The Wrong/Right Man

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “Yes we will,” she agrees and then looks down the hall, as there is a commotion. I look that way and see my brother and the guys coming our way. Nervousness settles in my stomach, and I hold my breath as they approach.

  “Let me guess—you’re Braxton,” Jamie says, looking at the man who has moved to my side, and then the two of them shake hands and do that guy pat on the back thing. “Did you catch any of the show?”

  “A few songs,” Braxton replies, taking my hand and I know then he heard me sing with Jamie.

  “Cool.” Jamie looks at me and his face softens. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I respond, and Braxton squeezes my fingers in silent support.

  “Are you heading out? Or are you going to stick around for a drink?”

  I really don’t think I need to have another drink. Honestly, everything is a bit hazy right now, but something is telling me that Jamie needs to see me with Braxton.

  “Want to stay for a little longer?” I ask, taking Samantha’s attention away from Lozz.

  “Sure.” She shrugs.

  “We can stay for a few,” I agree, looking at my brother.

  “Come on then.” He motions for us to follow, and I look up at Braxton as everyone heads down the hall.

  “Are you okay with this?”

  “You spending time with your brother and friends?” he prompts, and I nod. “Yeah, I’m okay with that.” I lean up on my tiptoes and touch my mouth to his. When I start to pull back, he stops me. “But tonight, we’re going to have a long talk about us, Dakota.”

  I lick my lips, not sure if I’m excited about having another talk with him, because part of me is scared everything between us will change, that we will never be able to agree on how things should be.

  “I’m really looking forward to that,” I say sarcastically, and he smiles then lets me go and smacks my ass. “Hey, that stung!”

  “Oh, beautiful girl, you have no idea the things I’m going to do to you when I get you alone.” He shakes his head and my body pulses. “Let’s go spend time with your brother so I can reassure him that you’re safe with me.”

  “I knew that’s why he wanted us to stay,” I grumble, and he laughs then takes my hand. We head into the room that we were in earlier, and within thirty minutes, my nervousness about Jamie and Braxton getting along is gone. The two of them talk and joke like they’re old friends, and Braxton wins over his bandmates like he’s one of them, all but Freddie who is sitting alone drinking. Normally I would go out of my way to talk to him but tonight his mood seems dark so instead I sit with Samantha sipping a fresh drink. I smile when I hear my brother laugh at something Braxton said and turn to look at him.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised that a man who wears a suit like a second skin can win over a bunch of rowdy rockers, but then again, it just goes to show how down to earth and laid back he is,” Samantha says, and I look at her. “It’s also probably why he’s as successful as he is. He can blend in in any environment and make people feel he’s just like them.”

  “He is just like them,” I tell her quietly. “He’s just a guy.”

  “And that right there is why he’s falling in love with you,” she whispers, and my heart seems to double-beat. “You don’t see him as a billionaire. To you, he’s just a guy you like.”

  “He’s not falling in love with me,” I deny, and she smiles.

  “Yeah, and I bet you’d tell me you’re not falling in love with him either.”

  I don’t answer her. I look across the room, and when I do, his eyes come to me and his expression softens into a look I know I wouldn’t mind seeing from him every day for the rest of my life.

  Chapter 12

  DAKOTA

  I COME OUT of the haze of sleep hearing birds chirping, each tweet making my head pound a little harder. I cover my eyes with the crook of my elbow, despising the blinding light burning my eyelids, then breathe in through my nose, smelling wet pine and earth as a cool breeze skims my skin. If I didn’t feel the soft bed under me, I’d wonder if I fell asleep outside in one of the parks near my building.

  I try to remember last night, but it’s choppy, only bits and pieces coming together—laughing, drinking, Braxton, and my friends. I work up the courage to uncover my face and force open my eyes, seeing wooden beams above me, and then turn my head, finding the bed behind me empty. I glance around the sparsely decorated room, a room I’ve never been in before.

  Another piece of my missing night falls into place as I remember Braxton loading me into his car with my brother’s help, the two of them arguing about me drinking too much and whose fault it was—something I thought was hilarious at the time.

  I slowly sit up then look down at myself and the oversized white T-shirt I’m wearing, bringing it to my nose and smelling Braxton. After a minute, I stand and walk to the open window. I’m on the second floor, judging by the view of the forest outside, and my guess is this is the cabin Braxton mentioned to me. I go to the first door I see and am grateful when I find it’s a bathroom.

  I step in and cringe when I see myself in the mirror. My makeup is smeared and my hair is a mess. I quickly start up the shower then use the toothpaste and brush in the holder next to the sink to get rid of the alcohol I can still taste on my breath. I use the few items in the shower to wash up then shut off the water and get out, looking for a towel. Not finding one, I give up and put the shirt back on, leaving my panties off. Still dripping wet but feeling a little better, I step out of the room and stop.

  Braxton’s idea of a small cabin and mine are vastly different. The space below me is huge with a large kitchen and living room with a comfortable-looking couch, a stone fireplace, and a pool table. The living space is nice, but what has my attention are the windows that show the world outside from the floor to the ceiling that must be thirty feet high.

  I take a step, wrap my hands around the rough-cut log banister, and watch Braxton in the kitchen with his back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats with his phone to his ear as he turns eggs over in a pan. Another memory falls into place, making me want to turn around and go back into the room to hide. Last night, he told me he wanted to talk, and at the time, I wasn’t looking forward to that. But hung-over me is looking forward to that even less.

  “Are you going to come down here and kiss me or are you going to stand up there staring out into space all day?” His words make me smile, and I focus on where he’s now standing with his hands on the counter, leaning into it and looking up at me with his muscular torso, making my mouth water.

  “I wasn’t staring out into space. I was taking in the view,” I defend myself as I head across the landing and down the stairs to the first floor. He meets me when I reach the last step and pulls me into his arms, kissing me softly before leaning back to frown down at me.

  “Why is your shirt wet?”

  “I showered,” I state the obvious, touching my still sopping wet hair. “There were no towels in the bathroom.”

  He drops his eyes to my chest, and I watch them grow dark. “I ran them through the wash the last time I was here. They’re in the dryer,” he says, brushing the back of his fingers across the front of my shirt over my nipple. I bite my lip to keep from moaning, and his eyes meet mine as I shiver. “As much as I enjoy you wet, let me get you something to put on.” He kisses me swiftly then moves around me to go up the stairs. “I made breakfast, and there’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself, and I’ll be back in a second.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and walk toward the kitchen but make a beeline for the living room when I see the coffee table that is sitting in front of the couch. The wood looks similar to his table in the city, but in the open grooves and naturally pitted pieces, there is emerald-colored glass overlaid with lacquer, making the surface of the table look like glass. It’s beautiful, and if he made something like this for his mom, I can see why she would hang it on her wall.

  I turn when I hear him come down the stairs and notice he has a towel i
n hand along with another shirt, this one gray. “This is beautiful.” I motion to the table, and he smiles softly. “If you ever want to quit your job, you could go into woodworking.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” He comes toward me then before I have time to prepare, he drops the towel to the couch and his hands are on my hips. “Arms up,” he orders, and I lift my hands up over my head as he drags the wet shirt up my body then drops it to the couch. Without a bit of shyness, I keep my hands up as he places the dry one over my head.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, dropping my hands to my sides to rest over his on my hips.

  “I wouldn’t want you to get sick because of me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a thing,” I whisper, my heart beating hard as I try to understand how this guy can be so completely complicated. Hard and soft, sweet and hot, demanding and giving, everything I appreciate and despise in one gorgeous package.

  “I think my mom would beg to differ.” He lets his hands fall from my waist then picks up the towel. “Hold up your hair.” I do, and he wraps the towel around my shoulders. Once it’s in place, I let my hair fall and then rest my hands against his warm chest. “Are you hungry or just hung-over?”

  “A little of both.”

  “Let’s put something in your stomach then get you some Tylenol.” He leans in to kiss my forehead then takes my hand from his chest and walks me to one of the barstools that form a half circle around the kitchen. I take a seat and then watch him as he makes me a plate piled high with eggs and pancakes he pulls out of the oven. He places my plate before me along with a set of silverware then sets out syrup and butter. “Coffee or tea?”

  “Tea if you have it.” I stand to wrap the towel around my hair as he turns on an electric kettle on the counter before getting a packet of my favorite tea and a cup. “I feel like you’re always taking care of me.”

  “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Am I? Maybe. “I’m just not used to anyone but Jamie looking out for me.”

  “It’s okay to trust someone besides your brother,” he says, filling the cup with steaming water and placing the teabag inside. “You can trust me.”

  “I want to.” I hold his gaze so he knows I really do want that, maybe even more than he does.

  He studies me, his eyes searching mine, then clears his throat. “We need to talk.”

  My stomach drops, but I straighten in my chair, willing myself to stay strong and to be honest. “Okay.”

  “When it comes to you, I don’t know what I’m doing.” The statement is one I’ve heard from him before, and I wonder where he’s going with this. “For a man like me, who’s in control of every aspect of his life, you have sent my life into a tailspin. I don’t know up from down. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m always worried about you, thinking about you, hoping you’re sleeping and eating, that you’re safe and happy.”

  I want to smile, because I can see he’s annoyed with his own feelings and really doesn’t know how to deal with them. “So… you’re mad at me?”

  His brows drag together and his lips turn down at that question. “Mad at you? No. I’m pissed at myself, because I keep doing things that I know will piss you off, but I can’t help it, because at the end of the day, I want to reassure myself that you’re okay.”

  “And what is it you think will happen to me if you don’t have control when it comes to me?”

  “I don’t know.” He rests his hands on the counter and his knuckles turn white, like he doesn’t like the things his mind comes up with.

  “Do you understand that all it does when you overstep is push me away and make me want to rebel?”

  “I’m learning that,” he grumbles, not sounding happy about that either.

  I get up off my stool and walk around the kitchen to him, and he turns toward me once I’m close. I place my hands on his chest and lean into him. “I don’t want to be controlled, Braxton. That might be something I’m okay with in the bedroom, but when it comes to life, I don’t want someone telling me what to do. I want a partner. I want a man who will listen to what I want and need, someone to share things with.”

  “You can share things with me.” He settles his hands on my waist and drags me against him.

  “Can I?” I shake my head, trying not to become frustrated, because so far he’s proven I can’t. “You sent my brother to come to the coffee shop where I was meeting Troy, and that was something I didn’t even tell you about.” I feel his hands wrap tight into my shirt at my sides and watch his face get hard.

  “He cheated on you. You don’t need to be alone with him.”

  “I was in a public place, and I was meeting him to get my stuff—not for a date or to talk about us getting back together. And again, I never told you I was meeting him. You found out, because you used information I didn’t give you.” His jaw tics, and I know I’ve proven my point. Thank God, maybe we can actually get somewhere this time.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about meeting up with him?”

  Okay, maybe not. “Because I knew that if I did, there would be drama, and I was over dealing with drama.”

  “You didn’t tell Jamie either,” he says like he’s just made his point, when he most definitely has not.

  “Yeah, because I know my brother, and like you, he would make the situation more complicated and uncomfortable than it needed to be, which he did when he showed up.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for that,” he states, lifting me up onto the counter and forcing his way between my knees. “Jamie told me he didn’t even have your stuff, that he left it in his car, which I’m sure was a move he made in order to get more time with you.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” I roll my eyes and push on his chest. “I’m not stupid or helpless, Braxton. I know how to take care of myself.”

  “I never said you were stupid or helpless, but if I can do something to reassure myself that you’re okay, I’m going to do it, and I won’t apologize afterward.”

  “You did apologize,” I remind him. “You sent me a note that said you were sorry.

  “Sorry about you being upset. Sorry I’m so fucking obsessed with you that I will go to whatever lengths to get even the smallest piece of information about you. Sorry that I want you to myself and wish I could lock you away until you became as obsessed with me as I am with you.”

  “You do know that just being you—not the crazy you, but the sweet, funny, and adorably frustrating you—is doing that, right? You don’t have to be so extreme.”

  He lowers his head and kisses my neck. “I can try.”

  “Try?” I ask, and he pulls back to meet my gaze.

  He rests his forehead against mine. “I think I told you before, baby. I don’t want to lie to you anymore, and I know telling you what you want to hear would be a lie. All I can do is promise I’ll try to loosen up a bit.”

  I close my eyes and slide my hands up his chest, around the back of his neck, and through his hair, cupping the back of his head.

  “Okay.” I lean up, and he closes the distance, touching his lips to mine. “I want this to work, Braxton. I want this crazy, intense thing between us to work just as much as you do.”

  “Good.” He slides his hands around my hips and down to cup my ass, and then he lifts me off the counter.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need to be inside you.” He kisses up my throat to my neck as I wrap my legs around his hips.

  I hold tight to him as he carries me across the room then moan as he covers my mouth with his and lays me on the couch. And as we devour each other, I try to make him understand with every touch, lick, kiss, and sound that he’s already got me, that I’m already obsessed with him.

  ________________

  WITH A FIRE burning in the fireplace casting a glow around the room, I lay with my head on Braxton’s bare chest, my fingers smoothing over his side, his traveling idly up and down my back. I close my eyes.

  It’s Saturday
night, and tomorrow morning, we’re supposed to go back to the city, something I wish we didn’t have to do. It’s been a good day, one in which the outside world hasn’t had a chance to interfere, where we’ve just been able to be us.

  “I really wish we didn’t have to go back tomorrow,” I whisper into the quiet.

  “I know.” His lips rest against the top of my head. “If my parents weren’t coming into town, we could spend another night and leave Monday morning, but we can come back next weekend if you want.”

  I tilt my head back to look at him. “Maybe you can show me more than the bedroom, the couch, and kitchen next time we’re here.” I grin. “I didn’t even get to see your shop.”

  “Are you complaining about how you spent your day?” He rolls me to my back and settles between my legs.

  “No.” I smile, sliding my fingers through his hair, and lift up to touch my mouth to his. Just when the kiss starts to get hot, his phone rings, making me sigh.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not easy being the boss,” I grumble, thinking next time we’re here I’ll lock his phone in his glove box where he can’t hear it.

  He smirks and touches his mouth to mine. “Be right back.”

  I get up on my elbow and watch him walk to the kitchen then decide now is as good of a time as any to go use the restroom. I stand, pick up my T-shirt, and put it on before padding to the bathroom. After I finish, I step out and frown when I don’t see him in the kitchen on his phone, where he’s taken most of his calls today.

  I start to go in search of him but stop when I see him standing outside on the deck, still on his phone. Knowing if he went outside that he wanted privacy, I go to the kitchen to get some water then grab my phone out of my bag. I sit at the island and respond to the texts I have from Jamie and Samantha then play one of my word games, wishing I had my computer so I could check on my schedule for the week.

  When the sliding glass door opens a few minutes later, I turn to watch him come back inside and can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t happy. “What’s wrong?”