Wrong Turn (So Wrong, It’s Good #3)

Prologue

prologue

If you’re not early, you’re late.

That was the motto that was nailed into my head, over and over, by my paternal grandfather. The man had been as ruthless as he was successful. A titan of his industry, he didn’t know the meaning of no or rest.

And I had not only been his oldest grandson but his favorite.

As much as I’d wanted to hate the old man for running my life ragged, dictating what felt like my every move since I was born, especially after my parents' unfortunate death when I turned five and he won custody of me, I’d loved him.

And now he was gone.

Gone.

Just like that.

I glanced at the traffic in front of me as my fingers tapped my Italian-leather-wrapped steering wheel. I was always in a rush, and today was no exception. Grandfather was being laid to rest at the family mausoleum, and I needed to get my ass to the main house.

The main house, as my cousins and I called it, was the property that had been the background of my childhood until he sent me off to boarding school. Then, for some damn reason, the old man had wanted me to move in after I graduated from business school and started making a name of my own.

But he had changed by then as well.

The man found he had a softer side. Who would have thought? Not me, and certainly not my cousins. It was always weird for me to watch the way he was around my cousins' kids. Sweet and caring. Thoughtful. Somehow always knowing all their favorite shows or foods. As if he actually cared.

Thankfully for the new generation of Hardings, the old man was nothing like the cold, calculated man who had shaped and molded me into the man I was now.

My cousin Lark Harding liked to say I was the old man’s carbon copy. Funny he’d say that! My grandfather met and fell in love by the time he was twenty. He proposed three months later, and two months after that, they were married. Not a year later, they had twins, and then in less than five years, they had a family of eight, all boys.

I, on the other hand, was thirty-eight. The idea of commitment, forever, and happy evers made me break out into hives. Relationships were not my thing. Not when what felt like every woman I had ever met wanted one thing and one thing only: Access to my bank account.

I worked way too fucking hard to just hand my money over. Especially when some were more than okay having fun with me. I never lacked company. There was an endless list of gorgeous women who were more than happy to pick up when I called. Who would join my side and let me show them off at charity balls and business trips.

Well, usually. For some godforsaken reason, I was heading to this thing for my grandfather alone.

If I make it on time, a voice whispered. My eyes dropped to the screen on the dash of my Audi, and my eye twitched at the estimated time it was giving me.

If you’re not early, you’re late. His voice played in my head on a goddamn frustratingly annoying loop. One I couldn’t believe I actually missed hearing in person.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

I glanced to my right and noticed a through street, and an idea popped up in my head.

Before I missed the opportunity, I turned down the narrow alley, but my Audi fit fine. I turned again and then again. The car’s navigation updated quickly, and with each turn, the arrival time dropped. And when I took about the tenth turn, I barely had time to stop when I realized it was a dead end, and not a moment later, I heard the faint sound of car brakes and metal on metal before I felt my already stopped car push forward.

“Fuck!” I muttered under my breath. I looked in the rearview mirror just in time to see what looked to be an older model Toyota, so old they more than likely didn’t even manufacture it anymore, billow smoke from the hood. “This is all I fucking need!” I grunted, slamming my hands on the steering wheel.

Slipping out of my car, I stepped out and flung my door shut. Anger grew with every step I took, and it didn’t stop until I opened the other driver’s door. I was about to shout and scream at the idiot who rear-ended me, when something weird happened.

Wrong turns take you on all sorts of adventures, my boy, his voice sounded in my head. It was one of the last things he’d said before he told me about my grandmother and his life together. Before he…

I shook the thought away, and that’s when I saw a cascade of thick, luscious chocolate-brown hair. In less than a blink of an eye, everything in the world came to a halt. I’d heard the phrase but never believed it.

Until right then.

The sounds of the city, the blaring honking and squealing brakes of traffic just a couple of streets away, police sirens and the sound of my red-hot blood roaring within my body went quiet.

All the anger inside of me drained when the driver turned and our eyes locked.

Dark brown eyes.

The exact shade of the richest, most exquisite dark Belgium chocolate stared up at me. I stepped back, taken away with how fucking beautiful the woman in the car was as she unfolded herself.

“What the hell?!” she squealed, completely ignoring me. Not paying me any attention, she bypassed me like I was painted into the background, her attention on the piece-of-shit car she drove.

“Who stops like that?” she shouted, the frustration and anxiety clear in her voice.

“What? Like what?” I tried to focus to pay attention to what the hell had just happened, but just the sight of her had me a little disoriented. Maybe you hit your head?

“You stopped out of nowhere!” she exclaimed. Her dark eyes were pinned on the crushed front end of her car. I glanced at the back of mine, surprised it had but a mere scratch and small dent.

“The road ends.” I pointed out, and if looks could kill, I’d have met my grandfather at once. She looked at me like I was an idiot.

“And?”

“And I had to stop?—“

“Like that? All abrasive? Why didn’t you pull into the parking lot?” she asked, waving her arms to the right. My eyes followed, and sure enough, there was a parking lot. My eyes rose. To the signage.

“Panaderia,” I said out loud, more than likely butchering the pronunciation.

“Es que de verdad se pasan! Aveces, los hombres son mas pendejos que asaber que!“ she mumbled under her breath in rapid-fire Spanish. And just like that, my dick started to wake up. Why was that hot? I’d heard tons of people speak Spanish, and never had it made me hard.

My lips tilted as my brain caught up and processed what she’d said. She thought men were huge jackasses, and who could blame her? For a moment, I wished I could respond as fluently as she spoke. But I only understood it and didn’t speak it, due to the time I spent in Spain for an internship the old man had insisted I take. The reminder made me rub my chest. Shit, I had somewhere I needed to be, no matter how badly I didn’t want to go.

“Look, umm?—“

“Lana,” she clipped, crossing her arms over her chest, distracting me with the way it made her more than voluptuous chest push together.

My mouth watered as dirty, extremely filthy images popped in my head. I was better than this. I was a man of control and discipline. I wasn’t some teenaged kid led around by his raging hormones and his dick.

“Lana,” I repeated, not able to ignore the depth in my own voice as I said her name. “I am really sorry?—“

“Sorry?” she repeated. Her blue eyes grew wider. “My car is ruined!”

“Not to be an ass, but it looks like it’s seen better decades,” I tried to joke, but by the look on her face, I knew I hadn’t hit my mark. “Look, I didn’t mean to be a jerk, but I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh!” She dropped her hands to her side and stepped closer. Innocence and warmth I didn’t completely believe washed over her gaze. “You have somewhere to be?”

For some reason, despite knowing there were red flags the size of a Mack truck waving back and forth in my mind’s eye, trying to warn me of the little sexy siren, I couldn’t resist her. I stepped closer, drawn to her when she stopped a mere six inches from me.

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” Her voice grew sweeter. “Of course, you have something to do. Probably a lot more important than deal with this!” She pointed at the cars, and like an enchanted, lovesick idiot, I nodded. “Well, of course, it’s more important than anything anyone else might have going on.” She had no idea.

“So, you understand.” I started to stupidly relax, and she rolled her eyes.

“Of course, I understand, you entitled pompous ass!” Her hands fisted at her sides, and I knew she was seriously contemplating kicking me.

Fuck me, why does she turn me on?

“We need to exchange information.” She started to walk towards her car, and I ran my fingers through my hair.

“Look, you’re fine,” I started to say as I followed behind her. “My car’s not that bad?—“

“Excuse me?” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Look, my car’s not that bad and?—“

“Mine is ruined,” she pointed out, and I huffed. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and get to know her and make sure she got home safe. If it had been any other day, I could have ignored my responsibilities. But not today.

“Right, but you hit me,” I pointed out.

“Excuse me?” Her voice cracked, and I winced. “Are you saying this is my fault?” Her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink. I really wanted to know just how far down that sweet blush traveled down her body.

“Well, I mean…” I shrugged, knowing I was simply digging myself into a deeper hole but unable to help it. She scowled.

“You’re crazy if you think I am responsible for this.” She pointed at the cars.

“Look, lady?—"

“Lana.”

“Lana, you rear-ended me,” I started to say, but she ignored me. She went to her car, and when she unfolded that sweet body of hers, she had her wallet and phone in her hand. My watch pinged, and I quickly turned off the alarm.

I had somewhere to be.

Somewhere I didn’t want to be at all, for a lot of reasons, but shockingly enough, it was the cute little siren who was glaring daggers at me who had my attention. I took her phone from her hands, waved it in front of her, and punched in my phone number. And for some godforsaken reason, I added myself under a certain name all while my grandfather’s last words repeated in my head.

I grabbed her wallet, ignoring the way she complained and asked me what the hell I was doing. I opened it and quickly found her ID and snapped a picture of her driver’s license.

“Excuse me?” She waved her hands up and down. “Look, Richie Rich, what the hell is your problem!?” The frustration in her voice was crystal clear.

“Like I said, sweetheart?—“

“Lana,” she growled adorably under her breath.

“I got somewhere to be. We will figure this out. Promise. No more wrong turns for you, understand?” I demanded, and she stared at me like I was insane.

“I didn’t take a wrong turn, you silver-spooned monkey!” I laughed at the terms of endearment that slipped past her lips.

“What makes you think I’m not a self-made man?” I asked, curious as to how the hell she pegged me so quickly. It usually took women longer. She opened and shut her mouth, and that cute little button noise of hers flared. She reminded me of the most adorable pissed-off yorkie.

I snapped a couple of pics of my car and hers before shooting them off to myself in a text and handing back her phone. “We will be in touch.” I winked and hurried back to my car.

Every single molecule in my body yelled at me to go back to her.

Talk to her.

Be sweet to her and get to know her.

Unfortunately, I really had somewhere to be. I made a U-turn and figured out how the hell to get back on course to make it to my grandfather’s home in the hills for his celebration of life. All while thinking about each and every detail of Lana Pruitt I could catalog.

Wrong turns take you on the best adventures. The old man’s last words kept playing through my mind as I drove up the long driveway and put my car in Park .

A knock sounded, my cousin Lark on the other side. I got out, and his face was shocked. “If you’re not early, you’re late, Wils. What would the old man think?” he asked with a teasing tone. I shook my head.

“Shut up, Lark, I’m not in the mood.” I shoulder-bumped him. His blue eyes dropped to the back of my car.

“Shit! What the hell happened to your Audi?”

“Wrong turns take you on the best adventures. Didn’t the old man tell you that?” I asked as we walked into the house.

My head was filled with the brunette beauty who had rear-ended one of my favorite cars. It wasn’t lost on me that not in one moment since laying eyes on her had I worried about my own car. Then it hit me. Shit! How was she going to get back to her place?

“Hey, do you have a car service on that old thing you call a phone?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yeah, but my batteries drained,” I shared, knowing it was about to cost me, and Lark didn’t disappoint.

“Your phone battery is drained?” he repeated. The shock in his voice made me roll my eyes. He was looking at me as if he’d never seen me before. I didn’t blame him. I’d been feeling off kilter before the fender bender, but it seemed meeting the sassy Lana pushed me over the edge somewhat.

“I didn’t stutter, Lark,” I emotionlessly mumbled, something I had perfected before my thirteenth birthday.

“You’re late to a family thing and your cell?—“

“Do you or do you not?” I cut him off, having had enough of his little interrogation.

“I do.” His brows bunched, but right after, he pulled his phone from the wrinkled suit jacket he was wearing. “Here.” He handed me the thing. I quickly called up the family service we used and made sure to get someone out there with instructions they call me personally when she was dropped off at home.

I was overstepping.

Going out and doing too much.

Shit, the old man warned me about doing that as a teen and then twenty-something. But I didn’t give a shit. There was something inside of me I didn’t recognize but was old enough and man enough to know it wouldn’t be ignored. Lana was mine. And I took care of what was mine.

I handed it back to Lark, and he frowned.

“What is going on with you?” he asked.

Where I didn’t believe in ever afters and hadn’t subscribed to the idea of a soulmate, he did. Lark was a hopeless romantic. You didn’t believe before. Now, though… I shook the thought away for a moment.

“I met someone,” I announced and felt my lips tip upward.

“You met someone?” he repeated softly, and when I glanced at him, Lark’s eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of their sockets. “You met someone?”

“Yup.” The ‘p’ popped with enthusiasm.

It was sick, really. Maybe I’d hit my head in that little fender bender? I was walking into the only home I’d known to help put the details of my grandfather's celebration of life together, and I was doing it with a smile.

An all-knowing, cocky-as-fuck smirk.

And I didn’t mind at all that everything I believed about when it came to women and relationships had just flipped itself on its side like a puppy begging for attention.

One wrong turn, and I knew for certain in my gut, heart, and freaking balls that no matter what, one way or another, Lana Pruitt would be mine.