THE BEST KIND OF MISTAKE Read online

  THE BEST KIND OF MISTAKE

  Jasmin Miller

  The Best Kind Of Mistake

  Copyright © 2018 by Jasmin Miller

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without the prior written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a piece of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, things, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’d like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Jasmin Miller 2018

  [email protected]

  www.jasminmiller.com

  Editing: Jenn Wood, All About The Edits

  Proofreading: Judy Zweifel, www.judysproofreading.com

  Cover Designer: Decadent Designs by Dee

  Contents

  Introduction

  Author’s note

  1. Ember

  2. Logan

  3. Ember

  4. Logan

  5. Ember

  6. Logan

  7. Ember

  8. Logan

  9. Ember

  10. Logan

  11. Ember

  12. Logan

  13. Ember

  14. Logan

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of Baking With A Rockstar

  Keep in touch

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Best Kind Of Mistake

  Life regret number one: Moving into an apartment where all I hear are the moans coming from my downstairs neighbor’s apartment. It’s pretty obvious what’s happening behind those doors, which is even more frustrating when you aren’t getting any action yourself.

  To make matters worse, I got fired from my job, and my savings account is pathetic. That means I can’t eat my body weight in donuts, even if I wanted to…and I really want to. Thanks to my sister, though, I have a new work opportunity lined up, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything to lose this one. Until I realize my new boss, Logan, is none other than my sex god of a neighbor.

  Keeping my ever-growing attraction to him in check proves to be a lot harder than I thought, especially with my knowledge of his extracurricular activities. When my new job as his photography assistant keeps throwing us together—sometimes completely eliminating our personal space—I find it more and more difficult to remember why I’m supposed to stay away from him.

  Hi, I’m Ember Keaton, and I suck at adulting.

  Author’s note

  Thanks so much for picking up my novella The Best Kind Of Mistake. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The story will end at around 92%, followed by an excerpt of my novel Baking With A Rockstar. Happy reading! :)

  1

  Ember

  Tall, muscular, and handsome as hell.

  Check, check, and check.

  Dang it.

  Why does the very person I hate the most right now have to be this hot? Good thing his behavior is the best anti-attraction method there is. I mean, who likes a person that keeps you awake at night because he’s having super loud sex marathons in the apartment right below you? Maybe some people do, but I’m not one of them. I have dignity and class, and… Okay, maybe I’m just grumpy and sleep-deprived.

  “Ember, are you even listening? You have that glassy look on your face.” My sister doesn’t hide the annoyance in her voice, but it’s still not enough to pull my gaze away from the troublemaker, a.k.a. my neighbor across the street. He’s just come out of our apartment building with a hot blonde on his arm, slapping her butt as they part ways.

  What a pig.

  They walk out of sight for a moment, and I reluctantly turn around to face my sister, Evelyn, who is now clicking her fingernails on the metal table in the café we’re sitting in.

  I have to admit there are definitely advantages to living across the street from a café. I can meet up with family members or friends here instead of them coming to my place, where they’d inspect every last corner. Plus, the coffee and pastries are delicious. And, as it turns out, it’s also a prime spot for stalking my neighbor.

  Evelyn holds up a manicured finger. “Wait a second. Is that the guy you told me about?” She cranes her neck so far, I’m worried she might get seriously hurt. “Oh my goodness. I think I have to come here more often.” She fans her face with the menu while we both stare after him and his fantastic butt, as he strolls down the street to slip into a shiny, black sports car.

  I gape at her. “You’re married, Eve.”

  She shrugs and brings her eyes back to me once the car is out of sight. “Calm down there, tiger, I was only looking. I’m obviously not blind, am I?” She stirs her coffee, and after putting the spoon on the napkin, she picks it up, her dark red fingernails a stark contrast to the white coffee cup. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Was that him? Your hot neighbor?”

  Since I don’t need my sister on my case, I try to act totally blasé. “Who said anything about him being hot? But yes, I’m pretty certain that was him from the few glimpses I’ve caught of him so far.” Then I look her straight in the eye. “You know, I could tell you for sure if he’d moan for us.”

  Her eyes widen for a second before she chokes on her drink. She sets the cup down on the metal table and grabs the little, yellow napkin to wipe away a few drops of coffee that are running down her chin before they hit her blouse. “You’re so bad, Em.”

  “What? I’m only telling the truth.” I play with the cherry danish on my plate, ripping off a generous piece before popping it into my mouth. Sweet heaven, it’s delicious. “I’m just saying, I feel like I’d recognize that in a lineup. It would need to be an audible lineup rather than a visible one.” I look past her to where his car disappeared a few minutes ago. “Do you think they’ve ever done something like that at the police station? Identification by moaning. Interesting thought, really.”

  My sister gives me a contorted look, making it seem like she can’t decide if she’s amused or shocked. After shaking her head for a moment, she grins. “You’re impossible.” When she looks down at her watch a moment later, I know we’re done with the topic. “I have to leave soon to pick up the kids, so let’s focus on the important things for a minute. Your new job.”

  She says it like my neighbor and his sex life aren’t important, even though it’s pretty much all I can think about these days. The moans are literally haunting me, day and night.

  Fingers snap in front of me, and I drag my attention back to her. “Okay, okay. Sorry. Job. Money. Important. Got it. I’m listening.”

  “I hope so. And please don’t screw this up. Joanna Ardennes has been a very good client of mine, providing me with the most beautiful pictures over the last few years, and I’d like to keep it that way. She already knows about your hair, so that won’t be a problem, at least.” Taking a long look at my hair—a pretty pink—she fixes her gaze straight at me. “So please, no more sudden and drastic changes in your appearance anytime soon, all right?”

  I know she means it when she squints her eyes the slightest bit. Not that I blame her. Evelyn is a whiz when it comes to creating artsy stuff on the computer. She can whip up the coolest and most beautiful book designs faster than my parents’ fat cat can chase a laser beam. (What can I say? When I still lived at home, I got bored sometimes, and he is pretty fat.) Anyway, of course I wouldn’t want my sister to lose some of her business because of me. And, I’m really not as bad as she makes me sound.

  “You know, it’s not my fault they didn’t like my hair at the office. It’s just a color. They acted like I was doing something offensive, like running around naked, or something extreme like that.” I shrug, trying to let the last bit of disappointment I’ve felt over being fired go since I didn’t like the job that much anyway. It did pay the bills, though, and I loved that fact a lot.

  She presses her lips together in a tight line and tilts her head to the side. She looks so much like our mom when she does this, but I wouldn’t dream of mentioning that little fact. Yes, we both love our mother, but she’s a bit much most days. “Ember, do we have to talk about this again?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I look down for a moment, focusing on my black nail polish that’s been peeling off for a few days now.

  Evelyn lets out a small sigh. “I totally get that you want to express yourself and do whatever you feel like. But when it comes to your job, it’s sadly not always that easy. We can be happy that Joanna is one of the most laid-back people I’ve ever had the pleasure of doing business with—which is the only reason why I’d even consider letting you loose on her. And since she needs someone right now, the job is yours, so no funny business.”

  I smack her arm and bump into the table in the process, making everything on it rattle in protest. “Hey. I’m not that bad.”

  “No, usually, you aren’t. Honestly, though, I think this job will be good for you. You’ve a
lways loved photography, and she’s one of the best around. I forwarded you all the paperwork she emailed me.” Evelyn’s smiling now, as she pulls a piece of paper out of her purse. Her finger taps on it for a moment before she pushes it across the table, holding it down for another second before she lets it go. “Here’s the address. Three p.m. today. Don’t be late.”

  * * *

  Speed-walking down the sidewalk toward the address my sister gave me, I silently curse.

  I promised Evelyn I wouldn’t be late. Thankfully, it’s only a few minutes. Okay, make that fifteen. Trying to find a parking spot in downtown Santa Barbara is a bitch, and I’m fully aware that I should have left home earlier. But thanks to my overactive neighbor and his nighttime activities, I was so exhausted I fell asleep on the couch. Let’s hope my first impression won’t be as bad as I imagine it to be.

  When I finally reach the studio, I take a moment to catch my breath. It probably won’t help my case if I waltz in there sounding like a steam engine. I take several deep breaths, looking up at the blue sky and the giant palm trees that are gently swaying in the barely there breeze, silently begging my body to calm down and my nerves to go away. Usually, I love it here. Looking at the gorgeous, Spanish-derivative architecture, with the red tile roofs and the white stucco walls, always has a calming effect on me.

  Today—not so much. My heart is still hammering like a sledgehammer beneath my rib cage, trying to break free in earnest. Giving up on my calming efforts, I spin on my red heels and walk straight into suite number six that says Ardennes Photo Studio in big letters on the door.

  Let’s do this.

  2

  Logan

  “Don’t be such a grump, Logan. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” My mom shakes her head at me, tsking under her breath, but I can see the corners of her mouth twitch. Her laid-back attitude has always driven me a little crazy, especially when it’s related to her business. In my world, people have been fired for only being a couple minutes late. My mom’s attitude couldn’t be more opposite of what I’m used to.

  “You’re too good to everyone, Mom.” I shake the piece of paper her way that I picked up from the coffee table earlier. “The biggest proof is right here. When did you update your prices last? It’s outrageous that people don’t pay you more for your work.”

  She walks across the length of the front room of her studio space to where I sit on one of the couches, looking through the portfolio and packages she offers to clients. Sinking into the cushion next to me, she pats my forearm. “Those prices are completely normal for portrait and wedding photography. Don’t be so nitpicky about that; not everyone can be a successful fashion photographer like my awesome son.” The proud smile she gives me goes straight to my gut, immediately making me feel like a jerk.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I just know how good you are. I mean, I learned everything I know from you, and I think you deserve more than what you’re asking for.” I put the folder back on the coffee table in front of us, just as the bell above the door chimes.

  My mother gets up the second she sees the woman walking in. “Ember, there you are. I’m so happy you’re here.”

  The other woman, Ember, looks startled for a moment—probably surprised by the enthusiastic welcome—before smiling widely at my mother. They laugh about something I can’t hear, already grinning at each other like they’re best friends. My mother says something that makes Ember look at me. Our gazes connect for the shortest moment, and her eyes go as wide as saucers before she focuses back on my mother. Her gaze keeps flickering in my direction, her eyes a little wild every time they land on me.

  What on earth is up with that? I haven’t even said a word to her, and she looks like she’s ready to bolt at the sheer sight of me.

  After a moment, they walk over to me, and I stand up reluctantly when my mother gives me a look—the “you better get your butt up and be nice right now or you’ll hear about it later” look.

  “Ember, this is my son, Logan. Logan, this is Ember, your new assistant.” My mom swings her hand around between us in a fancy wave as if she didn’t just drop a major bomb on me—in front of this stranger, knowing full well I won’t be able to do a thing about it unless I want to cause a scene. This is the first time I’m hearing about any “assistant” stuff, and I’m close to wanting to strangle the woman who gave birth to me.

  It takes me a few solid seconds before my manners kick in, and I stretch out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ember.”

  I quickly notice she seems to be one of those people who wear their emotions on their face. Her eyebrows are still high up on her forehead, and she might as well be catching flies with her open mouth. If I’m not wrong, it seems like I might not be the only one my mom tricked into this new business relationship. It’s either that or Ember has seen a ghost I’m not aware of.

  I don’t mind taking over the business for my mom over the next few weeks—or more likely, months—like we’ve planned. Quite the contrary. The whole family has been on her case to get the back surgery she needs so badly, and everyone was relieved when she finally, finally caved, after what seemed like years of trying to talk some sense into her. My mother is nothing but strong-willed, a trait I most definitely got from her too.

  There certainly hasn’t been any talk about an assistant, though, and I’m pretty sure the reason is because she knows I’d object to it anyway.

  Sneaky little thing.

  “Shall we go to the office so we can talk some more?” The question is directed at Ember, who immediately nods, walking after my mother through the large studio toward the back of the building.

  Following after them reluctantly, I watch Ember’s ponytail—she has pink hair—swing left and right with every step, having caught my attention like a pendulum trying to hypnotize me. I shake my head after a few seconds, my gaze drifting down over a colorful, frilly blouse and tight, black jeans hugging her curves in all the right places.

  Shit. I can already smell trouble.

  What was my mother thinking? Parading around like this, Ember’s going to be more of a distraction than a help.

  “Please take a seat, Ember.” My mom sits down behind the large desk, wincing as she slowly settles into her chair.

  There. This is precisely the reason why I’m going to do whatever the hell my mom wants me to do. She’s trying to downplay it for us, but we all know she’s been in a lot of pain for quite some time now. And it would be just like her to cancel the surgery—again—if she thinks I’m not taking good care of her clients.

  “Of course.” Ember sits down in one of the red plush armchairs on the other side of my mother’s desk.

  Reluctantly, I take the seat next to Ember, trying to resist the urge to look over and study her profile.

  “I printed out the schedule for the next few weeks for both of you, and I thought, since this whole arrangement with you two is a little short notice, we could go over it together.” She hands each of us a stack of papers that is stapled together at the edges. “I already told my clients about you, Logan, and they’re all thrilled to work with you.”

  Man, she works fast.

  Her gaze finds mine before she points a finger at me. I don’t have to look over to know that Ember’s being a good girl, following my mother’s finger. I can almost feel her gaze burning a hole in the side of my head, and sue me, but I can’t help myself and have to look in her direction.