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Authors: Taryn A. Taylor

Mr. Wrong (3 page)

BOOK: Mr. Wrong
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Sara
didn’t want the tears to fall, but she couldn’t help it. She turned away and started walking quickly to the door.

Beau caught up with her.
“Did I miss something? You just hurt me. I should be the one crying.”

“Give it to me.
I’m returning it and re-buying it.” She grabbed for the bag, wiping her eyes and feeling like a monster.

Beau
held the bag back. “Have you ever heard that when someone does something nice for you, you just say thank you?” His voice was final.

His look made her flinch
. She thought of how spoiled she was acting.

Beau
took off toward the truck and glanced back. “Come on, quit being rude to the guy that just saved you. You’re starting to hurt my ego.” The side of his lifted.

Sara
reluctantly followed him. The cab idea sounded better and better, but she admitted to herself that she did need his help—if she didn’t want to worry her father and have her brothers sent out on a 911 mission.

Beau held open the passenger side door and gave her a level stare.
“Think you can behave yourself?”

Her anger flared
. She hated being treated like a child, but she simply nodded and tried to swallow her pride. She didn’t look at him and the tears inside of her came out in a rush.

Beau
climbed in the other side. He put the battery in-between. He shifted into gear and started back to the airport.

Sara
couldn’t stop herself. The tears were like a river that couldn’t be plugged.

Beau
looked at her and reached for a tissue box. “Dang, woman.”

Sara
reflexively laughed at the look of discomfort on his face.

They drove in silence for a while
.

Beau sneaked a glance at her from the corner of his eye.
“Look, I shouldn’t have teased you in there. I’m sorry.”

Sara
laughed, again. She wondered how she’d gotten herself into this crazy episode with a complete stranger. “My dad always says that I’m a desert or a canyon. I hardly ever cry. I’m the youngest girl with three older brothers . . . so it takes a lot. But when I do, I cry and cry and cry. And today, it’s been unlocked inside of me.”

Beau let out a long breath.
“Good luck to Jonathon.”

The thought of Jonathon made her cry harder
.

“Oh—dear.” Beau looked uncertain.

Sara mopped her cheeks. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m—thank you. Thank you for everything.” She whispered it.

“What?”

The side of his lip turned up. “It’s really hard for you to accept help.” He shook his head.

Sara
sighed. “Yeah. It’s—my mom died when I was born and . . .”

Beau glanced at her.
“I’m sorry.”

She made little rips in the tissue.
“I don’t know why I told you that. Gosh, today has just been the worst day of my life. I’m sorry.”

Beau
smiled. “That’s funny. I was just thinking how today might have been the best thing that’s happened to me in quite some time.”

 

Chapter 5

 

Fifteen minutes later, Beau parked next to her car. Luckily, no one had taken the spot. They both got out.

Beau took the battery out of the bag.

Sara propped the hood.

He began to succinctly pull out the old battery.

Sara leaned against the car.

“So, you’re waiting for him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What
do you mean?”

“Why
him?”

Sara rolled her eyes
. “I told you, I love him.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know exact percentages for girls who actually marry the missionary they are waiting for but—you love him. I’m sure it’ll work out.”

The anger surge
d inside of her. “You’re going back to that whole I’m not that ‘type’ thing again?

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare do that, again.”
He flashed a teasing smile.

“Whatever.”
She let it go. Man, he was annoying.

He procured a tool chest out of his truck.
“Why do you love him? I mean, there are lots of reasons girls love missionaries, right. Let’s see . . . he’s spiritual. Or . . . oh, I love this one,” he said, took on a falsetto tone, “he’s my best friend. Or—.” He looked at her and stopped, dropping the antics.

Sara focused a determined gaze at him
. “We have a five-year plan.”

Beau
frowned. “Sure—a plan. A five-year plan no less.”

Sara didn’t respond to the sarcasm in his voice.

He pulled out the old battery and she took it.

Beau paused. “Convenient
he wants you to wait for him. Then you won’t know what you’re missing.”

Sara
couldn’t stop herself from slipping into that snotty voice she always used when she was in an argument with her brothers. “If you must know, Jonathon told me that he didn’t want me to wait. He also told me that he wanted me to date as many guys as I could so when he got back I would know that he was the one for me.”

Beau
lifted his eyebrows. “Really? As many guys as you can? Wow, now that’s confidence.”

“He
should
be confident.” She snapped.

Beau
put the new battery in and tightened down the wires. “Okay.”

“What?”

He pulled away from her car and gave her a sharp look.
“Why don’t you go start your car?”

Sara went to her car
. She really hoped it would start so she could leave.

It roared to life, the familiar hum sounding like a beautiful melody in her ears.
Her heart immediately lightened. It was fixed. And she wouldn’t have to call her father. She laughed.

Their eyes met. His taunting eyes were replaced with something else.
Something happy. “Finally, I did something right.”

Gratitude washed over her
. She thought about how the Lord had sent her help. She got out of the car.

He dropped the old battery into the back of his truck.
“I’ll take care of this.”

Sara didn’t know why she felt so awkward at this moment, seconds ago she
’d wished he would leave and now—she realized she’d never be able to repay what he’d done for her. “Can I get your address?”

Beau turned around, surprise on
his face. “Are you asking me out?”

Sara
cocked her head to the side. “You wish. I just want to send you a thank you card.”

Beau shook his head.
“Well, it was nothin, little lady . . .”

Caught off guard, again, she laughed.
“That was a horrible. But—thank you.”

He
looked like he was blushing.

She liked the fact he was embarrassed. “
I mean it. Thank you.”

He paused.
“Can I give you some advice?”

“Okay.”

“I know you have a missionary and a five
-year plan, but have fun, too.”

He had the same tone as her father.
“Is that all?”

Beau let his breath out.
“Just try to do what’s best for you, not just what’s best for the missionary.”

The tension between them thickened
, and Sara noticed his blue eyes had a touch of green in them. Her heart fluttered inside of her. She moved to her car door and slipped in. “I better go. But, really, thank you.”

Beau
nodded.

Sara rolled down her window.
“I guess the John Wayne act does work well for you.”

Beau
let out a light laugh. “Yeah. Not really.”

She started to back up. “Thank you.”

He waved. “Drive safe.”

She watched him get smaller in the rear view mirror and wondered why it suddenly made her sad she would never see him again.

 

Chapter
6

 

Almost
2 years later

University of Wyoming

 

Sara entered the Union Building and smiled. Thirty-one days. Thirty-one days until Jonathon would be back. Thirty-one days until her life—would really start.

She strolled into the campus store and picked up a bottle of water. She picked up a copy of the campus paper and a thrill went through her.

Her article.
Front page.

W
arm hands covered her eyes. “Guess who?”

Sara
laughed, knowing it was Carey, her friend and dance partner in their ballroom dance class last semester. He turned her in a circle and pulled her into his arms, laughing, too. “You’re looking good this year, Sara.”

Sara
stepped back and put her bag into place on her shoulder, trying not to blush. “Hey, how was your summer?”

He moved beside her.
“Could’ve been better, but someone has to work with dear old dad at the family store, right?”

Sara
grimaced, feeling a little sad for him. If anyone understood feeling familial pressure to join a business, she did. Her oldest brother James had really put the pressure on her before she’d come back to school, telling her they needed her to pitch in and help run the business side of things. She paid for her things and sauntered out of the small store.

He tapped the paper.
“Your first article was good.”

S
ara relished in the praise. He’d been the one to talk her into writing for the campus newspaper last spring. She motioned for the couches and they sat.

“You know you are one of a select few that know I am
Beatrice Fairfax . . . shh.”

“Hey, your
secret’s safe with me. But as your editor, I have to claim all the success, too—for spotting your potential. Even though I’ve never understood who Beatrice Fairfax symbolizes.”

Tilting her head to the side,
Sara rolled her eyes. “Right, of course, it’s all you, Carey.”

Laughing, he took the other half of her sandwich.
“I’ll take this as a symbol of your undying gratitude.”

Sara
reached for it, but Carey turned his head away and stuffed the whole half into his mouth.

“You’re such a brat.”

Carey chomped on it, trying not to choke through his laughter.

Sara
scoffed. “You’re a thief, and you don’t know who Beatrice Fairfax is—pathetic. And they say that editors know everything.” She smiled, accepting the fact she would never get her sandwich back. “Beatrice Fairfax was the first “Dear Abby” type of columnist at the New York Journal—back in the day.”

“Hmm.”
Carey looked her up and down. “I guess this editor just learned something.”

Sara
thought of the old couple at the Ivinson Home for the Elderly and smiled to herself. “Hey, are you in for Saturdays? Martha and Larry want to keep up with their lessons. I got the sweetest card from Martha over the summer that asked if we would continue tutoring them.”

Carey shook his head back and forth, frowning.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Sara, my engineering classes are too demanding this semester. I’m going to be spending lots of time studying, and then being the editor doesn’t help my time situation.”

Trying not to go to anger, thoughts of Martha’s silver hair and soft smile was too much for
Sara. “Seriously?”

Carey stood, holding her backpack out for her.
“Don’t do that, Sara.”

She stood up
, grabbing her bag away from him. “What about Martha and Larry? They’re counting on us?”


Sara. I can’t.”

Sara
turned, pushing past him toward the doors. “Whatever.”

“I’
ll see you at the institute,” Carey called after her.

Ignoring him, she let the
heavy doors drop behind her and wondered how she would tell Martha and Larry there would be no classes this year. Hurrying to her next class, Sara pushed back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She knew Carey wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was she felt like she was disappointing everyone right now—especially her father. His doctor had given him a couple of months to live. And she was here—instead of there.

Walking faster, she tried not to think about her oldest brother, James’s accusation
, that school was her way of running away from it all. Rounding the corner into the business building, she didn’t see anybody standing there until it was too late.

BOOK: Mr. Wrong
10.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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