Page 24 of Checking Mr. Wrong
Of course not. We connected, didn’t we?
We connected because my editor wants me to write this article.
She is sassy. So sassy. Sassy pants sassy and a challenge. This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me. She’s like catnip. Fine, she wants to meet up. I’ll give her what she’s asking for. She might say no, but I decide to give it my best shot.
How about dinner? Tomorrow night. After practice. Does that work?
…
…
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The world’s worst pause button…those three dots that tell you someone is writing something but it’s not popping up.
“Hey, Asher,” Cade calls out, bracing one end of the bar as Weston preps for his lift. “Can we get you to help spot?”
“Yeah, man,” I say, holding my phone up. “Give me two seconds to wrap this up.”
By the time I look back at my phone, Mabel’s answer is there.
Fine. The Glass Olive at seven.
Can’t wait. It’s a date.
No. It really isn’t.
Kind of. Dinner. Two people. Conversing.
It’s a work meeting. Athletic Edge will pay, reservation will be under my name. See you then.
I know when I’m being dismissed, and this time, I’m okay with it.
“Tremblay,” Weston calls out from across the room, his voice cutting through my internal chatter. “Dude, get over here. Put that phone down.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with a laugh, tossing my phone onto my duffel bag in the corner.
Still, as I cross the room to join the guys, I give my head aquick shake, like that’s all it’ll take to dislodge Mabel from my thoughts. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work.
Because even as Weston cracks a joke and Cade bursts into laughter, her sharp wit and those fire-in-her-eyes glares linger in my mind, refusing to be ignored.
And as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, I’m already looking forward to the next time she gets under my skin.
CHAPTER 9
MABEL
The coffee shopin the back of Falling for Books—the quaintest (and only) bookstore in Maple Falls—feels like nostalgia wrapped in a warm embrace. The soft hum of conversation mingles with the gentle clinking of mugs, and I can almost feel my shoulders relax. Neesha is behind the counter, her hair tied up in a small but neat bun, and she’s frowning at a tray of cupcakes like they just insulted her.
“Please tell me you’re not here to write a scathing review on my new recipe,” she says without looking up, her hands on her hips.
“Scathing?” I smirk as I pull out a stool at the counter. “Never. Not when your cupcakes are always the best.”
She finally glances at me, her eyes twinkling as she walks around to wrap me in her arms. “Welcome home, Mabel.”
“You’re the best part so far.” I give her a squeeze. “What’s with the cupcake drama?”
Neesha pushes the tray toward me with a dramatic sigh. “It’s a new flavor. Maple pecan with a hint of caramel. I thought it could be our signature fall treat, but now I’m questioning everything.”
