Chapter 4
California Royal
Caroline
I was sitting across from Wyatt on a picnic table in the backyard of his childhood home.
The modest red brick ranch on a quarter acre was much humbler than Greg’s stone and stucco McMansion, but still much nicer than my mom’s two-bedroom town house.
One thing Greg’s mom had right about me, I was absolutely a social climber—or I strived to be.
Greg breaking off our engagement had knocked me down a rung or two.
.. or seven. And I was doing everything I could to scramble back up.
I watched my brother Charlie rise in social status with ease.
We were both “lucky” enough to go to the elite private school where my mom worked.
I had received a good education, but I also was reminded daily how little I had compared to my classmates.
In middle school, Charlie befriended Liam Darcy, who convinced him to join rowing.
Our family couldn’t afford the club fees, but Charlie, who had always been tall and athletic, received a needs-based scholarship.
I don’t think any of his friends knew how much our family struggled financially.
Rowing took him to UCLA, and his natural cheery disposition helped him make friends wherever he went.
After graduation, he landed a plum job at a venture capitalist firm. He did so well, he soon branched out and started his own VC company. A few good decisions and friendly handshakes, and at thirty-one, Charlie was comfortably ensconced in the top one percent. And he wasn’t even trying.
Like a nightmarish game of Chutes and Ladders, I kept climbing to the top only to keep falling right back to where I started.
I didn’t get it. I should have been more successful.
I was as beautiful as Charlie was handsome.
Not nearly as tall. But men often like short women.
Right? And I was smarter, or at least I got better grades.
And still, somehow, I was struggling while carefree Charlie had the life I wanted.
I had been determined to rise to the top since I was ten and my parents split.
We left our modest suburban home for an apartment so dingy I was too embarrassed to invite my friends over.
One time, my grandma took me with her to visit a friend in a neighborhood near the capitol.
I was in awe of the towering, leafy trees, the fairytale homes built in the twenties and thirties, each one unique and beautiful with pristine yards and overflowing flowerbeds.
I asked my grandma who lived in these homes. “Folks who have more money than we do.” I saw a girl about my age swinging on a rope swing in her front yard. I wanted so badly to be her. To belong to that home and that wealthy neighborhood.
Through the front window, I saw a snug room with a wall lined with books.
I wasn’t a big reader, but I wanted those books.
I wanted to live in that picturesque home with flower boxes on the windows and gables on the roof.
I vowed right then and there that my daughter would live in a beautiful house with a velvety lawn, mounds of blooming hydrangeas, and a rope swing on a giant sycamore tree.
I know that dream might not be for everyone.
But it was my dream, and the easiest way to achieve it was to marry money.
And I was so close. The wedding was planned, the cakes tasted, the guests invited, the dress fitted. I was just four days away from my lifelong dream coming true.
But thanks to the man who sat across from me, that dream had turned to ashes. And I needed to remember that. Not to think of other Wyatt-related feelings.
As he passed me the salt, our fingers brushed.
And my treacherous mind flew back six years to the accidental kiss.
I watched Wyatt’s strong hands. Those hands that once held me so tenderly, in a way that Greg never did, as if I were something precious.
I noticed the difference at the time and mistakenly thought that Greg had finally come to care for me the same way I cared for him.
Of course, it was all a huge mistake. Just like it was a big mistake for me to fiddle with Wyatt’s hair before dinner.
The stupid kiss—why did it mess with my head so much?
My superpower was my unrelenting focus. But when Wyatt was around, I lost my concentration—maybe that was why he bugged me so much.
He might be right. Maybe we shouldn’t work together.
But ever since I had breakfast with Mo, I had been mildly obsessed with this project.
I had already created a Pinterest board for Wyatt.
And I was attached to the idea of him swooping in and stealing the girl Sally Scott had hand-picked for her son.
Sally would be livid if someone chose Wyatt the mechanic over her precious Gregory.
Perhaps this meant I was a bad person, but I found that scenario very satisfying.
Also, I owed it to the sisterhood of women to keep another girl from wasting her time and heart on the dirtbag walking around as Gregory Scott. Now that a year had passed, I could see that I was better off without him. Of course, I’d never admit that to the man sitting across from me.
“Your dad tells me you’re going to expand your business,” I began.
Wyatt shrugged. “There’s definitely room to grow. I can’t keep up with demand, that’s for sure. But growth requires capital.”
“Why not ask your grandpa?”
“I’d rather not.” Wyatt assaulted his steak. This guy had something to prove. Good for him. But also, such a stance seemed foolish to me. If I had a rich grandpa, I’d make the most of it. Though my brother had plenty of money and I had never asked for his help.
“My brother Charlie is a venture capitalist,” I began. “He loves vintage cars and electric vehicles. I think he’d be interested in your business. I’d be happy to introduce you.”
That made Wyatt pause.
“Are you serious?”
“Of course, I’m always serious.”
“Do I need a makeover before I meet him?” Wyatt asked with a teasing grin.
“No! Charlie would be interested even if you came dressed like that.” That was an intentional insult and not fair.
Perhaps Wyatt was dressed a bit casual, but somehow he made a T-shirt and jeans look respectable.
I was needling him on purpose. Plus, I had a point to prove.
“But don’t scoff at what I do. Personal style is an untapped asset.
It’s a way to silently signal ‘I’m forward-thinking with an eye for detail.
I respect myself and the people around me.
’ When you dress right, you can say all of that without opening your mouth. ”
“A compelling speech.” Wyatt set down his half-eaten ear of corn. Somehow, he managed to bite off each row in a straight line. “But no thanks. I’m good.”
“Even if I’m paying?” asked Mr. Knox.
“Dad, I don’t have the time.”
“I’m incredibly efficient,” I said in what I hoped was a charming voice but may have sounded pushy. “I purchase the clothes and bring them to your home. We’re talking no more than three hours a week.”
“C’mon on, son. Why wouldn’t you want to spend three hours with this delightful young lady?”
“If we were dating, that would be great.” Whoa, he did not need to go there.
He looked directly at me and smiled a big, wolfish grin.
“I could easily find three hours. But Caroline...” Somehow, he made my name sound like an insult.
“Has made it clear that she has no interest in dating me.” He pinned his brown eyes on mine. “Isn’t that so?”
“Um... no...” What could I say to this?
Wyatt didn’t want to date me. He was just throwing back the words I spewed at him in fury.
He wanted to make me squirm. But he would have to try harder.
“It’s not personal,” I answered with a toothy grin.
“I’m washing my hands of the whole Scott Family. ”
“Then you should be glad that I refuse to work with you.”
My eyes cut to Mr. Knox, who appeared amused. I was surprised that he was not more concerned by my floundering. He caught my eye and gave me a conspiratorial wink. Apparently, he was not as worried as I was.
He sent his son inside to get some steak sauce. As soon as Wyatt was out of earshot, I started my apology. “Sorry. I knew this was a terrible idea.”
“He’ll come around.”
“He sounded pretty adamant.”
“He’s like that. Has a fierce independent streak. But you have the advantage.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“He likes you. Too bad you don’t want to date him. That would make everything so much simpler.”
Wyatt liked me? Why did that phrase zing through my mind?
Not because I liked him. I did not. But I wouldn’t mind having some power over him.
It would be a feather in my cap if he really did like me.
It would feel like that night I finally beat him at Hearts.
But I wasn’t sure Mo knew what he was talking about.
It was more likely a father’s wishful thinking.
“I . . . I think you’re mistaken.”
“Mistaken about what?” Wyatt returned carrying steak sauce and the pepper grinder.
When he caught my eye and smiled, my heart stuttered.
I had no explanation for this except that his dad put weird ideas in my head.
Or maybe it was Wyatt’s fault with all his references to that kiss.
While dating Greg, I tried so hard not to think about his cousin that I was literally and metaphorically continually averting my gaze from Wyatt Knox.
As a result, I knew almost nothing about him.
But sitting across from him that golden June evening, I found I suddenly wanted to know everything.
I began with an easy question about his business. “So, how does it work? Do your clients bring you a car and you refurbish it, or do you find the car for them?”
“A little of both, but I want to scale up. I would like to purchase every good barn find I come across.”
“Barn find? What’s that?”