Page 4 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

“Sorry,” I mumble, pausing mid-crinkle. My fingers hover over the bag as I debate what to do. I know the sound is irritating—it’s irritating me, too—but now I’m stuck. I can’t not finish opening it. Leaving it half open feels...wrong.

I try again, slower this time, hoping to keep the noise down. It doesn’t work. The sound feels like it’s echoing inside my skull, every crackle grating against my nerves and upping my anxiety, which means it’s got to be doing the same in multitudes for the angel sitting in the car beside me.

“Could you not?” she says, sharper now.

My cheeks burn, and I crinkle the bag shut, shoving it into the cup holder. “Gummy bears are overrated anyway.”

I try not to look her way. Something in me has been triggered, and I can feel my own storm bubbling underneath the surface.

I need to calm down. I flex my fingers in front of me, tapping each one in sequence—thumb to index, index to middle, all the way to pinky, then back again.

The rhythm is familiar, soothing, but not enough to calm the heat rising in my chest .

I catch her glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, her scowl softening. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” The lie is automatic, but my voice is tight, clipped. I tap my fingers together again, faster this time, needing the motion to anchor me.

I can feel her watching me, so I switch gears.

Well, kind of. It’s not me choosing to switch—it’s my OCD making me.

My brain latches onto something new, something urgent.

Now, I think I need to check my wallet. Do I have it?

I reach back, my fingers brushing over the outline in my pocket. It’s there, but that’s not enough.

I pull it out, flipping it open to double-check. Cards, cash, ID—all accounted for. Still, I snap it shut and tap it against my thigh, my mind whispering that I might have missed something. So I do it again.

“What’s going on?” Mabel’s voice cuts through my thoughts, cautious but curious. “Did you lose something?”

“You’re making me nervous.” Am I covering with that response? Yes, but it’s not fully a lie.

She sighs. “I don’t mean to.”

I can feel my pulse slowing, so I keep my focus on my seatmate. I know from times in the past, this can help take me out of my own head so I can breathe again. And, if we’re being honest, she does scare me a little, but in a good way.

“It’s fine,” I manage, waving a hand in the air to prove how fine it is. “I am a man who can handle my nerves.”

Joe chokes on something in the front seat as she looks at the floor. “I’m just anxious about coming home, okay?”

I decide to glaze over the moment of vulnerability. I’ve come up against women like Mabel, and the last thing you do is call them out on it. “Well, you do scare me, but it’s not all bad. You seem focused.”

“Focused.” She chuckles. “I’ll take it.”

Her lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, but before I can press my advantage, Joe slams on the brakes, throwing me into the back of the front seat.

“Farm stand!” he announces, veering into a gravel parking lot. “Need eggs for the wife. Do you guys want any?”

Mabel and I exchange a look as we both shake our heads. Joe shrugs. “Your loss. Be right back.”

The door slams, leaving me alone with Mabel in what has just become the world’s smallest backseat.

“So,” I say, leaning back casually. “What brought Mabel from Maple Falls back to town? Maple Fest?”

She scoffs. “I’m here for work, not a festival.”

“Oof.” I tap my chest. “So all work and no fun when you’re in town?”

“This town puts the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. “So probably not.”

I chuckle, but before I can respond, Joe returns and climbs back into the driver’s seat, triumphantly holding a carton of eggs. “Fresh as they come!”

He sets the carton on the passenger seat, then pulls back out onto the road, swerving the car slightly. Mabel grips the door handle like it’s her lifeline, glaring at him. “Please be careful, I still have a life to live.”

Her snark is a great distraction from the low-grade panic simmering under my skin. I press my palms flat against my thighs, grounding myself, trying to ignore the way the week’s chaos has thrown everything off balance.

Canceled flights, new town, and my gear missing in transit.

The second I landed here, my brain started buzzing, running endless loops of what-ifs I can’t shut off.

What if my skates don’t make it? What if I can’t perform in front of this new team?

And now, I’m planted in close proximity with the most gorgeous woman…

who is making my palms sweat. Who am I? And what if I burp in front of her?

I can’t even remember if I put on deodorant .

“Earth to Asher,” Mabel says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I blink, startled, and meet her narrowed eyes. “Sorry, what?”

“I said, where are you from?” She’s watching me like she’s trying to figure something out.

“Toronto,” I say, slipping easily back into my easygoing persona. “But I’ve been all over. I was in Virginia before I came here, but I was only there for a few months.”

“From the East Coast to...this,” she says, waving vaguely at the windshield as we drive into Maple Falls.

“Hockey’s hockey.” I shrug. “And from what I’ve seen since I got here, this town has charm.”

She kind of laughs, kind of shakes her head. “If your idea of charm is bake sales and nosy neighbors, then yes, Asher, it’s very charming.”

“You’re not convincing me.”

“I don’t work for the local tourism department, nor am I a travel blogger fulfilling a contract, so I don’t have to,” she says. The grin that takes over tells me she is pleased with her response.

“You’re witty,” I acknowledge, taking in the small-town vibes as we make our way down what I would assume is Main Street. “Come on. This place is adorable.”

She turns to me, and for the first time, there’s a spark of something in her eyes—annoyance, curiosity…maybe both.

Joe cuts into my thoughts as he slows the car, pulling up in front of the town’s impressive arena. “This is your stop, Asher.”

“Yes, it is.” I reach for the door handle, pausing to glance at Mabel. “Nice talking to you, Mabel. Hope you get that tooth taken care of and fast.”

She doesn’t bother hiding her eye roll, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching. “I’ll survive.”

There’s something to this woman. In the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I’ve seen her sourpuss side, but I wonder what would happen if I threw some sugar at her?

She’s like Ikea to me; I love the idea of a flat pack—it does intrigue me and I feel good when I’ve put together some crazy bookshelf—but the instructions that come with it do my head in.

Anyway, she’s got her things to do in town, like I’ve got mine.

As I step out, Joe follows suit and opens the trunk.

He hands me my bags and the weight of what lies ahead, not just today but moving forward, crashes back over me as he dips his head goodbye and gets back in the SUV.

The jokes, the smiles, the easy banter—it’s all for show, keeping everything else buried.

New town, new team, new expectations. No one here knows me, and that’s both a blessing and a curse.

Before I take another step, a smooth whirring sound cuts through the air like a dramatic pause in a gangster flick.

I turn around to find the rear window slowly lowering, revealing Mabel, leaning slightly to one side as if she’s about to issue a decree.

The morning sunlight hits her face at just the right angle, making her look less like the grump I’d sat beside for the last chunk of time and more like she’s about to order someone to “take care of business.”

“Hey, Asher,” she says. “I want to be transparent with you. We’re going to see each other again.”

“Oh?” Now this is a welcome wagon. I lean against the SUV, ready to put on my full-charm appeal for a date with this one. “So either you’re alluding to the fact this town is really that small or are you saying…”

“I’m a reporter for Athletic Edge ,” she interrupts, popping my daydream and bringing me back to reality. “I’m here covering the Ice Breakers, and I’ve been tasked with interviewing you for a quote or two for the story.”

“Okay then,” I say, letting this new information wash over me. “So, what you’re saying is you need my number?”

“Please. I’ve already got it.” She grins. “You’ll hear from me soon.”

With that, she leans back into her seat, a slow, deliberate retreat into shadow, while the window glides up like the closing act of a perfectly staged mob drama.

It’s a boss move, no doubt about it, and she leaves me standing here, equal parts intrigued and exasperated, staring after the SUV as if it’s chauffeuring Maple Falls’ most eccentric crime lord.

Who is this snaggled-tooth storm of a woman?

I take a deep breath and wave to Joe as the car pulls away, the tiniest part of me hoping that Mabel is watching from the backseat.

Stupid to think it, really. She’s the kind of woman my mother would tell me to watch out for, yet there’s a dip in my stomach as the vehicle pulls out of the parking lot.

As the pair disappears down the street, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s not just passing through my life.

People like Mabel don’t just come and go; they arrive with purpose and usually leave a mark.

And something tells me, whatever mark she’s here to leave, it’s going to be impossible to ignore.