Beautiful Mistakes: Contemporary Romance Boxset Books 1-4 Read online

  “Right. Well, uh, could you give me her number?”

  There was a pause and I could feel her brain calculating. “…why do you need her number? Did she not give it to you?”

  “We were, uh… preoccupied.”

  “Preoccupied? How?”

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  “But he does call the best friend later to get a number?”

  I sighed. I loved Missy but she wasn’t going to let this go. I knew that much. “Look, we spent some time together, and it was nice and everything, but she’s left her keys here and I was thinking she might need them. And if that turns into an excuse to see her again, then it’s an excuse to see her again. But please, could you give me her number?”

  “Aw, alright. When you put it like that? I’ll text it to you. And good on you, Big Bro. I always hoped the two of you would end up together.”

  “We’re not together,” I said with considerable effort. Geez, my little sister knew exactly what not to say but just said it anyways. “We just hung out a bit.”

  “Hung out?”

  “Missy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, alright. Love you too, bro. Tell me how it works out!”

  I looked at my ring and heaved another sigh. “I’m sure it won’t be that much of a story.”

  “Aw, you’re not fun.”

  She hung up and just a beat later my phone lit up with her text. I opened it, but then hesitated once more.

  Should I call?

  Should I text?

  How did I communicate that I was concerned that maybe we somehow had gotten married while we were both drunk off our asses?

  That seemed a bit too important to just send via a sms message.

  I rubbed my face again, letting out even more air, and decided that my mouth was too dry to talk to anyone. So, I grabbed one of those plastic cups, filled it with water from the bathroom, then drained it down.

  In a way, I recognized that I was procrastinating, but I was more than a little wigged out. Lately my problem solving had come down to punching things or putting them into submission until I won. That wouldn’t exactly work here, and I had this feeling that if I said the wrong thing, I could ruin everything with Amber forever.

  …if I hadn’t already.

  That thought made me blanche and I grabbed my phone again, quickly dialing her number. It felt like I was going burst out of my skin right as I did, so I hung up on the first ring, rolling my eyes at my own idiocy.

  I needed to get my shit together. I was a grown man, not some lovelorn teenager with a crush. This time I saved her as a contact then texted her to ask if she was hungry and wanted to have a talk at the diner across from the hotel, my treat.

  Of course, she didn’t text back instantaneously, she was probably asleep. In order to stop myself from just manically checking my phone over and over again, I forced myself to wash my face, get dressed and be otherwise presentable for the day.

  I tried to take my time as I washed the sweat and other bodily fluids away from the previous night. Part of me was tempted to slide right back into bed and pretend that I had dreamed up the ring on my finger, but that would mean I would be getting right back into the now-filthy sheets that no doubt smelled of Amber.

  Several times I felt myself swinging between incredulity that I had actually slept with her, and absolute dread that I had ruined both our friendship and Michelle and Amber’s. Sure, I’d had a crush on her since I first saw that sour expression on her cherubic face, but it wasn’t like I had been hung up on her. I’d dated since her, moving past my high school crush as I entered into college. I wasn’t like I had been waiting in the wings, pining over her like some psycho.

  And yet… I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that in the back of my mind, I’d always hoped that maybe, someday, something would happen between us.

  I couldn’t put my finger on what it was specifically that drew me to her. It certainly went deeper than her looks -as attractive as she was. Maybe it was because when I first met her, she was so scared, so closed off. I remembered when Missy and she had first started hanging out, she’d jumped at every loud sound and practically snarled at our dad when he had accidentally startled her. While that might turn some people off -and had in fact made her a slight bit of an outcast amongst a lot of people at school- it just endeared her to me that much more.

  I couldn’t explain it, but little teenage me had wanted to protect her more than anything. To keep her belly full of warm food, her closet full of nice clothes and her feelings nice and secure. I wanted to bind her up in blankets and make it so she never had to struggle again.

  Too bad Amber never got that memo and continued to fight tooth and nail for everything, never giving up, never wavering. But that just made my protective instincts flare up that much more. I could feel those same inclinations already rising to the surface again, and it was easy to imagine something between us. Something easy and tender and just us.

  Something that definitely wasn’t marriage.

  Oh boy.

  By the time I got out of the shower, dried myself off and dressed, I was feeling cleaner but no less anxious. I preoccupied myself with brewing a cup of coffee in the little machine provided by the hotel before finally wandering over to my phone.

  I didn’t expect it to have an answer. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Amber never talked to me again. But to my great surprise, I saw the little light flashing that meant I did indeed have a notification.

  I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t her, that it was an email from my agent or a calendar reminder. Anything to not get my hopes up then have them crushed. But as I lit up the phone and slid away the lock screen, it was indeed her text that was waiting there for me.

  Once more I was tempted to throw the phone away and never look back. But some part of me, maybe the helpless romantic part that I had buried long ago, the part that wanted to protect Amber, make sure she was safe and provided for, hoped that the ring on my finger wasn’t some fluke. Maybe it was just a promise ring. A… an agreement to date. Or something.

  Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing we could have possibly done after a one-night stand.

  Yes. We definitely need to talk.

  I swallowed hard at that. She didn’t sound livid and she wasn’t cursing me out, but still. ‘We need to talk’ was never a good phrase. That was the kind of thing someone said when there was something unpleasant but necessary to discuss.

  Oh well, might as well go and face it like a man. Although there were a lot of things that could be said about me, no one could say that I was a coward.

  I allowed myself a few more minutes of polishing, wanting to look my best for her even if she had already seen me at my… less than best. Just when I was about to head out the door, I paused and looked at the ring glinting on my finger.

  Maybe… maybe I should take it off?

  I went to do so, not wanting to put any more weight on the situation than there already was, but something made me pause. What if… what if she was alright with things? Showing up ringless could possibly throw a wrench into that.

  I shook my head, deciding to leave it on. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help but have hope.

  Maybe it would all work out.

  6

  Amber

  I stared at the door of my hotel room, incredibly grateful that I had procrastinated so much on booking my room that I was in the tiny inn facing the nice wedding party lodging. It gave me space, which goodness knew, I desperately needed.

  I groaned and let my head sink into my hands. The morning was splotchy and confusing but one thing I did know was that there was a ring on my finger and a whole lot of holes in my memory from the previous night.

  Dear Lord! I had come to on top of Mickey, drooling on his chest like the sloppy drunk that I definitely had been. I had been instantly embarrassed, wondering what he could possibly think of me, but then I’d pushed myself off and realized that several things were wrong.

&nbs
p; I had been cognizant enough during our sexual tryst to know that I was going to wake up feeling properly laid, but I had expected to be half naked and partially in my cocktail dress or at least my underwear considering I remembered going out to find more booze. What I hadn’t expected was to come too in a little white number with a huge rock on my finger.

  I groaned and looked at the ring again. It really was huge. It was way, way too expensive for something to casually wear, and yet there it was, right on my hand like it had been put there purposefully.

  Crazy.

  My phone buzzed and I didn’t have to look at it to know who it was. It had to be him. He was awake, great.

  I flopped back on my bed, changing the view from my door to the ceiling, but it didn’t have any answers either. Maybe gasping in horror and jetting out the door with my discarded cocktail dress in hand wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but I had panicked. There were few things that could rattle me but waking up on top of my best friend’s brother with a ring on my finger was definitely one of them.

  I picked up my phone only to drop it again, unwilling to read the text yet. I knew I needed to, but even after a shower and about three hours to think about all the possibilities of what happened… I guess I was a bit shell-shocked.

  Or utterly ashamed of myself.

  The hook up wasn’t the worst thing to happen. Sure, Mickey had a crush on me for a good length of our adolescence, but that was when we were teens. I was certain he was over it, so it wasn’t the biggest faux pas. And I’d be lying if I said the sex wasn’t good.

  Because it was good.

  So, so good.

  I licked at my lips, my mind flashing back drunken snippets of our night together. While I was pretty sure that some of the amazingness was probably due to tipsy-Amber, but there was no denying that the MMA fighter had certainly done right by me. My only regret was that I had been so anxious for him to be inside of me that I hadn’t let him eat me out. Something about that mouth, and how tenderly attentive he was to how my body responded to him, told me that he would go down like a champ.

  Wait, no. That wasn’t my only regret at all considering there was a ring on my finger.

  “Oh my God,” I growled, rubbing my eyes again. It wasn’t going to get any better wallowing in my foolishness, so I might as well be proactive. The sooner I addressed the situation, the sooner it was resolved, and I could go to my regular, busy-body life.

  Like a shot, my hand whipped out and grabbed it, going to my messages where sure enough, there was an unsaved number. I braced myself, waiting for some blistering diatribe, or all-capital letter freak-out. But instead, there was just a short, normal sentence.

  Hey, it’s Mickey. Had a great time last night but woke up in a weird situation. If you’re free, I’d like to meet at the greasy spoon across the street, see if we can straighten things out?

  Huh, that was a really reasonable response to waking up with a wedding ring on his finger. Almost too reasonable. Either this guy was uncannily calm or…

  Actually, I didn’t have an ‘or’ for that option.

  I allowed myself one more groan, one more minute of wallowing, before getting up and changing. I felt like there was this terrible, oppressive weight over my head and I just wanted to slip under the covers and sleep all of it off.

  But I had long since learned that problems didn’t go away like that, as tempting as it was to give into the laziness. I had to face it head on and deal with all the awkwardness.

  Who knew, maybe he would find it funny. It was a bit hilarious, right? The stereotype of getting drunk in Vegas and running off to get married? That sounded like a comedy sketch to me -granted, a really overdone, trite comedy sketch, but still a sketch nonetheless.

  But as much as I tried to stay on the positive side, my thoughts kept turning to the negative over and over again. By the time I actually was presentable and made it to the diner on the other side of the street, I was sure I had a deep scowl on my face and creases in my furrowed brow.

  Mickey perked up when he saw me, looking a bit nervous but genuinely pleased. Huh, that wasn’t the reaction I had been quite expecting, but it wasn’t bad, so I could roll with it.

  “Hey there, how are you feeling?” he asked once I was close enough for normal conversation volume.

  “Uh… I’m automated to say fine on command, but really, it’s been a bit of a stressful morning.”

  He grinned dryly at that. “Yeah, I can imagine. I’m not the biggest fan of being surprised first thing in the morning.”

  “Yeah, me either.”

  We shared a slight chuckle then the both of us fell quiet. There was that awkwardness I was so eager to avoid. Maybe it would be better if he was needlessly aggressive. I was good at dealing with macho types who needed to be taken down a peg.

  Thankfully the waitress came over and saved us from the silence. Mickey ordered up a veritable mountain of food while I decided to treat myself to some pancakes.

  Normally I would never do something so sugary and carb filled right in the morning, but I figured that I was about to be in a pretty stressful situation and if there ever was a stress-eater, it was me.

  Unfortunately, the waitress could only stand there taking our order for so long and soon it was just the two of us again, staring blankly at each other like we were waiting for the other to take charge.

  I looked him over, trying to see if there were any clues to how he felt. He didn’t seem angry, but maybe he was just holding that in because we were in public. Then again, he was the one who had chosen the location, so maybe he was afraid I was the one who was going to go berserk.

  And for that matter, why wasn’t I going berserk? Something very obviously had happened between us when we hooked up, and the ring on my finger did not bode well.

  “How’s your hangover?” he asked finally, sipping at his glass of water. The cup looked almost comically small in his overly-large hands. My mind instantly went to how those thick fingers felt inside of me and I had to cross my legs.

  Geez, Mickey was a handsome guy, don’t get me wrong, but I usually wasn’t ever really effected by that. I worked with movie stars and fighting professionals for a living. I wouldn’t make it far if I was swooning and ogling everyone around me at any moment. But something about Mickey’s square chin and his intense gaze, and maybe also the way he looked at me got my motor running uncomfortably quick.

  Or maybe it was just because I was still getting the latent effects of our hook up. Because man, it really had been a hook up.

  “You okay?”

  Oh.

  Right.

  He had asked me a question. I took a big swig of my water and flashed him a small smile. If he wanted jovial conversation, I could give him jovial conversation. “Not bad, actually. I had a splitting head ache when I woke up, but I chugged a whole water bottle and popped some meds.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Mine wasn’t that bad either. Surprising considering how long it’s been since I drank.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, did you give it up for Lent or something?”

  “Nah, just a whole lot of training and promoting. I like to relax and enjoy it when I kick back, and I just haven’t had the time.”

  As someone who worked with a whole lot of functional alcoholics in show business, I was pleased to hear that. There was nothing wrong with enjoying alcohol. Goodness knew that I did. It was the dependence on it that became the issue, and it didn’t seem like he had that.

  Not that it mattered if he did. I was just… trying to distract myself most likely. Keep my mind off the whole reason the two of us were there.

  “Yeah, your sister told me your star has really been rising.”

  “Oh, so you talk about me?” I could tell that he was trying to keep his tone neutral, but I could hear traces of curiosity within it.

  “Occasionally,” I teased.

  Why was I teasing him?

  Surely it was not the right time or situation, and yet I couldn’t
help myself. “As one tends to do when a relative is becoming famous.”

  He flushed at that. “I don’t know about famous. I’m just a fighter who’s doing his best.” He took another drink of water and I watched him slide right into a cool, effortless sort of demeanor right in front of me. Was he getting less nervous? “You’re the one who works in Hollywood.”

  I snorted outright. “Please, I choreograph some fights behind the scenes. I get stunt work for myself maybe twice a year.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows furrowed in a way that looked so protective and concerned that I was distracted for a solid moment. Oh geez, what was going on with me? “Why? From what Michelle shows me of your stunt reel, you’re talented.”

  Now it was my turn to seem cool and neutral. “Oh, so you’ve seen my stunt reel?”

  But unlike me, Mickey didn’t tease me back. He leaned forward, and I was caught up in the intensity of everything that was him. Dear Lord.

  “Of course. I’ve tried to watch everything you’ve done since you’ve been putting things online. I always knew you were gonna make it and I wanted to see everything you did.”

  Shit. The man knew how to give a compliment, that was for sure.

  I managed to recover slightly and said something or another. I managed to change the conversation to something banal, something safe, and that lasted all the way until our food arrived.

  And the food wasn’t half bad. Sufficiently lingering between terrible and perfect, it was exactly the sort of greasy spoon fare that I was craving. While we didn’t talk much while we ate, Mickey seemed pretty happy to have someone to dine with him. It made me wonder how many meals he took alone. Or even what his day to day life was like. I never imagined someone who was a rising start ever being lonely, but I also didn’t know much about the scene at all.

  By the time we both finished our food, I was feeling contented and full. It was just the kind of satisfied, kinda sleepy feeling that was perfect after a wedding and a hook up, but then a glint from the massive rock on my finger reminded me of exactly why we were sitting together.