Page 12 of Almost Perfect
His voice had a twinge of pleading in it, but mostly that bossylet me tell you how it is, little ladyfeel that made my jaw clench.
“Thank you, no. Plus, there’s the car.” I nodded to the road where headlights could be seen. No idea if it was actually my rideshare, but odds were good. I didn’t want to get my phone out until I absolutely had to because that would mean uncrossing my arms and losing some of the warmth I’d built up.
“Still a few minutes out. You should get in and wait with me.”
“Listen, I’m fine. I appreciate the offer. But you can be on your way.”
“You’re stubborn.”
My mouth dropped open. “Seriously?I’mstubborn? You don’t even know me, and you’re mansplaining cold weather to me and demanding I get in your truck to solve a problem that I do not even have.”
His eyes blinked like he’d been slapped. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the car zoomed up and stopped next to Wyatt.
“Hey, Wyatt! How’s it going? Just here to pick up Ms. Rice here. You ready?” The chatty young person in the car leaned almost all the way out his driver side window, hand waving at Wyatt, then me.
“Yep, all set, thanks!” I said and slipped into the back before Wyatt ever got a word in.
Inside, the car was spotless. A little basket of mints sat in the middle of the back seat. The driver introduced himself as Jake, then executed the slowest seven-point turn in history, all directly in front of Wyatt’s massive truck. My cheeks burned and I could practically feel Wyatt’s eyes on us as Jake zigged and zagged to get turned around. Finally pointed in the right direction, he zipped off down the road.
Did all drivers in Silverton have J names? Was that part of the application process? First, Jarrod from the airport, and now plucky Jake. If I had a third with a J name, I’d give myself a prize.
Oh dear sweet child, Calla. It’s good you’re getting out.
I focused on my phone, making a list of groceries I’d need and reviewing the order I’d pick up from the restaurant so I could enjoy food I didn’t cook for at least one meal.
The unsettled feeling chased me all the way, though—that odd exchange with Wyatt made me twitchy and frustrated. What was his deal? Why should he care if I stood outside for ten minutes waiting for a ride? It was none of his business.
And why had he come at me with that tone like I’d done something wrong? He’d been welcoming and nice the other day. I couldn’t have messed this up already without even realizing it, could I?
* * *
I browsed the market slowly because I had no plans this evening, or tomorrow, or really ever again, so why not? I wasn’tthatrecognizable, especially without full makeup and hair, so hopefully between the cream-colored beanie on my head and keeping my eyes down, I’d go unnoticed.
I’d wandered the three streets that made up the bulk of downtown Silverton for an hour, stretching the time out as long as I could. I’d spotted a cozy little diner I wanted to try, I’d purchased a bouquet of flowers at a tiny shop called Bloom, and I’d eyed but not entered a shop with a sign that said Pluck and had a little ironwork guitar next to the name.
My feet had nearly steered themselves to the doorstep, but I’d resisted. I hadn’t written in years—not anything at all since Candy’s death, but it’d been before that, too. I hadn’t brought my guitar here, anyway. I had no business buying yet another instrument that would sit in the corner of that small cottage and judge me for not doing anything creative.
No guilting myself. This time was about rejuvenation and reinvention and not having to cow to the habits and ways of thinking I’d established. All the things that’d frosted over my already frozen heart.
So, I’d walked on, ignoring the pull toward the tiny shop. Rounding the corner to Main Street, I’d considered ducking into a little coffee shop adorably named Rise and Shine but then saw how crowded it was inside—all the tables full of people caffeinating après-ski, I supposed.
I could ski. I liked it well enough, and I was decent. I could probably just go without a lesson or maybe get a private instructor. But if I fell and broke something, my manager would kill me.
Dread sloshed through me.No more thoughts of managers.Focus on the here and now.But also, decision made—no skiing for now. Kristoffer would be annoyed by having to help me figure out what to rent or by having to fly out and attend my bedside if I broke something. He’d consider it his duty even if I refused.
Other than Jenna, Kristoffer was my only friend, and he was paid to be one. We weren’t even all that friendly—he was pure business and very professional. I was thankful because that meant he gave me space and didn’t tattle on me to my manager, agent, or publicist when I decided to up and disappear from life. I’d told him and my security team the specifics, and no one else.
Checking out at the market went smoothly—the woman who bagged my food didn’t seem to recognize me, or maybe she just didn’t care. An alarm chimed on my phone—five minutes until my food would be ready. I’d put in an order at the local Mexican food place named Guac. I had to admit, I loved all the store names and wished more than once I’d found a place to stay in town. Who cared if people knew where I was?
A lot of people. People who will be angry once they realize what you’re doing.
I inhaled the utterly frigid evening air. The sun was almost gone, so I was shrouded in more anonymity, but that didn’t stop me from recognizing Wyatt Saint giving his brother Warrick a shoulder slap and kissing a woman’s cheek not five feet in front of where I stood. The two men wore winter coats—Warrick’s puffy and sporty, Wyatt’s that same canvas-looking thing that practically screamedI’m a cowboy, dammit!and hats. Part of me expected to see Wyatt in a Stetson, but so far, no dice. Plus I suspected, despite his rudeness, that same eager sliver of me would expire on the spot from the sight of that man in a cowboy hat.
The woman with them was older but still quite lovely from what I could see. She was bundled in a knee-length jacket, hat, and gloves.
“Callaway—Ms. Rice, is that you?” Warrick Saint waved a giant hand my way.
I smiled at him and closed the distance, not wanting to yell or draw any attention. “Hello.”
