Harlequin Superromance February 2016 Box Set

by Anna Sugden

It was strange, but the normal self-flagellation and irritation didn’t come. He was too damn smug.

  Cara took one last look around the room before glancing at him. Then she grinned. “Look at you all smiley.”

  She stepped over to the bed and kissed him on the cheek. “I was supposed to meet Mia at my place in five minutes to talk wedding stuff. I should be back by nine, tops.”

  She headed for the door, but he said her name before he could think it through.

  She stopped and turned, cocking her head with a smile. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup was all worn off and how had he gotten this lucky?

  “Listen, um, thanks for everything.”

  She stalked back over to the bed. “You thank me again, you’re in big trouble, mister. Not fun bedroom trouble, either. We both had a good time. No thank-yous necessary.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “One of these days you’re going to be giving me some orders, and I’m going to be the one saying ‘yes, sir.’” She gave him a quick peck, then was sashaying out the door before he even had the wherewithal to respond.

  “I’ll be back,” she called, followed by the front door slamming shut and reverberating all the way to his room.

  Phantom whined from his spot on the floor.

  “Oh, get up here.”

  The dog hopped onto the bed and rested his head imploringly on Wes’s chest. Wes scratched him behind the ears. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you? Don’t go getting all worried. This is just a temporary thing.”

  Sex. Nothing else to make it any more complicated. Besides, eventually Cara would get her life together and get a job doing pies or something she loved, and this would all fade away.

  But for now, he’d get what he could out of it.

  * * *

  CARA PULLED HER car into a spot in front of the apartment complex. Mia’s truck was already there. Oh, she was going to get lectured.

  She could try to hide the signs she’d spent the night elsewhere. Apply some lipstick, run her fingers through her hair, put a sweater on over her shirt, but Mia had lived with her too long to be fooled.

  Cara squared her shoulders and prepared herself for a disappointed-Mia stare and sigh. That was one of the few things she did not miss about sharing a place with her sister.

  Not that Mia had ever said anything, but Cara could always sense the disapproval. And, she wasn’t sure she could bear the weight of disapproval right now. Everything was so shaky. Even with Wes’s determination that he was fine and not looking for everything, her heart felt shaky. Fragile.

  And what was her heart doing anywhere near this equation?

  Cara opened the door and mustered her best bright smile. “You’re here! So, do you have the magazines?”

  Mia pursed her lips. “Yes.”

  Cara clapped her hands together and moved for the kitchen table. “Great, let’s get started. I have to be at work by—”

  “You’re fifteen minutes late.”

  Cara stiffened, looking at the stack of bridal magazines instead of Mia. “So?”

  “Wearing no makeup and what I assume are yesterday’s clothes.”

  Cara sighed. “Just spit it out, Mia. You’re no longer the dewy-eyed virgin.”

  “And now you’re being mean.” Mia touched a hand to Cara’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  Oh, she hated sympathy even more than disapproval. Poor, dumb Cara, always doing the wrong thing, failing the test, dating the wrong guy. “Nothing is wrong.” She was totally fine. Everything was normal and fine and great.

  Mia slid into a seat, looking at her imploringly. “I didn’t plan this meet-up so we could look through magazines.”

  That brought Cara out of her inner freak out. “Huh?”

  “You haven’t been yourself lately. We’re worried.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Everyone. Mom and Dad and Anna. Mackenzie sent me a Facebook message yesterday saying you’d had a fight with her. You’re not happy, and it isn’t something recent. It’s been happening for, like, a year.”

  “I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, hon. I’m no different than I usually am. And the fight with Mackenzie...” Cara frowned. “You don’t even like Mackenzie.”

  “No, I don’t, but, my God, if that girl notices something is wrong, something is terribly, terribly wrong.”

  “She’s just mad I called her on her BS.”

  Mia bit her lip. “If that’s true, I applaud you, because she is drowning in it, but...”

  “But what?”

  “I’ve been a little preoccupied, what with Dell and the merger and now the engagement, and maybe I thought you’d figure it out on your—”

  “There’s nothing to figure out,” Cara said through gritted teeth.

  “You helped me out so much when we started the market stand. I don’t just mean with business stuff. With me stuff and getting past all my social weirdness. You were there kicking my butt, and I want to do the same for you.”

  “Mia. God. Look, I’m fine. Besides, you did all that on your own. All I did was suggest a decent haircut.”

  Silence followed, and Cara refused to look at her sister. She was too thin-skinned to do this right now. She needed armor she didn’t have to fight this off, to not break down in front of Mia.

  “I used to think it was sweet you wouldn’t take credit for anything. Now...”

  “Now what?”

  “Don’t be mad, but it’s kind of stupid. You should take credit for the good you do, not just the mistakes you make. It’s the easy way out of failure.”

  What? The good she did? The random good she did was lame. A haircut. Some sex. Who cared?

  The idea she only focused on her mistakes was...

  Right on the money.

  No. No way. She wasn’t that screwy. Her mistakes just happened to outweigh her not-mistakes. Something Mia wouldn’t know, because being socially awkward was basically her worst crime and she’d overcome that. “Is this going somewhere? I have a job to get to. If this isn’t about wedding stuff—”

  “Where were you last night?”

  Cara shrugged. “When did you ever care about my many conquests?”

  “Cara, the only guy I’ve seen you eye recently is that Wes guy. Your boss. You didn’t sleep with him, did you?”

  “I don’t know what that has to do with—”

  “It isn’t like you. You quit your job at the salon, and you’re working for that guy out in the woods, and from what little I know of him, he is so not your type and we’re worried, Cara. We love you, and we want you to be happy. How could a guy with the kind of problems he has make you happy?”

  The kind of problems he has. Meaning the kind of problems she had no business dealing with.

  Again, right on the money, and it hurt. But if she let Mia see that...she’d have to deal with the fallout. She’d have to act like it mattered that she was the royal screwup of the family, and then she would be well and truly pathetic.

  She couldn’t live like that. “I’m fine. And Wes is fine. Great, actually, and okay it sounds bad to sleep with your boss and maybe it is, but there are extenuating circumstances.”

  “I said I wanted you to be happy, not fine. How great for you is a guy who lives by himself with a bunch of dogs and never talks to anybody?”

  Yes, how great is he? Cara rubbed at the discomfort in her chest. It didn’t matter. “Can’t you be obsessed with your wedding and leave my little quarter-life crisis be?”

  “Aha! You admit something is wrong.”

  “If I admit it, will you go away?” She didn’t like talking about this. It made her want to defend Wes to Mia, and that made her think about her stupid disappointment over their just-sex arrangement and that made her feel like an even bigger idiot. “Please, go home.”

  “No. Why don’t you tell me about Wes? He’s great, you say. Like how?”

  Cara marched over to the sink, not sure what for. “It’s not a relationship.”

&n
bsp; “Oh.”

  “But he’s not an asshole, either. Which might be a first.”

  “Possibly.”

  “I don’t know. Things aren’t bad. They’re not. I like working for him, and I wanted to sleep with him. I’m not losing it or anything. I’m trying to change directions. Or something. But I’m okay. Really.” Maybe if she said it enough times, it’d be true.

  “I know you don’t want me big-sistering you, but, well, you were always poking at me and telling me what to do. So, it’s my turn. You need to find something you want. Something to work for. That’s what helped me, and I know it’s different but it’s kind of the same. I had to find a way to be comfortable with me. You have to find a way to find you. That’s normal twenty-something stuff we all have to go through.”

  Cara had wanted the pie-baking thing, but she hadn’t been able to get it. Except she had promised Wes, hadn’t she? Their pact. “So, why does it feel so hard?”

  A scary question because it spoke to some fears she normally didn’t let anyone see, not even Mia. Maybe not even herself.

  “Because we’re wimps.”

  Cara laughed, glaring over at Mia. “Yeah, you’re real wimpy with your smoking hot fiancé.” Cara glanced at the magazines with wedding dresses on them, desperate to change the subject from her. “What about Grandma’s dress?”

  Mia fidgeted. “I didn’t think... I mean, it seems more fitting for you to have it.”

  “I don’t think I’m the marriage-and-babies type.”

  “You’re whatever type you want to be.”

  “Ha.”

  “What? I changed. Look at me. Mia, Queen of the Geeks, marrying the smoking hot Naked Farmer. Because he is head over heels for me. Retainer and all.”

  “Oh, God, you let him see you in that?”

  “Focus on the point, Cara.”

  “The point. People can change.” Perfect people, maybe. Smart, driven people. Not everyone could change, or there wouldn’t be so many miserable people in the world.

  “All you have to do is believe you can.”

  Ha. Well, there was the problem, then. “Yeah, right, and look. I’m not unhappy.” At Mia’s pursed-lip look, Cara rolled her eyes. “I’m not! I’m working on figuring stuff out. That’s not unhappy, it’s just, you know. It just is.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you that. As long as you promise you’re actually figuring stuff out and not...”

  Cara frowned, not having the slightest clue what Mia was going to say. “Not what?”

  “Hiding away in the new job in the middle of nowhere, in a new guy who isn’t the one for you. Don’t hide or pretend. Don’t sit around reliving all your mistakes and being down on yourself.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Remember when I caught you playing Barbies when you were like six or seven, and the Cara Barbie was getting a lecture on all the things she’d done wrong, which, coincidentally, was everything you’d gotten in trouble for that week?”

  “I was seven. It was dolls.”

  “You never stopped doing it. Mom’s worrying doesn’t help. I thought moving out and working at the salon had really helped you, but I think you only got better at hiding it. Pretending you weren’t so hard on yourself.”

  “I have to get to work.”

  “Right, well.” Mia pushed out of the chair and skirted the table. “If the Wes thing ever becomes more of a thing, maybe we can double date or something. I’d like to get to know him.”

  “To make sure he’s not a serial killer.”

  “If you say he’s great, I believe it.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Why would Mia have any cause to believe it? Cara had never made the right choice in guys before, and Wes’s recluse reputation didn’t exactly do him any favors.

  It didn’t even matter, because they’d both agreed anything more than sex was way beyond their abilities.

  Mia wrapped her arms around Cara’s shoulders and squeezed. “See the good in yourself. Please.”

  “Look, Dr. Phil, I have to get ready for work.”

  “Remember, if not for you, I’d still have a perm and clunky glasses. Oh, and those mom jeans.”

  Cara snorted. “I am a miracle worker.” Okay, so she’d helped Mia with superficial stuff. But the whole point of changing the way Mia dressed and all that was so she’d feel confident enough to overcome some of her social anxiety.

  And she had.

  Then there was Wes. She’d helped him do something he’d been struggling with since high school. That was a pretty big deal, even if she was kind of out of her league when it came to dealing with his issues.

  “I’ll let you get ready, but lunch at Moonrise Friday?”

  “Yeah. I’ll flag the bridesmaid dresses I like in here.”

  Mia finally released her and went to the door. “If you need anything or want to talk, just because I’m not here or I’m with Dell doesn’t mean you can’t call.”

  “I know.” And she did, but she’d also been holding herself back. Not wanting to intrude on Mia’s happy found-her-one-true-love time. Because Mia deserved happiness, but Cara didn’t know where she fit in it.

  “Good.” Mia stepped outside, and Cara started walking to the hallway but Mia’s words and the pact she’d made with Wes kept playing over and over in her head.

  All you have to do is believe you can. Wes slapping the pad of paper down on the table, demanding she write out what she needed to say. So certain she could do this when he’d been so certain he couldn’t do his things.

  But he had. He had. The guy with real problems. She was just a girl with a bad case of the folds-under-pressures.

  She stood contemplating for who knew how long, but finally she pulled out her cell phone and brought up Sam’s number. Really, if she could help socialize her sister and devirginize a guy, surely she could convince another guy to let her bake him some pies.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  WES GLANCED AT the clock, then immediately berated himself since he’d only looked two minutes ago.

  But where was she? She said she’d be late, but not eleven-o’clock late. It’d be time for his lunch break by the time she got here.

  If she ever did. Maybe this morning had been a hoax, or a lie, or... You know what? No. Maybe she’d decided not to come back for whatever reason, but it hadn’t been this morning, and it hadn’t been last night.

  You sure about that?

  “Yes.” Oh, man, now he was talking out loud to himself. Time to get a grip. He’d spent five years in this cabin never waiting for someone to return. Or come at all.

  Cara had whirlwinded into his life a few weeks ago, and suddenly everything was so quiet. And he wasn’t a virgin. And he was behind on his work.

  It scared the crap out of him, but balancing out that fear was a weird buzz of anticipation. That had to be the sex, but it was there nonetheless.

  He wanted her to come back. He wanted to hear her voice. And kiss her shoulder freckles.

  A few weeks and he was already thinking freckle kissing? No wonder she’d been trying to escape this morning. Next thing he knew he’d be writing poems and picking flowers for her.

  With an irritated grunt he yanked the bowl of batter out of the mixer and began pouring it into the molds.

  He shouldn’t be irritated. He should go back to being satisfied. Proud of himself. Sex master of the world. Got a ways to go to be any kind of master, buddy.

  But there was this feeling in his chest. Wanting her back. He had nothing to offer her. Everything he’d said when she’d “not been leaving” early this morning had been honest. He would never be any good at a relationship. Besides, she had no interest.

  So, why did he keep thinking about that? That moment when she said she didn’t want one and he said he didn’t want one, and they’d both meant it.

  Why play it over and over and over and feel this weird longing? The same kind of longing he got when he couldn’t help an animal that was sick or hurt.

  That was a good comp
arison. Because he’d never be a vet, and he’d sure as hell never be Cara’s boyfriend.

  Luckily, he didn’t have to keep convincing himself of that because Cara’s little car finally popped into his view from the kitchen window.

  Some of that longing eased. Or you’re an idiot. Both, maybe?

  The front door burst open in a blur of color. A pink-and-blue dress, some flowy knit sweater thing that couldn’t actually keep anyone warm. Red lips. Bright red lips.

  “Hi,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’m never late for work, but, oh, wow, it has been a morning.”

  He blinked away from staring at her mouth. “Everything okay?”

  “Better than.” She grinned and gave him a quick squeeze. So quick he stood there and took it like an immobile moron.

  “I called Sam. And I told him about making the pies beforehand. In fact, I kind of spitballed this whole idea about supplying pies rather than working for him in the restaurant, you know? More like an independent contractor type thing.”

  “He said yes.”

  “He’d been so busy he hadn’t been able to look for anyone else. So, he told me to bring a pie over. I took him two of my frozen pies, and he called me when I was halfway here. I sat on the side of the road at Levelly Junction talking details. It’s only temporary or probationary or whatever it’s called. To see if it works. And then if it does, it could become permanent. Just weekends to start, but if that did well it could be every day. Every day.”

  She looked so happy and excited he thought he’d grab her and kiss her, but he had dog treat batter all over his hands. By the time he’d washed them off and turned to her, some of her excitement and exuberance had diminished.

  “I mean, it’s possible nothing could come of it. But I don’t know. My pie in a restaurant? That’s kind of cool. Even if it’s only once or twice.”

  “Kind of cool?”

  “Don’t go pumping my tires, Wes. It’s temporary.” She nudged him with her elbow, wearing a smile that somehow wasn’t as joyful as the smile she’d walked in with.

  “Probationary. That’s different.” And it was. Really different. He wanted to see that initial joy on her face again, not this hopeless look she suddenly had going on.