Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“Jesus, don’t call her cute! I made that mistake on more than one occasion. Trust me. It won’t win you any points.”


“Oh, shush.” She gives Brett a gentle tap on the stomach. “She’s a girl. She can call me cute,” she says with the tiniest of attitudes. It’s almost comical, and I watch as Brett’s lips twitch when she looks back at me. “Thank you. You’re really pretty.” She offers me the warmest of smiles like we have been friends forever.

“I like you.” I look back at Brett and repeat, “I’m liking her.”

“Okay, before you two start exchanging recipes and painting each other’s nails, I’m getting out of here. Emma, it was good to see you. I’ll see if I can pull any strings to get you in to see her in the morning.” He pulls Jesse into his side and walks away. I’m so wickedly happy for him. Brett deserves a good woman, and it looks like he just might have found one.

I stand for a minute, immediately regretting my decision to stay. I hate hospitals. Everything is so freaking sterile, but they still make me feel gross. I sit down on a worn-out chair in the waiting room and glance around when my eyes settle on the muscular back of Caleb Jones. I’m a real ass for checking out this man. My sister basically killed his fiancée. I wasn’t lying before—from what I knew about Manda, I really liked her. And I know Sarah loved her. I just can’t sit here without saying something to him. Apologizing? I already did that, and he didn’t exactly seem receptive. Maybe I should take a different approach.





“CALEB, CAN we talk?” I hear Emma ask from in front of me.

“Nope,” I reply, never looking up from my phone.

“I love Sarah, but I’m not my sister,” she rushes out. I slowly lift my eyes to hers, trying not to rake them over her tits but failing. “I understand why you don’t like me, but I just wanted to say thank you for being here last night. I’m glad she wasn’t alone. I haven’t been there for her, but that’s about to change.”

“I didn’t exactly sit at her bedside, holding her hand or anything. I just sat in the waiting room,” I reply, disinterested in her gratitude but very interested in her panty preferences. Fuck!

“That’s more than I did. I haven’t spoken to her in years. I get the occasional update from Brett, but I never came up here. I couldn’t stand watching her fall apart. So I’m sorry. I know Brett thinks the world of you, and the last thing I wanted to do is piss you off.” Tears well in her eyes. Jesus Christ, is she going to cry? Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Look, I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you. You didn’t piss me off, it’s just—”

“Oh good. You want to grab a drink?” She smiles, perking right up and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“What? No! I mean yes, I want a drink, but not with you. Did you just fake cry?”

“No, they were real tears. I’ve been under a lot of stress. The only fake part was when they threatened to escape my eyes. I’m not a crier.” She shrugs. Holy shit, crazy must run in the Erickson family.

“Okay, well, sorry if I was a prick earlier. I just didn’t realize who you were, and by the time I did… Anyway. Sorry. We’re good.”

“Wow, you’re easy,” she says with a smile so sexy it leaves me unable to drag my eyes away from her mouth. I’ve got to get out of here and get laid.

“Okay, well I should probably go. It was good meeting you, Emma Jane,” I lie.

It was horrible meeting her. I’ll have to fuck everything in a fifty-mile radius to keep from thinking about her. God damn. Just my luck—Sarah’s fucking sister.

“Hey, wait, Caleb. Can you do me a big favor?”

Sure, as long as the favor is stripping you naked and spending the rest of the night between your legs.

Instead, I answer, “Maybe. What do you need?”

“I have to go home tomorrow and pack up all my stuff. I’ve decided to move up here and do what I should have been doing all along—taking care of Sarah. Do you think you could call and give me updates about her until I can get back? It might be a few weeks. I just don’t know who else to ask. I don’t want to involve Brett anymore. He and Jesse seem so happy. He deserves to move on.”

“Yeah, sure. I can do that. Just so you know, I won’t actually see her, but I can definitely keep you in the loop.”

“That would be great.” She breathes a sigh of relief. “Here.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a card. “That’s my cell number. It’s also my work number, so I never leave home without it.”

I look down at the small rectangle business card in my hand that reads:

Magnolia Photography — Owner Emma Erickson

“You’re a photographer?” I ask surprised.

“Yep. For five years. Why the shocked face?”

“Oh, no reason. I dabble in a little photography myself. Nothing professional though.” I lift her card teasingly.

“Do you think she’s going to be okay?” She suddenly shifts to serious.