Mr. Wrong

by Rebecca Royce

  “Three whiskeys make me a little dramatic.”

  “Duke.” She started to reach out to touch him, then stopped. Dahlia didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. She cared a great deal about Duke. “You know about Mr. Wrong week.”

  He laughed. “I have terrible timing.”

  “No. I mean, it’s been years since the divorce, and I should be able to be reasonable during the anniversary. Enough is enough already.”

  Except time never mattered when it came down to her split from Cristian Tapia. Her ex still haunted her. She needed to let Duke off easy because though she did love him, she simply wasn’t in love with him. He was right. She should be. Only, Cristian with his dark-as-night black hair and chocolate-brown eyes had destroyed her for other men.

  She’d never be with him again. If she were lucky, she’d never lay eyes on him for the rest of eternity. And yet he had ruined her for any other relationship because, despite the fact they had ultimately wrung each other dry, when he had loved her, his adoration had been so complete, so all-encompassing nothing short of Cristian’s kind of total regard would ever do again.

  I am really sick in the head.

  “I think we’ve been too long in the friend zone. I think of you as my brother. I’m sorry. I’m not sure I can ever flip the switch I would need to change how I see you.”

  There. He had to accept her response. Her reasons were logical and she wasn’t hurtful. They could continue on with what they were doing, and he could stop whatever his newfound feelings for her were. His wanting more had to be a phase. Please let them be a phase.

  Duke ran his hand down her arm and stared at her as though he searched for something. Whatever it was he needed, it wasn’t in her to give it to him.

  “If I ever meet Mr. Wrong, I’m bashing in his face.”

  She looked at the floor, shaking her head. “He’s six-foot-four, and the last time I saw him he was two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle.” I’ve got to look the part, sweetheart. I have to spend so much time at the gym so when I walk into a room I know every man inside wants to be me. “I wouldn’t waste your time trying to hurt him.”

  “Are you saying skinny old me couldn’t take him?”

  She took his hand. “I’m saying what a shame for an artist such as you to hurt the instrument that is your hands on someone you cannot beat. Oh, and we’re having a ridiculous conversation. You’re never meeting Cristian so, why discuss this at all? There’s a reason I call him Mr. Wrong. And those days are behind me.”

  Oh, they so are not.

  “You call him Mr. Wrong because you hate saying his name.”

  She dropped his hand. Enough was enough. He knew her too well. “Time to work.”

  “I get what you’re not saying. You’re done with our conversation. Let’s bring the gang in here and move. Daisy’s will be spectacular tonight, even if I have to offer the patrons grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  If Duke made them, they’d be the best damn grilled cheeses anyone had ever eaten. Her stomach growled at the thought. She resisted turning to the fridge for the cheesecake she knew was in there. Lately, she’d been doing too much stress eating and her once skinny rear end was looking mighty chunky in her favorite jeans. No more. She would say no to sugar.

  Fortunately, the rest of the afternoon passed in a frenzy of activity. When they opened Daisy’s at five, she felt a little bit as though she might fall over. From the customer viewpoint, the place looked flawless. Each of Dahlia’s restaurants had a flower theme. She walked over and stroked the ceramic daisy sitting on the bar. She’d brought the piece directly from her apartment to the restaurant the day they’d opened.

  The daisy had been the first thing she’d bought herself when she left Cristian. The artwork had been a stupid purchase. She hadn’t been sure if he’d pay her any divorce settlement or if she’d have a leg to stand on. He’d surprised her when he’d written her a check for half the cost of their house, something he must have had to take a bank loan to do.

  The money had been more than generous. Of course he’d never been cheap with her, not when what he bestowed came to the big green dollar, and consequently, the man who had never supported her dreams had ended up doing what she needed—giving her the means to make her vision come true.

  The hostesses were seating the patrons with reservations and figuring out what to do to accommodate walk-ins. The kitchen staff prepped dinner on the working ovens, and Dahlia made her way over to the bar to see how things were over there. South Austin had a vibrant community, and some of the regulars stopped by to eat their dinners at the bar instead of a reserved table, which suited her fine.

  The Tuesday bartender, Molly smiled at her approach. “I heard about the fire.”

  “I feel lucky we caught the burn before things got out of hand. Nothing to worry about.” Of course if Duke had been ten minutes later…

  She wouldn’t go there.

  “Everything is on track, I think,” Molly assured her.

  “Great.” She took a relaxing breath. With the fire behind them, she could glide into the smooth rhythm of the night, enjoy seeing the customers love Duke’s food and take the experience all in from afar, as she loved.

  “Hello, cowboy.” Molly’s voice purred as she spoke under breath. Dahlia turned to find out who’d captured the bartender’s attention, ready to be amused. The woman had excellent taste in men and no problem getting them when she wanted them. Dahlia envied her. She’d only ever wanted the same guy, and they’d turned out to be completely wrong. What was with her? She couldn’t be casual? Pick a guy and enjoy?

  “Who are you looking at?” she whispered, keeping her voice low. Eye candy was never a bad thing. Dahlia picked a glass and started to clean the inside although the sterility looked fine. She needed something to do while she pretended not to look at whomever Molly noticed.

  “Tall dark and handsome who came in with tall, dark and blond accompanying him.” Molly indicated toward the waiting area, and Dahlia followed her gaze. “Damn. He tipped the hostess three bills. Come over here, honey, and order a drink. Bring good looking with you, too.”

  Dahlia had to be imagining things. Her heart rate skyrocketed, and for a second, she couldn’t breathe. There had to be another explanation. Really, she must be losing her mind. Otherwise the man Molly drooled over, the guy with the handsome blond friend and the tipping skills was none other than Mr. Wrong himself.

  Her ex-husband, Cristian, had just waltzed through her door.

  The glass fell from her hand, shattering all over the floor. Dahlia didn’t have to look to know all eyes in the room were on her. She dove after the spill, hiding behind the bar as the coward she was.

  “Dahlia?” Molly’s surprise explanation didn’t help things. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her voice cracked.

  Shit. No. No. No. No. She really wasn’t okay.

  Chapter Two

  Cristian could hardly breathe although he doubted anyone would notice. He’d long ago learned how to fake being fine, and he’d had to pretend every day since the accident even more so unless he wanted to be pitied. He leaned on his cursed cane as Aaron Moskowitz chatted in his ear. He had no idea what his buddy went on about—maybe his dog?—as he stared across the room at the bar where Dahlia had broken the glass, then darted where she couldn’t be seen.

  No question. She’d noticed him. Well, her clumsiness was some kind of reaction to his presence, at least.

  “Cristian?” Aaron cleared his throat. “You okay?”

  “Sure.” Aaron made more than God. Thanks to his recent divorce, he’d earned the title of most eligible bachelor. Bringing the tech genius in with him to a restaurant in Austin would be nothing short of a coup for the restaurant in question. Maybe the promise of good press would earn him some brownie points with Dahlia. Yes, he’d failed to let her know of his plans. It wouldn’t be much of a romantic ambush if he gave her the chance to tell him no. Worse, he didn’t want her to reject any
overtures out of hand. In business, the key was to have a plan and contingencies, not necessarily to alert anyone else to the details. Winning Dahlia was far more important than any deal he’d ever negotiated.

  The question remained whether his surprise approach would prove successful or if he’d have to fall back on contingency number one.

  Staying hidden in the corner wouldn’t get him very far nor would allowing Dahlia to spend the night hiding behind the bar. “Come with me.” He spoke to Aaron. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  Leaning on the cane and walking made maneuvering around the tables to reach the bar miserably hard. Still, he’d struggle through much worse to reach her if doing so ignited the healing process between them. Actually, speaking to Dahlia constituted step one.

  He finally reached his destination. Leaning against the bar, he glanced over the side. His ex-wife’s gaze met his own.

  “Uh. Hi. Cristian.” She stood, brushing her strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  He needed to answer, except all he could do was stare at her in utter awe. Dahlia was so goddamned beautiful and always had been. The last few years enhanced her beauty. Thirty looked incredible on Dahlia. Her hips were rounder, her breasts more pronounced, and she’d grown her hair to her waist. She looked as a woman who should be painted or better yet sculpted. He wished he possessed the talent for either. Hell, he’d pay someone to capture her.

  Her lower arms were bare and she’d tattooed her right wrist with a small floral design. Color twisted around her slender joint. Damn, she was full of surprises. He’d never have thought her the ink type. What else had changed? He needed to know, to catalog whom she had become so he could understand her better.

  She was his, or she would be again. He didn’t think he’d really smiled once since they separated, and all he wanted to do was hold her and promise he could—no would—be the man she needed.

  “Dahlia.” He could barely speak her name. Exactly the same as the first time…

  They’d been sixteen years old when he’d first laid eyes on the woman who captured his soul and never released it. One blink and he was there all over again. Memories flooded him, and unprepared for the onslaught he nearly buckled under the emotion. For the first time, he was grateful for the cane.

  Cristian had been sitting under the bleachers of the football stadium, trying to study for his AP Physics examination. The coach had been after him again about missing practice, only he couldn’t study, work two jobs, and be running around the football field all afternoon. Something had to go. Cristian had never been very good at not disappointing anyone, which was why he hid under the bleachers instead of facing the coach as a man.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  The interruption startled him. A girl he had seen around school who never spoke to him—not that he blamed her, he was the only un-cool football player the team had ever produced—smiled while she chewed on her pen. She was pretty with strawberry-blonde hair and freckles on her nose. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Oh, right because he had no time for girls, and even if he did, most of them didn’t waste time on him.

  “I need to study. You’re not planning to bring a whole crowd here, are you? If you’re going to have some sort of sex thing here, I’ll go find somewhere else to be.”

  Her eyebrows shot skyward. “Sex thing.” She laughed, throwing her head back. When she finally stopped, she glowed from the inside out. Cristian didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone who actually fit the description before. “No, totally no sex thing happening here. Didn’t you know? I’m part of the V club.”

  Cristian didn’t know what the V club was and he had no interest in finding out. Avoiding clubs and all the gossip that came with them had been a full-time job his freshman year. He refused to lose any ground there.

  “So, yeah, you can sit. Why are you here?” He scooted over, allowing her to take the spot next to him. The autumn day was beautiful with the wind whipping through the bleachers, making a humming sound when the breeze hit against the metal seats.

  “I saw you were here and I wanted to say hi.” She twirled a piece of her hair around one finger. A hint of mint gum reached him. His mouth watered. Did he have any in his bag?

  “Why?” He never understood women. What did the hot girl want with him?

  She shrugged. “Because you looked lonely. I was also kind of by myself, usually am, I guess, and I decided to take a chance and see if you were a nice guy to sit under the bleachers with. You’re studying. So I’ll stay here and not talk.”

  There was no earthly way he would study for his test with her sitting so close to him. Hell, when he looked at her from a certain angle with the sun coming through the bleachers, it revealed the outline of her bra behind the V-neck of her shirt. His cock came to attention

  He slammed the book closed and threw it on his lap. “I’m done.”

  “You are?” She grinned. “I thought you said you had to study.”

  “I do. I mean—I did. I’m done.” He held out his hand. “I’m Cristian.”

  The reddish-blonde girl clasped his fingers in her smaller ones and shook his outstretched offering. “I know. We’re in English together.”

  They were? He hated the waste of time class. Science really appealed to his sense of order, and he never knew what to tell his English teacher when she started talking about trope. He mostly kept his head down. “I guess I never noticed.”

  “I figured not. You’re so dark and mysterious.” He totally was not. Lately, he wondered if he defined boring. If she wanted to think he had some kind of depth, then he’d accept the compliment from the happy girl. “I’m Dahlia. Like the flower.”

  Cristian blinked and he was once more standing in the bar staring at the woman who held his joy. She had asked him what he was doing there.

  “I heard your restaurant was the best place in town. I thought I’d bring Aaron. Moskowitz.” He extended his hand, finally remembering the plan to earn the good will part of the surprise visit.

  “Aaron, meet Dahlia. My ex-wife.”

  His business school buddy’s expression withdrew into nothingness, in the bluffing, poker game kind of a way. “I’m meeting your ex?”

  He ignored Aaron’s query, instead focusing on Dahlia’s reaction. She narrowed her eyes as she extended her hand to meet him; obviously realizing whom his friend was if the widening of her eyes meant anything. Her ivory skin had never been able to hide a reaction. A red flush bloomed in her cheeks when she focused on Cristian once more.

  He could finally breathe. If she really hadn’t cared, there would be no reaction. Anger meant he still had hope. He could manage anger, not indifference.

  After she dropped Aaron’s hand, she turned her glare onto him. “We have the kind of relationship where you drop in at my restaurant?”

  “I didn’t drop in. I have a reservation.”

  “Ah.” She placed both hands on the bar. “Much better. Then let’s get you seated.”

  She circled the bar, heading toward the front. Her short brown skirt swayed with every step, showing off her long shapely legs. He let his gaze roam her body, all the way from her eyes to the tight white blouse she wore.

  He noticed the second she saw the dreaded cane. Cristian steeled himself for what would happen next. Always the same pitying glances, stupid remarks. He wouldn’t let her dwell on his brokenness, not for very long, anyway. If he had to prove he could still be the man for her he would. Walking was a problem. Still, the stationary bike worked wonders to keep him in shape.

  “Cristian.” She pointed to the cane. “You’re hurt.”

  Aaron whistled through his teeth before letting out a loud sigh. His friend would hate the pity as much as Cristian did if he were in the same situation.

  “He’ll be fine. Right, Cristian? A little car accident can’t knock you off your game.”

  Dahlia didn’t look at him, keeping her gaze on Cristian. “Must have been bad. Are you okay?” Tea
rs wet her eyes, but she blinked rapidly as though to prevent them from escaping. His heart squeezed at the hurt flickering in their depths. Far from pity, her reaction touched him and insecurity worked its way into his stomach. He wouldn’t cause her pain for anything in the world. Seeing him injured upset her. Dammit he should have stayed away until he fully healed, or at least until he could manage without the cane.

  “The accident was bad, Dahlia, but I’ll be okay.”

  “Good.” She tugged at the end of her hair. “I hadn’t heard you were injured. I would have, well, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  “We don’t exactly keep the same company anymore.” Post-divorce she had very systematically divided their friends when he hadn’t been looking. She’d left and taken half the people he knew with her. Some couples remained his, others hers. Anyone who knew he’d been injured no longer spoke to her.

  “True. I…come with me.” She moved slower than before and he followed to the open table by a window. The hostess hadn’t called them so he doubted whether where they sat had been the table designated for them to use. Still, she owned the place, and could do as she wished.

  “Someone will be along with your menus.” She nodded at them. “Enjoy your meals. Seeing you has been…yeah.”

  He caught her arm, reluctant to end their conversation—no matter how stilted and brief. “The restaurant looks gorgeous. I notice the daisies all over the walls. Reminds me of what you did to the garden room at home.”

  “They’re the same daisies.” She looked away. “Waste not, want not.”

  “Glad to see ripping them off the wall in a fury of anger was not for naught.”

  Dahlia laughed before she covered her mouth with her hand. “Have a good dinner.”

  Cristian couldn’t look away as she retreated to the bar. Only once she was out of sight did he meet the glaring gaze of his friend.

  Aaron leaned over the table. “What the hell are you thinking, bringing us to your ex’s place without getting cleared by her first? Mine would cut off my balls.”