Page 8 of Checking Mr. Wrong
“Earth to Asher,” Mabel says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.
I blink, startled, and meet her narrowed eyes. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, where are you from?” She’s watching me like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Toronto,” I say, slipping easily back into my easygoing persona. “But I’ve been all over. I was in Virginia before I came here, but I was only there for a few months.”
“From the East Coast to...this,” she says, waving vaguely at the windshield as we drive into Maple Falls.
“Hockey’s hockey.” I shrug. “And from what I’ve seen since I got here, this town has charm.”
She kind of laughs, kind of shakes her head. “If your idea of charm is bake sales and nosy neighbors, then yes, Asher, it’s very charming.”
“You’re not convincing me.”
“I don’t work for the local tourism department, nor am I a travel blogger fulfilling a contract, so I don’t have to,” she says. The grin that takes over tells me she is pleased with her response.
“You’re witty,” I acknowledge, taking in the small-town vibes as we make our way down what I would assume is Main Street. “Come on. This place is adorable.”
She turns to me, and for the first time, there’s a spark of something in her eyes—annoyance, curiosity…maybe both.
Joe cuts into my thoughts as he slows the car, pulling up in front of the town’s impressive arena. “This is your stop, Asher.”
“Yes, it is.” I reach for the door handle, pausing to glance at Mabel. “Nice talking to you, Mabel. Hope you get that tooth taken care of and fast.”
She doesn’t bother hiding her eye roll, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching. “I’ll survive.”
There’s something to this woman. In the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen her sourpuss side, but I wonder what would happen if I threw some sugar at her? She’slike Ikea to me; I love the idea of a flat pack—it does intrigue me and I feel good when I’ve put together some crazy bookshelf—but the instructions that come with it do my head in. Anyway, she’s got her things to do in town, like I’ve got mine.
As I step out, Joe follows suit and opens the trunk. He hands me my bags and the weight of what lies ahead, not just today but moving forward, crashes back over me as he dips his head goodbye and gets back in the SUV. The jokes, the smiles, the easy banter—it’s all for show, keeping everything else buried. New town, new team, new expectations. No one here knows me, and that’s both a blessing and a curse.
Before I take another step, a smooth whirring sound cuts through the air like a dramatic pause in a gangster flick. I turn around to find the rear window slowly lowering, revealing Mabel, leaning slightly to one side as if she’s about to issue a decree. The morning sunlight hits her face at just the right angle, making her look less like the grump I’d sat beside for the last chunk of time and more like she’s about to order someone to “take care of business.”
“Hey, Asher,” she says. “I want to be transparent with you. We’re going to see each other again.”
“Oh?” Now this is a welcome wagon. I lean against the SUV, ready to put on my full-charm appeal for a date with this one. “So either you’re alluding to the fact this town is really that small or are you saying…”
“I’m a reporter forAthletic Edge,” she interrupts, popping my daydream and bringing me back to reality. “I’m here covering the Ice Breakers, and I’ve been tasked with interviewing you for a quote or two for the story.”
“Okay then,” I say, letting this new information wash over me. “So, what you’re saying is you need my number?”
“Please. I’ve already got it.” She grins. “You’ll hear from me soon.”
With that, she leans back into her seat, a slow, deliberate retreat into shadow, while the window glides up like the closingact of a perfectly staged mob drama. It’s a boss move, no doubt about it, and she leaves me standing here, equal parts intrigued and exasperated, staring after the SUV as if it’s chauffeuring Maple Falls’ most eccentric crime lord.
Who is this snaggled-tooth storm of a woman?
I take a deep breath and wave to Joe as the car pulls away, the tiniest part of me hoping that Mabel is watching from the backseat. Stupid to think it, really. She’s the kind of woman my mother would tell me to watch out for, yet there’s a dip in my stomach as the vehicle pulls out of the parking lot.
As the pair disappears down the street, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not just passing through my life. People like Mabel don’t just come and go; they arrive with purpose and usually leave a mark. And something tells me, whatever mark she’s here to leave, it’s going to be impossible to ignore.
CHAPTER 3
MABEL
The car rollsto a stop in the driveway, and I step out, the crunch of gravel under my boots somehow louder than I remember. I straighten, stretching my arms over my head and taking a deep breath. The air smells like pine trees and wet leaves, with a faint curl of woodsmoke from someone’s fireplace in the distance. It’s exactly how I remember Maple Falls.
Joe circles around from the driver’s seat, pops the trunk, and starts unloading my bags. He sets them down on the sidewalk with a quiet grunt before he heads back to the car with a quick wave. “Nice meeting you, Mabel. Tell Murray I said hello.”
