Finding Mr. Wrong Read online

  “Yes.”

  “My boss was my boyfriend. One day, I caught him cheating on me with his secretary, so I impulsively quit. My love life was a big cliché, I was unemployed, and . . .”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.” Brae turned toward me, her back against the edge of the sink. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and added, “I know you think a lot of yourself, which is fine, but like you said, I don’t know you well enough to judge. Thanks to your vagueness, I don’t know much about you aside from you’re Swedish and have two ex-friends who seem more like your brothers. Maybe you shouldn’t push them away. If you keep up the high and mighty attitude, they might be all you have left one day.”

  My eyes widened at her response. Sparky was the perfect name for her. “One ex-friend. Luca had nothing to do with this,” I said, trying to bring some levity into our conversation.

  She wasn’t amused, nor was she interested in continuing this discussion, made obvious by the scowl on her face. I expected her to go into the bedroom and slam the door, but since we were technically in the bedroom, Brae surprised me when she pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and one glass out of the cabinet. She uncorked the bottle and poured a healthy serving.

  Every movement was like a dance. Her lithe body, which I’d assumed to be tense, appeared relaxed. I wasn’t going to apologize again, but I was sorry about her job. Her ex sounded like an ass. I didn’t condone cheating. Even though there was a lot I still needed to learn about Brae, I couldn’t imagine why any hot-blooded male would cheat on her.

  Silence stretched between us. I had no idea what to say to help her feel better. In the defeated way her shoulders sagged, her stunning brown eyes dull and hollow, there was a lot more to her problems than her asshole of a boss/boyfriend cheating and her being jobless.

  Before I could ask, or attempt to console her, she slipped out the back door, closing it behind her with a firm click. Through the window, I watched her drag one of the lounge chairs out the gate and onto the stretch of beach. She positioned it facing the ocean and settled on it while staring ahead, nursing her wine.

  A lump I didn’t understand formed in my throat. Was it pity? Remorse? Whatever it was, I had no idea what to do about it.

  Brae

  I couldn’t believe I admitted that to him. That look on his face, I knew it well. It was the same look the foreclosure representative from my parents’ bank had on his face when he said, “I’m sorry, Ms. Daniels. You’re running out of time.” It was the same look Stefan had when his eyes cut away from her face to mine as he fucked her in his office. It was a look that instantly made me sick to my stomach.

  There was no way I needed him feeling sorry for me. I couldn’t handle that on top of everything else I needed to worry about. I preferred him being a prick—that, I could fight against. Pity made me defenseless, and that was worse than anger. I’d rather be angry. Over the past few months, being angry at the bloodsucking banks and Stefan became a motivator to get me to do something about my situation.

  I’d be damned if Jude Soren derailed my goals just by feeling sorry for me. That alone was enough to force me to make a deal with myself. For the rest of our time together, I’d push the weight of my worries to the back of my mind and focus on the prize. Money was my motivator. Jude was just a means to an end. Even if it meant being the better person—and being nice to him.

  My parents raised a strong woman, and once I put my mind to accomplishing something, I did. So, for now, I’d finish my wine, maybe give myself this brief time to sulk, and do my best to enjoy the next forty-one days.

  Chapter 9

  Brae

  “Brae?” The use of my real name surprised me more than his appearance. He came to stand beside me. His hands shoved into his pockets made him look insecure. It wasn’t a trait he normally possessed. “Are you okay?”

  I plastered a bright smile on my face. “Yes, I’m fine.” Lifting my glass, I drained what was left. “The wine is decent. You should have some.”

  One corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. “Maybe I will.” He took the glass from my hand and walked away without another word. A few minutes later, he dragged the second lounge chair over to where I sat. I couldn’t stop another smile—a genuine one this time—when I saw him balancing two glasses of wine in his other hand.

  “Here you go. I assumed you’d want a refill.” Our fingers touched, and I paused before taking the glass. “I didn’t poison it,” he teased at my hesitation.

  “Good to know. I’m just surprised you’re being nice to me, I guess.” My stomach twisted when I considered the reason was probably pity. Refusing to succumb to those negative emotions, I took a sip and grinned. “Thank you. That was sweet, Jude.”

  “My pleasure.” He looked out at the darkening ocean as I stared at his profile. Straight nose, firm square jaw, and that damn delicious scruff would be hard to resist if I had met him in the real world. He was just the type I’d be attracted to. Feeling my gaze, he turned his head as I looked away.

  “We missed the sunset,” I said, forcing his attention away, as if to confirm I was right.

  “There will be others. Are you tired?”

  “Yes, a little. I should probably turn in soon. It’s been a long couple of days.” Reminding myself not to be snarky—or sparky, as he enjoyed calling me—I refrained from mentioning the horrible night’s sleep I had on the rock hard sofa in our room last night.

  “Are you a lefty or a righty?” When I didn’t reply right away, he clarified, “Do you sleep on the left or right side of the bed?”

  “The middle, but I’m good both ways. You can decide.”

  “Hmmm. . . . ambidextrous. That could prove to be a very positive trait in our growing friendship.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, we’re friends now?”

  “Sure, why not? That’d be new for me, being friends with a hot chick,” he placated with a humorous tone.

  I laughed again. “I don’t know what’s more insulting, the fact that you’re reluctant to be friends, or the fact that you referred to me as a chick.”

  “Woman. Sexy woman. Hot, sexy, beautiful woman who purrs. Does it matter how I label it?” He frowned and groaned. “Ugh. I just remembered how much you snore.” He pointed to the wine. “Drink up. Maybe that will knock you out and quiet the buzz saw living inside you.”

  “I don’t snore.” Before he could respond, I quickly added, “You’ll never be able to prove it either. Your grand plan of taping me is null and void since you don’t have a phone with you.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t have a recording device. Well, GoPro. Kyle packed my GoPro. I guess the idiot thought I’d need it to record some mad surfing or . . . something.” He chuckled, but didn’t explain further.

  “Or something?” I prompted.

  He cut his eyes to mine with that sexy smirk on his lips. “Do you really want to know?”

  Did I? “Sure, why not,” I admitted with a shrug.

  “The last time I used it may have been to make a homemade movie of sorts . . .”

  “Ugh,” I croaked, thrusting a firm hand in his face. “Stop right there. On that note, I’m going to unpack and get ready for bed.” I swung my legs over the side of the chaise and stopped before walking away.

  “Unpack?”

  “Yes. You know, you take clothes out of a suitcase and place them in drawers. Some you hang on hangers in the closet.” I quirked my lips, mimicking his smirk. “I’m not living out of a suitcase for six weeks, and neither are you.”

  He rolled his eyes and groaned, as if my statement completely exhausted him. It was clear this man had people in his life to do such simple tasks like packing, cooking, and laundry. If he thought I was going to take on all those roles, he had another thing coming.

  “Also, if you need to pee, now would be a good time to use the bathroom.”

  “Seriously, what do you do in there? You don’t need primping.” Unfolding his body, he rel
eased a long, drawn out groan as he stood beside me. “We need to work out a schedule.”

  “It’s simple. I’ll warn you before I start my morning and night routine. The rest of the day, have at it.” I took a few steps before stopping again. “Just be sure you clean up after yourself. I’ve heard using a sock helps,” I said, winking, then laughed out loud at the shocked look on his face. It felt good to laugh. “Last chance to get in before I do.”

  He scurried past me and bolted right into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he appeared and waved a hand. “It’s all yours.” It was annoying how little time he spent on himself, yet could always look so fucking hot.

  “Don’t forget to unpack,” I demanded before shutting the door behind me. Of course, he left the bathroom a mess. His towel lay on the floor, and cluttered on the counter was an opened tube of toothpaste oozing onto the Formica, a generic tube of hair gel, a comb, an electric trimmer, a razor, and a can of non-descript shaving cream. Hmmm . . . I wonder if he manscapes?

  His blue glass bottle of cologne caught my eye. I glanced at the shower and noticed the shampoo bottle had the same generic label as his other products.

  The man’s hair was impeccably styled and he used no name brands? Picking up the tube, I flipped open the cap and sniffed the masculine scent. Did the man shop at a Dollar Tree for his toiletries?

  Next, I picked up his cologne. Like an idiot, I glanced behind me, even though I was alone in the small room, pulled off the gold cap, and turned the nozzle to spray it away from me. When the blast of liquid hit my neck, I almost dropped the bottle in shock.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Grabbing a towel, I ran it along my neck after placing the bottle back. My reflection in the mirror displayed a red splotchy neck from scrubbing, which blended well with my red face.

  After a few long minutes, I took a deep, calming breath, and emerged from the bathroom to find him on the left side of the bed staring into space. My entrance broke his trance, his greenish-brown eyes landing on my face. They didn’t stay there long before he dragged his gaze down and back up my body. I purposely packed functional, very unromantic sleepwear. But the way he leered at my sleeveless plaid top and matching shorts made me feel completely exposed.

  What was even more disturbing was the way the quilt lay across his lap. It left an unnerving mystery as to what he was wearing to bed. God help me if he was naked. He wouldn’t do that, would he? That would be all I needed to make this already uncomfortable situation completely unbearable.

  Walking over to the front door, I unlocked and then re-locked the deadbolt. I could feel his eyes on me as I crossed the cottage to do the same with the back door. I refused to look at him as I checked to make sure the burners on the stove were all in the off position, grabbed a steak knife from the drawer, and turned on the microwave lamp.

  Tucking the knife under the mattress, so only the handle stuck out, I flicked off the main light and lifted the quilt to slide into bed. It was only then I chanced looking at him. His folded arms and raised brow forced me to involuntarily ask, “What?”

  “Afraid we’ll be murdered in our sleep? Or do you have plans to kill me?”

  “Unlike you, I wouldn’t fare well in jail. One can never be too safe.” I motioned to the door. “Plus, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Oh, Sparky, you are one complicated chick.” The stunning smile he gave me eased the insult.

  “Why do you smell like me?” He leaned over and sniffed. “Yup, that’s my cologne, all right.” The look in his eyes told me I was busted.

  “I was trying to clean your messy side of the counter and it slipped. Can you please put the top on your toothpaste? Is that hard?” There, that should cover it.

  Ignoring the second part of my statement, he smirked his sexy, yet annoying smirk. “It slipped and sprayed onto your neck? Or maybe you just like how I smell?”

  “No, I was turning it to see the brand and it slipped. Did you make it in your basement?” I changed the subject, again.

  “No, but Kyle did.” The confused look on my face prompted him to say, “He’s a jackass, but the man is a genius when it comes to cosmetics. It’s what he does.”

  “That explains the no frills packaging. I hope he tests his products before you use them.”

  “Yeah, on me and Luca. Luca already grew a third nut.” He cracked up at my wide-eyed expression. “I’m kidding, Sparky.”

  “Goodnight, Jude,” I said, as I rolled over to hide my smile.

  “Goodnight, Sparky,” he said before rolling onto his side.

  There was barely any space between our backsides, and the warmth of his skin hit mine even though he wasn’t touching me. I could already predict being sore tomorrow from having to sleep as close to the edge as possible to avoid him. The thought elicited an involuntary sigh.

  “Sparky?”

  “Yes?” I responded, prepared to hear a snarky sexual comment.

  “If someone breaks in, I’ll protect you. You can sleep well knowing that. Sweet dreams,” he said, shocking me.

  “Thank you.” Smiling at his offer, I then added, “You too.”

  Jude

  Purr . . . rumble . . . snort . . . whistle.

  Purr . . . rumble . . . snort . . . whistle.

  Purr . . . rumble . . . snort . . . whistle.

  Warm air hit my neck after every snort and whistle. What in the hell? My attempt to move felt constricted. Glancing down, a warm hand rested on my pecs. Further down, her bare leg was laying on mine. If I moved an inch to my right, I’d fall off this bed. But it was the rumbling near my ear that still had my attention. To say she was literally sprawled out would be an understatement.

  I glanced at the sliver of mattress I was confined to and then to the petite brunette currently hogging the entire bed.

  Purr . . . rumble . . . snort . . . whistle.

  Holy cow. I slipped one hand under my pillow, doing my best not to disturb sleeping beauty. With the GoPro in my grasp, I turned it on and positioned it just above my shoulder, aiming it at her face. While I was at it, I skimmed down her body, stopping at key parts, before moving the shot back up to her head.

  The sounds coming from her could rival a lumberjack. If I weren’t careful, I knew I’d start to laugh, which would definitely wake the beast. God knew I didn’t want to start the day off on a bad note. After what I thought was ample recording time, I clicked off the camera. Rather than stow it back where it was, I stretched to put it in the drawer of the nightstand.

  The motion caused Brae to stir and release me. “Is it morning?” Her husky voice was sexy as hell.

  I sat up and hurried to close the drawer. “It sure is. Did you sleep well?”

  “Mmmm . . .” Her arms stretched over her head, causing her back to arch, and her top to lift, and her belly button to show . . . and my cock started to stretch much like she was.

  “Yes, did you?” she asked, turning on her side to hold her head up on her bent arm. Her tousled chestnut hair was a mess and there was a crease in her cheek from the way she was passed out all night on her pillow, but she still looked stunning.

  What was the question?

  She must have sensed my confusion. “Sleep. Did you sleep well?”

  “Oh. Yes, I slept fine. I’m used to sharing a miniscule bed and being left with enough space to accommodate the width of half my ass,” I said with a wink before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Did I hog? I’m sor—” Her words halted the moment I turned to face her. In lightning speed, her head whipped around to face the other way.

  Glancing down at my morning wood, I shrugged. “Sorry. I kind of can’t help it.”

  “You can by wearing more than those tiny briefs.” She blindly pointed behind her to my crotch.

  “Well, that’s not true. It really wouldn’t matter what I wore . . . but no can do,” I said with a firm shake of my head. If I had to fight every night against a bed-hogging bear, I intended to do it while being comfo
rtable. Little did she know, one day very soon, I would adopt my own sleep routine. “You’re actually lucky I have these on. This is way more than my usual.”

  “More?” she mumbled.

  “Way more,” I repeated. “I have an OCD of my own. I prefer not to wear anything, but I thought I’d cut you some slack until we’re better acquainted.” With her head still turned, I took the opportunity to go into the bathroom. Not only did I need to use it, but after waking up next to her, I needed a cold shower.

  Using the only time I’d have to myself, I decided to take a bit longer than I normally would—granted, it wouldn’t be as pleasurable as I’d like it to be. Warm water cascaded down my body. When I closed my eyes, visions of Brae stretching and rolling mixed with the raspy sound of her voice had me turning the faucet to cold. I wasn’t in the mood for a fantasy when the real thing was lying ten feet away.

  Even though the streams felt more like shards of glass on my skin, I still couldn’t rid the images of what I wanted to do to her. One day, I’d take her in this shower and every other area in this house—maybe even outside. What worried me was how long I was going to last until she let me.

  The sound of a doorbell was enough to force me to turn off the water, grab a towel, and sling it around my waist. The cool porcelain sink felt good under my palms as I leaned against it, trying to rid the images in my mind. It was no use, though. The longer I tried, the more vivid they became.

  When I pulled the door open, Brae was sitting at the table with an envelope in her hand and a cup of coffee in front of her. Turning, her gaze landed on my chest, then lowered before rising to meet my eyes.

  “I forgot to bring my clothes in. But you seem to be appreciating this outfit, so if you’d rather me stay in a towel all day, I’d be happy to accommodate you.” She lifted a brow at my snark, but I wasn’t going to apologize again. Turning toward the dresser, I noticed the bed was impeccably made. The throw pillows were even fluffed to perfection. “The housekeeper came already? Is she coming back to clean the bathroom and bring us clean towels? Is that who rang the bell?”