Love, Chloe - Alessandra Torre Page 0,58

He had washed his hands when we arrived, the faint scent of lemon now chiming in on the delicious combination. Next to him, I wore skinny white cropped jeans with my Estella wedges and a silk navy top, diamond studs sparkling from my ears, my hair twisted back into a loose and messy knot. The cashier gave me a competitive once over before perking up and zeroing in on Carter.

“Hey Carter.” She flashed a smile that would make a dentist swoon. I stared at her brilliant white teeth and swallowed the urge to ask her secret.

“Hey Monica. How’s it going?”

“Great. You getting the usual?” Her teeth were almost freakish in their perfection. Absolutely straight. I would have suspected veneers if she hadn’t been wearing camouflaged Crocs.

“You know it.” He tossed an arm around my shoulder, and I was able to inhale his smell deeply without looking like a freak. God, forget the sandwiches. I wanted to go back to his place, right then, and work up some sweat of my own. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never dated a manly man before. I’d always dated Clarke and Vic types—ones that wore suits and valeted their cars and grew muscles in the gym but couldn’t actually swing a hammer. This type of man was an entirely different type of sexy, one that could build me a house, a fire, could protect me in a storm or on the street. “What are you getting, Chloe?”

I ordered a Cuban sandwich and lemonade, and followed Carter to a table. “So,” he started, leaning forward, his eyes on mine. “What’s up with the car?”

I shrugged. “My ex likes to woo. It didn’t work. I’m trying to give it back.” A year of turmoil, summed up in three sentences.

Carter nodded and picked up his meatball sandwich. I picked up my lemonade and took a big sip.

Good talk.

“So … you work as an assistant?”

I nodded, with a wince. “Yes. For Nicole Brantley.” His face was blank, the man not up to date on socialites, and I hurried to explain. “She’s an actress. And her family owns a prophylactic company.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, into a smile. “Prophylactic? Is that how she refers to it?”

My grin widened. “I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever heard her say anything about it, but her mouth isn’t above the word condom.” That was the damn truth. The woman couldn’t complete a sentence without a curse word being present—at least, not in her own home. Out in public, she hid her fangs well.

“Do you see yourself working for her for long?”

I huffed out a laugh. “God, I hope not.” I told him about my tuition bill, leaving out the details that led to my financial troubles, and noticed his eyes, they stayed on me whenever I spoke—almost intimidating in their focus. He was actually listening to me, not just waiting for a chance to speak, his focus one hundred percent on me. It felt odd, a man paying such rapt attention to me, and I tried to remember the last time I had such complete attention, without eyes darting to a phone, or a sentence interrupted, details lost.

“So, once you pay your tuition, then what?”

I took a bite from my sandwich and chewed, thinking about the question. It was sad that I didn’t know the answer. Ever since my eviction, all of my focus had been on surviving. Well … there’d been a pitiful couple of weeks when classes were wrapping up and during finals, where I mostly moped around—feeling sorry for myself. But once that had passed, I’d been so busy, so desperate, that I hadn’t exactly thought through the next step. Would there be a next step? Would I ever save enough to pay off that bill? Or was I stuck, being Nicole’s errand girl, for the rest of my life? I literally shuddered at the thought.

“You cold?” He glanced up at the fan, and I waved him off. Vic would have never noticed. And if he had, he’d have leaned forward and checked out the possibility of headlights in my shirt.

“I’m fine.” I took a sip of my lemonade and noticed him still listening, waiting for my response. “I don’t know what I’ll do after I get my degree. I’ll probably try to find a job in real estate. Something with a salary, maybe in development.”

“You like the construction end of it?”

I let out a strangled laugh that sounded a little like a cry. “Honestly,