Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,87

she’s tapping away on her iPhone 11. She has a better phone than me, which is kind of funny. “Did you just poke me?”

“You should go home. Get some rest,” she says, not bothering to answer my question, her eyes still glued to her phone. Typical. “You’ll have a big day happening tomorrow.”

“It’s a normal Monday, besides the meeting with the contractor.” I am pretty excited about that. The one bright light in my world right now, that’s for sure. “I’ve saved some photos on a new Pinterest board I created. I’m going to show that guy and hopefully he can deliver. Do you want to see them?”

“Pinterest. Fakebook. Whatever.” She waves a hand. “I remember when you just tore pictures out of a magazine and showed them what you want.”

“Now I’ve got it all on my phone. And so would you, if you got a Pinterest account. I’m sure you could find some inspiration for decorating your new condo” I smile at her.

“Maybe you could help me decorate it. I’ve decided I’m going to buy all new furniture.”

“What are you doing with your old furniture?”

“You want it?”

“Some of it, maybe.” I chew on my thumbnail. “But not all of it.”

“We can negotiate, I’m sure.” Nonna pats my knee affectionately.

I yawn. “I guess I should go. I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Rest up, dear. You’re going to need your strength.”

I frown. “For what?”

The mysterious smile curling her lips doesn’t tell me anything. “You’ll see.”

Thirty

“Oh my God, I’m sorry I’m so late,” I say as I push open the front door of my nonna’s—wait a minute—my house. I stop short when I see the living room is empty.

That’s weird.

It’s just past eight-fifteen, which I feel terrible about, but my lateness couldn’t be helped. As I predicted, it was extra busy behind the counter this morning, and I had to give my father some brief training that turned into an epic yelling match—as in we kept yelling at each other back and forth, both of us telling each other what to do and putting on a real show for the customers.

Good times.

By the time I got out of there and then used my dad’s car to drive over to nonna’s—it was parked directly in front of Sweet Dreams and I was late so, hey, he owed me—it was way past eight o’clock. And while my family is notoriously late, my brothers are just like my dad—they don’t like it other people’s tardiness.

Well, I can blame my being late on dear old Dad, so my bros are just going to have to deal with it.

Where the hell are they, anyway?

I’m walking through the house, entering the kitchen, but no one’s waiting for me, though there are plenty of boxes scattered about. Looks like she’s already getting ready to move, which is exciting.

I check out the two bedrooms downstairs—empty. I go up the rickety stairs to my nonna’s bedroom, stopping short when I see a tall, familiar man standing at the window, staring out at the ocean with his back to me.

I know that back. Very intimately, in fact.

He turns, his hands on his hips, and all the air clogs in my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe.

It’s Carter.

He’s frowning at me, more in confusion than anything else, and I press my lips together, trying to figure out what to say to him first.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Yes, Stella. That was so freaking brilliant.

“Your grandmother asked me to meet her here at eight. Said she wanted to talk to me about some terms in the contract for her condo,” he explains. “What are you doing here?”

I take a cue from my nonna and don’t bother answering his question. “Where is she?”

“I’m not sure. When I got here, she left me a note on the front door with my name on it, and it said she had to go to a quick meeting, but she’ll be back.” Carter’s frown deepens. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“My brothers said the contractor would be here at eight a.m. and if I wanted to meet with him to talk about the renovations, I should show up. So—I showed up.” I throw my arms in the air, feeling a little defenseless.

And a lot confused.

He studies me for a while, keeping quiet, and I take my opportunity to blatantly check him out. He looks…good. Clad in a dark-blue suit and a white button-down shirt, he’s not wearing a tie, which gives him a casual, sexy air. He