The Wrong Man
Authors: Lane Hayes
Readers love
L
ANE
H
AYES
The Right Words
“This is a m/m romance lover’s dream.”
—Sinfully Sexy Books
“It left me happy and full, and for that, I am oh so pleased.”
—Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words
“…the writing in this book is magic.”
—Love Bytes
Better Than Good
“Sigh… I loved this book! I didn’t put it down once I picked it up.”
—Live Your Life, Buy the Book
Better Than Chance
“This was a really good, light, entertaining contemporary romance. I would love to read more of this ‘series’.”
—Boys in Our Books
Better Than Friends
“Lane Hayes has developed a storyline with incredible dialogue, funny and smart characters, and a prose that will hold your attention from start to finish.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
By
L
ANE
H
AYES
B
ETTER
T
HAN
S
TORIES
Better Than Good
Better Than Chance
Better Than Friends
R
IGHT
AND
W
RONG
S
TORIES
The Right Words
The Wrong Man
Published By
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Wrong Man
© 2015 Lane Hayes.
Cover Art
© 2015
Aaron Anderson.
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.
ISBN: 978-1-63216-781-1
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-782-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014953759
First Edition February 2015
Printed in the United States of America
This paper meets the requirements of
ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).
For Rex, the most beautiful, loyal, sweet lab ever. Thank you for your many years of friendship, joy, and unconditional love.
Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.
—Buddha
I
T
ISN
’
T
possible to be happy all the time, but I’d recently decided contentment was a strong second option. I looked around my store fifteen minutes before closing and noted the shelves of knickknacks and pillowcases I needed to restock. The floors should be swept, the mirrors could use a good cleaning, and someone had left an empty coffee cup on an antique entry table. In spite of the additional hour or more it would take to get BGoods ready for business the next day, this store was my reason for contentment, and it certainly was one of my greatest sources of happiness. However, it was getting harder to ignore I was feeling slightly restless and less than content in my personal life.
I picked up the lip balm I kept next to the register and gave myself a mental smack upside the head as I applied the waxy substance liberally. Nothing positive ever came from sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. The best thing to do was clean up, head home to change into some sexy club wear, and treat myself to a night out. Maybe I’d go dancing, or maybe—
“Brandon, did you hear me?”
I glanced sideways to find Lizzy, one of my employees, staring at me expectantly. Her big blue eyes and long, strawberry blond hair gave her a sweetly innocent look I bet a majority of straight men found attractive. Me? Not so much. However, I admired her effortless style and friendly nature. Both were a major plus since her job was to sell high-end home accessories to my eclectic clientele, which ranged from movie stars and rock stars to yoga moms and Hollywood execs. My store’s West Hollywood location had a wonderfully diverse population. It wasn’t merely a mecca for all things rainbow-colored and fabulous.
“Sorry, sugar. Replay. What did you say?”
“I’m dog-sitting for my hunky new neighbor. He’s a firefighter. Dee-licious! His name is….”
I tuned her out. Lizzy could gab for hours nonstop about inconsequential details. There were days I was charmed, but others I wished she’d shut the hell up. Today she’d been particularly chatty, and it was grating on my every last nerve. I was anxious to send her home so I could take care of the cleanup on my own.
“Anyway the poor guy is thirteen years old, and he doesn’t want to leave him alone while he’s at work. Isn’t that the sweetest?”
“Huh? What thirteen-year-old kid wants a babysitter? You better watch it, Lizzy. If the man is looking for a nanny, I sense trouble. Steer clear.”
“I knew you weren’t listening! Mack is a dog, not a teenager. Any-who, Jake the dreamboat asked if I’d watch him till he got back from work tomorrow. So… is it cool if I bring him by for a quick hello?”
“Who? Jack or Mack? Dreamboats are always welcome. Drooling sidekicks… not so much.”
“It’s Jake not Jack. And never mind. I can tell you’re in a mood.” Lizzy cast her eyes skyward and sashayed toward the front of the store to retrieve the errant coffee cup.
I reached for the lip balm again but quickly put it back and stepped out from behind the counter. I walked toward the white contemporary-style sofa and armchair anchoring the midsection of the store and started fluffing the countless colorful pillows before addressing my employee’s cryptic dig at my “mood.” I wasn’t moody. I didn’t do moody. Whatever was she talking about? Sure, I had my moments like anyone else, but I was better at leaving my grievances behind than most people.
I adopted a pleasant attitude of indulgent curiosity when I looked at Lizzy and asked, “Whatever do you mean?”
She waltzed to the counter, tossed the empty cup in the trash, and turned to confront me with both hands on her hips.
“Ever since you broke up with Trevor, you’ve been cranky. I’m sorry, but it’s true. You’re still you, don’t get me wrong. You’re as fabulous as ever, but—”
Oh, thank God, I thought sarcastically. As if. The day I started worrying about what Lizzy thought about my fabulosity, I’d be in big fucking trouble. I snorted as I adjusted the design books on the leather-upholstered ottoman.
“…what could it possibly hurt to say yes once in a while?”
She was still talking? I glanced up and saw her smug “you didn’t hear a word I said” look. I should fire her for insubordination, I mused. Of course I wouldn’t. I liked her too much. Lizzy was irritating at times, but the fact she was willing to stand up to me when I was a smidge temperamental was refreshing.
“Yes. There. Happy now?”
“Oh, Brandon!” Lizzy clapped her hands and jumped up and down like a schoolgirl. What did I say yes to? “You’re the best! Want me to start sweeping in the back while you take care of Mrs. Hirschfield?”
I inwardly groaned at the sound of my name being sung out to the accompaniment of a dozen golden bangles jangling around my client’s wrist. Dora Hirschfield was a prominent Hollywood producer’s wife and one of my most loyal customers. She had a fortune to spend and I was grateful she chose to spend quite a bit of it at BGoods. She claimed to love my sense of style, but I knew she also loved me. I entertained her with a campy fun-loving gay man schtick that had become part of our traditional repartee over the few years I’d known her. Most days I slipped with ease into that role, but today I was going to have to dig deep and work through the resentment of having to play a stereotype to please my wealthy customer.