Wedding Date With Mr. Wrong Read online

  ‘I know you are, mate, but she’s growing up.’

  He glanced at his niece, her blonde pigtails streaming behind her as she raced across the lawn in pursuit of a rabbit. ‘She’s six going on sixty, and one day soon you’ll find her asking a bunch of questions you’d rather not answer.’

  To his surprise, Tom seemed to deflate before his eyes. ‘She’s an amazing kid.’ He dragged a hand across his eyes, blinking as if he’d just woken up. ‘She’s my world.’

  ‘Then maybe you should think about joining the land of the living again?’ Archer hoped to lighten the sombre mood. ‘When’s the last time you had a date anyway?’

  Old hurts darkened Tom’s mood and his usually jovial brother frowned. Archer felt like a jerk for probing his wounds but Trav was right. Tom needed to start dating again—for his own sake as well as Izzy’s.

  Not that he had a right to butt in where his niece was concerned, considering his deliberate distancing over the years. But this visit was different. Seeing Callie interact with his family made him appreciate them in a whole new light. And made him feel like a first class jerk.

  How long would he keep his own old hurts locked away inside where they festered? How long would he let wounded pride get in the way?

  Tom’s turbulent gaze focussed on his daughter as he placed his bottle on a nearby table and folded his arms. ‘You ever wish you had a different life?’

  Never. Discounting the hash of a relationship he now had with his family.

  Archer loved his life: the freedom, the buzz, the adrenalin. He liked being his own boss, and valued his independence as much as his trophies. Though he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to wondering more and more these days why he was so hell-bent on the single life.

  At the start it had been about striving for success and not needing ties to hamper him. Emotional ties that ended up causing pain.

  His family might not know it, but in their decision to ostracise him from his dad’s illness and not trust him enough to cope they’d solidified his life choices.

  Better for him not to connect emotionally with anyone, to enjoy his lack of responsibility and savour the single life. No strings attached; a motto that had served him well over the years.

  Callie’s laughter floated on the breeze and something in his gut clenched.

  No, he didn’t regret a thing, but for a moment he wondered how different his life would have been if he’d put his trust issues aside and taken a risk on their relationship.

  ‘No use wondering about maybes, mate. All we can do is make the best of what we’ve got.’

  Pensive, Tom nodded. ‘I don’t regret marrying Tracy for the sake of Izzy, that’s for sure. But sticking around here with its same-old, same-old has its moments.’

  Tom wouldn’t get any arguments from him. The monotony of living in the small town he’d grown up in would’ve driven him nuts.

  ‘What about surfing?’

  Tom’s frown deepened. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Do you resent not going pro?’

  ‘Hell, no.’ Tom guffawed. ‘I was never as driven as you, squirt. No way would I have spent years traipsing the world chasing the next big wave.’

  ‘It was all you talked about growing up. I think it’s half the reason I wanted to go pro—because you did.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘You always wanted it more than me. I couldn’t hack all the training and moving around.’

  ‘But I thought...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you gave it all up when Trace deliberately got pregnant. That she trapped you and you hated it and that’s what eventually led to the marriage falling apart.’

  Tom slapped him on the back. ‘Not that it matters now, but to set the record straight—yeah, Tracy fell pregnant on purpose, but she didn’t trap me. I didn’t have to propose. I wanted to, because I was young and dumb and idealistic.’

  He glanced towards their folks, toasting each other with champagne at a quiet table at the rear of the marquee, oblivious to the family bedlam around them. ‘I guess I secretly wanted what they had.’

  A familiar sadness enveloped Archer when he glanced at his folks. The Fletts had always been a close family, and his folks seemed more devoted now, following the health scare that had so shocked him when he’d eventually found out.

  He envied them that closeness. It was like standing on the outside looking in at an exclusive club.

  Tom’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘I’d give an arm and a leg to have a relationship like that. A woman who adores me, who’s content to be with me and doesn’t need all the fancy trappings of a big city.’

  Liking the fragile bond of reconnecting with Tom on a deeper level than mock-wrestling, Archer delved further. ‘Is that why Tracy left? Because she wanted the high life?’

  ‘’Course. Once she had Izzy it was all she talked about. I wanted a future that focussed on building a stable environment for our child to grow in, and she couldn’t leave fast enough.’

  Archer rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if Santa would make an appearance to dispel any other myths he’d once believed in.

  ‘Wow, I didn’t know.’

  ‘Because some things are best left unsaid. Besides, I don’t want Iz hearing bad stuff about her mum, just in case Trace grows a conscience one day and wants to see her daughter.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Sydney, last I heard but who knows? She sends the obligatory birthday and Christmas gifts. That’s about it.’

  While Tom’s tone didn’t hold an ounce of censure, guilt niggled at Archer.

  Was that how the Fletts talked about him when he wasn’t around? Saying that he should grow a conscience rather than sending obligatory birthday gifts and making an obligatory Christmas visit during which he couldn’t wait to escape back to his life?

  Considering how he’d withdrawn from them, he couldn’t blame them.

  He wanted to forgive and move on.

  He wanted to shelve his pride and bring the whole thing out into the open.

  But every single time he wanted to broach the painful subject of how he’d felt at being shut out, and how their rebuttal of his overture had hurt, one image stuck in his mind.

  His dad, elbows braced on his precious piano, head in his hands, crying. Big, brusque Frank Flett never cried, and to see his father so broken had left a lasting legacy.

  It had been just after they’d finally told him the truth—a year after his dad had been given the all-clear. Twelve freaking months, on top of the six months Frank had battled the disease that could have claimed his life, when his family had shut him out because they didn’t want to distract him, or thought he couldn’t handle it, or some such rot.

  He’d been livid, and seeing his father’s tears had reinforced what they thought of him as nothing else could.

  If his dad could still cry when he was cancer-free, how bad must it have been during the long battle of surgery, chemo and the rest?

  A battle he’d been excluded from because they’d deemed him not responsible enough to handle it.

  His hands unconsciously clenched into fists and he inhaled, forcing himself to calm down before any of his bitterness spilled out.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tom’s perceptive stare bored into him and he glanced away.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Like hell.’ Tom paused, made an exasperated sound. ‘Is that why you keep running? Because you think I got trapped, gave up a dream, and you don’t want the same to happen to you?’

  Archer’s tension eased as he saw Callie strolling towards the bar, her pale lemon floral dress swishing around her calves, making her look ethereal and pretty and all too ravishing.

  What could he say?

  The truth?

  That he didn’t dare trust an incredible woman like Callie? That even now, after the incredible reconnection they’d shared last night, first at the beach and later at his house, he was absolutely terrified of giving in to the feelings she evoked?


  He settled for a partial truth. ‘You know I wanted out of Torquay, and surfing was my ticket out. No harm in following your dreams.’

  ‘Unless it interferes with what you really want.’

  Archer glared at his brother, not liking the direction this conversation was taking.

  ‘How would you know what I really want?’

  ‘Because I see the way you look at Callie.’

  He hated Tom’s condescending smirk as much as his homing in on his innermost fears.

  ‘And I’d hate to see you throw away a chance at real happiness because you’re stuck on some warped idea that being in a relationship means giving up your freedom.’

  That was not the only thing being in a relationship meant. Reliance, trust, love, they were all a part of it too, and those were the things or, more to the point, the loss of those things that ensured he’d never let Callie get too close.

  She’d almost made him slip once before.

  Not this time.

  ‘You’ve been watching too many chick-flicks after Izzy’s in bed,’ he said, wanting to wipe the infuriating, know-all expression off Tom’s face. ‘I like my life. I’m doing what I want to do, so lay off.’

  ‘Truth hurts, huh?’

  Archer swore. ‘How about you concentrate on getting your own love-life in order and leave me the hell alone?’

  He stalked off a few paces. Not far enough to escape Tom’s taunt.

  ‘Who said anything about love?’

  He strode faster. He might be able to outrun his brother’s annoying chuckles, but he couldn’t shake the insistent little voice in his head that focussed on that one little L-word and its disastrous implications.

  * * *

  Callie’s head ached.

  Bad enough she’d spent the last twenty-four hours over-analysing her impulsiveness in tumbling into a physical relationship with Archer—now she’d inadvertently joined the unofficial Archer Flett Fan Club.

  Ever since she’d arrived at the party she’d been bombarded with glowing recommendations from every female family member. And the interrogation from the Flett females was truly frightening.

  They wanted to know everything.

  And she didn’t know what to tell them. What could she say? That she’d handed Archer her heart eight years ago, he’d trampled it, and now she’d foolishly come back for more?

  Uh-uh. So she’d glossed over her relationship with Archer as being old friends catching up while he was in Melbourne. Interestingly, Shelly had revealed what a refreshing change she was from Archer’s usual dates, ‘snobby, plastic, citified bimbos’, who wouldn’t mingle let alone talk to his family.

  She’d wanted to pry, but Archer’s mum had shot Shelly a warning look and she’d clammed up. Not that Callie wanted to acknowledge the twinge of jealousy, but considering how warm and welcoming Archer’s family had been towards her, she was surprised he’d bring that type of woman home.

  That was another thing. His interaction with his family. Something was definitely off.

  He’d been nervous about attending this party. She’d seen it back at his place, subtle signs that his usual confidence was rattled: pacing the balcony while she’d been getting ready, sculling caffeine drinks, absentmindedly changing TV channels without watching any show.

  When she’d asked him about it he’d laughed it off, but she’d known there was more to it when he’d taken his sweet time getting out of the car when they’d arrived and then remained on the outskirts the entire party.

  She’d seen him talking to his brothers, but beyond a perfunctory greeting for his parents he’d kept his distance from them.

  Which begged the question why?

  She’d ask later—add it to the million other questions buzzing around her brain. Questions she should have asked before falling in lust with him all over again.

  One thing was for sure: Archer’s family wanted him to stick around for a change. No way would she break the news to them that there was more chance of her winning the next surf pro classic than Archer Flett putting down roots.

  He was a confirmed nomad, and in a way it added to his charm. His impulsiveness, his spontaneity, his live-for-the-moment attitude. What they’d done on the beach...the memory had her running a chilled glass across her forehead. It did little to cool the scorching images replaying like a naughty film.

  Archer peeling off her swimsuit, exploring every inch of her body with strong, sure hands, kissing her everywhere...

  ‘You can get arrested for looking like that.’

  Archer’s whisper fanned her ear, sending little pinwheels of sensation ricocheting through her as his arm slid around her waist, anchoring her to him.

  As if she’d want to run. Her surname wasn’t Flett. More was the pity.

  ‘Like what?’

  He growled at her faux innocence. ‘Like you’ve spent the day in bed and you can’t wait to get back there.’

  She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. ‘Who said anything about a bed? As I recall, the beach served us just fine—’

  ‘Stop, you’re killing me.’

  His grip tightened as he swung her around, protecting her from prying eyes and backing her towards the rear of the marquee.

  ‘Like you haven’t been thinking about it,’ she said, challenging him to open up a tad.

  They hadn’t talked much since the beach, and had fallen into a physical relationship as easily as they’d tumbled in Capri. It had suited her yesterday, not discussing much beyond the present. She’d been on a high, wallowing in the decadence of being in Archer’s arms again.

  But today reality had set in.

  Considering their proximity, living together, it had been all too easy—almost inevitable—sliding back into a physical relationship with the underlying attraction still sizzling between them.

  It shouldn’t mean anything. Sadly for her it did.

  Getting physical with Archer had thrust her right back to the same place she’d been eight years earlier: knowing there’d be an expiration date and not liking it.

  She also didn’t like being vulnerable to him, and that was exactly what she’d made herself in opening herself to him again.

  Incredibly foolish, considering Archer hadn’t fundamentally changed. Footloose, fancy-free and loving it.

  The situation reminded her of the many times she’d taken a chance on her dad, when he’d blown into her life, swept her off her feet with gifts and empty promises, only to forget her when he left.

  It had been such a buzz being around him. But later the let-down and disappointment and devastation had sucked.

  With Archer in Capri she’d made the mistake of masking her feelings, pretending a fling was no big deal. This time she wouldn’t be so stupid.

  At the start of this week they might have agreed that spending time together in Torquay was about work and being his date in exchange for the surf school campaign, but getting physical had changed the boundaries.

  Their futures weren’t intersecting, but this time she deserved more. She deserved answers.

  Why had he really asked her to be his date for the wedding? How could he be so caring with her, especially about her mum, and shut down around his family?

  What were his plans? Because from all accounts the guys at the surf school she’d spoken to had collectively mentioned that Archer would be around more often. What could that potentially mean for them?

  Because she wouldn’t let him walk away this time. Not without a fight.

  She wasn’t the same idealistic, naïve girl she’d been in Capri. Life was short—too short—and second chances were rare, so if she and Archer had a remote shot at making some kind of relationship work she’d take it.

  She didn’t want deep and meaningful, but something casual and fun to lighten her days in the tough time ahead with her mum. She was all for that.

  Ironic how she’d changed in a few days. She’d initially thought Archer wasn’t a keeper, wasn’t the kind of guy who’d support
her when the going got tough.

  Maybe he still wouldn’t, but the more she saw him interact with his brothers, Izzy and the teenage surf crew, the more he held her and talked to her about her mum’s illness and what he could do to raise awareness of her horrid disease, the more she realised she’d misjudged him.

  He might have broken her heart eight years ago, but she’d changed. Why couldn’t she believe he had too?

  Only one way to find out.

  Ask the hard questions.

  Archer nuzzled her neck. ‘I’ve been thinking of getting you naked again ever since we got here, but there are children present.’

  Those questions she needed to ask were momentarily put on hold. ‘Stop. People might see.’

  ‘Let them,’ he said, his lips trailing down her neck towards her collarbone, nipping along the way.

  Her skin rippled with sensation as she arched towards him, wanting whatever he could give.

  A low wolf-whistle signalled the arrival of company and Archer swore as they disentangled. ‘If that’s Tom I’m going to kill him,’ he said as Callie readjusted her skewed dress straps.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but we’re doing speeches.’ Travis grinned, not sorry in the least.

  Archer shot him a death glare. ‘Can’t you leave that boring stuff until the wedding?’

  ‘Why? Got better things to do?’

  The corners of Archer’s mouth curved up and Callie’s heart gave a little kick. She loved that half-smile, as if he was genuinely amused and loving life.

  ‘Yeah, and if you had any sense you’d be doing the same thing rather than getting caught up in all this wedding nonsense.’

  ‘Hey, why not add to the Christmas festivities with a rousing Flett shindig? Keeps the folks sweet, that’s for sure.’

  ‘It’s a sad day when a Flett male turns into a romantic sap,’ he said. An odd expression Callie couldn’t fathom flitted across Archer’s face as he released her waist to snag her hand.

  ‘We’ll be there in a sec,’ he added.

  A little frown creased Travis’s brow but he merely nodded and walked away, leaving her the perfect opportunity to discover what it was about his family that made Archer tense up.