

  She gave me a look. “I’ve only had a few writing credits, and most of them are courtesies. These are songs I wrote but have never been recorded.”

  “The lyrics are beautiful.” I traced the path of one at the top of the expanse of her, reveling in the warm, smooth skin under my fingertip. “Can you record these songs? Would you?”

  Her chest rose high on an inhale and fell suddenly with a sharp exhale. “I would, but I’m fairly sure my label won’t want them. I tried on the last album, right before Candy passed, and they patted me on the head and said keep doing what I do.”

  “Writing songs and making music isn’t what you do?”

  She caught my gaze and stared at me, her face so serious, something about it raised an alarm in my mind.

  “No. I’m the body. I’m the vessel or the puppet. I’m the show.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I bent and kissed the first word I’d just touched, then dropped my head to her chest and held her to me. “You are far, far more than that.”

  Her fingers threaded through my hair and she shifted closer, hands running over my shoulders and one foot sliding up my leg.

  A crash rattled the lamp on my side table—of course Warrick would come home now. I nuzzled into her for a moment, then deflated just as the loud bang of the garage door practically shook the whole house.

  “Warrick, I’m guessing?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I very reluctantly hauled myself to sitting upright.

  She inched herself back so she was sitting against the headboard. “Guess I should get out of your—”

  “Stay as long as you like. I’ll go deal with him.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it before dropping it and shuffling out the bedroom.

  “So you did survive the storm. Is Calla back home already?” Warrick asked, back to me as he loaded the fridge with groceries.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Guest room’s empty.”

  He thunked down the eggs, as per usual, and I made a mental note to check them and make scrambled eggs with the ones that didn’t survive him.

  When I didn’t answer, he glanced back at me, then did a double take and his eyes widened. An obnoxious smile lit up his dork face. “Ohhh, I get it.”

  Then he turned and finished his unloading.

  And I waited.

  Because there was no way he didn’t have more to say on the matter, and I could practically feel the words jumping into the air, steaming out of his ears. He was doing a surprisingly good job at keeping himself under wraps.

  “Go ahead,” I finally said, anxious to have him get through whatever was coming before Calla decided to come out and see what was going on.

  He turned slowly, like he’d been waiting for the invitation. “Well… I’m just glad you were able to ride out the storm together.”

  I rolled my
eyes and shook my head. He giggled like he’d said the funniest thing of all time. “Hilarious.”

  “Seriously. It’s wonderful you two were able to share body heat and keep each other warm.”

  I nodded and made a “get it all out” gesture with my hand.

  “Oh, come on, I just had the two. But seriously, is this a good thing?” His expression—part concern, part hope—cut through the joking tone of the last few minutes.

  Was it a good thing? On one hand, how could it not be? And yet, on the other hand, this was me and Calla. Not a simple situation, no matter how we sliced it. “It’s good. Very good, I think.”

  Warm hands slipped around my abdomen, and warmth pressed against my back as the woman in question hugged me to her from behind. “I’d say it’s very good, too.”

  “Well, that’s great!” Warrick’s smile was genuine but fell in seconds.

  “What?” I asked, the small hairs on the back of my neck rising.

  “Someone in town is looking for you,” he said, right to Calla, who’d stepped to my side and leaned against me.

  “Did you talk to this person? Did you get a name?”

  Her body had tensed the minute he’d spoken, but if possible, she’d wound tighter by the second.

  “I didn’t, but someone said he said he was a reporter. He’d heard you were in town, dating a local, and he’s trying to get a scoop.”

  Calla stepped to the counter and slumped into a seat. “Crap.”

  I exhaled, not fully understanding what this meant but knowing it couldn’t be anything good. “Do you need to talk to this person? Or to Kristoffer?”

  Maybe her assistant, who seemed to be part warlock, could help.

  She rubbed her temples, all signs of relaxed, sleepy Calla gone. “I definitely do not, and I’d appreciate if neither of you spoke to him either.”

  “Of course not,” I said, just as Warrick said something similar.

  “I hoped I’d at least get out of here without this happening. How did I go for this long without a problem, and now this?” She felt each of her pockets one after the other, then whipped her head to me. “Have I had my phone at all the last few days?”