The Wrong/Right Man

  Table of Contents

  The Wrong/Right Man

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books By Aurora Rose Reynolds

  About The Author

  Copyright ©The Wrong Right Man 2020 ARR-INC. E-Book and Print Edition

  Cover Image Wander Aguiar

  Cover design by RBA Designs

  DesignsFormatted by CP Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  DAKOTA

  “JAMIE, IF YOU’RE not out here in ten minutes, I’m leaving!” I shout down the hall toward my brother’s bedroom. I hate waiting. Patience isn’t one of my better qualities. And since I know I need to be across Seattle by nine to meet with the leasing office to get the keys for my new place and traffic this time of day is a disaster, my nerves are on edge with annoyance and worry.

  “Shut up, Dakota, and pull the stick out of your ass. I told you I was coming and meant it!” Jamie yells back, and I can tell by his tone he’s smiling.

  I shake my head and glare at his door. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that at twenty-seven I would be living with my little brother in his small one-bedroom apartment. But when I found out my fiancé Troy was cheating on me, I didn’t really have much of a choice but to pack up and move from Tacoma to Seattle where Jamie lives.

  I met Troy my junior year at the University of Puget Sound, where I was studying broadcast journalism and he was graduating with a master’s in political science with plans to work for his father, a well-known politician. The moment we met, I was smitten. He was handsome, well-educated, and he came from a close-knit family, which I appreciated.

  At the time we met, finishing school was my top priority, so we took our relationship slowly the first year. By our second year together, we were solid. He was working for his dad, and I graduated and started working for a small local news station, where I was on my way to becoming one of the lead anchors.

  “Sis, you’re seriously gonna go fucking gray if you keep stressing out the way you do,” Jamie says, pulling me out of my thoughts as he walks out of his bedroom followed by a tall blonde who looks barely awake.

  “Whatever,” I say, biting my thumbnail. I roll my eyes as he opens the door and pats the girl on the ass, sending her on her way like every other woman who has come and gone since I’ve been living here.

  “What?” he asks, turning to face me when the door closes.

  “I just don’t get why women are okay with spending the night with you, knowing they will never hear from you again.”

  “I’m charming.”

  “You’re gross.”

  “What has your panties in a bunch?”

  “Like I told you yesterday, I have to be at the leasing office at nine.”

  “And like I told you, I’ll get you there.” He ruffles my hair, and I bat his hands away then attempt to kick him, narrowly missing his knee as he moves past me toward the kitchen. He picks up his jacket off one of the stools around the long peninsula that separates his kitchen from his living room.

  “You know I hate being late,” I growl, running my hands down my hair and smoothing out the pieces he just destroyed, making sure my ponytail is still in place.

  “Did you see Amanda?” he asks, and I frown then roll my eyes when I see his shine with amusement. “You can’t rush that kind of perfection, sis. It’s against the law or some shit.” He gives me his roguish grin, the same grin that has women flocking to him. Well, that and the fact that he’s six foot two, works out daily, has dark hair and darker eyes, and is the lead singer in one of the most popular, up-and-coming bands in Seattle.

  “Can we go now?” I ask, ignoring his comment and waving my hand toward the door.

  Shaking his head, he slips on his black leather jacket and tucks his car key into the front pocket of his jeans then pauses, sweeping his eyes over me from head to toe.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” he questions, and I look down the length of my body.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “That outfit is just—” His nostrils flare and his hand sweeps up and down, signaling everything that’s me. “—it’s so fucking Troy,” he mutters, making me cringe.

  Looking down once more, I realize he’s right.

  Troy always wanted me to cover up.

  He wanted me in long-sleeved tops, long pants, and conservative heels.

  He wanted my hair up and no makeup.

  He wanted me to be the perfect good girl.

  And when I was with him, I wanted to give him exactly what he wanted.

  “Go change,” Jamie growls, and my eyes fly up to meet his.

  “What?” I glance at the clock.

  “Go change. You don’t need to dress like a fucking nun anymore, Dakota.”

  “I can’t be late, Jamie.” I stomp my foot.

  “You’re only going to be late if you don’t go change into something else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. What I’m wearing is fine.”

  “I watched you change. I watched my fun-loving, wild sister disappear a little each day over the last five years, but I’m done. I want my sister back,” he says with anger and sadness seeping into his tone.

  Guilt and disappointment in myself for letting a man change me make it hard to breathe. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, just go change.”

  “Jamie,” I groan, following him with my eyes as he takes a seat on one of his barstools.

  “Hurry. Remember, you don’t want to be late.” He smiles, pulling out his phone.

  “I hate you,” I mutter under my breath as I stomp to the suitcase I pushed behind his couch this morning after I got dressed. Opening it up, I dig through, not caring that I’m scattering clothes everywhere as I search for something the “me before Troy” would wear.

  Settling on my dark jeans, and a white tank top I normally wear to bed, I find my black ankle booties with a cute heel and carry them all to the bathroom down the hall. Taking off my black button-down shirt, I hang it on the back of the door then pull off the cream belt around my waist. I slip out of my black slacks and flats, only leaving the pearls around my neck as I change into my new outfit. Walking back into the living room, I toss my clothes onto the couch and stomp toward the front door.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t feel like your old self?” Jamie prompts, and I feel his hand wrap around my ponytail. I turn to glare at him over my shoulder as my hair flutters down around me. “Don’t look at me like that, and here. You can wear this jacket,” he says, holding out a
stylish leather coat toward me.

  “I’ll wear my own jacket,” I snap, knowing the leather jacket probably belongs to one of his many one-night stands.

  “This is your jacket.” He grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. “I got it for you as a goodbye gift.”

  “A goodbye gift?” I fight my smile as I glare up at him.

  “Yeah, I finally get my space back, and you get to say goodbye to Troy.”

  Tears burn the back of my eyes and I swallow hard.

  “I miss my sister, the one who wore a leather jacket every day, the one who would come to my concerts and drink beer while singing along to every song.” He smiles softly, holding the jacket out toward me.

  Taking the coat from him, I slip it on, noticing I do feel a little more like my old self. Then again, I’ve been finding me again ever since I moved in here.

  “You’re kinda awesome,” I murmur, stepping toward him and wrapping my arms around his waist.

  “What can I say? I am awesome.” He gives me a gentle squeeze, making me smile.

  I tip my head back and look him in the eye. “Thank you for being here for me. For always being here for me,” I whisper, and his arms tighten around me.

  “I always have your back.” He kisses my forehead then lets me go and reaches around to open the door. “Let’s go… before you’re late.”

  “Yeah.” I sigh, stepping out the door with a tiny flame of excitement in my belly because after today, I will be getting a little of my life back.

  I get into Jamie’s Escalade that is parked in front of his building and hear my phone beep in my purse. After finding it, I pull up my messages, expecting to see something from Kathy, the woman who hired me two weeks ago to be an on air host with IMG one of the biggest home shopping television production companies in the US. Instead, I see a message from Troy asking me to call him.

  “Who is it?”

  Startled, I look over at Jamie, whose eyes are fixed on the phone in my hand.

  “Troy, he wants me to call him,” I explain as the phone begins to feel heavy in my palm.

  “Fuck him. You need to change your number.”

  “I’m not changing my number.” I sigh, hoping he’ll drop it. I don’t want to talk to Troy, but after spending four years of my life with him, I feel like I owe him something, which is stupid, considering what he did.

  If someone would have told me Troy was cheating on me, I would have laughed and told them they were crazy. I thought he loved me. I thought he was going to be the man I spent the rest of my life with. I had no idea that when I was planning a wedding and getting ready to spend the rest of my life with him, he was searching for something else.

  “Do you need me to show you the pictures again?” Jamie asks, bringing me out of my thoughts as the city moves by swiftly.

  “No.” I don’t need to see them again; the images are burned into my brain. I still have no idea who sent me the photos of Troy and his colleague together, but I’m thankful to them, grateful I found out the truth about who he is.

  Four months ago, I had gone home and checked the mail like I always did, and tucked between bridal magazines and junk mail was a plain envelope with my name scrawled across the front in black permanent marker. No address or any other identifying information, just my name. That envelope sat on the counter for a few hours before I opened it. I had no idea the contents were going to change my life.

  Someone had taken multiple pictures of Troy and a woman he worked with in different locations. In some, they were out in public, but most of the pictures were grainy, like they were taken at night, and the two of them were intimately intertwined in the throes of ecstasy.

  When I saw the photos, I called Jamie and explained to him what I had received, and even though he may be my little brother, he has never acted like it. He showed up an hour later with boxes and all of his bandmates. They packed up everything that was mine and took my two suitcases to Jamie’s apartment and everything else to one of their storage units. When Troy came home the next day, I was already gone, but I did leave the pictures along with my engagement ring on the counter for him.

  “We’re here,” Jamie says, giving my leg a pat, and I turn to look out the window, my eyes traveling up… and up. The building with black glossy windows looks intimidating against the backdrop of the dark, cloud-covered Seattle sky. I open my door and follow Jamie out, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford this place if it weren’t included as part of my job package.

  “So this is where you’re going to live?” Jamie asks as the doorman opens the door for us to walk into the building.

  “Yeah, crazy, right?” I look around. The lobby is beautiful with sleek lines and modern furniture. It looks like part of a set from a movie. “The CEO of IMG owns this building, where he houses most of the employees, he also owns a building down the block where the offices and the sets for filming are located.”

  “I’m proud of you, you worked your ass off to get this.” He takes hold of my bicep to pull me out of the way of someone walking toward us as I look up at him.

  “Thanks,” I tell him quietly, looking around a little overwhelmed.

  “Don’t get that look. This isn’t the time or place for tears,” he says and I try not to smile, because he really cannot stand when I cry—something I can admit I’ve done a time or two on purpose to make him see things my way.

  “I’m not going to cry.” I grab his arm when I see the sign for the leasing office and pull him with me toward it. The automatic doors open for us, and we stop at the desk with a high counter where an older woman is on the phone. She smiles and holds up a finger telling me it will be just a moment, so I smile back.

  “How can I help you two?” she asks, looking between us as she puts the phone back in the cradle.

  “Hi, I’m Dakota Newton. I’m here to pick up the keys for my apartment.”

  “Dakota, I have your envelope in the back. Give me a moment and I’ll be right back.” She gets up and heads through a doorway. When she comes back a minute later, she’s carrying a folder and a large yellow envelope that she places in front of me on the counter, pulling out a few sheets of paper and looking them over. “Okay, so it looks like all the paperwork has been filled out online, so I just need you to sign your lease then I can take you up to your apartment.”

  I take the pen she holds out to me and scribble my name across the bottom of the document she turns my way. When I’m done, she dumps the contents out of the envelope.

  “This—” She hands me three brochures. “—is all the information you’ll need for the building. The app to download which will give you access to your apartment so you don’t have to use your key card. When the garbage is picked up, the hours laundry service is available, info for the gym and pool, along with how to schedule the use of the freight elevator, which you will need to do when you move in. Now, if you’re ready, I’ll show you your new home.”

  “I’m ready when you are,” I say, feeling anxious, and she smiles at me.

  An hour later, I get into Jamie’s SUV with a smile on my face. The furnished studio apartment I was given is beyond amazing and nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in before. It’s even nicer than the apartment I shared with Troy.

  Honestly, when Melissa opened the door, I thought it was some kind of fluke, especially with the space being loaded down with high-end furniture. I had no idea the space came furnished, but I can admit I’m relieved I won’t have to buy anything except new bedding and linens. She did say that if I wanted to trade out the furniture for some of my own, they would pack it up and move it out for me. It’s not needed. Most of the stuff I have in storage is kitchen crap and clothes I will probably never wear.

  “So, are you coming to my show tonight?” Jamie asks, pulling me from my thoughts, and I turn to look at him.

  “If you promise to talk the guys into helping me move my stuff out of storage on Sunday, no matter how much they drink Saturday night.”

  “You know they’
d do anything for you.”

  I do know that. I know Jamie’s friends have become mine. Actually, they’re like honorary brothers who didn’t give me much of a choice but to accept them.

  “Then yes, I’m coming to the show.” I catch him grinning out the corner of my eye. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s something,” I insist, watching him closely.

  “You’re right. I just haven’t seen you this relaxed or excited in a while.”

  I sigh. “You’re right. I haven’t been.” I shift in my seat. “It’s just that I finally feel like I’m getting my life back. I have a job and an apartment, and things are finally moving forward again. There was a while there that I didn’t know if I would be living with you for the rest of my life.”

  “You don’t like living with me?”

  “I like living with you. I can’t say I like waking up to use the bathroom and running into your booty calls every night.”

  “I’m not that bad.”

  “You’re worse.” I roll my eyes. “Honestly, I can’t wait for you to meet someone and settle down.”

  “I’m twenty-five. I’ll settle down when I’m thirty,” he tells me, and I raise a brow. “Okay, forty.”

  I shake my head. “All I’m saying is you’re never going to find the one if you keep looking for the next one-night stand.”

  “I’m not in the market for a wife, Dakota.” His tone softens as he continues. “I know you want that. A family, to get married and have kids, but I don’t.”

  “Never?” I ask, my heart hurting at the idea of him not ever opening himself up to sharing his life with someone.

  “I’m not saying I never want to settle down; I’m just saying I don’t want that right now. I’m happy with the way things are and just want to focus on my career.” He glances over at me with a look in his eyes I can’t decipher. “I’m surprised you still believe in the white picket fence after the shit Troy put you through.”

  “He hurt me, but he didn’t kill my dream.” I start to chew my nail, but he grabs my wrist to stop me.

  “Ever the dreamer.”

  “Did you really think some guy cheating on me would change that?” I ask but know in my gut I have doubts about men and relationships that I didn’t have before.