by Cate Masters
“Funny.” Her gaze went to the wide front window and the street beyond.
“And you’re both in town at the same time. It’s better than a class reunion.”
“No,” she blurted. “I don’t want to see him.” Or, she wanted to see him too much.
Rosalie blinked. “Why not?”
She shook her head, trying to come up with an explanation. “He’s different now.” She’d told herself that so many times, she nearly believed it. Until she’d bumped into him on the way there, his embrace still as warm as ever.
“I heard he looks amazing,” Rosalie sing-songed. “And he’s successful.”
Amazing didn’t begin to describe how good Carter looked. “He’s obsessed with money. Anyway, he’s married.”
“I thought he was separated?”
She nearly dropped her sandwich. “Is he?”
“Maybe it’s all part of the reality show. You know, the one his wife stars in—Unhappy Housewives? She’s always complaining about this or that, mostly about him.”
Oh, God, had Carter turned out to be a monster like Ted? No, she wouldn’t believe it. “Do you watch the show?”
“No, I can’t stand that garbage. I’ve read about it, though, and sometimes I catch previews of episodes. But that’s about it.”
She slumped in disappointment. “Oh.” So much for any insights.
Rosalie shrugged. “It’s all trumped-up trash anyway. She probably makes up terrible things about Carter to boost the show’s ratings.”
Too much to think about. And enough about his wife. “Anyway, what about you? Are you married?”
Rosalie grinned. “Not yet.”
“You were smart to wait.” If only she had, too. Would she be with Carter now? No, he’d divorced at least once already. Anyway, she couldn’t imagine herself in a McMansion with monogrammed everything. But the image of Carter in a silk robe with CG embroidered on the breast pocket absorbed her.
“I did meet someone recently.” Mischief glinted in Rosalie’s eyes. “He hung around one night after a show and we talked for hours.” She sighed up at the ceiling like the memory carried her away.
In love? “I thought your smile had a secret behind it.”
“It feels good to really connect with someone, you know?”
“Yeah.” She used to know, anyway. Too many years ago.
“Hey, sorry. I know how rough it’s been for you. But good things are on the horizon, babes. If love can find me and change my life, it only proves happiness finds you when you’re least expecting it.”
Had her mother told Rosalie everything about her? The certainty in her friend’s voice put her on edge. “I better get back and let my parents take a break. They work too hard.”
Rosalie nodded. “They are something else. Your mom actually said she wished they owned a chain of shops so they could book me at every one. Isn’t that sweet?”
“That’s Ellie O’Brien, all right. Careful, or she’ll be your manager before you know it.”
“I wish! Anyway, you should come to my gig tonight at Tunes and Brews.”
How long had it been since she’d had a night out? “Maybe.” If the possibility of a guy approaching her didn’t turn her brain to ice. The few conversations she’d had with men over the past few years had ended in awkward silence, with one of them blurting an excuse for having to leave.
“Great. I have to go run some errands, but I’ll check in with you later.” In her usual whirlwind-style, Rosalie carried the plate to the counter, called a thank you to Ellie, and rushed out.
Sierra collected their dishes and brought them to the kitchen. Imagine that, Rosalie finding someone perfect. At least, he made her happy.
It had been forever since Sierra’d had any sort of date. A real date might be too nerve-wracking, but hanging out with Rosalie...no pressure there. Just a night out. No pressure. None at all.
***
Carter pulled the BMW to a stop across the street from The Sweet Spot. Through the glass front of the shop, he saw her. God, how could she still look so fantastic? He closed his gaping mouth. Now I’m a freaking stalker. But one glimpse of Sierra and no one would blame him. Her dark hair swayed as she bent to place a tray on the low table in front of the sofa where two guys sat. Their gazes moved hungrily across her.
Jumping out of the car, he crossed the street. A van screeched to a halt to avoid hitting him, but he only registered it in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as he entered.
She glanced over, away, then slowly back at him. Flinching, she turned away again.
Ah, hell. Why had he come there? He grabbed a newspaper from the rack and slid into a booth. How did the O’Briens make any money providing free newspapers? He’d invented an app long ago for digital versions. Maybe if they added a monitor for each booth to download it?
Keenly aware of her movements around the shop, he braced for her approach.
She skirted the outer aisle, the farthest possible route, and stopped at a window table to fuss over a guy. In fact, everyone in the place seemed to know him, though he didn’t look familiar. Youngish and scruffy, with a definite drawl.
Carter drummed his fingers atop the table. Damn, he hadn’t even checked the specials written on the chalkboard at the front. What would he say when she asked him for his order?
The collection jug on the counter caught his eye, and he zeroed in on the photo. Was that the same guy sitting at the window table?
“Carter?” said a woman. Not the woman he’d hoped to see.
“Hello, Mrs. O’Brien.” He told himself to train his focus on her, but it broke away toward Sierra, who appeared a bit miffed.
Ellie O’Brien smiled and waved to her daughter. “Look who’s here. Come take care of Carter.”
Good thing he wasn’t starving. Sierra dutifully marched toward him. Had he suddenly contracted the plague? From the look on her face, maybe something worse.
“Sierra will give you whatever you need, honey,” Ellie said and shuffled off.
Despite his effort to tame it, a wicked smile formed. Whatever he needed? “You will?” Now that would be sweet.
Her daughter’s confusion turned into a frown. “What?”
What the hell had he said? “Uh, what’s new?” Ah crap, stupid thing to ask.
Coldness hardened her face. “Do you want coffee? A cinnamon raisin bagel?”
Chastised, he muttered, “Just coffee. For now.” Hey, she remembered—I love cinnamon raisin bagels.
Sighing, she headed to the counter with more speed than she’d approached him.
He lifted the newspaper, but only pretended to read until her footsteps returned. A cup and saucer clattered on the table. She filled it. To the rim.
Inexplicable joy welled up. He’d always taken it black. She remembered that, too. Say something quick or she’ll leave. “So, you’re back in Bliss.” He stifled a groan. Had his brain cells died overnight?
With a mix of sadness and irritation, she said, “Yes. I didn’t think I’d see you.”
Ouch. He hid the pain with a tight grin. “I don’t get home much.”
She eyed him warily. “I know.”
“You do?”
Her expression suggested he’d lost his mind. “You never came to any school reunions.” Her tone challenged him to argue. “I never noticed you here for the holidays.”
She’d noticed? Hope leapt in his chest like a manic cheerleader. “I wanted to. Business always got in the way.”
“So why are you here now?” Her doubting scrutiny skewered him.
He gulped hard. “My cell died. Do you know where I can get another?”
“Honey,” called a woman.
“Be right there.” More loudly, she asked, “Does anyone here know where Carter can buy a new cell phone?”
Every head in the shop swung toward Carter. He waved as a round of “Nice to see you, Carter,” and “Welcome home,” sounded through the room.
Bud Shipley said
, “Try Hogan’s Hardware.”
Turning back to him, she shrugged. “There you go. Try Denny’s store.”
“I will. Thanks.” He waved to old man Shipley and his wife. “Thank you.”
Sierra chatted with them as she poured refills. The older couple glanced frequently at Carter, and Sally smiled with typical Bliss enthusiasm.
Why had he thought he’d feel an outsider in his hometown? Nodding, he sipped. Man, he’d missed this coffee. This shop. These people. Hell, he’d missed everything about Bliss. He just hadn’t realized it until then.
An empty cup meant he had no real excuse to hang around, but he almost dreaded having a working phone again. It would trigger an onslaught of calls. How long had it been since he’d gone offline, disconnected for more than a night? He’d forgotten how freeing it was.
No point putting it off. The longer he waited, the worse the backlog would become. He drew a five-dollar bill from his wallet and tucked it beneath the saucer.
Sierra appeared beside the table. “I’ll get your change.”
“Not necessary.” He rose.
She paused. “But that’s way too much.”
“Tell your parents they should raise their prices. It’s the best coffee I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m sure they’ll take it under advisement.” She shook her head. “It was nice to see you, Carter.”
Sincerity and sadness. A combination Carter hadn’t heard in too long. “You too, Sierra. Really nice.”
The warmth left her eyes and she averted them. “Bye.” She headed for the counter.
He wanted to call her back, talk to her longer, but could think of no plausible reason to keep her there. The shop became unusually quiet and he grew aware of the other customers’ stares. With a quick nod, he turned for the door. Once outside, he couldn’t help peeking through the window again. From behind the counter, Sierra watched.
The same inexplicable glee welled up into a grin. He jogged to his car, but decided to leave it and walk the three blocks to Hogan’s. His conference call wouldn’t start for another few hours. It would be a shame to waste the beautiful day by driving.
Now you sound like Mom. How long had it been since he’d even noticed the weather? Unless a storm knocked out the power, it had no bearing on his daily life. Except as he walked along, the sun warmed his skin and he remembered how he used to love the outdoors. When had he stopped doing everything he loved?
When you got married. An image of Barbara scowling at him soured his mood. The reflection staring back at him in Hogan’s glass entrance depicted a hard-faced man. Carter rearranged his expression into a more pleasant one and went inside.
Just as he remembered it. Aisle shelves stacked neatly from floor to ceiling with every item a man could want.
Denny popped his head from behind a pile of boxes. “Carter? Carter Grove?”
“Hey, Denny. Good to see you.”
“I thought I was dreaming.” He wiped his hands then extended his right.
Carter grasped it and shook. “Some people might call me a nightmare, but no, you’re not dreaming.”
Denny rested his hands on his hips. “What can I do you for?” His trademark sales approach.
“My cell phone died.”
“All those items are at the end of aisle ten. Right this way.” He pointed and shuffled in that direction. “Nothing fancy, like one of yours. Can I take a look at it?”
“Absolutely.” Carter used to suspect Denny Hogan was some sort of wizard, the way the man produced whatever customers needed, no matter how odd their request. He followed him to aisle ten, where the display held a range of cells for sale.
“Let’s try a new battery.” Nimble fingers swapped old for new. One touch, and the phone whooshed to life.
“Exactly what I needed, thanks.”
Denny chuckled. “Same old Carter.”
“What do you mean?”
“So decisive. A real go-getter.”
Did that translate to self-centered asshole? “I guess.” Except he didn’t always go after what he really needed. Like Sierra. He followed Denny to the front of the store.
“Anything else I can get you today?”
He swiped his credit card through the reader. “Can’t think of anything.”
Denny tucked the receipt into the bag and handed it to him. “Well, if you do, you know where to find us.”
“I sure do. Thanks, Denny.” Time to face the music.
Carter found five missed calls. Two from the office, three from Barbara; she probably needed new fodder for the reality show because she repeated every conversation they had, skewing them to make him look bad.
Unhappy Housewife. Perfect description of Barbara.
He clicked the missed call for his assistant, Karen, who answered and informed him both his conference calls were postponed until after Thanksgiving, and he had no other meetings scheduled that week.
A reprieve. Rare for not one client to cancel, but both. And just what he needed. “Great. What else is on the agenda?”
“Nothing here. I thought you might have something else.”
“Not at the moment.” He’d call a few prospects, schedule some meetings. Later. “Hey, Karen, if it’s quiet, you can leave early today.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” From her tone, he guessed he hadn’t given her a break in a while, but he couldn’t recall.
“Thanks, Mr. Grove. I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of first.”
“I know you will. Bye.” He ended the call, and the phone immediately chimed.
“Grove.” At hearing the shrill voice on the other end, he pinched the space between his brows. It didn’t block out the sound of his wife. “Where the hell have you been, Carter? My lawyer’s ready with the paperwork and I have no idea where to send it. You’re never home.” Neither are you. “Fine, Barbara.”
“You can’t keep ignoring me.”
He blurted, “Give him my number. I’ll sign as soon as I get the papers. Talk to you later.” He pressed off, the churning acid in his stomach leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Damn it. Yeah, he was more than ready to sign the divorce papers. Why had he resisted for so long? Barbara could care less.
But where would the attorney send them? He texted Barbara: Have him overnight the papers to my parents’ address.
He could stay in town another night, no problem. For the first time in a long time, he had no conference calls, no meetings, no urgent business. Carter had nowhere he needed to be.
But he finally knew where he wanted to be.
In Bliss. With Sierra.
He retrieved his laptop from the car and returned to The Sweet Spot.
Standing near a table, Sierra turned and her jaw dropped. “Carter?”
“Hey.” All smiles, he strode to a booth and slipped in.
“What are you doing here?”
He flipped open the laptop. “Checking my e-mail.”
“But….”
The door jingled and a familiar woman hurried inside, but her name escaped him. She swept past, seeming to catch Sierra in her wake.
“Hey, you’re back,” Sierra said to her, but sent him a pointed glare. “Must be the day for return visits. Did you want the usual?”
The newcomer’s blonde curls bounced as she sat in the booth ahead of his. “To go, actually. I can’t stay long. I have so much to do today before my gig tonight. And my date!”
“Oh, great.” Her dead tone hardly matched her friend’s enthusiasm.
He focused on his laptop, but it didn’t block their conversation.
The woman said, “Come along tonight. There are usually some cute guys hanging around afterward.”
His hunt-and-peck typing became savage. Mouth tight, he tried not to fume as he looked up. From Sierra’s frown, he gathered it was an epic fail.
“Um,” she said. “Let me get your chai latte.”
When she returned with the beverage, the blonde asked, “So, you didn�
��t answer me about tonight.”
Rosalie! That’s right, they’d been friends since grade school.
Almost imperceptibly, Sierra shook her head and sent him a furtive glance.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun,” Rosalie chided. “I know you just moved back, but you really need to get out.”
“Not now.” Her hushed tone and gesturing became more emphatic.
He kept his head down, but braved a peek at her.
Rosalie went on, “You’re still young and gorgeous, sweetie. Put yourself out there. There are lots of nice guys.”
“Can we talk about this later?” Sierra jerked her head toward him none too subtly.
She turned back and a grin lit her face. “Carter? Is that you?”
“Rosalie,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
She angled for a better look. Also none too subtly. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Seemed to be everyone’s reaction, though at least she smiled when she said it.
“Yep, I’m here.”
“For the holidays?” Her grin at Sierra held mischief.
“Not sure yet.” But hey, why the hell not? With his meetings canceled, his schedule was shot to hell anyway.
“Fantastic. So, congrats on your crazy business success. You’re like a celebrity now.”
He sure as hell didn’t feel like one, and hated the media nosing around his personal life. “Nah, but I hear you are. What type of music do you play?”
“A pretty eclectic mix. I’m at Tunes and Brews tonight, if you have nothing to do.”
“Rosalie.” Desperation edged Sierra’s tone.
Her friend stammered, “Oh, sorry. I better get going.”
“Have fun tonight,” Sierra said.
“You’d have fun again, too, if you’d come along.” Rosalie’s lilting voice carried down the aisle, but not before she shot him a wink as she passed.
Grin fading, he hunkered down, but too late. Sierra glanced at him. It stuck. It burned.
“Okay,” she blurted to Rosalie, obviously fuming. “I’ll go.”
“You will?” Her friend’s laugh mingled with the bell above the door.
“Yes, you’re right. I do need to get out.”
“Excellent. Nine o’clock at Tunes and Brews on Fourth. It’ll be fun. See you then.” The chime tinkled again as Rosalie departed.