Wrong Bed, Right Guy

by Katee Robert

  She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t lie to her best friend. “Yes.”

  “Then, again, what’s the problem?”

  “He lied to me.”

  “Did he? Or did you take off before he had a chance to explain?”

  “I saw him kissing that woman.”

  “You saw him wiping off her lipstick. Look, it’s simple. Are you really going to throw away a chance to be happy based on what might be a misunderstanding?”

  “It’s not a misunderstanding.” It wasn’t. Was it?

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself, sweetie. I’m going home.” Roxanne turned and walked out of the room, leaving Elle staring after her.

  Great, now she’d managed to alienate the last person on earth sympathetic to her cause. She used the corner of the painting to rotate it toward her. As usual, its beauty actually took Elle’s breath away. If Gabe was really trying to buy her off, he was doing a darn good job of it. Only one way to tell for sure, though. She inched the envelope closer, taking in the total lack of decoration. It didn’t even have her name on it. Then again, who else would it be for?

  And, yeah, she was totally stalling.

  Holding her breath, she tore into it and pulled out the letter. Elle choked on a laugh. Of course it was written on lined paper and ripped out of a spiral notebook. Why did she even bother being surprised? A part of her wanted to be derisive—seriously, couldn’t he put a little bit of effort into some stationery?—but the rest of her smothered the voice. Gabe had just given her the single most overwhelming gift of her life, worlds better than any guy she’d ever dated. Biting her lip, she started to read.

  Then the meaning of his words hit. She groped for the kitchen stool, unable to tear her eyes from the page. This wasn’t a gloating “Look what I bought you! I done good” letter. No, this was something else entirely. Elle read it twice, set it down, and then picked it up again. Surely he wasn’t serious. She looked at the painting and then back to the letter. Oh yeah, he was serious.

  Elle,

  Babe, I wish I knew what to say to make this better, but we both know I’m no good with words. So I’ll tell you what I’m feeling right now, and then you can decide where you stand. I know this whole thing with me hasn’t been what you’ve imagined dating should be, and I’m really goddamn sorry for the other night. I know you won’t believe me, but I swear to God nothing happened with Lynn. She’s the manager of my L.A. club and was up here because I’d been blowing off my responsibilities to be with you. She kissed me on the cheek like she always does. Nothing more, nothing less.

  All that shit aside, I care about you. Hell, woman, I’m falling for you, hard and fast, and I don’t even know which way is up anymore. I mean, Christ, I felt like I’d won the lotto when you crawled into my bed, but being with you has turned into so much more than mind-blowing sex. You make me want things I’ve never allowed myself to want before, and you’ve made me happier than I’ve been in years.

  I’m sorry, babe, really sorry. Please forgive me. I just found you. I don’t want to lose you.

  —Gabe

  It wasn’t a declaration of love, but she wouldn’t have believed him if he’d tried that angle. No, this wasn’t an angle at all. Just pure Gabe. Elle pressed the paper to her lips, her mind whirling. He was falling for her. She made him happy, made him want to settle down. She wasn’t alone in this sideways emotional spiral.

  Setting the letter back on the counter, she focused on the painting. A token of how crazy he was about her—not him trying to buy her off. God, Roxanne had been right. She was so busy living in the past, she’d jumped to the worst possible conclusion without giving him a chance to explain. And if she’d trusted him the way he deserved, he wouldn’t have even needed to explain anything. Realizing that made her feel like a heel. All this time she’d been so sure he was in complete control, was toying with her, but it had just been her personal fears at work.

  It was a lot to think about. Elle walked upstairs and into the spare bedroom. The painting she’d started that morning two weeks ago still stood, half-covered, exactly where she’d left it. She crossed the room in halting steps and pulled the sheet off. Even after having only seen him the one time, she’d captured the muscle tone of his chest and breadth of his shoulders. Gabe had certainly made an impression.

  She skimmed over the memories of their time together, focusing on the morning after the allergic reaction. He’d bared his soul to her about his past, about his mother. That had been the truth.

  Her taste in men wasn’t as bad as she thought.

  Which meant she needed to figure out how to make this right. Elle picked up her brush and moved to the canvas. It was time to finish what she’d begun. She just needed to find the courage to take that step.

  23

  The low buzz of tattoo guns usually soothed Gabe, but today he wanted to throw them through the window. Two days. Two goddamn days he’d been back in town and he hadn’t heard a single thing. He propped his feet on the chair and wondered what he was even doing here. It seemed like a decent idea at the time— he didn’t want to be alone, so he came into the shop. But all it’d done was remind him how unnecessary he was here. Somehow, over the years, he’d become more guest artist than a regular, all his time spent on the nightclubs. It had never bothered him before, but now it was like he didn’t have a single goddamn thing holding him in town.

  Maybe he should take off, catch the next flight to Seattle. He could hop down the coast and visit the clubs he hadn’t been to in a while. Anything to keep his mind off how much he ached. Who would have thought that two fucking weeks would be enough to send him spiraling over some chick?

  The bell above the door jingled, and he nearly fell out of his chair when he saw her walk into his shop. He must have been dreaming, damn it. There was no way this was happening.

  Why was she here? He tried to ask, but couldn’t get his mouth to work as Elle crossed the shiny wooden floor to stand before him. The woman was a vision, her long dress hugging every curve and leaving her shoulders bare. The bright tropical print set off her sun-kissed skin and blond hair, and all he wanted in that moment was to yank her into his lap and hold her until he was sure this was real. No. That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be thinking about touching her—not when things had ended so shitty last time.

  “Hi.”

  Right, he should be talking right now. Gabe jumped up. “What are you doing here?” What a thing to say. Shit. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant.” He really didn’t want to do this where both his artists and their clients could see, but there was nowhere else to go unless he wanted to have this conversation in the bathroom. Christ, what was he even thinking? The woman made him crazy.

  Why was she here?

  Elle actually smiled. “I got your package.” One of the guys laughed, and her face went crimson. “Er, you know what I mean. It was too much.”

  So she’d come here to argue about it. Gabe sank into his rolling chair, his stomach tied up in knots. This woman made him feel like he was back in high school, a bumbling fool who couldn’t do anything right.

  “But…the note was unexpected.” She glanced at the other people in the shop, all now blatantly watching them. For a second, he thought she’d bail, but she squared her shoulders and spoke in a rush. “I finished my painting.”

  Gabe blinked. “Painting.”

  “Yes, a painting.” Her hands did a nervous flutter. “It’s one I started the day after we, well, you know.” Elle looked up and met his gaze. “Of you. I’d, ah, like you to come over and give me your opinion.”

  A painting? Of him? Could that mean… Gabe shoved to his feet. “Let’s go.”

  “Hold on.” She pushed him back into his chair. “I’m really, really sorry that I freaked out on you. Remember that guy who my brother beat up? Well, I fell head-over-heels for him and he was a bad boy like you. Only not like you, because you’re really not like him at all. He didn’t care about me, and all he wanted was to get into my pant
s, and apparently the pants of every other girl on campus while he was dating me. But then he broke up with me and made sure to do it in front of my friends in the most humiliating way possible.” Christ, he’d known that dude was an asshole, but Gabe hadn’t expected this. She took a deep breath, and rushed on before he could reach for her. “Basically, what I’m trying to say is that my trust issues aren’t your fault, but I took them out on you anyway. Please forgive me.”

  “Ancient history, babe. I want to see this painting.” A painting of him.

  “There’s more.”

  More? What could there possibly be more of? But she rushed on before he could get the courage to give his question voice.

  “I’m here for a tattoo.”

  The woman was moving too fast for him to keep up. “A tattoo.”

  “Yes, a tattoo.”

  None of this made any sense. “What would your mother think?”

  “I don’t care what my mother thinks.” Elle put her hands on her hips. “You know, you’re not making this easy.”

  It was like they were having a conversation and he was only hearing part of it. “I don’t get it. Why do you want a tattoo? Why here?”

  “Were you serious about the stuff you wrote?”

  Hell, he’d spent hours agonizing over that stupid letter and the damn thing didn’t even take up half a page. “Yeah, I was.”

  She let out a breath. “Well, it turns out I’m falling for you, too. And you make me really, really happy.”

  Gabe’s mouth fell open.

  “You see,” she continued before he could say anything,“after the really traumatic stuff with my ex, I thought my taste in men couldn’t be trusted. My mother enthusiastically agreed, which is why she’s been trying to push me into relationships with ‘respectable’ men for the last few years. But the funny thing is, if I’d have been brave enough to trust my instincts, you’re exactly who I would have picked for myself.”

  “I—what?” She would have picked him. Gabe blinked at her, distantly wondering how often she was going to sucker punch him like this…or if he even minded.

  “Yes, Gabe. I would have picked you. I do pick you.” She gave him a nervous smile. “And it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.”

  He was pretty sure the floor just fell out from underneath him. This was definitely a dream. No way in reality would Elle come walking into his shop and tell him she was falling for him. That she’d pick him over everyone else. That kind of shit didn’t happen to guys like him.

  When he didn’t say anything, she took a deep breath. “So…remember that conversation we had at dinner? The one where we talked about people getting tattoos to remember certain things?”

  “Yes.”As if he’d forget any of their time together— not when he’d spent all his time poring over every single moment of it.

  “Well, that’s why I want a tattoo. Because I feel like my entire life has been turned on its head since I met you. I thought I was playing it safe, but really I was hiding. I’m not going to hide anymore. If that’s not something to commemorate, I don’t know what is.”

  Gabe held out his hand, still half-sure she wasn’t serious. But then Elle slipped her hand into his and it hit him—this was real. She was here and actually saying these things. He pulled her into his lap, and she didn’t even shriek in protest. Instead, she settled there as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re serious?”

  Elle cupped his face with one hand. “I’m serious. I’m falling for you, Gabe Schultz, and I would very much like you to tattoo me.”

  It was only then he noticed the paper in her other hand. Settling her more firmly in his lap, he took the paper. It was an exact replica of the painting he’d bought her. “This is some serious work.”

  “I thought we could start small.” She pointed to the flower on the shoulder blade of the woman in the picture. “Maybe see how things go and work from there.”

  Yeah, they weren’t just talking about tattoos. “Just so happens, my schedule is cleared for the day.” Even if it hadn’t been, he would have canceled on the president for this woman. He pulled her closer, loving the feel of her hips under his hands. It was like the perfect Christmas morning he’d never had as a child. The one where he woke up to realize he’d gotten the one thing he always wanted.

  Elle kissed him, right there in front of everyone. Her tongue traced his, unbearably sweet despite the way she set him on fire. And she wanted him. Gabe wanted to shout it to the world. He gentled the kiss, finally leaning back with a grin.“You ready, babe? This is a big step.”

  She kissed him again. “I’ll be in your hands, so I think I’m good. Let’s do this.”

  Bonus Content

  Wrong Bed Right Guy 5th Anniversary Short Story

  “You’re not going to start talking about shotguns and try to scare Brandon, are you?”

  “This being the same Brandon who’s spent every Saturday in our house for the last two months, making eyes at Izzy while they play those damn games?” Gabe paced from one side of the kitchen to the other. He’d thought he was ready for this. He was sure he was ready for it. He wasn’t some goddamn caveman who was going to start threatening his daughter’s date just because he couldn’t handle that she was actually going on a date.

  Except…

  He nearly hit the counter and spun on his heel to face Elle. She didn’t look anything other than amused, though how she could be calm at a time like this was beyond him. “We know this kid.”

  “Yes, we do.” Her lips quirked.

  “He’s polite. He worships the ground Izzy walks on. He’s scared shitless of me.” He wasn’t proud of that last bit, but it didn’t hurt.

  Her smile broke free, along with a little laugh. “He’s a good kid, yes. And so is Izzy.”

  Izzy. He could still remember when she fit nestled against his forearm. All those hours rocking her to sleep when she was colicky. The endless bedtime stories while she was learning to read. Teaching her to ride a bike. Her first day of school.

  His stomach lurched. “Our baby is sixteen.”

  “She’ll be seventeen in three months.” Elle finally crossed the kitchen and stepped into him, slipping her arms around his waist. “It’s just prom. She’s gone to dances before. Why is this one freaking you out?”

  Because she’d always gone with her girlfriends before. She’d never seemed that interested in dating until her group of friends started a weekly game night over at their house, and suddenly Brendan was there and his daughter turned into a giggling mess. Watching their slow courtship had been kind of sweet—right up until Brendan asked her to prom and she said yes. Even then, it wasn’t that bad until tonight, when it all got that much realer. “Is it too late to send her off to a convent?”

  “That ship has sailed.” Elle kissed his cheek. “Want to know a secret?”

  Gabe finally pulled himself out of his own head long enough to really look at his wife. Damn near twenty years together, and she was just as beautiful now as she’d been the day they’d met. He grinned at the thought. “Have I mentioned lately how lucky I am that you crawled into my bed instead of my brother’s?”

  “Gabe!” She smacked his arm lightly. “Don’t you start with that.”

  “Best thing that ever happened to me.” He coasted his hands down her hips and gave her ass a squeeze. “Tell me your secret, babe.”

  She grinned and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Noah has a sleepover tonight, and Izzy is staying with Rachel.” She put a finger to his lips when he started to speak. “Yes, I already talked to Rachel’s parents, and they’ll be up waiting to make sure the girls arrive by curfew.”

  What she was saying sunk in. He pulled her hips more tightly against his. “We have the house to ourselves.”

  “We do.”

  “Want to have crazy monkey sex all over the kitchen counter?”

  She slid her arms up his chest to loop them around his neck. “Why stop at the kitchen counter? We have all night
.”

  He kissed her, the feeling of her tongue against his as familiar as breathing. He laced his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back to give him better access. Elle gave a delicious little shiver that he felt through his entire body.

  “Mom! Dad! Gross!”

  They broke the kiss with a laugh, and Elle turned in his arms to face their outraged teenage daughter. Izzy looked beautiful, her long blond hair done in a fancy up-do thing that had flowers in it. Her blue gown was actually a high waisted skirt and a crop top—a battle Gabe had lost—and it made him want to throw a blanket over her and haul her ass to her room so she could go back to being his baby, instead of this almost-woman.

  But she was growing up. She wasn’t going to stop just because he had a hell of a time wrapping his mind around it. He and Elle had done a good job raising her, and she was a good kid. He had to remember that and stop trying to tape her up in bubble wrap.

  Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Noah rushed into the room, nearly toppling Izzy in the process. “You look weird.” He ducked around her swat and skidded to a stop in front of Elle and Gabe, his dark brows slanting down. “You two were doing kissy stuff, weren’t you?”

  “Making out right here in the kitchen.” There was nothing quite as scathing as teenage disgust. Izzy shook her head. “Are you two done? Or should we leave and come back later?”

  “Can’t come back later.” Noah bounced on his toes. “Cash will be here to pick me up in five. I need money for the movie.”