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

by Claire Cain

  I’d checked in online–well, Kristoffer had gotten the room and checked me in, so all I had to do was sit around and wait until dinner with Quinn and the girls. Then I’d listen to her sing, which I definitely looked forward to.

  And tomorrow, I’d head back to LA and figure out how to start a life I now realized I wanted but didn’t totally know how to embrace fully since a big part of my heart would remain here in Silverton.

  FORTY-TWO

  Wyatt

  Mom answered on the first knock. She looked fancy.

  “Wow. Girls’ night?”

  “Uh, yes.” Her cheeks turned crimson, and she folded her hands. “I have to go in about twenty. Was I expecting you?”

  “No.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek, then moved past her to slump onto her couch. Not nearly as good as mine with Calla on it, but way better than my empty, horrible house without her.

  “What’s wrong, son?” She perched on the arm of the couch.

  I rubbed my forehead, searching for the right words. What was wrong? Everything felt wrong right now, but logically, I knew that wasn’t true. So I went with, “I think Calla and I are done.”

  “Oh, Wy. I’m sorry.”

  “I just keep wondering if we have to be, and that’s driving me insane. I’ve never felt like this—trying to pick something apart and figure out how to put it back together again, but differently. Usually when I break up with someone, there’s this acceptance that comes along with it. Like Samantha—I didn’t agonize over that.”

  She moved to sit next to me and take one of my hands. Hers were so soft and small, and her holding me like this made my heart ache a little.

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  I sighed. Dramatically, if the truth be told. “Yesterday. Not yet a full twenty-four hours.”

  Damn, it felt pathetic to say that. Hadn’t even been a day, and I’d run to my mom to help mend my broken heart.

  But that was the difference this time that I didn’t want to acknowledge but had to. My heart hadn’t been mixed up with anyone else. I’d never loved anyone but family and friends until Calla. I’d never felt like this, so it made sense that I’d never felt like this.

  “Well, it might be you need some time. Or…”

  I studied her face. She really did look nice. Though I often missed having her up at the house, I knew she was enjoying life here in town a lot more after she’d moved. And just now, though I sat here miserably, she seemed quite happy. I narrowed my eyes with suspicion. “Or what?”

  “Or you need to man up and fight for the woman.”

  I made a sound—something between a groan and a scoff.

  “Don’t give me that. You and Calla are different. I knew that the first time I saw her and you got all quiet and severe. I knew it even better when she came for dinner at the house. And don’t think your little brother hasn’t been telling me all the nitty gritty details about you two, especially after our last chat.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks, and she raised a brow, then pursed her lips a little. “Yes, all of them. I know you got close, and I have to say I’m proud of you—it seems like you really have turned over a new leaf and are going for it. I know she had to go deal with the gossip stuff. And I know she’s back here, but that she spent the night at the rental, not your place, last night, and is leaving tomorrow.”

  I straightened as something brutal and sharp stabbed me in the gut. “What? She’s leaving tomorrow?”

  “That’s what War said.” She shrugged.

  Panic flooded me, and I shot to my feet. “Do you know where she is now?”

  “I imagine you could call her to find—”

  “Mom, I love you, but this isn’t helping. You’re right—she’s different. I thought that was a bad thing, or wrong, or… I don’t know. I’m an idiot, obviously. But I’m in love with her, and I can’t let her leave here without at least telling her that. Something tells me if I don’t, I’ll never get the chance.”

  She smiled her proud mom smile as she stood and grabbed my hands with both of hers. “Then you better get to work.”

  I squeezed her hands, then jogged out the door yelling, “Love you, Mom. Be safe tonight.”

  “You too! And good luck!”

  I hustled into my truck and started driving. I grabbed my phone, pulled up her number, then tossed the device on the seat in protest. No, I didn’t want to call her and have this conversation while driving, and if I got her on the phone, I’d be too wound up to make sense anyway, since my phone skills were weak at best. I wouldn’t text, either. So I’d just get to her place, all the damn way back up the mountain, and hope she hadn’t left for her dinner with her friends yet.

  I rehearsed different ways this could go in my head on the drive there, and though the road stretched out and doubled in distance, I made it. But as soon as I pulled up in front of the cottage, I knew she’d left, and something told me she had been for a while. I tried the door, and it swung open.

  “Calla? You here?” No answer, so I flicked on a light and knew for certain she was gone. No pile of shoes inside the door. No coats on the hook by the closet. No fire burning at all.

  My spirits sank, even though some part of me had expected this. I dialed Warrick.

  “Where is she?”

  “Hi, Wyatt. How are you doing?”

  I groaned, irritation flooding me. “I am bad. I’m at the cottage and Calla isn’t here. Do you know where she is?”

  “In fact, I do.”

  My jaw clenched. “So help me, I swear by all that is—”

  “She’s at the hotel. She texted me earlier today to say thanks, that she’s paying through the weekend as promised—and I couldn’t argue that—and thanked me for a wonderful time here in Silverton.” His words punched out, like he was throwing them at me.

  “You sound pissed.”

  “I am. At you. Because you’re an idiot.”

  “Me?”

  “Yup. You. Mr. High and Mighty, I have to do the right thing, I have to hide myself away and live a hermit’s life all the while wishing I had something different, and when something different walks in, I bungle it all to hell and lose it.”

  I shut my eyes and drew in a long, slow breath. This kid was trying my patience, but I couldn’t deny his summary of events, however harsh, was also fairly accurate. Or, they had been. I’d screwed everything up, and I hadn’t even been operating in my old fallback pattern of holding myself separate from real life. Still, he didn’t have to be such an ass. “How helpful, Warrick. Just as I’m about to try to track her down and confess my feelings and try not to lose her, you’re over there lecturing—”

  “Why didn’t you say so? Get yourself together, message the woman, and come talk to her. Unless you pushed her away so hard, she won’t talk to you, I think it’s worth a shot.”

  Hope shot up in rows in my heart. “You think?”

  I pulled into my garage and hustled into the house.

  “Anyone who’s seen you two together thinks.”

  Okay, maybe I didn’t want to strangle him. “Thanks, War. I’ll be heading back down in just a bit.”

  “’Bout time you made your play. Here’s hoping it isn’t too late.”

  “You said it,” I agreed, and we hung up.

  I sent Calla a text, praying she’d receive it and respond. “I need to talk to you before you leave. Please let me see you.”

  Might’ve sounded desperate, but this was not the time to hold back. Maybe she’d blocked me already, or maybe she’d screen it and delete it on sight. Minutes ticked by with no response, but I used them well. I showered so fast, the water had hardly warmed up before I got out, dressed in a suit though I skipped the tie because that was yet another thing I hadn’t learned from my father and my mom wasn’t here to do it for me, and grabbed my phone.

  “I’m at the Silver Ridge Hotel. I’ll be at the bar from eight to ten.”

  That deflated me, just a bit. It was half past six now. I wanted to see her no
w, but by the time I drove safely into town, bought flowers, and found parking at the hotel, I’d have a few minutes to wait. I could handle that.

  I would.

  Because this was the most important night of my life. As I loaded into the car to head back to Silverton, I knew it with a clarity like I’d never had. I only prayed the realization hadn’t come too late.

  FORTY-THREE

  Calla

  “Sorry I wasn’t the best company,” I said as Dahlia, Sarah, and Quinn followed me out of Guac.

  “Whatever. Don’t apologize.” Dahlia waved off my words like a hand wafting away smoke.

  “I can’t blame you for being distracted. First the breakup in general, and now…” Sarah gave a sweet smile.

  She’d been the most excited by Wyatt’s text. I’d shown them when it came through because it’d stunned me. I’d lied to him and pushed him away. What could he want with me now?

  Though, to be fair, he hadn’t said all that much in return. Maybe he needed more closure, more satisfaction that I knew what I’d be missing.

  He didn’t need to drill that point home, because the hole in my heart made it clear. The fact that it still beat there in my chest spoke to the human will to live and nothing more.

  “I’m your wingwoman tonight. If it gets ugly, you give me the nod and I get us both out of there.” Quinn set a hand on my arm and squeezed.

  “Do you know when you’ll be back?” Sarah asked, her voice smaller this time.

  I wished I could say yes, that I had a date on the calendar. “No. I don’t.”

  And they heard the unspoken continuation of that thought—I didn’t know if I’d be back.

  Though the thought of not seeing them again, and not being back in this little town with its shops and mountains, made me feel sick. Or maybe that was the knowledge that I could’ve had something real here, and I’d thrown it away.

  I breathed deep. “Let’s just get it over with, then.”

  I reached for Sarah, then Dahlia, hugging them tightly before saying goodbye.

  For a woman who hadn’t done much crying in her life, the last two months had been like drowning in tears. But it felt good to let out some of the deep and very real sadness that clutched at me as I said goodbye to my new friends.

  Quinn chuckled lightly and patted my back as we walked to her car. “Something tells me you’re going to be fine.”

  “Yeah?” I said, voice watery.

  “Yes. Because one, you don’t need a man, even if he is Wyatt Saint, to complete you. And two, you’re about to sing some originals with yours truly on a small-time stage in Nowhere, Utah and it’s going to be amazing.”

  The sky overhead was dim, just shy of fully black as we loaded into her car. She drove us along Main Street and up the sloping road in front of the old lodge and the new hotel. She parked in employee parking and pulled on her emergency brake.

  “I’ll meet you in the bar, yeah?” she confirmed as we walked into the lobby.

  “See you soon.”

  Nerves had started twisting themselves together in my belly. I didn’t normally get nervous for performances anymore—not much, anyway. Though the nerves in the last few years had been rooted in all kinds of things, so that wasn’t true. But the performance element had become second nature. Until now, when I’d be playing my own stuff and doing it with only an acoustic guitar and Quinn to back me up on piano.

  I’d sent her two songs earlier today, funneling all my sadness and poor-me misery into preparing to sing with her and using that to help me avoid the total breakdown I wanted to have.

  Not long after she’d dropped me off, I snuck into the side entrance of the opulent bar of the Silver Ridge Hotel. The hotel itself had earned all the highest accolades a luxury hotel could earn, and the bar had been featured in numerous “must see” lists.

  And Quinn had been mentioned by name as an attraction worth seeing in more than one of them. As I slid into a low seat the host showed me, a leather club-style chair at a polished wood table, I had a perfect view of the stage. A perfect view of Quinn transformed.

  She was normally a beautiful woman. I’d thought it at our first meeting in the shop, then when she’d hardly spoken on my first date with Wyatt, and every other time I’d seen her. But the sheer joy that glowed around her as she sang, a jazz band behind her plucking and strumming, was astounding.

  My heart recognized it for what it was: a woman doing what she was called to do. My whole body longed for that for myself, and the anxious twist in my stomach doubled when the song came to an end and she nodded right at me.

  I slung my guitar over a shoulder and took a seat on the stool she’d pulled up next to her.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, a friend is going to join me for a song or two. These are new, and the band will be sitting them out. I’m going to hop on the keys, and we’ll get this one out for you. My good friend May would like to share some things with you.”

  The minute I’d stepped on stage, the low hum had ratcheted up. Any hope I’d had of being anonymous was lost, but at this point, there was no going back. After seeing Quinn up there, music making her shine even brighter than she normally did, I wanted this.

  And then, I played my songs. My songs. Once the nerves settled, I felt that glow I’d seen minutes before on Quinn. I knew my answer earlier today had been right—I couldn’t leave this behind. As much as it broke my heart to walk away from Wyatt, and even Silverton, I couldn’t abandon the career I’d built over the last decade. But maybe I could take a different path, and only time would tell if my record company would go for it.

  And in some small way, I knew that would be honoring Candy. For all the sacrifices she’d made—she had made as many sacrifices as she’d gained privileges—I could go on to live and work well.

  The second song came to an end, and everyone clapped riotously. Quinn shook my shoulder, then pulled me into a hug. “They’re amazing, and I hope this gives you the courage you need.”

  I nodded, my heart so full, it threatened to leak out my eyes. Then I grabbed the mic. “Thanks, everyone. And now, back to our beloved Quinn Darling.”

  With my guitar in hand, I hustled off stage, past an unsmiling Julian Grenier at the bar who only dipped his chin in acknowledgment. Clearly, he had no desire to chat, for which I was thankful.

  Adrenaline coursed through me so hard I shook, but I kept going right on out of the bar, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Anyone but—

  “Wyatt?” He was here, his long legs eating the ground between us to catch me where I stood by the elevator.

  “You were incredible.”

  He wore a dark suit and white shirt open a button or two. No tie. His hair looked styled but not stiff, and his beard had been trimmed close. He looked the nearest thing to a fantasy I could imagine except I wouldn’t have conjured him up in a suit. He would’ve been wearing his worn-in jeans that fit him just right and a tight shirt of some kind because the architecture of his chest should be showcased at every possible moment.

  So this had to be Wyatt in real life. And of course it was. In the crush of nervous energy to get the songs done, I’d forgotten I’d told him eight to ten, and he’d no doubt been ten minutes early.

  “You came.”

  “Of course I came.” He stepped closer, not quite crowding me. “Were those your songs?”

  “Yes. Quinn’s idea.”

  His smile hit me like a knife to the chest, if such a thing could be both painful and glorious.

  “Brilliant.”

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slipped open. He glanced at the open car, then back at me.

  “Come up with me. We can talk in private.”

  He’d said he wanted to talk, and I wanted that too. On the post-performance high, I wanted everything, and the dread of what he’d said that’d clung to me earlier was all but forgotten.

  The door slid closed behind us, and we stared at each other. Had his eyes gotten even more blue? He’d definitely taken his magi
c handsome man pills today because dang he did it for me. Even with all the mixed-up mess between us, he did.

  And the heat in his eyes said he felt the same way. My heart shook my body as it pounded out of control in my chest, and as though the gun went off at the starting line, we each took a step closer.

  He dipped his chin and his hands hovered at my jaw, like he was cradling the air around it instead of touching me fully. “I know we have so much to discuss… but I want—”

  The ding of the machine sounded and the doors banged open. His hands dropped, and he waved a hand out to hold the doors open. Mind still back with his lips inches from mine, I reluctantly left the small space and led the way to my room.

  “Wow,” he said quietly as we entered.

  “It’s a gorgeous room, isn’t it?” Not the penthouse, since someone else had booked that long ago, but this suite was opulent and had a view for miles in the daytime. The concierge had apologized for the city view, but I loved seeing Silverton and then out toward the horizon where the sun set each day.

  “So…” I said, setting down my guitar and completely unsure of how to proceed. The euphoria and shuddery pulse of adrenaline still coursed through me, but the stark memories of last night with him had managed to break through.

  “I want you, Calla. Sorry to be so blunt, but I should’ve said it before. I should’ve gone with you to LA. I should’ve fought for you. With you. I should’ve done so many things differently, and I couldn’t let this be one of them. I don’t know exactly how we could make it work, but I want to have my say and that’s this.” He took my hand and pressed it to his heart, holding it there with his own. “I love you, Callaway. I’m a damned fool for not saying so sooner. I realize that might not change things for you, but for me, it does. It means I want to figure this out, if any part of you is willing.”

  His words were too perfect. Too clear. No games. No ultimatums. No anger or resentment at me. Just honest and so beautiful, the tears hit before I could say a word.