Falling for Mister Wrong (30 page)

She bit back a laugh.

“But I made you a present.”

He waved the CD-shaped case he held in one
hand and she leaned back to avoid being hit on the chin with the
present. “Thank you.”

Mix Tape
had been written in uneven
Sharpie across the front of the case.

“’s a mix tape,” he slurred.

“I gathered.”

“Cuz you always provide the soundtrack—and
don’t gemme wrong, that Pathetique gets me hard as a freaking
rock—but I wanted to supply the tunes tonight.” He waved the CD
again and she caught it before he could give himself a black
eye.

“You should listen,” he told her, making
uneven progress toward the couch where he flopped down, long legs
sprawled out in front of him.

She went over to the stereo, popping out the
current CD and sliding his into the slot. “Out of curiosity, how
drunk were you when you made this?”

“Pretty drunk,” he admitted. His head had
drooped against the back of the couch and his eyes were closed.
“s’my Caitlyn playlist. Just burned it to a disk. Easy.” He opened
his eyes and lifted his head with effort. “C’mere.”

She grabbed the stereo remote and crossed to
curl on the couch next to him. He hummed happily and wrapped both
arms around her, pulling her snug against his chest. “You smell
nice,” he rumbled.

“You smell like a brewery,” she said, trying
not to laugh.

He nodded very seriously. “I might have had a
couple beers.” Then his eyes seemed to focus on hers and he grinned
goofily. “Hi, Caitlyn.”

“Hi, Will.”

“I made you a present.”

“You gave it to me already.”

He nodded, eyes falling closed as he sagged
deeper into the couch. For a second she thought he might have
passed out, then his arms tightened around her and he rumbled.
“Middle school playbook. Mix tape is guaranteed kiss, maybe even
second base.”

She smothered a laugh. “You hoping to get
lucky, sport?”

“Hell yeah, I’m bringing out my A Game
tonight. Mix tape is good stuff. You should listen.”

She lifted the remote and hit play.
Knock
Three Times
began to play and she laughed as the singer begged
his neighbor to knock on the ceiling if his feelings were
reciprocated. “It’s very us.”

“It gets better,” Will assured her.

Caitlyn cuddled down deeper into his arms to
listen. And it did get better. The second song was from Norah
Jones—
One Flight Down
—and her internal organs liquefied in
the heat of the slow, sultry song.

Will had been silent for so long she was
certain he was out cold, but when she lifted her head from his
shoulder she found him watching her, with eyes steadier than his
level of inebriation should have allowed.

“You use music to express how you feel,” he
said, only slurring a little. “I’m expressing myself.”

And a yearning Jason Mraz song about wanting
to be more than friends began to play.

Oh Holy Haydn.

She knew she should tell him the truth about
Daniel, but he was drunk and so damn sexy and she just wanted it to
last a little bit longer. Just one more night. Or maybe seven. She
could put it off just a little longer.

The man was using the sexiest songs on the
planet to tell her how he felt about her. No pedestals in sight.
Only the burning heat in his eyes and his arms strong around
her.

Go with the moment, Caitlyn
. She heard
the words in Miranda’s voice—and for once the reality television
advice had never sounded better.

She sank into the moment and his arms.

Chapter
Thirty-Six

“I chickened out again,” Caitlyn said in lieu
of hello as soon as Mimi answered the phone.

Mimi groaned dramatically. “Cait. You’ve got
to tell him. Like, yesterday.”

“I know. But Mimi, he made a mix tape. I
literally cannot hear it without wanting to pounce on him like a
tigress.”

“You know I normally support tigress
pouncing, but you
have to tell him
. The finale is less than
two weeks away. You do not want him to figure it out when it’s a
headline the next morning.”

“Right. I know. I just…” Caitlyn sank down
onto the couch, staring blindly out the window with the phone
pressed to her ear. “What if he hates me when he finds out?”

“He isn’t going to hate you.”

“What if he does? His ex jilted him. I jilted
Daniel.”

“It isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Caitlyn.” Mimi put on her I-am-the-boss mom
voice. “You are braver and stronger and more deserving of love than
you give yourself credit for. Man up, own your awesome, and
tell
the man
. If you want, you can start by telling him you’re in
love with him.”

“Mimi! I’m not. It isn’t… we aren’t defining
things. We’re taking it slow. Letting the relationship grow at a
natural pace.”

“And I’m sure all of that sounds awesome when
you’re rationalizing, but if you feel the need to confess your
undying love for the boy downstairs I fully support that plan. When
are you telling him?”

“He has to work tonight and he has a family
thing tomorrow. Right after that. I promise.”

“No chickening out.”

“I won’t. I promise.” And this time she meant
it. She was running out of time. If she didn’t tell him soon, the
rest of the world would.

#

“Will, I would like to officially apologize
for almost setting you up with the Mister Perfect chick. Though I
didn’t
actually
set you up so I don’t know why Julia gets to
be all
I told you so
about it.”

“You dodged a bullet,” Laney piped in.

Will rolled his eyes in the general direction
of his three sisters as they sipped their hot cocoa at the kitchen
table and each cast an indulgent eye over their collective husbands
and offspring cavorting outside in the snow. He gave Laney an extra
look, trying to figure out if she was hiding a baby bulge with her
baggy sweatshirt—but she so often wore baggy sweatshirts he
couldn’t tell.

“What are you three blathering about now?”
He’d come inside to grab a carrot for the snowman Hailey was trying
to will into existence through stubbornness alone, but at the
mention of Mister Perfect his ears pricked up.

In the last week, Caitlyn had been jumpy,
popping Tums like they were going out of style and occasionally
starting to say something and then breaking off and blushing. At
first he had been concerned her awkwardness had something to do
with the idiot he’d made of himself with the mix tape fiasco, but
she seemed to love the CD—if the amount she was playing it and the
fact that she always jumped him when the second song came on were
any indication. And over the last few days it had become obvious it
was something about the show’s conclusion that was upsetting her.
She jumped a mile whenever anyone mentioned it.

He’d fought back his curiosity and managed
not to ask. She’d tell him when she was ready. Her past was just
that—her past. He planned on being her future.

Only one more week now. He’d more or less
avoided learning the gory details of the show, but he knew that
much.

His sisters hadn’t broached the topic again
since for all they knew he’d stopped seeing Caitlyn. They hadn’t
been caught together in public again since the infamous TMZ
photos—which he was never going to live down.

“The girl we were going to set you up with.
Caitlyn.” Claire explained. “She’s one of the final two on
Marrying Mister Perfect
. So it’s a good thing you steered
clear.”

Laney nodded sagely. “Everyone thought that
Samantha was a lock to win it all and Elena was going to go far
because all men think with their dicks, but Caitlyn was the dark
horse and well, there you go. Dodged a bullet.”

Not for the first time, he felt like his
sisters were speaking in girl code and hadn’t given him the decoder
ring. “I’m not following. Why do you keep saying I dodged a bullet?
What does it matter if she was in the top two?”

“The sex dates.”

Laney shushed Claire. “The final two are
always both completely hung up on the guy. For, like,
ever
.
I mean, they legitimately expect to marry him. That is some
seriously
massive
emotional baggage they’re carrying
around.”

“And the sex dates,” Claire insisted.

Laney rolled her eyes. “Yes, Claire, the sex
dates.”

“What are the sex dates?” Will didn’t know
much about the show, but he knew it was on primetime network
television so he figured it would have to be within the bounds of
FCC regulations.

“Overnight dates,” Laney explained, taking
pity on him. “In these super sexy foreign locales. The cameras fade
away and everything is left to the viewer’s imagination, but it’s
pretty obvious they’re getting it on.”

“Even if they say they’re good girls,” Claire
put in. “What happens in the Fantasy Suite doesn’t always stay in
the Fantasy Suite, if you know what I mean.”

If Caitlyn was nervous about him finding out
she’d gone all the way with this Mister Perfect ass a few months
ago, that would certainly explain her recent squirrely behavior. He
tried to tell himself he didn’t care—he’d known she wasn’t a virgin
when they first hooked up and he sure as hell wasn’t one himself.
He was trying to be enlightened, squashing down his caveman
jealousy.

“So you’re saying because she may or may not
have slept with this guy months ago, that I should avoid my very
nice neighbor because she must have massive baggage?”

“They’re saying that,” Julia confirmed. “I’m
saying you should avoid her because she’s engaged.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Laney
immediately argued, while Will recovered from the verbal sucker
punch.

“Why else would he be here?” Julia countered.
“You’ve seen the pictures. And the flowers! They’re engaged. Mark
my words.”

“There are, like, a thousand reasons why he
could be visiting the runner-up.”

“A zillion red roses?”

“Decoy flowers!”

“Hey!” Will shouted. “Could someone please
explain to your poor brother what the hell you’re talking
about?”

This time it was Claire who took pity on him.
“Some pictures came out yesterday of Mister Perfect here in Tuller
Springs. It’s pretty obvious that he was going into her place when
they were snapped.”

“And on Valentine’s Day, Monica at the Lodge
said she saw some guy delivering the biggest bouquet of red roses
she’d ever seen to Caitlyn’s door. Does that seem like the kind of
thing you do for the runner up?”

White noise fogged his brain.

There was an innocent explanation. There had
to be.

But why wouldn’t Caitlyn tell him that this
Mister Perfect guy had come to see her if it was perfectly
innocent? And why would she hide a flower delivery? If there even
were flowers—Monica at the Lodge wasn’t always the most reliable
source, though she was enthusiastic with the gossip.

Flowers, photos, sex dates…

Why the hell
had
she been wearing a
veil that first night they met? She’d said it was a gag gift, but
her eyes hadn’t quite met his when she said it. Had they? Or was
his memory playing tricks on him?

“Are you going to take that out to them?
Will?”

He looked down, surprised to find himself
holding a carrot. Hailey. The snowman. “Right. Yeah. Of
course.”

And then he was going to get answers. It was
time he and Caitlyn had a little talk about Mister Perfect.

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

“Excuse me, Caitlyn?”

Caitlyn slowed and turned toward the sound of
the hesitant female voice. She supposed it was too much to ask to
sneak out to buy a half-gallon of milk and some Wheat Thins without
being stopped by someone who’d seen her on television. Especially
this week of all weeks.

The Finale and live reunion special would air
on Tuesday. She’d be flying out to Los Angeles for the taping in
just a couple days. And she hadn’t had a chance to say anything to
Will. Time was running out, but she was so terrified of losing him
as soon as she told him, she just kept hoping he would love her
enough to look past it, kept waiting for him to say the words.

The woman who’d stopped her was petite and
pretty, with elfin features and big blue eyes. The kind of waifish
beauty big strong men loved to protect.

“Photo or autograph?” Caitlyn asked with a
smile that was only slightly forced. She tried to be nice to the
fans of the show, but the constant attention was exhausting. She’d
never had this kind of notoriety when she was performing. Sure,
she’d sign the occasional autograph, but it had never been this
constant barrage.

“Sorry?” the pretty waif asked.

“Would you like your photo with me? Or can I
sign something for you?’

“Oh, no, no. I’m Tria. Tria Mathers? Perhaps
Will mentioned me? I was…. We… that is…”

The ex.

This was her. The woman who had broken Will’s
heart. The woman he still couldn’t think about without having his
face harden into a stone mask.

Tria. She was lovely. Precious. A gorgeous
little pixie.

Caitlyn hated her.

“I don’t…” What the hell was she supposed to
say?

“I know you two are friends.” The tips of her
blonde hair stuck out from beneath her hat as she gazed up at
Caitlyn in the parking lot, earnest and wide-eyed. “I saw the
picture on TMZ. I thought you might be more than friends when I saw
how he was looking at you, but now… I guess you’re with that TV
guy. But it’s Will I was hoping you could help me with.”

If the woman said she wanted to win him back,
Caitlyn was going to go for her throat like a badger. “Help
you.”

“I know this isn’t any of your business, but
Will and my, uh, my boyfriend Andy—”