Mr. Perfectly Wrong (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 5)

by Lindsey Hart

  “Yes.” I swallow hard. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

  I do have some money saved up. If Adam really did pay for the roof, then I guess I have a lot of money saved. Not a ton, but now that I don’t have to spend it on the roof, it’s all just sitting there, mine to use as I see fit—more than enough for a hotel room for a couple of nights.

  “Can I pack a bag?”

  “Of course.” The guy laughs this big, robust laugh. “Go ahead. We won’t come in until you’re done. Just let us know when you want us to start, and we’ll be at it. And don’t worry about leaving stuff around. My boys never took a thing ever. We’re good, honest people. We just want to help with your roof and do a good job. Nothing else.”

  “Okay, yes. And no, I never thought you’d take anything.”

  “Just thought I’d let you know your house and your stuff is both safe and in good hands.” The guy has such a nice, friendly smile that I actually believe him.

  But Jesus. Do other people really steal from the houses they renovate?

  The guy turns around and heads back to one of the trucks. I shut the door and stand there in shock for a few seconds. This doesn’t feel real. Is this real? Maybe I’m just having a really crazy dream in which my problems immediately vanish. I pinch the back of my hand, hard. Ouch, I’m definitely awake. I’m not dreaming. And this isn’t some wild delirium after days without proper sleep.

  I stumble upstairs and throw some clothes in my gym bag.

  Why? Why did Adam pay for my roof? Because I refused the ten grand? Because he felt bad? Out of guilt? Yeah, it was probably all of those things. He’s the type of person whose conscience would prick him until he thought he’d done the right thing and made it up to me. He would have felt guilty for how the camping trip ended, for promising me payment and then going back on it, even though it was obvious it wasn’t his fault, and with how things changed and everything that happened, I would never have asked for or expected payment.

  He has money—so much money that he doesn’t know what to do with it. The roof might have cost a ton, but to him, it’s almost nothing. So why not do something nice for me? Something to soothe my hurt feelings? Something to bridge the horrible chasm between us? Something to entice me back to work?

  The old Adam would never just make this about a job. The old Adam cares too much. This Adam, post camping trip, the Adam who had his world shattered in the most unkind way, the Adam who found out this huge part of his life was just bullshit? I don’t know what he’d do.

  But I do know a way I can find out.

  Even if I don’t feel ready, even if I don’t really want to, and even if it’s going to hurt, I’m going to the office. It’s only six, and I have tons of time to get ready. I’ll shower, get dressed, finish packing my bag, and drive. I’ll pull over somewhere to do what little makeup I usually wear and get on with it. I’ll go to work, hold my head up high, thank Adam for the kind gesture of fixing my roof, and resume my job.

  I’ll do it because I’m me, and I’m tough. I’ll do it because I care about the work I do, and I can’t just abandon it. Okay, so I care about Adam too. That’s just obvious. That’s what is currently kind of half killing me. I’ll do it because what other way is there other than forward?

  It’s not like I have a pair of goddamn time machine socks right now as it is.

  CHAPTER 22

  Adam

  I’ve been waiting outside the office since five because I knew the roofers were going over to Steph’s house. And I know Steph. Or at least, I think I do. I know her well enough to know she’ll probably come storming into work and demand an explanation. Or maybe she’s cooled down enough from the camping trip that she’s planning to come in and thank me. I’m not sure.

  I don’t want either to happen inside the building, where anyone could hear us, so I’ve been waiting out here, leaning up against the building. People don’t usually start coming in until around seven-thirty, so there hasn’t been anyone to give me questioning looks.

  Just after seven, I spot a familiar figure walking down the sidewalk. She’s dressed for work in black pants, black ankle boots, and a blue blouse. Her hair is piled on top of her head, a little messy and frantic though, like she did it in a hurry. She never wears it to work like that, which is a shame, because it’s gorgeous.

  Steph stops right in front of me. She doesn’t look surprised to see me there, but maybe it’s because she spotted me a full minute ago and has had time to process that I’m here.

  “Would you like a walk? To get coffee?” That’s the code we use when we want to talk outside the office. “Or just a walk?”

  “Oh, I could definitely use a coffee.”

  “Alright, then.”

  “Only if you’re buying.”

  I crack a smile. “Yes. I’m buying.” That’s so like Steph—make a straightforward, cringe-worthy joke to get right to the heart of it.

  We start walking. Just like we’ve done countless times in the past. It’s so much earlier now, though, and the sidewalk and streets have yet to get busy for the morning, although I’m sure the mad rush is coming in short order.

  “I’m sorry—” I try, but she cuts me off right away.

  “Don’t. You don’t have to apologize for fixing my roof. God, if you only knew how stressed I was about that. It was going to cost so…uh, never mind. I just had no idea how I’d get it done before it fell in. I’m sure bylaws or the city or someone would drive by it and see it, and then it would have to be fixed, and I’d get in major shit, and I still wouldn’t have had the money. So, don’t apologize for that. It was a good surprise.”

  “But, I did know.” I stop, and Steph stares at me quizzically. “I did know you needed it fixed. Maybe not that badly because you always kind of spoke about it in abstract when you bought it, and you never said much about it after, until I pulled up to pick you up for the trip, but I did kind of know.”

  “Which is why you offered me money to go on the camping trip with you? Because you thought I couldn’t turn it down?”

  “No, that’s not really why either. I don’t know why I did that. Desperation? Stupidity? Maybe it wasn’t any of that. Maybe I just really wanted to take you camping, but I knew you wouldn’t agree. Maybe, all along, it was about that.”

  “If you wanted to take me out, you could have just asked.”

  “If I wanted to take you out, you would have said no. Every. Time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She shrugs. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She looks at the streetlight to check that the no-walk symbol is still flashing up there before she continues. “However, it happened, and I’m glad I went.” Now I’m holding my breath. “Look.” She looks at me as she says the word. Like she’s commanding herself and not me at all. “I…I’m sorry too. I knew what you were trying to say, I think. I mean, after, in the cabin, about needing some time to think. I thought you were just making excuses, and I got pissed because I’m always on the dumping end. Like I told you, I’ve been used before too, and it sucks. I don’t know why I thought you would ever try and do that to me. I was being stupid. Maybe triggers are real. I don’t know. Anyway, I acted really dumb, and I was mean. I was just…I don’t know. Yeah, dumb. And I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” The walk light comes on, and we start crossing the street. My stride is much longer than hers, but she keeps pace, and I slow down slightly to adjust. “It’s not okay. I was moping around my house, pouting, thinking the worst things, and in this huge funk for no reason instead of processing what you said.”

  “And the roofers showing up randomly changed your mind?”

  “No, but I did start letting myself think more positively as I was showering and driving down here. I started thinking about everything you said, not as a huge no and a slap in the face, but as you trying to tell me the truth and about how you were feeling after a really confusing, shitty thing happened to you. You were bei
ng mature and processing your emotions while I was just being an idiot.”

  “No, you weren’t. Believe me, every time someone says the word useless in the future, I’m going to get a mental image of myself because of all those things that were said to me. I know it’s not true, and I won’t believe it, but it will still stir up some unpleasant feelings. That’s not being an idiot. That’s just being real. It’s admitting that people are complicated with complicated wiring and emotions, and it’s real, and it’s okay. You did misunderstand what I was trying to say, but I thought that if I gave you a few days just like you asked, I’d be able to have a more rational and calm conversation when those emotions weren’t so high.”

  “That’s a nice way to put it. I like euphemisms.”

  I don’t sigh, and I don’t get exasperated. This is just Steph being Steph, and I like Steph because she’s Steph. After we’re across the street, I take a chance and reach for her hand. Her fingers are slightly cold, and I curl mine around them to warm them up. Also, just because it feels really, really good to hold her hand, to touch her, and to be standing here with her right now.

  “So, you’re not going to fire me? Find a better assistant? One who doesn’t tell you what to do and where to go all the time? One who doesn’t make things awkward for you by getting feelings involved?”

  “What? Of course, I’m not. How could you…” Then I realize she’s joking.

  “I did think about asking you for a reference yesterday, and I did think about quitting, but then I also remembered what I said about not going anywhere and not disappearing, and I meant it. I don’t make random promises. When I say I’m going to do something, I actually do it.”

  “I know.”

  We both just stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other. It’s nice to be able to do that, to look at her and be here with her right now. It’s probably the nicest thing I’ve been able to do in my entire life, excluding the past few days because those were truly special too.

  “I’m sorry about how I acted, and I’m sorry about the plan. I’m not sorry it turned out the way it did, but I’m sorry for acting like a dummy for so long. It was the worst idea in history, but somehow, it turned into the best weekend of my life. I’m not sorry about that, and I don’t want you to be sorry about it either. I did need some time to process what happened at the end, but it was never meant to hurt you. I never meant I was bailing on you. I don’t make promises lightly either, but I want to promise you that I’m not going anywhere either.”

  “I…I…I don’t know how I would have reacted,” Steph says honestly. “No one has ever done anything that mean to me. It had nothing to do with me, but I’m sorry too.”

  “I’m not going to change my mind. I’m done with feeling sorry for myself, doubting myself, and letting myself believe that what other people think and say should matter. I’ve wasted a lot of time and a lot of years, but you know what? If I had those time machine socks, I don’t know if I’d change any of it because then, I’m not sure if last weekend would have happened. According to your theory that nothing is fated, you can really mess with the present by altering the past.” I want to say more, and I want to tell her I wouldn’t change anything because being with her is perfect. That I’m looking to the future now and not the past, that I want to do all of it with her, and that it’s just about impossible for me to imagine a tomorrow without her in it, but I don’t want to scare her.

  “I like that I’m here with you,” she says softly. Her fingers curl around mine. “I’m really glad. There’ve been so many bumps, but that’s okay too. Bumps are nothing, and potholes are nothing. I mean, they might ruin your rim and part of your car, but everything usually holds together. And if it doesn’t, then you just go and get it fixed. Sometimes, even really garbage streets lead to some really good destinations. There’s this little book shop I like, and it’s on the worst road ever. Just like that. I basically have to knock my teeth out to get there, but when I’m there, I’m super happy.”

  “Thanks.” I swallow thickly. “I think.”

  She laughs. “That’s supposed to be a compliment.” She reaches up with her other hand and sets it on my cheek. “I think I liked the stubble better, but this is okay, too,” she whispers as she brushes her fingertips over my freshly shaved jawline. “You’ll always be the most handsome man in the room, whatever you do.”

  “That’s very—”

  “Truthful?” Steph stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck. “You suck at receiving compliments.”

  “I’ll get better. I’ll get better at everything. At learning what makes you happy because it’s what I want to do, and at learning what makes me happy, too, because I’m going to do that as well. I want to learn all of it, and I want to do all of it. With you.”

  “I know.” Steph smiles shyly, her eyes dancing and shining.

  “You have a lot of faith in me.”

  “It’s not misplaced.” She brushes her lips along my jawline, and my whole body lights up like a beacon. She leans close to my ears and whispers in the softest tone, “I have this idea for a new pair of socks…”

  My hands wrap around her waist. “I love when you talk dirty,” I say huskily and kiss her.

  We kiss like there isn’t going to be a tomorrow, but I know there will be. There will be tons of tomorrows, and I’ll do everything I can to make them full of laughter, joy, and of course, not to forget…socks.

  EPILOGUE

  Stephanie

  We got ourselves this cabin.

  It’s a nice place, very private. And we have our own small lake, our own stretch of grassy lawn, and our own strip of private beach along the said lake. I guess it’s not really a lake. It’s more like a pond, but it’s still beautiful. We have the best views of the mountains in the distance. And the air is so fresh up here that it almost hurts to breathe it in at first. It’s far from Denver, way out of the city. It takes hours to drive up, and we do have to go down some pretty bumpy gravel roads, but like I said that day on the sidewalk years ago, some of the best things can be found at the end of the roughest road.

  I know. A cabin, outside, in the outdoors, where there are bugs, snakes, bears, and leaches, and also weeds in the lake water. I never thought I’d grow to like it, but one look at the place, and I fell in love with it.

  Adam had this vision about it. I guess I can call it that. About six months after we’d been dating, he told me he wanted to buy us a cabin. A place that was just ours with a private lake. Something rustic but still modern enough that we could both handle it, something that was our retreat, our special place in the world, and something that reminded us of the camping trip we took together. We both knew, as soon as we saw this place, that it was meant to be ours.

  We spend a lot of time out here.

  I sold my house a year after we started dating, and Adam sold his own place much sooner. We bought the cabin when we were trying to figure out where to live. We settled on another old character house that needed a ton of work, but that was okay even though it needed a new roof too. We actually did some of the work together and hired contractors for the rest. It turns out that, after everything, Adam always knew how to screw in a lightbulb. He also knew how to tile the kitchen backsplash, install flooring, do some minor plumbing and siding, and landscaping. We technically did a lot of that together. It was a labor of love, believe me. It took a ton of internet tutorials and videos to get us going, and home improvement classes as well as pro tips when we really needed them, but that’s okay. It all worked out.

  We also have a beautiful, hundred-year-old house in the city that is filled with our special touches. It also turns out Adam loves garage sales and antique stores as much as I do. A lot of the décor comes from our treasure hunting together, and yeah, we do have a lot of money, but it’s also true how that alone doesn’t make you happy. Doing things together, finding the perfect score, not forgetting where you come from, and figuring out who you actually are, which is always
changing, that’s what makes you happy.

  Oh. And love.

  Yeah.

  That’s made me pretty happy. Adam and love. It is amazing.

  When we moved into our house together, after it was finished, we adopted a puppy. He came from a rescue, and he didn’t have so great of a start in life. He’s blind, but he has so much energy and such a will to live that it’s just incredible to watch him.

  He loves the cabin too. He loves the fresh air and the yard, which is all his. He loves the grass to roll in, the sand to dig, and the lake to swim in. He does all those things like he’s not even blind. Jamie is honestly one of my biggest inspirations, and I don’t care one bit that he’s a dog. Dogs, cats, all animals—they can be just as inspiring and incredible as people.

  I’m down by the lake with Jamie right now. He’s splashing in the water even though it’s first thing in the morning, and it’s mid-September, and the water is getting pretty darn near frigid levels. I let him have his fun while I clutch my knitted sweater around me. My toes are freezing from the wet grass and the cool morning air, but I don’t mind.

  “Come on, boy,” I call to Jamie, patting my thigh.

  He flies out of the water, up the beach, and onto the grass. He spins a few circles, chasing after his big, wildly wagging tail before he flips onto his back and rolls some of the water off. I’m not sure what kind of dog he is, and the rescue wasn’t sure either. He looks like a mid-size mix of everything. He’s mostly black with a few white spots here and there, and he has the oddest blonde paw. He’s utterly adorable.

  When he’s done, we walk up to the cabin together. I let Jamie in through the back door, and he goes right to his food bowl. I fill it obediently since he has me trained by now. I’m convinced it’s just about always that way round.