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

by Claire Cain

  I’d never wanted anything more. After tonight, singing my owns songs had felt like an inevitability kicked off by so many things over the years. But in this moment, I couldn’t escape that same feeling. Like this was where we were meant to end up, having this conversation, making a new plan.

  Walking away held no peace. I’d agonized every mile down the road Quinn had driven from his house this morning and had hated even that much distance. But this, in the middle of the mess, felt better than anything had since the last time we’d been together.

  His expression changed immediately, pleading entering his eyes as he gripped both of my arms gently but firm. “Honey, please, say something.”

  Inhaling slowly and working to gain composure so I could speak, resolve filled me. I’d sung my own songs tonight, something I’d wanted for years—more than a decade. And while I didn’t know if the social media gods would approve or anything like that, I knew the satisfaction it gave me. It hadn’t burned me or hurt me—it’d freed me.

  Wanting something didn’t have to be a curse. Candy had wanted love and she’d taken the song lyrics to heart and looked in all the wrong places. We’d made choices together and separately that led to some amazing triumphs and some terrible lows. But the desire for success wasn’t inherently bad—it hadn’t cursed us. It hadn’t ruined everything.

  And wanting Wyatt wasn’t the catalyst for the madness of the last week. Rad Bickman had made his choices and attempted to tear me down because of his issues. It wasn’t some cosmic bad-luck curse because I was doomed to be punished anytime I wanted something.

  The thought hit like lightning.

  Something about this mountain air, physically occupying space in Silverton, changed the way I thought. Or more specifically, just being here for the time I had wrought a change in me. I didn’t know how my record company would respond, but I had the guts to push against them. To force their hands, even, and put out this album the way I wanted or get them to drop me.

  And if I could take that approach with my career, then I could take a different tack with the rest of my life too. I could be Calla and Mayhem. I could have music and play my own songs. I could have my life and be with Wyatt.

  Emotion clogged my throat, and I sucked in a breath, drawing strength from the man in front of me and the mountains far underfoot.

  So I could want Wyatt. I could admit it and tell him and we could have a life together.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Wyatt

  Tears tracked down her cheeks, and the hope I’d had for this going the best possible way withered. That energy between us in the elevator, the near kiss, it’d all made me think maybe this could work.

  But now, tears.

  “Please, Calla.”

  She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I hate crying, and it’s all I do with you.”

  She pulled me tight to her and held on, hugging me close.

  She wouldn’t do that if things between us were too irrevocably broken, would she? Though it wasn’t like we’d had an awful fight. We’d parted ways at an impasse.

  I was here to pass the damn impasse, and I hoped she was too.

  “Those words, Wyatt. That’s just…”

  “Unexpected?” I tried.

  She leaned back to look at me. “Better than I could’ve dreamed. I love you, too.”

  Our eyes locked, and that familiar, delicious pull between us tugged me forward—or maybe that was her. Our lips touched, then pressed. Relief, then thrill, raced through me.

  She pulled back. “I don’t know what to do.”

  I huffed a laugh and rubbed my hands down her arms. “Me neither.”

  Her hands were gentle as she caressed my cheek. “I’m making a lot of changes with my career. The time here has made that possible and essential. So I’m not sure what my life’s going to look like, but I want you in it.”

  “Good. I want to support you while you make those changes. But what comes next, I’m not sure exactly.”

  “Me neither.” Her brow furrowed. “Actually, no. I do. Because I love you. So we should date. And then get married. And I should have your babies, or we could adopt. Or, ideally both.”

  My mouth fell open, but no words emerged.

  She grinned and swiped at the tear tracks at the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. “Okay, maybe I jumped ahead. But I want that. I at least want to try. And I know you want that—with someone, anyway. Maybe not actually with me, but—”

  “Yes, with you. I love you, and trust me when I tell you, I tried not to. But you are it for me.” My heart did backflips in my chest.

  She glared but gave me a playful kiss. “Your resistance was futile.”

  “You have no idea.”

  She tugged at my hand, and we sank down onto the couch in the sitting area—a formal living room in a hotel room was very fancy, though she’d probably seen much nicer. And that thought brought me back to the main issue. “What I don’t know is how we do this. I know your life is in LA, but I—”

  “I’ve actually been thinking about buying a place here. I mean, like, I’ve always dreamed about a mountain home, and Grenier has that neighborhood so close to town, but not quite as far away from you as staying here.”

  I nodded, trying to talk myself into that being reasonable. Trying to see a scenario in which her living somewhere and just visiting me would satisfy.

  She chuckled, evidently reading my mind.

  “Okay, so we can figure that out. Because even saying that out loud, I hear how insane that is.” She ducked her head and closed the space between us. “If I’m here, I want to be right here. Not staying somewhere else, without you. So we’ll figure that out.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  The pull overpowered my will, and I leaned in for a kiss, but retreated before we both got sucked in. “But what about when you’re not here? I understand you can’t be here full time.”

  She pressed her lips together, thinking. I wanted to know every thought racing through that gorgeous head of hers.

  “I can probably pull it off a lot of the time. Aside from touring, which I’ll need to do on the new album, I’m at a point where, even after the last few years, I’m not showing up places like I used to. We’ll get a jet and that way we can get to where we need to go whenever, and that’ll help.”

  I coughed. “Did you say ‘get a jet’ like an airplane?”

  “Mm, is this going to be a thing?” She gave me a humor-filled glare.

  “What?”

  “Is me being a millionaire—like, quite a few times over, not just a handful—going to be a thing? I know the women you normally go out with are plain and poor and wear beige turtlenecks for their jobs—”

  I pressed a kiss to her lips to cut her off. “You’ve been talking to Warrick.”

  She just laughed.

  “You’re a menace.”

  “I’m Mayhem.” She quirked one brow in challenge.

  I pinned her brown eyes with my gaze, every bit of me meaning my next words. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  EPILOGUE

  Calla

  Wyatt hit play on the video again.

  “Seriously, man? I know she’s your woman officially now and everything, and it is a great song, I fully agree, but I could go for some variety.”

  “Shut it,” Wyatt said, and hunched over the phone more completely, like curving his shoulders might keep Warrick’s complaint out.

  A few weeks after what I like to think of as our “I love you confessional,” we were sitting in the living room of his house, his mom next to him, and Warrick in the kitchen banging around fixing something for dessert.

  “Have mercy on the poor man, Wyatt. You’ve played it four times in a row.” I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then stood to help Warrick.

  “I haven’t seen this shot of the performance before. I’m not going to apologize for watching you sing a song you wrote about me on repeat.” His eyes never lifted from the screen.

>   “You saw it in real life.” He’d been at every one of my little shows, and I wasn’t sure who was happier to be watching me. For a man who claimed he hadn’t been much of a Mayhem fan in the past, he seemed to have converted fully now.

  He shot me a glare, but continued watching. “I don’t care.”

  In the last few weeks, videos of live performances I’d done at the Silver Ridge Resort’s bar, and several other mini shows I’d played around the area, had gone viral. Like, insane views, and enough that Kristoffer called and said he’d been fending off my label and they were practically rabid to have my self-penned album if those songs were on them. I’d told him to set up a negotiation meeting and basked in the triumph of going for something I wanted and not having it blow up in my face.

  The first of two things that, so far, were going amazingly well.

  Sweet Jane sat snuggled up close to Wyatt, watching the recording with almost as much attention as he did. The day after the I love you confessional, she’d hugged me and cried when she walked in, clearly already calculating how soon we might have a wedding and babies around here. Wyatt had warned her not to get ahead of herself, but I was with Jane on this one.

  Now that I’d accepted there was no one like Wyatt and life would be dimmer without him, I was ready to get this party started.

  “All right, dessert is served, courtesy of Rise and Shine.”

  Jane flipped around to eye him upon hearing those words.

  “Oh? Sadie made these?” She bustled to the table and sat at her place. “Wyatt, get a move on, son.”

  He grumbled something and closed the app just as the final strains of the song played, then found his seat next to me.

  Goodness, he was adorable. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, his cheeks still a little flushed. Apparently, he liked the song, and me singing the song. I looked forward to hearing more about all that later, when we were alone and he could tell me just exactly what he thought.

  “Yes, Sadie made these,” Warrick confirmed, then shoved a mini-éclair into his mouth and closed his eyes. His shoulders deflated like the taste of the tiny dessert brought him something far more than simple pleasure.

  “Pretty sure I haven’t seen you eat dessert in years, if not over a decade.” Wyatt eyed him like his enjoyment of the admittedly delicious little treat was something criminal.

  “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘treat yourself’? I’m hitting goals and just set up a once in a lifetime meeting, so tonight, I’m doing just that.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes and chuckled. “All right then. Treat yourself, baby brother, and I will too.”

  His blue gaze hit mine as he popped a pastry into his mouth and chewed it, his eyes drooping in pleasure just a bit when he noticed my gaze drop to his full lips. Without breaking eye contact, he asked, “War, when are you taking Mom home?”

  I couldn’t help my laugh, and the chuckles around us confirmed everyone found the humor in his comment, though I could see he meant it.

  “We’ll leave you two be here in just a few minutes. But first, tell me your travel plans so I can put it on my calendar.” Jane whipped out her phone and tapped to her calendar app.

  And then, we filled her in. Wyatt would come with me to LA for the next few weeks. And once we’d finished negotiations with my label and wrapped up other business, we’d be back here in Utah. Warrick would help with the house, and Wyatt’s usual staff would make sure Sheridan was well-loved. We’d jump back and forth a few times, but our plan was to be here as much as we could.

  I wanted it with everything I had. And I couldn’t wait to enjoy it.

  Wyatt – Eight Months Later

  Calla had an odd look on her face.

  In the months since we’d gotten engaged, she’d never once had that look until the last two days. Even since I’d known her, now inching up on a year. I couldn’t figure out why, or what it meant. Maybe pre-wedding jitters?

  “What are you up to?” I asked, grabbing her hand before she snuck away. She’d evaded me more than once already. She’d been in town for hours while I checked in on Sheridan, and now she was back, and cagey as all get out. I’d missed her, and with the wedding insanity starting up in earnest tomorrow, I needed time with her. Just me and her.

  “Me? Nothing. I’m just here, innocent and pure, nothing sneaky whatsoever.”

  Her gaze met mine, then flickered away. A bit of playfulness, and a bit of something else. Unease? But like she was covering it with the humor.

  Totally guilty, but about what?

  I reeled her in, one hand on her wrist, the other coming to her waist. “As innocent as you sound, I’m not buying it. Is this something to do with the wedding?”

  “No. I promise. No surprises there. I hate the idea of springing something on you that would make you uncomfortable.” She stepped into my space fully and wrapped her arms around my neck. That look hadn’t left her eye, but she swallowed, and smoothed her lips into a sweet smile. “But I do have a little surprise. And I’m hoping it’s a good thing. I’ve been assured it is, but I started to doubt myself today.”

  My pulse inched up a notch. That didn’t sound like I can’t marry you, but it didn’t sound like nothing. But surprise was good, right? Surprises weren’t bad things. They were good. And I could just see how this unfolded and it’d be fine.

  I dipped my head, giving her no place to go. “I’m sure I’ll like it, if it’s from you.”

  She huffed, and her forehead stayed lined with worry until the sound of what had to be Warrick’s car door slamming outside made her jolt away from me. “I’ll get the door.”

  “I’m sure he’ll just come in the garage—”

  “No, I think he— well, he told me— I mean, I’ll just get it.” She jogged to the front door, leaving me to stare after her.

  More mysteries, but War couldn’t keep a secret for anything, so he’d probably be the catalyst to figure all this out soon enough. I occupied myself with chopping vegetables for dinner for a few minutes.

  Muffled, low voices, clearly hers and War’s, filtered down the entryway. I couldn’t tell what they were saying other than a whispered “Good luck!” from Warrick, and the door shutting gently.

  “Give me a sec and I’ll—”

  A small oof sound came from her, and I couldn’t stay put any longer. Dropping the knife and wiping my hands on a towel, I took a handful of quick strides and rounded the corner to see Calla leaning against the now-closed door, a wriggling ball of fur in her hand.

  “What’s this?” I asked, but my heart thudded in my chest, because I knew.

  She found my gaze as she brought an arm up to cradle the puppy—yes, now I could see it so clearly—and gave me a smile. “This is your surprise. It’s a boy. I thought he wouldn’t be ready to come home for another two weeks, but I had the date wrong. It’s bad timing, but that seems to be the theme of my life lately.”

  “You got me a puppy?” I ran a hand over the soft fur of the little dog’s brown and black head.

  She nodded, smiling at me even while biting her lip like she wanted to hold that grin back. “I did. I hope it’s okay. I thought it was this great idea, and then I realized maybe—”

  “It’s more than okay. I love him already.”

  And call me a sucker, but I did. Maybe for the way he seemed as obsessed with Calla as I was, based on his incessant licking of her neck and chin. Maybe for the love I knew he’d bring to our lives, and the not-small thrill that came from knowing he’d be ours.

  “Do you want to hold him? I never realized how wiggly puppies were.”

  I took the little beast and tucked him into my chest. “Let’s sit. Then he can wander around a bit and stretch his legs.”

  We moved to the living room and sat on the floor not far from the fireplace, a blanket spread beneath us to help with any puppy accidents. The January day was bright and cold, and since we were in for the night, I’d gotten a fairly large fire going. I settled back against a chair and watched the p
uppy rummage around, sniffing furniture, then circling back around to me and Calla. I wondered whether he could smell Charlie, even still, or if it was just all the new scents that overwhelmed him.

  We watched the fluffy little one wander around, paws too big for his body, and laughed at how painfully adorable he was.

  “I can’t believe you got me a puppy,” I said a while later, cuddling the yawning little thing in my arm.

  She fidgeted, shifting where she sat and glancing away. “I worried it’d seem like I was replacing Charlie, but then I told myself that was stupid. I know you’ve wanted another dog. I hope it was okay I chose one. This guy’s a Great Pyrenees. He’s going to get really big, but I figured you wouldn’t want a tiny, yappy one.”

  Keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake the snoozing little fellow, I said, “Definitely not. I think he’s going to be a great addition to our family.”

  Her sharp inhale and sigh had me glancing at her, then stilling. There was that look again. I couldn’t abide it, when she’d done this sweet thing for me. A thoughtful gift, one we could share and enjoy as we started the next part of our story.

  “Seriously, honey, I love him. We’ll think of a name, and we’ll take him to meet Sheridan. My mom will want to dog-sit, and Warrick obviously approves. I think Wilder’s a real dog lover too, so it’ll even be a way to connect with him when he gets back. I don’t want—”

  Her firm grip on my wrist made me halt.

  “I was going to wait. I swear I was. I didn’t want to pile all of this on you right now, but I have to say something before my brain claws its way out of my skull.” She sat up on her knees, that face so full of apprehension, my stomach bottomed out.

  “What is it? Obviously more than the dog.”

  Something was actually wrong. Was she sick? Did she want to elope instead of go through with this whole winter wonderland wedding thing Dahlia had come up with? Had she changed her mind? Was the puppy some kind of effort to appease me or make up for leaving me? Did she—