Page 16 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

“So what makes this different?”

“I’ve never wanted something to work out so much.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

Monica’s eyebrows lift.

The terminal doors slide open again. A woman steps outside pulling a navy suitcase. Dark hair. Curvy. Denim jacket over a floral dress. A smile I’d recognize anywhere.

My pulse immediately kicks into overdrive. “That’s her.”

“You know from one picture?”

“I know.” She looks exactly like her photos. Except... Better.

Because she’s real and here

My chest tightens. Monica nudges me. “Go.”

My feet suddenly weigh about three hundred pounds. “Now, Cal.”

Right. I climb out of the SUV. The instant she spots me, she smiles. Not a huge smile. A relieved one.

Like she’s just as nervous as I am.

I wave. And cringe. Is waving stupid? She waves back. Okay. Maybe I didn’t do something stupid.

By the time she reaches me, every greeting I’d rehearsed has completely disappeared from my brain.

“Hi.” Wow. I really nailed that.

“Hi, yourself.” She’s smiling.

I like that smile. A lot.

“I...” Say something. Anything. “You look...”

Beautiful. Pretty. Amazing.

“...real.”

Fucking hell. Her eyebrows shoot upward. What’s wrong with me?

“I mean— You’re really here.”

“I’m really here?”

“Yes.” I rub the back of my neck. “I mean...you look like your pictures. Better even.”

She laughs. “You know, I was worried this might be awkward.”

I blink. “You were?”

“Oh, absolutely.” She grins. “And somehow this is even more awkward.”

Some of the tension in my shoulders eases. Maybe I’m not the only bundle of nerves here.

I reach for her suitcase. Our hands brush. A jolt of electricity shoots through me. She notices too. I can tell. But neither of us says anything.

I load her suitcase into the back of the SUV before opening the passenger door. She slides inside. I walk around to the driver’s seat. I introduce her to Monica, who is busy back at work.