Finding Mr. Wrong

by A. m Madden

  So then, why the hell did she run yet again? Why was she looking at me the way she was? These questions ran through my head like a puzzle begging to be solved. Brae Daniels was one of the most complicated women I’d ever met. But, being the man I was, I loved a challenge. And the one I was currently living with was most definitely a doozy—albeit, a hot one.

  As I prepared our meal, my thoughts replayed the last twenty minutes. Maybe she was PMSing, and that was the reason for her mood swings. I knew enough about women to know not to dare mention that. Growing up with five sisters, I knew to back away slowly and shut the hell up.

  I opened the back door and called for her before plating our pasta. If I waited until then, by the time she ran through her feet cleaning routine, it would be cold.

  She appeared a few minutes later, just as I placed our plates on the table. “Smells good. What is it?”

  “Spaghetti Carbonara. I hope you like it.”

  She quirked a brow when I pulled out her chair, but sat without a word, allowing me to push her closer to the table. Aside from my random comments, conversation was brutally awkward between us. The more she simmered over whatever she was angry about, the more I wanted to call her out on her mood.

  “That was so delicious. Thank you.” She surprised me and spoke before pushing away her plate. “My plan for spaghetti was to open a jar of sauce and smother it over the noodles.”

  “Yeah, no. That’s awful,” I shuddered.

  “Well, I’m impressed you managed to whip up a carbonara sauce in less than thirty minutes.”

  “And I got you to eat bacon,” I bragged shamelessly.

  “Yeah, well, I was too hungry to argue. And the way you chopped it up into the tiniest of pieces made it impossible to pick out,” she said with a raised brow.

  “You can pretend all you want, Sparky. I know you loved every tiny piece of it.” A swoosh had us both glancing at the door. There on the hardwood floor sat another envelope. I flew to the door and yanked it open, but to no avail. “I’m going to catch that fucker one of these days,” I said with a smirk.

  I lifted the envelope and read out loud, “Brae and Jude.” Her groan caused a chuckle. “What’s wrong, Sparky?”

  “I’m dreading what they’ll have us do next. Diving for pearls? Swimming with sharks?” She stood, taking our plates to the sink.

  “Nope. Sand castles.”

  A grumble and a few inaudible words preceded a sigh. “What are you griping about, Sparky?” I came to stand behind her, watching her take out her frustrations on the poor dish. “I think this is clean enough.” Leaning over, I pulled it free from her slippery fingers. “What’s wrong with sand castles?”

  “I haven’t exactly hidden the fact that I despise sand. It gets everywhere, and it itches.”

  “We’re living on a beach, Sparky. It’s kind of unavoidable.” Another chuckle from my lips worsened her scowl. “You are by far the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Stop making fun of me.”

  “That would make things boring.” I tossed the card on the counter. “It’s a reward challenge, so like it or not, we are kicking ass for this one. We get five days to practice. We’ll start in the morning.”

  “Great,” she mumbled. “I’ll design it, and since you’re so good at everything, you can build it. Something big and annoying, I’m sure you can think of the perfect design.” She mumbled something else I didn’t hear.

  “What’s that, Sparky?”

  “I said, maybe we should consider a donkey for the locals. You’re familiar with them, right?” The snark in her voice was obvious.

  “That’s it.” I turned her as the water still poured from the faucet and held her upper arms to keep her from running. “Okay, now tell me what really has you all pissed off.” She thinned her lips and folded her arms in defiance. “Well?” I prodded. Still nothing. I slammed the faucet off and hoisted her over my shoulder.

  “Put me down, you jackass!”

  “No.”

  Her wiggling while trying to get down was in vain. With one arm wrapped around the back of her thighs, I guaranteed she wasn’t going anywhere. For good measure, I added a hand on her ass beneath the fabric of her shorts and nearly moaned when my fingers felt a thin scrap of lace.

  “Hey!”

  “Oh please. Now you’re getting modest?” I asked as I carried her out to the beach toward the ocean.

  “What are you doing? I just showered, Jude. Have you lost your mind?” Ignoring her, I flipped one shoe off her foot, then the other. Replacing my hand on her ass, I kicked off my own shoes while never breaking stride. The closer I got to the surf, the more she struggled in my arms. “Jude, stop. Okay, I’ll talk. I’ll talk!” she squealed.

  I stopped when my toes reached the water, tightening my grip on her thighs and ass. When she said nothing, I took another step. “Okay! What do you want to know?”

  “Let’s start with why you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry!” Another step had her saying, “I’m just annoyed.”

  “At me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Silence. Another step.

  “Because.”

  Another step.

  “Stop! I’m talking,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. I couldn’t see her face, but I laughed anyway at what it must have looked like. That earned me a two-fisted punch to my ass.

  “Ow. Talk faster, Sparky.”

  “Maybe most of the women you seduce are okay with your ‘love them and leave them’ act, but I’m not.”

  “Love them and leave them? I know English is my second language, but what the fuck are you talking about? I haven’t left, I’m right here.”

  “Ugh, I don’t mean literally. It doesn’t matter. Put me down.”

  Step. The waves now hit above my knees, splashing the bottoms of her feet.

  “Jesus Christ. Jude!”

  Step.

  “I’m now doubling my steps if you don’t talk. The sun is just setting and the surface of the water is shimmering with golden highlights. It’s a shame you’re missing it, Sparky, and being forced to stare at my ass instead.”

  Silence. Two more steps. The water was now to my waist, soaking her feet. She kicked up a leg, drenching us in the process. “You’re already so wet. I may as well finish this.”

  “No! Okay, after you did . . . you know, to me.”

  “Ate you out?”

  “Must you always be so crass?”

  I lifted my leg dramatically and she squealed. “Wait. Stop. Yes, when you ate me out. You ruined an act of kindness by making it all about you. Don’t do me any more favors, I’m fine without your acts of kindness.”

  “You didn’t enjoy it?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “No? Then fill me in. I’m still lost here. I made it all about you, yet I still enjoyed every minute of it. I can still taste you on my tongue. I can still hear your moans in my head. So, explain how you interpreted all that as a bad thing.” She squirmed against me, forcing a satisfied smirk on my part.

  “You acted like it never happened.” She went very still and her hands loosened around my waist. “And then you walked away without a backward glance.” The last part she said so quietly, I barely heard her.

  I turned and walked back toward the beach stopping to slide her down the length of my body. She wouldn’t look at me, but her pink-tinged cheeks deepened in color the more I stared at her face. Forcing her to meet my eyes, I asked, “I thought you were embarrassed for letting me do that to you, and for enjoying it. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

  “You did it again, earlier. It took a lot for me to . . .” She looked away again, and I gripped her chin, turning her face back to mine. “For me to do that to you. I don’t even know you well enough. I wanted to please you, and I also enjoyed it. Probably more than I should have, which caused even more confusion on my part. But then there was no
thing but awkwardness between us. No ‘thank you’, no kind words on your part. I’m not the type of girl who engages in casual sex.” Her eyes shimmered in the dusk. She blinked a few times and shrugged. “So, now you know.”

  I had no idea my actions affected her as much as they had. Now that I knew, it fucking hurt to know I hurt her. There was no logical explanation; it didn’t make sense. Yet here I was feeling bad regardless. It was obvious the more time I spent with her the more I liked her. This, though, went way beyond like. As I stood staring at her beautiful face, I realized I cared about her. This woman, who I was thrown into a very unorthodox situation with, was beginning to make me care. And it went beyond just caring about a friend. I’d never felt this way for anyone I was friends with.

  Friends. Were we even friends? We went from strangers to roommates. Now we were roommates with benefits. What the fuck did I get myself into? Fucking Kyle. All these foreign feelings were his fault, and now I needed to deal with them while trying not to hurt Brae or myself in the process.

  I raked my hand through my hair before pulling her into my arms. She remained wooden against me, until I said, “I’m sorry, Brae.” At my words, she relaxed against me. Once she did, I tightened my hold on her.

  After a few long seconds, she sniffed and pulled away. “You okay?” I asked, now afraid anything I said or did would hurt her feelings.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not handling this all that well. I can’t be good at everything,” she quipped with a lopsided smirk. Her admission made me smile.

  “Well, I can.” She shoved me playfully, causing me to laugh. “Hey, I’m not handling this any better than you. So, I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”

  Chapter 15

  Brae

  We crossed some sort of threshold in our relationship. I began to feel like I overreacted. He really wasn’t a bad guy. It was obvious in the tiny little things he did that often showed his true colors—like making me dinner, even after I said I would.

  After he forced my confession, he led me to our lounge chairs and helped me to sit. Then, in a very sweet move, he pushed his chair flush against mine to eliminate the gap between them.

  The rest of our evening was spent lying side-by-side while drinking wine and talking. For the first time since we met, we had a real conversation about his likes, and mine. He shared stories from his days at Yale, and had me in tears over hearing the trouble he and his friends had gotten into.

  “Tell me about you, Sparky.” Even in the moonlight, his eyes sparkled when he used the nickname he assigned me.

  “What do you want to know?” I took a long sip of my wine. Something told me I would need some liquid courage.

  “Ever play twenty questions?” He flashed me a cheeky grin. “Aside from the questions you asked the night I met you.”

  I laughed at the memory of his answers that night. “That reminds me, could you have been any cruder?”

  “Oh, trust me, the answer is yes. Don’t change the subject. Ready?”

  “No, but why do I have a feeling I don’t have a choice?”

  Jude let out a chuckle. “You’re learning. Okay, I’ll go first.”

  Draining what was left of my wine, I handed him the glass. “Refill first.”

  He leaned over and grabbed the bottle sitting beside him on the sand. Once my glass was replenished, I took in a few cleansing breaths before nodding. “Okay, ask.”

  “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  “Wow, you’re not wasting any time.” His eyebrows arched, waiting for my reply. “I was eighteen.” His head bobbed forward, assessing my answer. “What about you?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “You were young.”

  Jude shrugged. “She was older. I went to a party at a sorority house and hooked up with someone. She may or may not have known my real age.”

  “So, it was meaningful, and a felony.” I wasn’t sure whether it was my nerves or the wine, but I was the one laughing now. “Sorry, that was rude.”

  “Was yours?”

  “Was mine what? A felony? No.”

  “No, Sparky. Meaningful?” I thought about my first time. It was sweet, gentle, but I wouldn’t say it was meaningful. He gauged my shrug and nodded, thankfully not prodding further.

  “Okay, next question.” He narrowed his eyes, and asked, “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

  God, how I wanted to lie and tell him I did in college just to get a reaction out of him, but I couldn’t. “Not in the way you’re imagining.”

  “Shame, that would have been an awesome visual.”

  “I’m sure it would have. Sorry to disappoint you.” I suppressed a laugh, but he didn’t. God, even his laugh turned me on.

  “That’s okay, I have a great imagination.” He winked at me. “Were you attracted to Blase when he touched you?”

  Where the hell did that question come from? “That’s two questions. Blase did have great . . . hands,” I said with a waggle of my eyebrows. He grimaced at my comment, and now it was my turn to laugh. “No, Blase isn’t my type.”

  “Who is?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, it’s my turn to ask. Did Svetlana turn you on?”

  “More than you know.” We both laughed. “You set me up, didn’t you? What did you do, fill out a questionnaire asking for a manly woman with brute force to come over?”

  “Not exactly.” I took a long sip of my wine, feeling his eyes on me.

  “Yeah, yeah. Nice try. I’m on to you, Sparky.”

  “You have no proof.”

  He shook his head, amused. “Are you close with your parents?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Very. They’re really all I have aside from the friends you met.” Thinking about everything my parents had been through over the past few years, the hardships they’ve endured, saddened me. It also fueled me to see this through to the very end. “Does your family live here or in Sweden?”

  “Sweden.” His lips turned down. “I miss them.”

  “How often to you visit?” I asked, wondering if I would have to spend time in Sweden. It didn’t matter. I’d visit Timbuktu if it meant winning the money.

  “A few times a year. During the holidays and usually in the spring,” he said with a faraway look on his face.

  “You said you had five sisters. Where do you fall in the lineup?”

  “Youngest, but we’re all very close in age. Two of my sisters are twins. My parents were busy making babies for about a dozen years.”

  “Wow, five girls, one boy, all about two years apart? That must have been fun when you were growing up.”

  “More so chaotic,” he admitted on a chuckle. “Dad worked around the clock. I already told you he was a surgeon . . . thoracic. He lived at the hospital for most of my childhood. It was up to Mom to hold down the fort.”

  “Was?”

  “He retired.” Jude refilled my wine glass without request.

  “Thank you.” I stared at the burgundy liquid, contemplating my next question. “How mad were you when I picked you?”

  He raked his hand through his hair, practically scrubbing his scalp. “I’ll admit, I was pissed. Especially since I tried my damnedest not to be picked,” he said with a sideways glance. The cords in his neck tensed as he worked down a swallow. “This is nothing I’d ever sign up for. I have a business and being out of touch with the real world is the worst part of this game. I pray every day it’s not imploding while I’m stuck frolicking in the Caribbean with you.”

  Stuck? I turned away to hide my disappointment. I knew how he felt about being here . . . and really, I felt the same. Regardless, it stung a bit hearing him voice it out loud.

  “Are you sorry you chose me?” he asked. “Spark number one was pretty perfect.”

  “No. I’m not sorry.” My cheekbones rose with my smile. I didn’t want to rehash my motive for picking him. Bringing up the reasons I chose him would open a can of worms. I dropped my gaze to my hands befor
e meeting his eyes again. “So, now that we’re here, are you sorry I picked you?”

  Without hesitation, he said, “Not at all.” His immediate admission lessened the sting of his earlier comment and left me wondering why it meant so much to hear.

  We sat back in comfortable silence, nursing our wine and staring at the ocean. I let out a yawn and rested my head on his shoulder. “Is this okay? I’m getting sleepy.”

  “Of course. But if you’re tired, we can call it a night and head inside.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and placed his hand on the small of my back.

  “Maybe in a little while. I’m too comfortable to move.” Closing my eyes, I let the sound of the waves take over all the thoughts swirling around in my head. With a gentle touch, Jude’s hand started rubbing my back. The warmth from his palm soothed me through my cotton shirt. After a few minutes, I lifted my head and looked at him. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  “This.”

  He placed a sweet kiss on my forehead, causing a shiver to run through me. “Let’s get you inside. You’re cold.”

  I nodded, although the reason for the goosebumps pebbling my flesh had little to do with the ocean breeze. We stood and Jude gathered the wine bottle and our glasses. Everything seemed different tonight. Even the air in the house seemed lighter.

  “I’ll wash the glasses while you go do what you do in the bathroom.” He turned the faucet on and laughed. “You’re something else, Sparky.”

  I wagged my finger at him. “Don’t mock my nighttime ritual.” Turning to get ready for bed, I paused. “Jude?”

  “Yeah?” He wiped his hands on the towel before laying it over the handle of the stove.

  “It was nice getting to know you better.” Before he could reply, I smiled and headed into the bathroom.

  Closing the door behind me, I looked in the mirror. “I think you just made a new friend.” That thought alone spurred me to go through my nighttime steps a bit quicker than normal.