The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen’s Cove Series Book 2)
The Wrong Mr. Right: Chapter 3

JUST AFTER DAWN, I stepped out onto the sand, carrying my surfboard, and stared up at the indigo sky. The sun rose and the sky washed with more blue by the minute.

Fuck yeah.

A light breeze pushed my hair back, and I waded into the water. Like every morning, the water’s cold bite woke me up and reminded me I was alive.

I waded further out, dropped my board onto the surface and began to paddle. Water made its way into my wetsuit as my arms moved. Something inside me clicked into place. The sky was still brightening, splashing colors across, and once I was deep enough, I sat on my board with my legs on either side, staring up, floating along with the water. Emerald forests rose out of the ocean, towering trees which had seen thousands of sunrises like this one. I took a deep breath.

Every day, I got out here as fast as I could, waking at dawn and hustling out the door of my tiny bungalow on the beach. Every day, I marveled at the fucking beauty of this place, this tiny town I had grown up in.

Queen’s Cove was popular around the world for surfing. We were one of the only places in Canada to catch waves, and despite the cold water, we attracted world-class surfers every summer, as well as a million tourists. Ocean, mountains, forests—what else could someone want?

Every day, the ocean reminded me how insignificant I was. If I let it, the ocean would eat me up and spit me out.

Sitting on the board for a few minutes every morning before surfing was my salutation to Mother Nature.

Thank you for letting me experience this. Thank you for not eating me.

A grin hitched at my mouth, and I rolled off my board into the water and paddled further out behind the break, where the good waves would be. Like usual, I was the only person out on the ocean at this time. You know that feeling of running through fresh, untouched snow? That satisfaction of crunching into the smooth white surface before anyone else? That’s how I felt every morning. The ocean was mine for a couple hours.

During these morning hours, it was like I was the only person on the planet.

I spotted the wave as I swam into the cove, propped myself up on my board, and paddled hard, aligning myself with it. The wave approached and as I crested it, I hopped up on my board, using every muscle in my body to stay upright as the fluid power beneath my feet propelled me forward.

A rush of adrenaline hit my bloodstream.

This surfing thing never got old. If I worked hard enough, if I stayed focused, I would qualify to go pro and I could do this for the rest of my life.

After a few hours, I headed back to shore for breakfast and to open up the surf shop I owned. It was prime time tourist season and the shop needed all hands on deck, but I had hired a couple extra people this summer. The shop could afford it, and it meant I could spend extra time out here.

I arrived at the surf shop half an hour later with a coffee in one hand and a breakfast bagel in the other. I unlocked the door, flipped the lights on, and woke the computer up to check for any important emails.

“Hey, bud,” Carter, one of the summer workers called from the door. Carter was in his early twenties, had shoulder length shaggy hair, and moved to Queen’s Cove for the summer to surf and party. He was a pretty good surfer, actually, and taught the beginner lessons.

“Hey,” I called back, clicking through emails, deleting junk mail, flagging a few to deal with later. My gaze snagged on one, though, and my gut twisted hard.

Pacific Rim Worlds caught my eye.

The Pacific Rim World Competition was a surf competition held yearly in Queen’s Cove. It was a qualifier level, which meant if surfers placed high, they could move on to pro-level competitions and considered professionals. They would get attention of the big surf brands, and many signed sponsorship deals at that level.

Not just anyone could compete at Pacific Rim. You had to apply. Year after year, they rejected me. Finally, last year, I got in.

And then I fucking bombed.

Last year was my shot, and I choked. I still remember the way the water ripped the board out from beneath me. The bruising crash of water on my face and chest. My stomach burned with the memory.

I hadn’t told a soul the truth of what had happened.

All year, in the back of my mind, I had been sure they’d reject me again. Maybe they figured one shot was enough.

Pack your bags, because you’ve been accepted to the Queen’s Cove Pacific Rim Worlds competition in September, the email read.

A grin spread across my face and I exhaled. Going pro was still possible. Surfing was as much mental as physical, and there was no point to worrying over last year. I had two months to get my head on straight.

“Bro,” Carter drawled over my shoulder, peering at the screen. “You got in? Congrats.” He held his fist out and I snorted but knocked my knuckles against his.

“Thanks, man.”

“You need a guy to take over your shop when you go pro?”

I laughed and closed the email. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Between running the shop and the mortgage payments on the little house I had bought from my aunt, I was doing fine for money, but I wasn’t flush with cash. Going pro meant flying all over the world for competitions and festivals, and that was going to add up fast.

Pacific Rim wasn’t just my chance to go pro, it was an opportunity to get a sponsorship deal. That was how all the pros did it. Competitions paid a bit of money, but the sponsorships were where it was at. All I had to do was wear their gear, surf on their boards, and pose for a couple photos once in a while.

If I didn’t get a sponsorship, I’d have to do more music videos like the one I did last winter for that popstar. I laughed to myself and rubbed my face, remembering how the body paint clung to my skin. The video had paid well, but I didn’t want to do more of them. I hadn’t told anyone in town because I’d never hear the end of it, especially from my brothers.

The door opened and a family with three teenagers entered the surf shop.

“We’re here for our surf lesson,” the mom told me, beaming with excitement, and I grinned back at her.

“Cool. Welcome.” I gestured at Carter beside me. “Carter’s going to help you out. Have fun, it’s a great day out there.”

Carter strolled out and clapped his hands. “Alright, Hathaway family! Are you ready to hang loose?”

I snorted and headed to the back to change out of my swim shorts. I had already hung my wetsuit out to dry on the railing behind the shop. The family would be struggling into their wetsuits in the change rooms for at least twenty minutes so I opened the back door and changed out of my suit there. No one ever came back behind the shop except employees and this morning, it was just Carter and I.

I pulled my shorts off and tossed them over the railing beside my wetsuit. I was buck naked as I reached for my bag.

I heard a soft gasp behind me.

Hannah Nielsen stood with wide eyes and an open mouth, staring at my bare ass. She blinked three times before her face turned bright pink and she whirled around.

I bit back a laugh. Poor Hannah looked like she had seen a ghost. A naked ghost. Amusement pulled at my mouth.

Hannah was my sister-in-law Avery’s best friend. Emmett’s wedding last year was a fun party, and the guy seemed happy. The whole marriage and long-term commitment thing wasn’t for me. Everything in the universe was temporary, including relationships and love, but if Emmett wanted to dive in head first, it was his life.

Hannah was a witness at their wedding, and we had gone to the same schools growing up here, but yesterday in her bookstore was the longest exchange we’d ever had. Not for lack of trying on my part, though. Hannah was afraid of her own shadow and something about me seemed to make her nervous.

Her mortified expression yesterday as I read the orc erotica flashed into my head and my grin widened.

I unzipped my bag at a leisurely pace. “Something I can help you with?”

“Why are you naked?” Her voice was a squeak.

“I was taking off my swimsuit. Why were you staring at me naked?” I grinned and pulled a pair of boxer briefs on. I could see the blush on the back of her neck from ten feet away.

“I didn’t mean to see you naked. Carter said you were back here.”

“You can turn around, I’m not naked anymore.”

She tilted her head first, shooting a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure I wasn’t lying, before she relaxed. Her gaze lingered on my chest, though, like yesterday in her shop.

I bit back a laugh. Avery’s shy, quiet little friend, checking me out. Who would have thought?

Something stirred in me and I had the urge to push her buttons further. She kept to herself. I never saw her at parties or in the bar, never at the beach on a nice summer day like everyone else. She just stayed in her bookstore.

She didn’t realize it, but she was cute. At my brother’s wedding, she had worn a light blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes. I’d never seen her wear something like that dress, and throughout the night, my gaze kept returning to her, watching how it moved over her skin, how it hugged her ass. Her body was gorgeous, with slight curves and smooth skin.

I’d never thought of her in that way before.

Today, she wore a baggy sweater with sleeves too long for her, jean shorts, and sneakers. Her legs were long and pale, and again I noticed how soft her skin looked.

I shook the thought out of my head. Hannah wasn’t a hookup girl. Hannah was shy and terrified of everything.

Her throat worked and her gaze lingered on my boxers before she blushed again.

“What’s up? Did you get a new shipment of erotica you wanted to show me?”

She shot me a quick, annoyed glance and I rolled my mouth to keep from grinning. She shifted in place. “Do you have an office we can talk in?”

That piqued my curiosity. “My office is winter wetsuit storage right now.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. She was cute, wringing her hands like this. “Never mind, then.” She whirled around.

I admired the curve of her ass as she walked away. I was about to turn to go back inside the shop when she stopped walking, took a deep breath, and stalked back to me, chin in the air and a determined expression on her face.

“I have a proposition for you.”

My mind went to a dirty place. “Well, knock me over with a feather.” A lazy grin tugged at my mouth and my gaze raked over Hannah as I pulled a pair of shorts on over my boxers. Her muscles were so tense and tight. “Quiet little Hannah is going around town asking for sex.”

She choked and her face was so red, it could burst into flames. “I am not going around town asking for sex. I need your help with something.”

I nodded. “Sex.”

Her head whipped around in frustration. “No! Nothing to do with sex. Or, not sex with you.” She shook her head. “Forget the sex part. I need your help with…” She bit her lip, and I raised an eyebrow. “I need your help with becoming—”

“A surfer.”

“No—”

“A homeowner.” This game was fun.

“No—”

“You want to travel more.”

She hesitated. “Yes, but no.”

“You want to enjoy your life, take it one day at a time, fully accept we’re insignificant to the power of the universe, and that we should enjoy every second of our lives without guilt or attachment?”

Something shifted in her gaze and she chewed her lip. Her eyes met mine. I had always thought her eyes were blue but there were shades of green in them, too. “Sort of.”

Now she could really knock me over with a feather. What was going on in this bookworm’s head?

“I want you to teach me how to be a hot girl.”

I stared at her, confused and speechless and uncertain.

She waved her hands to clarify. “You know a lot of hot girls. You sleep around a lot.”

I reared back with an amused grin. “That sounded a little sex-shamey to me.”

She shook her head adamantly, eyes wide behind her glasses. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you know what all these women have in common. You only sleep with hot girls.”

My expression was a mixture of surprise and amusement. Is this what people thought of me? She was right that I didn’t care what people thought. That seemed to help in the hookup department.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “I want you to teach me how to be like that.”

“Like me?”

She nodded again. “Like you.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Her mouth hitched to the side. “It isn’t any of your business.”

I snorted. “I’ll make my own assumptions, then. You’re sick of hiding in that dark bookstore all day and want to meet someone.”

Her eyes widened. Bingo.

“I’m turning thirty soon.” She twisted her fingers together. “It’s time to make some changes.”

My eyebrows pinched together. She didn’t need to change a thing. She was adorable, with her pretty eyes and sweet little mouth. Even her glasses were cute in that dorky-girl way. The collar of her sweater pulled to the side and a pale pink bra strap peeked out, and my gaze raked down her form. At Emmett’s wedding, I was going to ask her to dance but every time I tried, she had disappeared.

A pang of regret hit me in the chest. I should have asked her to dance at the wedding.

Her wanting to change bummed me out. Lots of guys in town would jump at the chance with her, but she didn’t realize that. She just needed to leave her store once in a while.

There was no way to tell her this without sounding condescending, though. I stood there, crossing my arms over my chest, studying her while she looked like she was about to bolt if I spoke too loud or made any sudden movements.

A tiny, tiny part of me wanted to do this. Something about her had me curious. The quiet determination under her meek little exterior. I wanted to poke at her, scratch the surface and see what was underneath.

Maybe something interesting.

Surfing had taught me to trust my instincts, and my instincts pointed me straight toward her.

Pacific Rim lingered in the forefront of my mind, though. I had two months to catch as many waves as I could. Two months to get my head in the game. I didn’t have time for distractions.

“I don’t have time to show you how to flirt. Sorry, bookworm.” I shrugged and leaned on the doorway. Her gaze dropped to my bare stomach again and satisfaction flickered in me.

Poor little horndog Hannah. She just wanted to get laid.

“If you want to get guys,” I said, “Go to the bar, wear that dress from the wedding last year, sit by yourself at the counter, and within ten minutes, someone will come up and talk to you.”

An image of her dancing at the wedding with Avery popped in my head. They were laughing, being silly, enjoying themselves. With Avery, she smiled openly and let something shine through. She had a spark of fun in her, but she kept it locked away.

She wasn’t this shy little shrimp deep down.

I shook it out of my head. Not my problem.

She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring my stance, and set her jaw. “You want to get a sponsor, right? Avery told me. I’ll help you run your social media. All the other surfers have social media, even before they got sponsors. People need to notice you.”

I paused and frowned at her. She made a good point. I hated dealing with social media, staring at a screen all day. I didn’t care enough to be good at it. I’d rather stare at the ocean, the mountains, or the sky.

“Surfing is how I’ll get a sponsor,” I told her. I wasn’t sure if I believed that. “I need to focus on surfing.”

She swallowed and her chest rose as she took another deep breath. “I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice.” Her gaze met mine. “I know about the Tula video.”

My eyebrows lifted with surprise, but I snorted. “Okay.”

Her mouth dropped in shock.

I laughed again. “What, you want me to get on my knees? Please, Hannah, don’t tell anyone about the video?”

She sputtered. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Look, I don’t care if people know about the video. I don’t care what people think. Sorry, bookworm.” I opened the back door to the surf shop.

“No cool surf brand would sponsor a silver mermaid!”

I paused in the doorway and cocked my head at her. “Merman.”

She raised her eyebrows in a challenge, struggling to hold eye contact. She wanted to crumble. I could feel it.

The corner of my mouth tugged up. “Are you blackmailing me?”

Her eyes were so wide. She crossed her arms and set her chin. “Yep.”

This was a side of Hannah I had never seen before. Ballsy. She stared me down, forcing me to help her.

I weighed my options. I didn’t care that much if everyone found out about the video. It had paid my way to a surf festival in Australia, and I didn’t regret doing it.

She shifted again. Her resolve waned. I could see the cracks in whatever tough front she had put on today. She was about to fold, walk away, and never mention this again.

For some reason, this version of her intrigued me, and I wanted to see more.

Handing my social media over to someone would be a relief. All I had to do was give her a few gentle shoves out of her comfort zone.

“Alright, bookworm.” I took a few slow steps toward her, watching her closely. Her expression changed from defiant to shocked.

“Alright?” She blinked. “Really?”

I nodded, stepping even closer. “Mhm. On one condition.”

She bit her lip and her gaze rose to mine. “What’s that?”

“You have to do everything I say.” My voice was low.

She swallowed. “Everything?”

“Everything.” I shot her a lazy smile. “You’ll always be safe, but you’re not allowed to be a chicken anymore.”

“Not allowed to be a chicken anymore,” she repeated to herself. She nodded again. An internal battle warred in her head. “Yes. Yes. Okay.” She stuck her hand out and met my gaze, chin set again in that determined way.

A handshake? Adorable. I took her soft hand in mine and shook. My chest felt funny. Excited, filled with anticipation.

“Meet me here tomorrow at five thirty.”

Her mouth made an O. “The bookstore doesn’t close until six.”

I headed back to the shop. “Five thirty in the morning,” I called over my shoulder. “Bring your swimsuit.”

Her eyes flared with alarm, and she opened her mouth to protest but I stepped inside before she could say anything.

My day just got a lot more interesting.