Home > Books > The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(56)

The Wrong Mr. Right (The Queen's Cove Series #2)(56)

Author:Stephanie Archer

My chin dipped down and I played with my hair again. No one had ever said I was cute in glasses. I always thought I looked like such a dork. 揟hanks.?

揧ou want to put on Spice Girls? I don抰 mind.?

揂re you sure??I already had my phone out, fingers scrolling to the playlist. 揥e don抰 have to.?

He jerked his chin at the radio and rolled his eyes with a grin. 揋o on. I know you want to.?

The opening notes of Wannabe started and I sang loudly with them to make Wyatt laugh.

揧ou know all the lyrics.?

I threw my hands up. 揙f course I know all the lyrics. This song is a classic. It抯 carved deep in my brain.?

Forty-five minutes later, Wyatt turned off the highway and the truck bumped up a series of gravel switchbacks, higher and higher. He pulled the truck off the road and parked on the shoulder.

揟here抯 a clearing through those trees.?He pointed into the forest.

We climbed out of the car and Wyatt led me along a small path, worn down by footsteps, through the trees.

揙h, wow,?I breathed.

The clearing overlooked the ocean. The area was flat with slates of rock underfoot. Fifty feet away, a cliff dropped down, too far for me to want to approach. Beyond that, deep blue water stretched all the way to the horizon. Trees towered around us.

Wyatt stood at my back, warm and solid, and I fought the urge to lean against him.

揝ee, down there??He pointed to a spot. There were a few specks in the water. 揟hat抯 the cove where we hang out after surf lessons.?

揥e抮e so high up.?

揗hm.?His low voice rumbled in his chest.

A deep sense of calm settled through me, like when we floated in that cove in the mornings. The forest smelled so clean and my hair moved with the light breeze. At what point did I stop spending time out in nature like this? This was where I belonged.

Right. When my mom passed. My dad didn抰 want to go camping anymore because that was her thing. It broke my heart, that he didn抰 want to be out here anymore.

The wind whistled through the trees and I inhaled a lungful of fresh air. She抎 love it here.

I glanced around the clearing. A charred pile of ash encircled by rocks laid a few feet from us. Wyatt noticed me studying it and wiggled his eyebrows in that playful way of his.

揙nly Holden and I know about this spot.?His voice was low as he watched my reaction.

揑t抯 a secret??

He nodded. 揝uper secret. We don抰 want some social media influencer ruining it for us.?

I beamed and turned back to the water. I couldn抰 wait to wake up to this tomorrow morning. 揑 wouldn抰 dare.?

We spent the next half hour unloading the truck, hauling tents, sleeping bags, a stove, and cooler over to the clearing.

揓esus, bookworm.?Wyatt hoisted my bag out of the back seat. 揌ow many nights are we staying out here??

A laugh bubbled out of me. 揑 brought a few books.?

He raised his eyebrows at me and I giggled more. 揂 few? How many do you think a few is??

My shoulders lifted in a shrug and he pinned me with his bright gaze. I rolled my eyes. 揊our. Okay? I brought four books.?I threw my hands up in exasperation. My chest shook with laughter. 揑 couldn抰 decide. They were all sitting there like, Hannah, take us with you! Don抰 leave us home alone. It抯 sad here. We love you.?

Now, Wyatt was laughing, too. 揧ou抮e adorable.?

My blood turned warm and languid, and my laughter trailed off. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my pulse picked up.

He blinked and turned away. 揥e should keep unpacking.?

揜ight.?Unpacking. Not staring at each other and feeling horny.

At one point, when I was carrying my tent from the car, a spider crawled out of it. It was the size of a dime but I still yelped in surprise, dropped the tent, and side-stepped towards Wyatt, whose arm came up around me protectively.

揝orry.?My face heated.

He squeezed my shoulder. 揑t抯 okay.?He scooped the spider up and moved it to the forest. When he returned, he gestured at my tent. 揧our tent is older than we are.?

I nudged the rolled up bundle with my foot in case there was anything else lurking inside. 揑t is. It抯 been in the garage for years. It抯 one of those things we抳e always had and I抳e never questioned.?

He nodded, grinning, before he leaned down to unroll it.

I held my hand out to stop him. 揑 can do that.?

He shook his head. 揑t抯 fine. Can you grab the newspaper from the truck? I抣l teach you how to make a fire once we set up the tents.?

I raised an eyebrow at him. 揑 already know how to make a fire.?My mom had taught me as a kid.

His mouth fell open, crouched over the tent. 揑抦 sorry. I didn抰 mean桰 guess because you don抰 camp anymore棓

揑t抯 okay.?I grinned at him. 揑抦 out of practice so might need your help, anyway.?With that, I headed to the truck. When I returned to the clearing with the newspaper in hand, Wyatt wore a funny expression, standing over the tent with his arms crossed.

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