MisTaken: A Novella Read online

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Laurelin Paige

  As it is with any book, this one was not born alone. There are too many people to name all the ones I’d like to acknowledge, but there are a few thank-yous that are essential.

  First and foremost, to Kayti McGee, my work-wife—I’ll say it again and again: don’t cowrite, but if you do, cowrite with Kayti. You are the wine to my empty glass. The Miss to my Match. You are brilliant and shiny in all the places that I am not. I look forward to all the places this journey takes us together.

  To our editor, Eileen Rothschild—I was so nervous to talk to you that first time on the phone, and then you were absolutely everything I ever wanted in an editor. Thank you for sharing our quirky enthusiasm for this series. It wouldn’t have been the same experience with anybody else.

  To the team at St. Martin’s Press—What a great group to work with! Thank you for inviting us into and embracing us in your tight-knit family.

  To Bob Diforio for making this deal happen and Rebecca Friedman for deals yet to be made. It’s the best feeling to have wonderful people in your corner.

  To Shanyn for keeping me together and KP for putting us together. It’s an honor to be called an InkSlinging Author.

  To Lisa—You gave me your idea. Ideas are gold. With this, you’ve given me the biggest gift anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.

  To Bethany—You ferry me through all the dark places. A particularly hard task when we both love the dimly lit moors so much. There’s a well of gratitude in my heart for you that never runs dry.

  To Gennifer—You named our book! It’s perfect. Thank you for that and more.

  The women who wrangle me—Wrahm, Naturals, FYW, and others (you know who you are): I make it through my days because of you. I also get distracted a lot because of you, but that’s another story.

  To my husband, Tom—Though I tease you for being flighty, you are my rock. Thank you for being so solid.

  To my children—I’m so proud of all you are. I hope you see me as an example for making your own dreams come true. I love you, my babies.

  To Mom—Finally, here’s a book I’ll let you read. Thanks for your never-ending support. Love you.

  To my Maker—Praise is always on my heart, even when it’s absent on my tongue.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Kayti McGee

  First and foremost—Laurelin Paige. You took me on this crazy journey, for no other reason than that you are God’s angel on earth. No one can possibly convince me you aren’t the best person I have ever had the honor to meet, much less call my friend. I’m inspired by you every day, to write better, be more, be better. I love you so much. You are grace and generosity and talent personified.

  Eileen Rothschild took a chance on us that I could never have imagined, and then turned out to be the most badass editor ever. Bob DiForio sold her that chance, and Natalie Lakosil was so charmed by my Dream Dr Who Team (I assume) that she looked past my horribly awkward weirdness to become my agent. I am so lucky to have the best people in the business on my team.

  My mom taught me that reading is more important than anything, and without that I would never have become a writer. Dad, Kerry, Laura, and Dann backed that up. McGrigsby’s!

  My friends: Sara, my bestie, my first reader and still the prettiest. M Pierce, you redefined what friendship is for me. I’m so proud to be pub-siblings with such an incredible author and friend. Thank you for everything. The WrAHM girls, the Order, the Dirty Laundresses, Melanie Harlow, Gennifer Albin, Tamara Mataya, my guy, Tyler, my lunch buddy Jen, my late-night buddy Leah. I couldn’t live without our constant contact. I have to especially mention Bethany Hagen’s perfect edits, and Lisa Otto’s perfect idea. You truly made this all happen, and for that, no thanks can be enough.

  CHAPTER 1

  Jaylene didn’t even wait for her date to get out and open her door before she stepped out of the car. He seemed to be polished enough to attempt to do so, but she wasn’t that type of girl, which was probably a lot of the reason the night had gone so terribly. Even if it wasn’t the reason, she wanted to be out and gone from his arrogant presence ASAFP.

  Yeah, the date had definitely not been one of the best, even based on her track record. And she had a bone to pick about that very subject. A blind date, what had she been thinking? But having her neighbor as a matchmaker was just too strange to pass up. Seriously, who had a matchmaker for a neighbor? She hadn’t even realized they still existed.

  Perhaps that should have been a warning sign. The whole thing was actually … archaic, now that she thought about it. Especially when she’d been set up with that guy. Never mind what she’d been thinking. What had her matchmaker neighbor been thinking?

  Instead of climbing the stairs to her own brownstone apartment, she headed straight to the one next door, intent on picking that bone right then. Jaylene Kim had never been the type to procrastinate. She eyed the group of guys drinking beers on the stoop as she approached. When she’d left to meet Blake Donovan for her disastrous dinner she’d seen the men carrying a sofa into the building. Which one—or ones—of them were moving in?

  The scruffy one with the shaggy hair caught her gaze. Oh, God, please let it be him. He was too beautiful to not have a girlfriend—or boyfriend, they were in the hippie part of town—but who the hell cared? She didn’t expect to cuddle up with him. Just having him as next-door scenery would be scrumptious.

  Scrump. Tious.

  But even the face of a potential hot new neighbor was not enough to distract from her mission. “Excuse me,” she said, stepping between the men to get to the door of the building. A couple of them nodded a hello as she passed. The cute one, however, he remained straight-faced, uninterested. Too bad.

  Though, when she threw a glance back at him over her shoulder, she found him staring after her, a shy smile curling on his lips. Damn, if that didn’t send shivers down her spine. There was nothing like the sight of a beautiful man. See how her nipples perked up in this guy’s presence? Take that, Blake Donovan, aka blind date from hell.

  She grinned smugly to herself as she walked through the door and started up the stairs toward the Dawson unit. When she caught sight of the sisters outside their door, a basket of laundry in each one’s arms, her smile vanished and her eyes blazed.

  Pausing in her tracks, she pointed an accusing finger at the elder. “You!”

  Lacy, the younger sister, looked up from her task of unlocking the door one-handedly. “What did I do?”

  “Not you,” Jaylene said. She gestured to Andy who was attempting to hide behind her mane of auburn curls. “Her.”

  Lacy turned to face her sister. “What did you do to piss off Jaylene?”

  Andy shrugged. As if she were innocent. As if she didn’t know what she’d done.

  “Hey, you two know each other?” Andy asked befor
e Jaylene could commence her attack.

  Lacy scowled at the question. “We’re neighbors, doof.”

  “But she’s not in our building.” Andy was clearly trying to deflect the spotlight from herself. “And you don’t know any of the other neighbors by name except Mrs. Brandy and that’s only because she’s over here once a week to scream about the volume of your stereo.”

  “Jay’s different.” Lacy winked at her. “She’s cool. She used to be running buddies with Lance. They did the marathon a couple of times.”

  At the mention of Lacy’s late fiancé, Jaylene found her temper cooling a degree or two. But only out of respect for the dead, not because she actually felt any less pissed at Andrea Dawson. Truthfully, she hadn’t known what to say to Lacy after her loss and had spent most of the last year avoiding her. Guilt kept her from mentioning Lacy when she’d met Andy. It was no wonder that Andy didn’t realize the neighbors had once had a connection.

  Lacy cocked her head, her eyes focused on Jaylene. “Wanna come in? We’re planning a laundry-folding party, which will not be the finest of the parties I’ve thrown, I admit, but we do have wine.”

  Without hesitation, Jaylene resumed her walk up the steps. “Don’t mind if I do. I’ve never needed a drink so badly in my life.” As Lacy turned back to the doorknob, Jaylene narrowed her eyes at Andy. “Besides, your sister and I have a beef to settle. And I’m not folding her laundry.”

  She didn’t think she imagined the scared squeak that escaped Andy’s lips. Good. She should be afraid. Very afraid.

  By the time Jaylene had made it up the rest of the stairs, Lacy had managed to get the door open, and both sisters were already inside the apartment.

  “I’ll open a bottle,” Andy said, setting her basket of clothing down next to the couch. “What kind would you like?”

  Though Andy was now pretending everything was copacetic between them, Jaylene recognized the offer as an attempt to escape her company. That was fine. It would only be momentary. Jay could wait to start her persecution.

  “What do you have?” she asked in a pleasant tone. Two could play the nothing’s-up game.

  “A reddish kind and a less reddish kind.”

  With a sigh, Lacy interjected. “Andy’s basically clueless when it comes to wine. We have a Merlot or a Zin.”

  “Definitely Merlot then.” The deep red would be a fitting color to accompany the bloody murder about to take place. Luckily there were freshly washed towels to mop up with.

  “Got it,” Andy said, scurrying to the kitchen. “And good choice! It has a nice finish.” Clear bullshit. All wines had a nice finish, if you said so.

  “Grab some chips or something, too,” Lacy called after her as she kicked off her flip-flops. She nodded to Jaylene and gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat. I’m dying to hear what my sister possibly could have done to get you over to my apartment after nine P.M. on a school night.”

  Jaylene’s early teaching schedule and even earlier training program put her in bed before ten on most evenings. Deciding she’d skip her morning run, she’d made an exception for tonight’s date. She would have been insane not to after she’d seen the picture of Blake Donovan. He was beyond attractive, and Andy’s description of the rich, self-made bachelor had him sounding like quite a catch.

  Now that she’d met Blake in person, she remembered that things that seemed too good to be true usually were. Because even though the person she’d met was rich, savvy, and attractive, he was not a catch. He was a nightmare.

  As Andy would well have known. “Just wait until you hear.” Jay leaned back into the mismatched throw pillows Lacy had stitched out of thrift-shop dresses. Despite her irritation, Jay quickly felt comfy in Lacy’s bohemian-styled apartment. She was perfectly happy with her own IKEA and fair-trade stuff, but it was fun to let her eyes roam over all the goofy little knickknacks and art pieces her neighbor matched together.

  “You’ve got my attention,” Lacy said, matching a pair of fuzzy socks from her laundry basket then pinning her eyes on Jay. “Please, tell all.”

  Andy reentered the living room then with a bottle, a few mason jars, and a box of crackers balanced in the crook of her arm. Jaylene had eaten a meal on that jerk’s dime, but she was going to polish off the box of crackers, too, just on principle. Wine poured, Andy took a tentative seat on an armchair across from the couch.

  It would almost be worth it to let the woman suffer. But Jaylene couldn’t hold in her wrath any longer. She leveled her glare at Andy. “Blake. Donovan.” She let the two words settle, enjoying Andy’s squirm. The two didn’t know each other well. They’d only met because of a piece of mail delivered to the wrong address, but Jay figured that since she was Lacy’s sister, she had to be cool.

  After her date with Blake Donovan, she wasn’t so sure.

  “Well, that name says everything,” Lacy said, scowling at her sister. “What were you thinking, Andy?” Her sister’s eyes darted away.

  Jay continued the interrogation. “Did you actually imagine we’d hit it off, or was this your idea of a sick joke? Have I inadvertently offended you in some way?”

  At least Andy had the grace to look ashamed. “No, I thought maybe you two would have a nice time.”

  Lacy chortled. “You obviously don’t know Jay very well.”

  Andy sat straighter on her perch. “Admittedly, I don’t know much about Jaylene. But she passed the initial screening points. They’re both into exercise.” She turned to Jay. “You seem to be driven. So is he. You thought his picture was attractive.” Her eyes fell to her hands where she fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “He likes Asians.…”

  The picture snapped into focus. “Are you suggesting that you set me up on a date with a guy who likes Asians simply because I’m the only Korean you know? That is so racist. And actually explains a lot.”

  “I’m not racist!” Andy’s head snapped up. “I just thought this would be an easy match. He should have been quite taken with you. I don’t like this job, and the quicker I can leave with a bonus, the better.”

  Jaylene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Could this day possibly get any weirder? “You’re planning to stay at this until you marry the guy off? You can’t possibly think you’ll find someone for him. You must be kidding me.” That called for a refill.

  “I wish I was kidding.” Andy grabbed for a notebook and pen off of the coffee table and slid into the corner of the sofa. “So if it went that badly, I’m afraid I’m going to need to know every last detail. Top me up, too, will you?”

  Andy did look sort of pained. That was good. Because, job or not, Jay was going to describe her awful evening so Andy knew just how much she owed her. This ought to be good for a couple of more wine nights, and maybe even some cat-sitting while she was at her ex-roommate’s wedding next month.

  Pleased with the thought, Jaylene settled back into the cushions and began. “I got to the restaurant early. Because there was still a good half hour before our reservation, I thought I’d sit at the bar and grade some papers over a drink while I waited. It was a hot day, as you know, so I ordered a Sam Adams.”

  “Always a good choice.” Lacy grinned. “Sorry, go on.”

  “I was halfway through yet another tedious and mundane essay about how Catcher in the Rye changed this student’s life when this gorgeous man sits down next to me. I recognized him from the pictures right away. I hold out my hand for a shake—he doesn’t take it.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t notice,” Andy offered.

  “Oh, he noticed, all right. He stared at my hand and said ‘Jamie?’ in this curt tone that said he didn’t approve of my name.”

  Andy waved her hand dismissively. “He seems to have a thing about names fitting the way a person looks or acts. He calls me Drea. Best just to ignore it.”

  “Well, it isn’t my name, now is it? I told him he could call me Jay.” Because to hell with a guy deciding what a woman should be called. Maybe she needed to invite Andy to her mon
thly Femme Power group meeting. Anyway. “His gaze went from my hand—still just hanging there, mind you—to the beer. And I think that must have been the moment he decided I was gay.”

  Her story was interrupted by a guffaw from Lacy. “You? With the trail of broken-hearted men you’ve left in your wake? That’s rich. Andy’s boss is an idiot. I suppose he thinks only lesbians drink beer?”

  “Bingo.” Jay touched her nose. “He actually said something similar to that later on, but we’re still at the bar right now, me holding my hand out like an idiot, thinking he has to take it at some point because who does that? Well, he does that. He actually turned around and started walking to the table without ever acknowledging my unshook shake.”

  “Unshook Shake sounds like a song title.” Lacy grabbed her acoustic guitar and started strumming softly. “I’ll credit you, though.”

  “I wait a second before following him, because I have to grab the papers I was working on and stick them back in my briefcase. I get over to the table and he’s sitting in the shady spot. I try to scoot my chair so the sun isn’t shining directly in my eyes, but he says, get this, ‘I prefer you sit across from me.’” She took another swig of wine and shook her head. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually followed his instructions instead of insisting on another table, or better yet, leaving. But she’d been taken completely off-guard, and just sort of went with it.

  Also, the man was attractive. Beautiful men were definitely her weakness. Such a contradiction to the foundation of her being.

  She shook her head—if her thoughts spiraled into all the stupid things she’d done for beautiful men and the bitterness she had at herself regarding that fault of hers, she’d never get her story finished. “So the server drops off a glass of wine and an iced tea. That’s when I realize he’d ordered drinks for the both of us while I was putting papers away. And that he had taken the liberty of ordering me tea while he’s drinking something fancy enough to require the waiter to watch him sniff, swirl, and sip.”