Meant To Be Different Read online

  “Well, Wyatt, I think with a name like that you were practically born to be a cowboy.” He held out a calloused, giant paw. “I’ll be mighty pleased to see ya on tour with us in a few years.”

  The short interaction replayed through Wyatt’s mind the rest of the evening, even as he greedily devoured every different event at the rodeo, committing it all to his memory. When they reached his father’s car, he impulsively wrapped his arms around Mike’s waist. “Thank you, Daddy.”

  Mike squeezed him and patted his back. “I’m glad you had fun today, son.”

  He pulled away and offered a wide grin. “I’ll give you my first buckle, Daddy.”

  ***

  Georgia

  Fourteen Years Earlier

  Her chest heaved with labored breathing as she pushed herself to run just a little faster, her flip-flops slapping against the sidewalk with each step. She needed to get as far from her house as fast as she could. She needed to get to the beach. The air rolling off the ocean would soothe her soul and calm her fears, just as it always did.

  As soon as the concrete ended, Georgia kicked her shoes off and raced over the dunes, falling to her knees a few feet from where the wave lapped against the shore. She licked her dry lips, sucking air into her burning lungs and trying desperately to slow her speeding heart.

  Her fingers dug into the coarse sand. She closed her eyes and focused her mind on the sound of the waves and the gulls in the distance. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled the blend of saltwater and earthy vegetation unique to the one place that could make any problem in her life feel minor and easy to overcome.

  Stage Four.

  Metastasis.

  Comfort measures.

  Words no sixteen year old should know circled through her mind on a scratchy repeat like a broken record player.

  Georgia had no idea how long she sat there, the outer picture of total peace, as the storm inside slowly settled. She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder, and her eyes lifted from the swelling tides in front of her to meet the weary eyes of her father.

  “Daddy, I don’t want to go.”

  His shoulders sagged and he dropped to the ground beside her. “It’s what your mom wants.”

  “Do you really think the doctors in North Carolina are going to be better than the ones here in Tampa?” she scoffed.

  Barry Marsh’s gaze fixed out on the horizon, and he rested his forearms on his raised knees, not answering for several minutes. “Pumpkin.” Her father’s pet name for her since infancy was barely more than a whisper. “It doesn’t matter how many or what kind of doctors your mom goes to. Not anymore.”

  A lump the size of a grapefruit lodged in Georgia’s throat. “Wha-what do you mean, Daddy?”

  He turned his bloodshot eyes to her and offered a haunted smile. “Mom…well, Mom didn’t want to tell you, Georgia, but she…” He sighed heavily, a deep crease forming between his brows. “She isn’t taking any more treatments. The chemotherapy makes her sick and weak. She doesn’t want to live the rest of her life that way. It’s not helping anyway. The spots keep growing—”

  Georgia clapped a hand over her mouth and choked out a sob.

  “She wants to go home, Pumpkin.” Matching tears streamed down his face. “She wants to be home and be close to Grandma and Grandpa. She wants you to have them.” His hand waved, encompassing the water in front of them, glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. “The mountains are for her what the ocean is for you.”

  She swiped the moisture creating trails down her cheeks. She swallowed back the anger, bitterness, fear, and every other emotion crashing against her battered heart like a wave from the gulf. “Then I guess we’re moving to North Carolina.”

  Chapter Three

  Wyatt

  Present Day

  The urge to laugh, throw his hat in the air, do an incredibly embarrassing victory dance, or some strange combination of the three was overwhelming. What were the chances the one person who made moving home to Asheville more appealing than any other option would be having lunch with him this soon?

  God bless his lucky hat. Six championship buckles couldn’t be wrong.

  The way the black pencil skirt hugged the curve of hips that were imprinted on his memory made his mouth go dry. His eyes trailed up over the pale pink satin blouse that she left unbuttoned at the neck, exposing just enough to make his fingers itch to open it the rest of the way and discover if her skin was still as soft as he remembered.

  The stormy expression on her face made his smile falter. Yeah, he remembered her temper too.

  Wyatt stood and swiped his hat from his head. “Hey there, Gigi.”

  Her full lips parted and her hand popped up on her hip, but before a word came out, her eyes fell on the older gentleman seated at the head of the long table. Her mouth snapped closed and twisted at the corner. “Good afternoon, Wyatt.”

  The ice that dripped from each syllable made it pretty damn clear that she didn’t mean a word of it, but the sound of his name on her lips still called his body to attention. He pulled the chair he’d been sitting in out a little farther and gestured for her to sit down in his place.

  Without a word, she ignored the proffered seat and crossed behind Elias Joseph sitting to his left, directly across the smooth, wooden surface from Wyatt. She set her tablet on the table and knit her hands together in front of her. His mouth jerked into an involuntarily grin. Damn, she was adorable when she was mad.

  Elias raised a bushy gray brow, and his eyes darted between the two of them as Wyatt resumed his seat. “You two know each other?”

  “You could—”

  “We went to high school together a million years ago,” Gigi smoothly cut in with a dismissive flick of her wrist before shooting him a fiery glance. “That’s all.”

  Wyatt’s smile completely evaporated. He wasn’t an idiot; he’d known a dozen years ago when he left if he ever had a chance to see her again she wouldn’t fall into his arms. She couldn’t. She still never knew… “Yeah.” He confirmed her downplaying of their relationship with a definitive nod. “Gigi and I went to high school together.”

  We also went to the movies. And dinner. And down by the lake where we—

  A vibration against his thigh cut through the haze of irritation, and he slid the phone from his pocket. He immediately regretted it when he saw his manager’s—former manager’s—name flash across the screen. Again. Undoubtedly another desperate attempt at getting Wyatt to change his mind.

  “Georgia. My name is Georgia.” She folded her arms across her chest and pinned him with an irritated glare, bringing his mind back to their present reality, which was far less exciting than the memories teasing him.

  He slid the phone back into place and rested his forearms on the long wooden table, leaning forward slightly. “I’ve never called you Georgia.”

  Her head tilted to the side, and straight, shining strands of her auburn hair fell over one shoulder. “You just never called.”

  Their eyes locked in silent battle. Damn, this wasn’t how he’d planned his first meeting with her going. He caught the worried look on Elias Joseph’s face in his peripheral vision as the man’s gaze darted back and forth between the two younger people seated on either side of him. He had definitely never expected an audience.

  The door behind Wyatt’s left shoulder opened again, and he held his breath, halfway afraid of who could possibly walk in next. The fourth grade teacher that he tormented by shooting spitballs into her frizzy, bleached blonde hair? The band director he pranked throughout high school? His life was turning into a bad reality show.

  When the waitress, clad in the black pants and crisp white shirt uniform of Monte Cello’s, quietly stepped through the door and immediately began setting up dishes, he released an audible sigh of relief.

  But his disobedient gaze couldn’t be held by the Caesar salad placed in front of him. His eyes devoured all things Gigi from the tapping of her French tip nails on the smooth veneer
of the table to the gentle tilt of her lips when she smiled at something Elias said.

  Everything about her had changed.

  And everything about her was exactly the same.

  He watched her slide the forkful of leafy greens into her mouth and thought he’d explode in his seat. Since when had a woman eating a salad been sexy? The answer quickly followed the question. Since Gigi.

  She moved her stylus over the tablet as she chewed. When her tongue darted out to lick a drop of the creamy dressing from the corner of her mouth, Wyatt hurried to shove a pile of lettuce in his own to silence the groan.

  “Elias, I think we should discuss the wisdom of aligning the company with Wy-Mr. Carlisle.” Her arctic stare caught his for a second before she turned to her boss, the polar ice caps in the hazel depths melting into puddles of warmth. “Privately.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes. Mr. Carlisle? Really? Yeah, she deserved to be pissed. He earned that. Expected it. But Mr. Carlisle was so ridiculous it was damn near funny more than insulting. “Now, Gigi, you know my name pretty damn well.” He winked, knowing it would infuriate her more. “You’ve said it plenty of times. And if you have any thoughts or…concerns about Joseph Boots and Apparel and my ranch coming to a mutually beneficial arrangement, I think it’s only fair that I’m here to listen and ease your worries.”

  Elias raised his brows and inclined his head. “He’s got a point there, Georgia. Man has a right to speak for himself.”

  Her nostrils flared, and her gaze narrowed at him. Damn. Pushing her buttons never got old, although the fun he had teasing her when they were kids might be better suited for after she forgave him. There wasn’t an “if” she did in his mind because failure wasn’t an option for Wyatt Carlisle. Especially not where Gigi was concerned.

  “Fine.” The word had never sounded so much like an epithet as it did through her clenched teeth. “JBA prides itself on being a family friendly company. We choose the athletes we sponsor and the retailers we partner with based on that principle.”

  Elias’ thinning gray head nodded along, and the admiration radiating from his eyes toward Gigi was evident. Wyatt couldn’t blame him in the slightest. When she squared her shoulders and began to speak, she commanded attention. And he was pretty damn proud of her.

  The corner of her mouth quirked up again with the agreement from her boss. “I will grant you that Mr. Carlisle has been an incredibly successful bull rider, won countless championships, and even set several records.”

  She paused, looking for all the world like she was filled with regret at the words she was about to speak. But Wyatt didn’t miss the flame of retribution that flashed in her eyes. “However, he also is photographed with a different supermodel at every event he attends, and his drunken antics have been the subject of more than one social media firestorm. I think those reasons are good enough to keep our name from being linked with his.”

  Hell and damnation. So that’s the card she was going to play. A small part of him was smug knowing she’d easily rattled off several very accurate and complimentary facts about him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind she had been following his career carefully to know these things.

  But she wasn’t right about his dating life. Well, not totally. It was so much more complicated than that. Every aspect of his life was carefully orchestrated from which companies he endorsed to which woman he dated. A fact he’d failed to realize until he’d stepped into the spotlight and everyone started begging for a piece of Wyatt Carlisle.

  He straightened in his seat just as the server set the chicken Marsala in front of him. “First of all, Ms. Marsh,” he paused and his eyes dropped to her left hand, fearful for a moment that she’d…but the bare finger forced air back into his empty lungs, “thank you for the compliments. While my championships are impressive, they aren’t countless. I’m afraid you’ve been sucked into the same falsehoods about my personal life every celebrity gossip magazine wants the world to believe. It isn’t half as exciting as it’s been portrayed. Even if it were, I’ve retired now. Mr. Joseph and I are working on a private venture separate from my former career.”

  Gigi’s mouth fell open, and Wyatt had to control his laughter. The green and gold eyes that he’d dreamed about more times than he would admit widened with a combination of shock and confusion.

  “Then why the hell are you here?” As soon as the words left her mouth, all the color drained from her face. “I’m so sorry for my language, Mr. Joseph. That was highly inappropriate—”

  The older man threw his head back with a loud chuckle. “Georgia, you gotta stop saying that Mr. Joseph stuff, and for cryin’ out loud, girl, don’t be afraid to speak your mind. You’ve more than proven your competency and natural talent.”

  A rosy blush blossomed on her cheeks, and Wyatt’s heart sped at the sight. His voice softened when he answered her. “I’m opening a training facility here. Teaching the next generation all the tricks of the trade from bull riding to lassoing and barrel racing. I’m going to have a competition to kick off the grand opening and Mr. Joseph—” The older man coughed, and Wyatt grinned. “I mean, Elias wants to be a sponsor of the competition and my supplier for merchandise for the ranch.”

  She lifted her fork to her lips and slowly chewed. Dammit, first the salad, now the chicken. He wouldn’t be able to make it through a meal with this woman.

  After several long moments of silence punctuated only by the occasional sound of the silverware against the china dishes, she nodded while shooting daggers at him with her eyes, unbeknownst to her boss. “I’ll have my team work on a marketing strategy. Perhaps some exclusive clothing only available at your training facility?”

  Wyatt grinned at her clipped tone and stiff posture and congratulated himself. Maybe he should’ve moved back a hell of a long time ago.

  ***

  Georgia

  Present Day

  The sun glinting off the deep plum-colored Jeep in her driveway caught Georgia’s attention as soon as she turned onto her street. A small bit of the tension in her shoulders eased as she pulled her red Infiniti next to it. She gave herself a moment to breathe before collecting the files she brought home with her and her cumbersome red snakeskin laptop case.

  If she were still living in Tampa, she’d have simply spent a few extra hours at the office so she could keep her home the stress-free sanctuary she loved. She bit her bottom lip as she crossed the threshold and groaned in relief as she kicked off her heels.

  A messy bun of strawberry blonde curls bopped around in the kitchen, and Georgia couldn’t help but grin. One that melted into uncontainable laughter as her best friend jumped ten feet in the air when Georgia tapped her shoulder.

  Paige pressed a hand to her heart and popped one of the earbuds free. “Dammit, Georgie, you scared the shit out of me.”

  She pointed at the bottle sitting on the island. “Is that a Vinho Verde?”

  Paige rolled her emerald eyes. “Did we just meet?”

  “I have had a day from hell. My vote will firmly be that we set our goal for the evening to polish off this and the bottle of red I’m sure you tucked away somewhere.” She crossed into the living room, grabbing the glass of white wine her best friend held out to her on the way, and sank into the couch.

  Georgia took a long sip of the wine, savoring the peach and green apple flavors. She stared sightlessly at the blank screen of the fifty-four-inch television hanging on the wall across the room, barely registering when Paige sat down close to her. “How has she been today?”

  An impish grin curled Paige’s lips. “Same as always. Sassy as hell and ready to blow this popsicle stand to join a circus somewhere.”

  The first genuine laugh in her tumultuous day escaped Georgia’s mouth, and she tilted her head on the firm back of the sofa. She held her glass midair, knowing her best friend wouldn’t fail to clink against it in a sardonic toast. “Here’s to feisty patients and ex-boyfriends coming back from the depths they were banished to.”

&nbs
p; “So…” Her friend drew out the single word. “He isn’t fat and bald with bad BO, is he?”

  “Nope.” She popped her lips on the “P” with extra emphasis. Breaking every self-imposed rule, Georgia stretched her legs out and rested her feet on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. “Not fat. Not bald. He smelled like cedar wood. And musk.” Her head hit the back couch. “And dirty, dirty thoughts.”

  “Asshole.”

  Georgia snorted and emptied most of her glass with one deep gulp. “No kidding.”

  Paige took a smaller sip, angled her knee onto the cushion, and turned to face Georgia. “What are we going to do about this?”

  Not certain she wanted to discuss the stupid freaking cowboy who had lurked in the back of her mind and heart for twelve years and now had been brought violently to the forefront, she twirled the stem between her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t think we need to do anything. The fair just ended and I can’t imagine her Googling to find the nearest circus.”

  The other woman’s lips twisted to the side, and she blinked slowly three times. “You’re hysterical. I can handle her. It’s him we need to discuss. Specifically what are we going to do about him?”

  One simple sentence summed up everything Georgia loved about her best friend. They were in this together, and she knew Paige would keep her from doing anything stupid. Like falling into Wyatt’s arms and begging him to hold her and make the past twelve years disappear. Or at least the last two. Definitely the last two.

  An involuntary grin spread across her face that dissolved into a slightly hysterical bubble of laughter. If Wyatt had been in the picture when everything exploded, there was a very good chance Bruce would be walking with a permanent limp. Damn, why did he have to pop back up two years too late?

  Paige plucked the empty glass from her hand. “Okay, clearly you need food before more wine.” She carried it into the kitchen and began rattling around in Georgia’s cabinets. “Go take a shower and change. I’ll make something.”