Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,3

night together is permanently stained on my brain.

Three

Carter

“It’s always so busy in here. I wonder if Stella’s had a break yet,” Caroline says worriedly, shooting a contemplative look in her best friend’s direction. I don’t bother glancing over my shoulder. I know exactly what Stella looks like.

I even know what she looks like naked. Not that I’d say such a thing to my sister.

“I’m sure she has. Doesn’t she practically run this place? I’m sure she’s as busy as she wants to be.” Sweet Dreams is always packed, as it is currently. I’m surprised Stella made me a free drink, exactly what I wanted. I take a sip—it’s damn good too.

Everything about her is damn good, if you ask me, but I’m thinking she’s not too pleased with me right now. Might have something to do with how I snuck out of her bedroom in the early morning hours after our one—fucking amazing—night together, and then never talked to her again. Until this very moment.

She probably hates me. I deserve her hatred too. Hence my reason for not wanting to approach her at first. I worried she might fling hot coffee in my face and scar me for life.

Caroline frowns, checking the time on her phone. “She’s usually finished with her shift by now. I was hoping she could sit with us for a few minutes. I wanted to go over some wedding details.”

I am already so over wedding details. “Maybe some other time,” I say easily, like it’s no big deal, having a conversation with Stella and my sister. Back in the day, it wouldn’t have been. When we were younger, I merely tolerated Stella. She was annoying. I immediately deemed all of my sister’s friends annoying. That attitude lasted right into our very early twenties.

But then something changed. Specifically with Stella. I noticed how beautiful she was. I liked her feisty personality. She isn’t afraid to share her opinion. She stands up for what she wants. Her curves used to make my hands itch, like they couldn’t wait to touch her.

“Hopefully,” Caroline says, pursing her lips as she continues watching Stella.

“I should probably get going soon.” Now I’m the one checking my phone for the time, though I’m lying. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Absently I scratch the palm of my hand and I immediately stop. They itch because of Stella.

As in I want to touch her.

Bad idea, bro. Really bad idea.

“Oh Carter. Can’t you sit still for a just little while?” Caroline returns her attention to me, sipping her drink. The giant rock on her ring finger catches the light and nearly blinds me.

Alex Wilder went all out for that engagement ring, and I have to say, I’m glad to have him as my future brother-in-law. Considering we were best friends back in middle school, it’s been great that we’ve reconnected. They’ve gone to visit me when I lived in Southern California. I came up to visit them here too, but always quick trips, never wanting to linger too long.

I left home for a reason. I wanted more. We didn’t have much growing up, and I was surrounded by rich people my entire life. This town, this entire area always made me feel…less than. The minute I could leave, I did. Why would I want to come back? So I could look like a failure?

Guess I failed, because here I am. Fairly broke and in desperate need of a change. Since Alex and Caroline got together, they kept trying to talk me into returning, and I kept brushing them off.

Until I got into a screaming match with the broker at the agency I was working at about a month ago. Didn’t help that the broker was also my ex-girlfriend and she hates me. Never get into a relationship with a woman you work with, is what I learned after my messy breakup with Robyn.

The screaming match turned into me quitting in a moment of pure frustration and anger. Regret hit me the moment I said the words, but then I realized this:

I was burned out.

Tired.

Exhausted really.

Once I got home—after I had a few beers with friends, both celebrating and lamenting my new professional status—I calmly assessed my situation and realized I wasn’t in the best position to quit my job. For the past five years, I’ve worked hard yet spent my money just as hard too. I was a complete workaholic who also knew how to party. I was generous to a fault, paying