One
Stella
There are certain people in your life who just…get under your skin. They don’t do anything wrong, they’re perfectly normal in every way, yet when you see that person’s face, you sort of want to…
Punch it.
That’s Carter Abbott for me.
Listen, he’s a fine human being. And I mean that in the, “Yes, he’s perfectly fine” way and the, “Girl, that man is fine,” way too. Maybe that’s what bothers me. The fact that he’s so ridiculously good looking. I’m pretty sure he knows it too.
Ugh.
There are also people in your life who don’t even have to announce their presence, yet you know they’re in the same room as you. Breathing the same air. It’s like some weird sixth-sense thing.
It’s happening right now, at this very moment, while I’m at work during a particularly busy shift. Tourist season is kicking into gear—who am I kidding, it’s always tourist season around here—and the Sweet Dreams Café and Bakery is one of the most popular places for tourists and locals to congregate.
I’m the head barista at Sweet Dreams. I make the best coffees you’ll ever drink in all of Carmel-by-the-Sea, if I do say so myself. I’m not bragging either. Go read my Yelp reviews.
Anyway, I’m minding my own business as one does, wiping down the giant espresso machine during a rare lull, when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Goose bumps break out all over my body and I go completely still.
Someone’s watching me.
And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who it is.
Glancing up, I don’t spot him at first, and honestly, I don’t expect to. Maybe my radar is wrong. The café is crowded with people. Every single table is occupied, and the low murmur of many different voices talking fills my ears. I frown, my gaze darting from one side of the room to the other and then…
Oh God.
There he is.
Carter in the flesh.
Smirking at me.
Caroline warned me her big brother was returning to the area—that he actually wanted to move back home. And I should clarify that she didn’t actually warn me. More like she mentioned that particular fact during casual conversation last week. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal that he’s back, you know? Who cares?
*quietly raises my hand*
I care. It’s a total big deal.
You want to know why? No one else is privy to this information. It’s my—and well, fine plus Carter’s—little secret. I’ve never told a soul, not to any of my friends. Certainly not my family, because my father and older brothers would probably kill him.
My big Italian family is very overprotective.
I’ve never told Caroline either. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Or I didn’t want them to come crashing down either. Maybe she would be disappointed in us? I don’t know. Besides, it’s just awkward, you know?
I can literally feel you all thinking, hurry up and tell us the big secret, you loser!
Sorry, let’s break it down.
About a year ago or so, Carter came into town for the weekend. Looking mighty, mighty fine, but what else is new? A big group of us went to Tuscany, the restaurant my family owns and my brothers run, for dinner.
The wine (free) was flowing. The food (also free) was delicious. The mysterious looks Carter sent me across the table for the majority of the night were smoldering.
I smoldered right back.
No one paid attention to us. Specifically my brothers, who were too busy working. And specifically Caroline—again, I would like to mention that she’s Carter’s sister—who was sending smoldering looks to her boyfriend/fiancé/whatever you want to call him, Alex.
Eventually, I made my way to the bathroom. I was stumbling a little, but relatively composed. I go alone—shocker, women rarely like to go to the bathroom alone—but I got that sense. You know the one I’m talking about. I had a feeling someone might follow me there.
Guys.
I.
Was.
Right.
I really didn’t have to pee, thank God. Within seconds of me walking into the bathroom, Carter slipped inside the room with me and locked the door before leaning against it, sending me more of those smoldering looks without saying a word.
Again, I smoldered right back. It was sort of hot, that we really weren’t speaking. We were communicating purely through our eyes, our body language. He wanted me.
I knew it.
And I wanted him too.
He proceeded to lift me onto the edge of the sink (don’t worry, it was clean, my brothers run a super tight ship), and kissed me until I was breathless.
A few other