The Big Mistake Read online

  “The more there is of it, the more complicated life is,” Nick said. “You love your job because you get to be the Corn Queen and that’s all the responsibility to it. I love playing guitar because I get to sing about things I love and care about and not have to worry about contracts and writing albums and managers and tours and social media and my public image.”

  “Enough,” I gasped, putting my hands on either side of my head and squeezing. “You’re going to make my head explode with all of this. Fine! I concede. You don’t have to make your amazing song into a hit single if you don’t want to.”

  “Thank you,” he said, grinning. “Do you really think it’s amazing?”

  “Don’t push it,” I warned him. “How dare you fish for compliments after defeating me in an argument.”

  Our relationship was almost feeling back to normal.

  Chapter 6

  “Ugh, you don’t know how glad I am to here that,” Faith was saying. I’d just told her the good news — that Nick and I were friends again, and that everything awkward from before had been all but forgotten.

  “Yeah, so the old team’s back together,” I joked. “Or, you know. About as together as we’re going to get. Not the together I think Nick wanted.”

  “Good friends are hard to come by,” she said. “I know that for a fact. You don’t want to lose one just because you feel awkward about some silly rejection. If it’s not right, it’s not right. But, just for the record…”

  “Stop,” I complained. “You can’t say that. You’re biased. You just want us together so you can see the both of us whenever you want. You can’t make me have a relationship with someone I’m just not into for the convenience of your social life, Faith.”

  “That’s so harsh,” she said, laughing. “Damn¸ Jennet. That’s not the reason I wanted you to be with Nick. I just thought…oh, never mind. I don’t want you to be mad at me, now. You don’t need any more friend drama in your life.”

  “Oh, just say it,” I sighed. “Go on. Get it out of your system or else it’s going to be hanging over me for the rest of the day.”

  “I just thought that you two were good together, that’s all,” Faith said. “It’s hard for me to tell now that we don’t live together, but when Luke and I were still your roommates, Nick was at the apartment every day, or we were all over at his, or we were all out doing something. Sometimes, it felt like you and Nick were the glue holding all of this together, like you were already almost operating together — like, really together. You would sort of plan dates together, and always be so at ease around each other. You two would just look at each other and there was something there, something that you would just exchange with a single glance.”

  Faith lapsed into silence, and I tried to pick my jaw up off the ground. What the hell was all of that?

  “Seriously?” I asked when I finally found my voice again. “You seriously thought that the entire time you lived here? Why am I only finding out about it now?”

  “Hey, I encouraged you several times to give Nick a chance,” she said. “I know that sometimes it seemed like he was a lot more into you than you were into him, but you wouldn’t be able to find a more devoted boyfriend. Just saying.”

  “You can’t get a pass for saying all of that by adding ‘just saying’ at the end,” I exclaimed. “Just when I thought I’d unraveled all of the feelings and crap from Nick asking me out, you go and dump all of this on the fire.”

  I really didn’t need to be hearing all of this, and God help me if Faith ever talked like this to Nick. I’d never hear the end of it. He’d practically demand for me to go out with him if he knew he had Faith’s backing. Did we really share a special look for each other? It was a ludicrous notion.

  “I don’t mean to dump anything on you,” Faith said quickly. “I only thought that maybe it should be said. I know you’ve made your decision, and things are just now getting back to normal between you two. I like normal. Normal is good. I’m just doing a horrible job explaining this.”

  I shook my head, unsure of what to say. The last thing I wanted to hear from my friend was that I should’ve taken Nick up on his offer to date. That hadn’t been what I wanted for myself, and I needed to hear it from Faith even less.

  “Let me make it up to you,” she said quickly. “I really didn’t want to piss you off, Jennet. You know I love you. Tell me. What’ll it take for me to get back in your good graces?”

  “You’re not out of my good graces,” I said, relenting. I’d just gotten one friend back. Now wasn’t the time to lose another one.

  “All the same,” she said briskly. “I want to take you out to lunch. Right now. Call it a bribe. Call it payment for me acting like an idiot. Call it…”

  “Call it two good friends seizing a spare moment to hang out and catch up,” I said. “You’re not an idiot. You’re just trying to look out for me, and I appreciate that.”

  “Well, I appreciate you, too,” Faith said. “And I just want you to be happy, Jennet.”

  “I’m happiest with a lot of greasy food in me,” I said, keeping my tone light. Was she suggesting that I would only be happy with Nick? “I can meet you at St. Anthony’s in about twenty minutes. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” she said, sounding relieved. “See you in a little while.”

  I changed out of my pajama pants and into a pair of skinny jeans, pulling my hair out of my face. I took a deep breath and let it out again. Faith was looking out for me. She’d said so herself. I needed to stop taking her thoughts and advice so personally and simply keep moving forward.

  By the time I was fully dressed and made up — I’d recently found a shade of magenta lipstick that matched my hair perfectly — I wasn’t stung at all by my friend’s commentary on my romantic life.

  I was heading out the door, thrilled to be on my way to have lunch with Faith, when I literally ran into a wall of solid muscle. All I saw was black wool before I slammed into the back of a man and went flying backward.

  I braced myself for a hard impact against the floor — I was about as graceful as they came — but the jarring hit never came.

  Instead, whatever — or whoever — I’d collided with had spun around and caught me before I did my best to make a dent in the floor. Strong arms enveloped me completely, and barely strained to straighten me back up and return me to my unsteady feet.

  “There you are,” a voice said, his accent decidedly English. “No harm done.”

  My eyes traveled up those arms, sheathed in a very nice black wool suit, to a broad chest. An equally nice white button down shirt — a couple of buttons open at the throat — led my eye to a strong chin, then a devilishly handsome face, completely clean shaven, a sparkling smile, and two warm green eyes. The man’s hair was curly and brown, something I wanted to tangle my fingers in, for some strange reason, and I realized, blushing, that his arms were still around me, and that my fingers had actually strayed into those irresistible locks.

  “Still a little dazed and confused, I see,” the man said, not losing a centimeter of that grin. It was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back. I hoped I wasn’t grinning like a lunatic at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just…I was surprised, that’s all. I haven’t seen you in the building before, and our lives just collided like that. It’s strange, really.”

  “Strange how?” he asked pleasantly, not making a move to take his arms from around me. That was my cue to weave my fingers even deeper into his mane of hair. What had gotten into me? I’d never done anything like this before in my life. I’d made mistakes in my past, so I wasn’t impulsive anymore around men. Sure, I lost a little spice in my romantic life. Hell, if I was being honest, it had made me lose my romantic life entirely. But if I cut out impulsion from that equation, I’d end up being safer, healthier, saner, and able to better avoid risk.

  Now, though, I was being intensely impulsive, brought on by near disaster and subsequent salvation at the hands of a very sexy ma
n.

  I tried not to be a shallow person. It was easy to get hung up on looks and age and money. That’s why I tried to limit my list of Prince Charming qualities that I kept in my notebook to emotional or behavioral traits rather than physical ones. You didn’t have to try to be a gorgeous and sexy hunk, but you did have to try to be a good person. Beauty could oftentimes be only skin-deep, an effortless asset you brought into a relationship. I would much rather my Prince Charming be good, kind, and all the other qualities important to me.

  With that said, I didn’t think it hurt that Prince Charming could be a gloriously fit muscle man, have eyes I could stare into forever, gorgeous curls, an accent that made me want to curl up in a warm blanket, or smell like heaven. I didn’t know what cologne he was wearing, and I wasn’t much of a connoisseur on the matter, but it was divine.

  “Strange that I’m this into you and we’ve only just met,” I confessed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. I just — I never do this.”

  I was babbling. I was aware of that, and he was obviously aware. He placed his finger gently on my lips and I stopped talking.

  “Sometimes, you just have to do the things that feel good to you,” he said, leaning even closer to me. “The things that feel right.”

  I sucked in a breath, ready to ask him just what he thought would be right in this particular situation, when he kissed me.

  There used to be a Jennet who would step away, who might even cock her hand back, ready to deliver a slap, but that Jennet had fled, devastated by loneliness and rejection. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and kiss this beautiful stranger, so that’s what I did.

  His lips were so soft compared to those hard arms still holding me, and I reveled in that. Tentatively but in tandem, our lips parted, and we began to explore each other’s mouths more deeply. He tasted fresh — of cucumbers, vaguely — and I discovered that I liked that very much. Why had I never written down what Prince Charming should taste like? I’d kept all of my wishes for my mate on the PG level — safe for kids, in other words.

  But this man was making me feel positively pornographic as his tongue plundered my mouth. The tiny sounds he made in his throat led me to believe that he was liking what he was tasting, too, and call me deprived, but it was enough for me to press my thighs together and wish for even more.

  I was about to do something completely out of character — that is, grab this Prince Charming by the crotch and proposition him. My apartment was just feet behind me, after all. But before I could even bring myself to break this amazing kiss, another door opened.

  “Jennet?” Nick’s scandalized gasp should’ve made me cringe inwardly a little more, but I just didn’t care. My beautiful stranger cupped my cheek and stroked it softly before pulling away.

  I didn’t want to see what Nick’s face looked like right now, but curiosity got the best of me. I craned my neck to see around the broad man I’d just kissed to check on the status of my friend. I thought he might be aghast, surprised, or maybe just disappointed. Disappointment was the emotion I feared the most. I didn’t want Nick to be disappointed in me. I didn’t want to do anything that would harm our friendship, not when we’d just repaired it. But I’d literally stumbled into something I didn’t understand, a man I was instantly attracted to, and feelings I hadn’t had for anyone in a long time.

  I didn’t care if it was lust. It had been so long since I’d lusted over anyone that the emotion felt intoxicating. It was lust, but it was something deeper, something that pulled from just behind my belly button, something that made me want to hold on to this man and never let go.

  That urge was much deeper than lust.

  But when I finally laid eyes upon Nick’s face, his expression made me the shocked one.

  He wasn’t staring at me, he was staring at my Prince Charming. And he wasn’t staring, he was glaring. Nick’s face was stone, and something about how he was holding himself was completely foreign to me. His shoulders were back, his chin was out, and he looked bigger, somehow — more important.

  I waited for him to say something — he didn’t have any right to say anything, but I waited all the same. But Nick never breathed a word, and to my observations, he never breathed at all. His chest was completely still, and I started to wonder whether he was all right.

  “Nick?” I said in a small voice, and his eyes slid to me as if he’d forgotten that I was there at all. That was strange. Wasn’t this all about me being with another man right in front of him, right after Nick had wanted me to be with him?

  But suddenly his attention was back on my Prince Charming, and without saying a word, he backed into his apartment and closed the door gently but firmly.

  “You know that guy?”

  I jumped as I realized Prince Charming was asking me a question. “Yeah,” I said. “I know that guy.”

  “He a jealous man, your neighbor?” I looked up and the stranger’s eyes were dancing with mirth. “He’d be right to be jealous. Anyone would be jealous of the man who had you on his arm, darling.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “A problem easily solved. The name’s Greg.” He finally released me, and I shuddered suddenly at the loss. He’d had his arms around me this whole time, and I was completely bereft at the loss.

  “Greg,” I said, testing the name out. I liked the shape it made my mouth when I said it. I liked everything about it, particularly the man it went with.

  “And you are?” he prompted me, eyebrows raised.

  “Jennet,” I said, giggling. “Sorry. I’m obviously not myself right now.”

  “Jennet,” he said, thoughtful. “That’s quite an uncommon name. Don’t think I’ve met anyone named Jennet before.”

  “The parents wanted me to have something unique, I guess,” I said, shrugging and feeling terribly self-conscious. I’d been teased by people all my life about my stupid name, but I’d always told them to go to hell about it. Now, though, I desperately wanted Greg to like my name, to like everything about me.

  But, most of all, to like me.

  “It’s a wonderfully unique name for a wonderfully unique young woman,” he said, grinning. “Well, now we know each other. Jennet. It’s such a pleasure to have made your acquaintance.”

  He held out his hand, the very picture of formal, and I slapped it away, laughing.

  “I think we’ve made each other’s acquaintances beyond a simple handshake,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, beaming. “I seem to recall a very different sort of handshake.”

  And with that statement, we were kissing again, deeply, much more passionately, and I had a name to put to my Prince Charming. Greg. Greg. It was wonderful. Greg. How strange and how wonderful that I’d simply run into him in the hallway. How strange and how wonderful and how…

  “Wait,” I spluttered, breaking the kiss awkwardly. “What are you doing here, anyway? You don’t live in this apartment building, do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” he confessed, his big hands still on my waist. I wondered if he could span my waist with those hands — like they did in olden times, when women still tied themselves up in corsets to make their waists tiny. I might not even need a corset for how big those hands were.

  I wondered if everything else Greg had to offer was equally as large, and made myself flush.

  “So what are you doing here?” I asked, peering at him. “You looking for somewhere new to move to? I’m actually looking to take on a roommate. My old one moved out recently and I haven’t found a replacement, yet.”

  “Are you in the business of asking strange men to move in with you?” Greg asked, raising his eyebrows. “Jennet, I must ask you to be more careful with your home.”

  “I don’t think you’re a strange man,” I said, coquettish. “I think we’re getting to know each other quite well.”

  “Alas, I’m not looking for an apartment,” he said. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t even live here in Miami
.”

  My shoulders sagged. Of course there had to be an end to this fairy tale. If Prince Charming didn’t even share the same city as me, how could I expect to have a future with him?

  “Hey, hey,” he said softly, taking me by the chin and forcing me gently to make eye contact with him. “What’s this? Why so sullen all of a sudden?”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, making an active effort to brighten up. “So, if you’re not from Miami, where are you from? Across the pond, obviously, but what are you doing here, in my apartment building?”

  “Accent that obvious?” he asked, looking chagrined. It was adorable. “I’ll never fit in anywhere. So, yes. I’m from across the pond, but currently residing in New York City.”

  “Miami’s a long way away from the Big Apple,” I persisted. Why was this wonderful man in my apartment building? I had to know. If it were anyone else, I would’ve said that he was buying himself time by dancing around the most pressing question. But he was so friendly, so flirtatious, and so hot that I was delighted by just the simple pleasure of keeping him talking to me. I wanted a reason to continue to interact with him. I needed one.

  “The reason I’m in your lovely city is quite boring, actually,” Greg said. “I’m employed by a housing development company in New York, and they asked me to go to Miami to see what’s working and what’s not in your apartments. I’m gleaning successful tips from your structure as we speak.”

  “I hope you’re gleaning more than just housing tips,” I said. “How long are you in Miami, then?”

  “As long as it takes, my boss tells me,” he said with a small sigh. “I’ve been here for just a couple of days. I feel sort of lost.”

  “Not anymore, I hope,” I said, feeling marginally better. If “as long as it takes” was however long Greg was going to be here with me, I’d make the most of it. Sure, I was concocting ways to extend that time as long as I could, but it definitely had possibilities.

  “No, I feel much more connected, now,” he said, his smile extending all the way up into those green eyes. I found I couldn’t look away from them.