Falling for Mister Wrong (10 page)

“You said it was a little fire.”

“It was.”

But that little fire had blackened a ten
square foot patch of the wall behind the potbelly stove, leaving
the drywall hanging off the charred studs in ashy fragments. The
white foam from the fire extinguisher had not miraculously
evaporated, though someone had used a dingy grey beach towel to mop
up the worst of it, the towel itself now spread on the floor near
where she had fallen the night before. There was a smoky scent in
the air, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as she’d expected it to
be.

All in all, it wasn’t so bad. Better than
she’d hoped for, actually.

But Mimi hadn’t come inside last night when
she’d picked her up. She hadn’t known what to expect. Her friend
took in the damage, pivoted, and wrapped her arms around Caitlyn,
squeezing tight. “You suck. But for some reason I like you, so
don’t get hurt, okay?” she muttered against her shoulder.

“Likewise,” Caitlyn said, squeezing back and
gazing at the charred patch of wall over Mimi’s shoulder.

Thanks to the windows, the room was still
bright, even without power, but it was eerily silent without the
subtle hums of the appliances in the kitchen.

“You want lunch? Everything we don’t eat
today is going to go bad if the electricity stays off for
long.”

Mimi nodded, shoving away and swiping at her
eyes before squaring her shoulders to tackle the task at hand.
“I’ll make us a feast. Then we’ll clean up.”

While Mimi went to investigate feast options,
Caitlyn unfolded the note, tamping down the little shiver of
excitement at the thought of who it was from.

She should
not
be excited about
reading words Will had written. He was taken and she was
engaged.

But that didn’t stop her from smiling when
she saw his oddly formal salutation,
Dear Ms. Gregg.

She should not be charmed. But lately she
wasn’t doing so well at obeying the shoulds.

I spoke with the arson investigator and the
electrical short was definitely the culprit. I also spoke with the
landlord and as soon as the investigator’s official report is in,
he’ll file the insurance claim and we can get started on the
repairs. I have a brother-in-law who is a contractor, if you’d like
me to get him out here to put in a bid for the wall. I know he’ll
give a fair price. I’ll repair your door since that one was on me.
The electrician said he would be by at two o’clock to check out the
rest of the wiring in the house so we can find out if it’s safe to
turn the power back on. I have a class to teach, but I should be
back by two to meet him, if you can’t be here then. Take care.

P.S. Your smoke detector battery was dead.
I’ve replaced it.

Somehow Caitlyn resisted the urge to press
the paper to her chest like a Victorian maiden. She’d begun
grinning at “culprit” and by the time he mentioned the smoke
detector, her knees were downright wobbly. He’d thought of
everything, taken care of everything. Not only had he saved her
life—he’d saved her half a dozen awkward or time consuming
conversations.

She’d been dreading contacting the landlord
and letting him know she’d burned a hole in his wall. Done.

She hadn’t had the first idea who to contact
about repairs or checking the wiring. Done and done.

He was her one man fix-it team. She’d never
be able to repay him.

And damn if the way he swept in and took care
of her wasn’t sexy as hell.

Would Daniel have stepped up in such a manly
way?

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her
mind came the guilt chaser. The niggling sense that she was
betraying Daniel by doubting he would be as magnificent as Will had
been. It wasn’t fair of her to compare them. Her fiancé was
hundreds of miles away, oblivious to any troubles she might be
facing. He deserved better than to be judged and found lacking in
absentia.

Will was taken and so was she—by a man who
always did the right thing and would probably have been her knight
in shining armor himself, given the chance—so she mentally smacked
the stars from her eyes, folded the note and tucked it into her
pocket, striding over to the kitchen area to see what Mimi had
found in her rapidly warming fridge.

After a quick hodge-podge lunch and a dozen
reassurances that she would be fine on her own, she shooed Mimi off
to pick up her kids. As soon as the door closed behind her friend,
Caitlyn made a beeline for the loft and the MMP cell phone she
vaguely remembered dropping on her bed while she was packing her
overnight bag.

Ever since she realized she’d left it behind,
she’d been haunted by visions of the phone ringing while the
firefighters or the fire investigators were in her apartment and
one of the guys answering it—just to be neighborly, just to tell
the caller that she wasn’t available and take a message—but if it
was Daniel and he gave away his identity before he realized who he
was talking to…

Hello, Five Million Dollar Lawsuit.

It had been agony, waiting for Mimi to leave,
but if it had happened, the damage was already done. She rapidly
scrolled through the call log. One missed call from Daniel. No
message. And a text from Miranda. What looked like the ingredients
to a hangover cure.

No sign of anything that would put her in
debt to the network for the rest of her life.

And no indication that anyone in the Marrying
Mister Perfect family knew she’d had a minor incendiary incident
last night. A ten pound weight seemed to float off her chest.

Until she felt that weight lifting, she
hadn’t realized how certain she’d been that they would know
somehow. For months they had known every little movement of her
life. The idea that something so dramatic could happen and it would
be no one’s business but her own... it was beyond liberating.

But the wild, heady sense of freedom didn’t
last.

She would have to tell them. It was one call
Will couldn’t make for her. Better she let Miranda know what had
happened and let the PR people spin it than to have it come out on
TMZ. Though maybe it wouldn’t. She was just one of many Suitorettes
right now, no reason she should be stalked like a celebrity.

“Ms. Gregg?”

The voice floated up to the loft from her
open doorway and Caitlyn felt a giddy rush that she told herself
was just a result of the timely distraction. She stepped to the
loft railing, pressing her stomach against it. “You can call me
Caitlyn, you know. After carrying me out of a burning building over
your shoulder, I think we can dispense with formality.”

Will looked up at her first word, a slow
smile spreading over his face. “Hey.”

Caitlyn’s brain short circuited as her
hormones threw a party.
Yep, not a hallucination,
they
declared.
He’s just as hot as we remembered.
Messy brown
hair, luscious black lashes, and the eyes a girl could fall into
for days.

“Hi.”

Oh, brilliant, Caitlyn. Dazzle him with your
witty repartee.

“I, uh…” She wet her lips, trying to restart
her brain. “Thank you. For everything. You’ve been amazing.”

His grin widened. “I never argue when a
pretty girl tells me I’m amazing.”

A blush burned her cheeks. She pushed away
from the railing and scrambled down the stairs from the loft with
more speed than grace. “I can’t thank you enough—”

He waved a hand, cutting her off. “Anyone
would have done the same.”

Would they?
she wanted to ask, but he
was already turning away, strolling toward the charred wall and
assessing the damage.

“We were lucky. Looks like the damage is
pretty contained. Easy to fix.” His hand sketched through the air
over the blackened holes. “Replace the electrical and reframe. Hang
some drywall and you’re good to go. Probably won’t even need to
refinish the floors. Fairly low cost, two, three days of solid work
for a good crew, and you’re set.”

“So you’re a carpenter in addition to being a
fire fighter?” As if the one wasn’t hot enough on its own.

He looked away from the wall, his grin easy
and self-assured, but somehow modest at the same time. “I’m just a
volunteer with the fire department. And work on the mountain isn’t
always steady, so I help my brother-in-law out with brute force
labor when I could use some extra cash. I’ve learned some, hanging
around those guys, but I’m no expert. We’ll get him out here to
give you a proper bid. And either way, I’ll fix your door frame and
rehang your door tomorrow morning—if that works for you. I don’t
usually teach on Thursdays.”

He nodded toward the windows as he said teach
and it took Caitlyn a moment to realize he meant ski school.
So
add sexy ski bum to the tally of hotness
. If it was physical,
it seemed like he was good at it.

She refused to dwell on that thought.

“Tomorrow morning would be great.”

“Great. The good news is it’s Tuller Springs
and you don’t really need to worry about security. We’ll keep the
outer door locked so none of the tourists get lost and wander in,
but since it’s just the two units, you don’t have to worry about
anyone invading your privacy tonight.” He held up his hands like
she’d told him to stick ‘em up, dark eyes gleaming wickedly. “I
promise to keep my distance.”

What if I don’t want you to?

Caitlyn bit back the urge to say the flirty
words. What the hell was wrong with her? She was
engaged
.
And she’d never been a flirt to begin with. It was like being
possessed by the world’s trashiest demon.

“How soon can your brother-in-law get out
here to look at the rest of the damage?”

“That’s one call I didn’t get to yet,” he
said. “Hold on and I’ll see if I can get him out here.”

He pulled out his phone and wandered over to
the giant windows for a little privacy as he made his call. She
watched him move, noting the way his jeans hugged his ass in a
nearly indecent way. They were damp about halfway up the calf to
the knees and she realized his dark hair glistened with a hint of
moisture too. He’d been teaching. Skiing with those snug blue jeans
tucked into his boots. Would his ski jacket come down far enough to
hide his ass or would his students see every flex as he led them
down the mountain. She’d seen the women who came to the
mountain—taut and Botoxed in their winter couture. Will was
probably a
very
popular instructor.

Which was none of her dang business.

He wasn’t her knight in shining armor. He
wasn’t her anything. Just a neighbor. Being neighborly.

Caitlyn forced herself to turn away. She
crossed to the kitchen area and plucked a still mostly cool bottle
of water out of the fridge. Maybe she could get the contractor to
add in a water filtration system while he was at it. And a
breakfast bar. And maybe expand the bathroom from its current
microscopic proportions.

She grimaced. “I’m an idiot,” she informed
the fridge, in case there was any doubt. She was planning upgrades
and improvements to an apartment she was leaving in a matter of
months. She just couldn’t seem to get it through her brain that her
life really was about to change that drastically.

Los Angeles. She was going to be living in
Los Angeles. With her
husband
.

“You’re in luck.”

She whirled around at the voice behind her,
hoping he hadn’t heard her talking to the refrigerator.

Will strolled over from the windows with his
easy—
sexy,
her hormones commented helpfully
—
gait,
pocketing his phone as he came. “No one wants construction done
over the holidays and Dale’s next job doesn’t start until the kids
head back to school next week, so he’s free this afternoon and he
can come by to give you a bid right away. I played the
brother-in-law card and he said he may even be able to squeeze you
in around other projects so you don’t have to wait for a break in
his schedule. Since it looks like a pretty straightforward
repair—no fancy parts that need ordering—he
could
probably
start as early as tomorrow, but I doubt our fabulous landlord Les
is going to have any idea what kind of insurance settlement he’s
getting for a few weeks at least, so you’ll probably have to wait
until then to start work.”

“What if I paid for the work? Could we get it
done by next week? Before my students start up lessons again on
Monday?”

He frowned. “We could probably get most of it
done, yeah, but you don’t want to do that. Let the insurance guys
work it out with Les.”

“He can pay me back when he gets the
settlement. It’s worth it to me not to have the damage and then the
construction distracting my students off and on for the next
several weeks. And besides, it’s kind of my fault anyway.”

“Hey.” He came around the café table and
propped his hip beside hers on the counter. “It wasn’t your fault.
Shorts like that happens sometimes. Especially in houses where the
wiring hasn’t been looked at in thirty-five years.”

Her heart thudded so loudly she was surprised
he couldn’t hear it. So close. He was tall, but not so massive that
he towered over her. Just large enough to be a firm, masculine
presence. Broad and warm and stable in a world that kept trying to
shift out from under her. She felt her face heating and couldn’t
meet his eyes.

“I’d been drinking.”

“Yeah, I figured that part out,” he said
dryly.

The heat in her face kicked up another few
degrees. “I threw a glass full of vodka on the fire.” She didn’t
know why she said that—the arson investigator had already decided
she wasn’t to blame and she had to go and practically
ask
to
be sent to prison. But as soon as she confessed, the tightness in
her chest eased and more words rushed out in desperate explanation.
“I didn’t mean to. It was a reflex. I went to turn the light on and
it sparked and I panicked. The cup just—” She mimed a flinging
gesture. “And then
fwhoosh
.” Her hands sketched the
explosion of flames in front of her face.