Chapter 1
Email from the Enemy
Six Years Later: Sacramento
Caroline
I couldn’t name the hour, or the look, or the words that made me eternally despise Wyatt Knox.
I was in the middle of my loathing before I knew I’d begun.
I couldn’t explain my hatred for him anymore than I could articulate my ill-fated love for his cousin.
And Wyatt knew this. That’s why I gasped with utter disbelief when I found an email from Wyatt in my inbox.
Subject line: Business Proposition.
What sort of business could Wyatt want with me?
If there was one man I tried to avoid even more than my ex, it was his evil cousin.
Fine, perhaps calling him evil was a bit excessive.
Wyatt was not evil. Honestly, I didn’t know much about him.
Except how it felt to kiss him. No matter how hard I tried, that’s something I could never forget.
One more reason to dislike the man. But mainly, I couldn’t stand that he knew so much—too much—about my relationship with Greg.
He must have known that night six years ago, when we accidentally kissed, that Greg was off with another woman.
I couldn’t bear to think that Wyatt heard my heartfelt declaration, all the while knowing my boyfriend was cheating on me.
The rest of the reunion, he avoided me. Totally understandable, considering our accidental kiss.
But more than once, I caught him watching me from across the room with sorrowful eyes.
My anger toward him softened when Greg told me that Wyatt’s mom had died at the beginning of the summer.
No wonder he was drunk as a skunk that night.
It must have been painful to go to the family reunion for the first time without his mom. I missed her, too.
Katie Knox was one of the few adults at the Scott reunion who made me feel welcome.
It made sense that Wyatt walked around the whole week with a woeful expression.
So I cut the guy some slack. But a few months later, when I learned about Greg’s cheating, I realized that some of Wyatt’s sad eyes were actually pity eyes.
He knew all along that his cousin had another girl on the side.
He knew exactly where Greg was that night, and he felt sorry for me.
Worse yet, he knew better than anyone just how much I cared for Greg.
He heard me bare my soul, when I said all the precious things I meant to say to my boyfriend.
And for some reason, when I said the same things the next day to Greg, my words felt flimsy. I blamed Wyatt for that.
The next year, when I returned to the Scott family reunion, Wyatt’s compassionate eyes turned mocking.
Every time he looked my way, he had this secret knowing glint in his dark brown eyes.
A look that I interpreted as, “Seriously, you’re going to take him back?
” He never said a word. But I felt Wyatt judging me.
He probably knew the real reason that I convinced Greg to finally grow a beard.
I couldn’t stop thinking of that midnight kiss, and I foolishly hoped that if I kissed Greg with a beard, the Wyatt kiss would fade from memory.
No such luck. One of the reasons I forgave Greg for his two-timing was because sometimes when I kissed him, my thoughts flew to his cousin.
That was so messed up—and also Wyatt’s fault.
To make matters worse, Wyatt had the inside scoop on how much Greg’s family disliked me—a fact I tried to shield from my friends and family.
But there was no hiding it from Wyatt, who, for two weeks each August, got a front-row seat to Greg’s mom’s pointed barbs.
Sometimes when she made snide remarks about me, Wyatt’s eyes would flash to mine.
With sympathy or taunting, I could never quite tell.
All of this would be reason enough to avoid him for the rest of my life, but then, four days before my wedding, he convinced my fiancé to dump me.
I don’t know what he said, but it was enough to convince Greg that maybe he wasn’t ready to settle down.
And if that were not enough to secure my burning hate for Wyatt Knox, the next time I saw him, a couple months after the never-to-be wedding, he had the nerve to try to comfort me.
He had spotted me just as I was leaving Grateful Threads, one of my favorite thrift stores in Placerville.
I was leaving with a nice cache of vintage jewelry as well as a denim jacket and cowboy boots for a techie legislator to wear to her first rodeo.
I left the shop with a little bounce in my step, wearing my new buttery yellow Manolos.
It was the first day I felt just a little like my old self.
I savored the hot July sun on my skin. And then I spotted him—Wyatt Knox, sauntering down the sidewalk, looking effortlessly cool with his shaggy dark brown hair, well-trimmed beard, faded jeans, and a perfectly fitted tee.
Normally, it delighted me to meet individuals with a natural sense of style, but like most things Wyatt-related, I found his innate fashion sense galling.
I’d bet money he hadn’t put any thought or effort into the outfit he was wearing.
Yet, he still appeared amazing. Exasperating man!
He turned to me with his smiling eyes. “Caroline! Good to see you.” He pointed to the thrift shop. “That’s a pretty cool store. Find anything good?”
“Wyatt,” I said through gritted teeth, giving him the slightest of head nods.
“Yes, I found some great items.” I always felt a little defensive talking about my work with Greg’s family.
One of Sally Scott’s key arguments against me was that I didn’t have a “real” job.
Admittedly, I was not as successful as I hoped to be.
But I made a living as a personal stylist, and my client list was growing.
“Good.” He looked a little uncomfortable, as he should.
“Good, I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.
..” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“After what Greg did...” I was in no mood for Wyatt’s pretend pity.
I fixated on the display in the store window.
“You know...” He shuffled his Nike Killshots—a decent choice, though perhaps a bit basic. “You’re better off without him.”
I glanced up and caught his patronizing, sympathetic smile. And I just snapped.
“Better off? You think I’m better off being dumped the week of my wedding?
At your suggestion, no less.” Wyatt stumbled back from my barrage of words.
I was just getting started. “Better off? Having to call all my friends and family to cancel my wedding? Better off getting to listen while everyone spouted ‘ I told you so ’? Do you think that made the rejection any better? To know that all my friends and family—basically the whole world—was laughing at me? They all knew that I loved Greg more than he loved me. And you! You’ve known that for years, haven’t you? ”
“Umm . . . I . . . no . . .” Wyatt wisely shut his mouth and let me continue.
“No! That doesn’t make me feel better. Not one bit. It makes me feel worse. And to add to that, I have to pay for the stupid wedding. Because Greg certainly isn’t going to. I’m left with all the bills. So don’t try to tell yourself that you did a good thing convincing him to break up with me.”
“That’s not what . . .”
I held up my hand like a traffic cop. “Stop! You have no right to speak right now—you brought this on yourself. You should have done the decent thing and pretended not to see me, the same way I was planning to ignore you for the rest of my life. But you didn’t!
And now I’m going to let you have it. You wanted me to find out about the car, and when that didn’t work, you went to Greg.
And maybe you thought you were saving me.
Or maybe you thought if I wasn’t dating Greg, maybe I’d date you.
But you miscalculated, Wyatt Knox. I would never date you, and I will never forgive you for interfering!
I am not better off without Greg—I’m miserable.
And I still have to get dressed each morning and blow dry my hair and put on my makeup and go to work, buying other people’s clothes, making other people look good. But I do not have to listen to you !”
Wyatt stepped toward me. I felt a surge of righteous indignation and again put my palm up in warning. “Don’t you dare try to hug me or comfort me and tell me it’s going to be okay. Because it’s not. It’s never going to be okay.” And then I broke down and ugly cried.
Yep, he saw me ugly cry. I never wanted to see Wyatt and his smug, sympathetic face again.
I deleted the email without opening it.
“Take that, Wyatt Knox!” I muttered to myself.
“What was that?” my mom asked, startling me. I had been so busy thinking angry thoughts about Wyatt that I hadn’t noticed her entering the house after work.
“Wyatt Knox emailed me.” I turned around from where I was working with my laptop on the kitchen counter. “Can you believe it? The nerve!”
“What did he want?” my mom asked, not really matching my outrage.
“Who knows—who cares. I deleted it without opening it.”
“Caroline!” She gave me a disappointed face. “What do you have against Wyatt?”
“He told Greg to call off the wedding.” I had never shared this detail with my mom, and I should have known better. She had quietly opposed Greg since our first break up six years before.
“That’s a definite green flag, sweetie. Greg was horrible.”
“I know you never liked him.” I sighed. “But I wish you’d acknowledge that I’m still sad about not getting married.”
“I wish you’d believe me when I said you’re better off single.”