Besotted: An Enemies-to-Lovers Small-town Romance (Carmel Cove Book 3)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  I nodded with a smile, adjusting my glasses on my nose and acknowledging that my assumption was right.

  Just because Miles and I pretended like that kiss never happened didn’t mean it still didn’t haunt me—or the embarrassment that followed—like a shadow.

  “Did I make you late?” Laurel’s brow furrowed, and I knew my face had turned too serious.

  “Oh no.” I waved her off, reaching for my bag and yoga mat resting behind the counter. “My class doesn’t start until six, but Addy wanted to talk to me before. It’s probably nothing.”

  My siblings, Addison and Zeke, ran a nonprofit organization in town called Blooms. They took in women who were recovering from abusive relationships, drug problems, or some combination of the two, and gave them a safe place to live and the tools to get back on their feet.

  In addition to the therapy that was available, one of the pillars of healing they emphasized was self-reflection. And that was where I came in. Me and my yoga classes.

  The icing on the cake was that the classes helped me work toward my instructor certification; they helped me take one more step toward accomplishing my dream.

  “Oh, good.” She sighed. “Are you still holding them at the park? It will be so nice out tonight.”

  In the summer months, I held a more immersive yoga series and, weather permitting, held the evening classes outside, usually in the park, so we could catch the serene stillness of dusk and use it to our advantage.

  “Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically, sliding my long braid over my shoulder and noting how some of the brown strands had already lightened from the summer sun; in another week or so, my natural highlights would be out in full force.

  “I actually just found this great little cove along the beach a short walk from the Dog House that is pretty secluded; it will be a perfect change for my twilight yoga class.”

  I’d actually wanted to talk to my sister about that tonight, too.

  Last week, I’d grabbed lunch down at the town’s local hot dog shack, the Dog House, and went for a stroll on the beach. I’d wanted to stop at the Carmel Bakery to say hi to Josie and invite her daughter, Cambria, to one of my classes; I hardly saw Cammie outside of the bakery since she moved back home after massage school. Admittedly, I was going to get a sweet treat for lunch that day, until I caught sight of Miles inside and quickly changed my plans… and ended up at the Dog House.

  Just because we were adults and could maintain a cordial familiarity when required didn’t mean that seeing him still didn’t continually push on a wound I was afraid would never heal.

  And just like a well-worn path on the road, the wheels in my head slid into the familiar tracks that led me back to that night and his kiss.

  That night, I walked back inside the reception a minute or so behind Miles, which happened to be the perfect time to overhear his conversation with Mick, whose giant form had blocked my entrance.

  “I saw you go out with Eve. Is everythin’ alright?” Mick wondered smoothly.

  “Yeah. Fine.” I bit my lip to stop from calling him a liar.

  “It’s okay to like the girl, Miles. She’s not Ama—”

  Miles cut his brother off. “I don’t like her.”

  “You know I’m your brother, right?” Mick snorted. “You can’t lie to me.”

  There was a long pause, and I braced myself for an assault I never should have heard.

  “Mickey,” Miles began. I knew from previous interactions with them that that nickname never boded well. “I’m only goin’ to tell you this once, so you don’t need to ask about it ever again. Eve Williams is the opposite of the kind of woman I want, and there will never be a world, in reality or fairy-fuckin’-tale where anythin’ happens between us.”

  The cold words had jarred me from meandering, and I realized just how far I’d walked. My mind had been a million miles away, yet stuck on a single Miles.

  Looking around, I realized I’d wandered into one of the smaller coves along the shore. I saw the opportunity in front of me—a place for my yoga class. Somewhere new. Somewhere secluded. Somewhere the girls could embrace themselves, and somewhere I could dig deep and figure out how to let go of this crush that was crushing me.

  I gulped in a deep breath of coffee-infused air, using it to forcefully clear my thoughts.

  “That’s awesome! Maybe I’ll have to check it out, although I do love your morning yoga class.”

  Laurel usually came to my morning class at Blooms on the weekend, leaving Eli in charge of Roasters for the hour or so. It would be great for her to join in my dusk classes, but I had a feeling it was a long shot. After a day at Roasters, she liked to go home and spend time with Eli… and I couldn’t blame her.

  “I’d love to have you,” I said, rounding the counter and heading for the front door. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  “Yup!” She grinned and waved me off. “Thanks for covering today!”

  I waved as the door closed behind me, the bell dinging my departure from small business that was the center of Carmel Cove’s community.

  The old town was founded by Italian fisherman who’d been kicked off the Frisco docks. One of those legacies was Francis Ocean—the first generation of Oceans to make their home here, and the man who’d built the Ocean Roasters.

  The building didn’t look that much different today than it did back then. A few exterior upgrades had been necessary along with a few interior changes, but from the photos that canvassed the walls inside the coffee shop, it was clear that the integrity and spirit of the community pillar had been preserved throughout the generations.

  Instead of heading for my older Hyundai that was parked outside, I decided to walk the few blocks over to Blooms since it was a beautiful evening.

  The sidewalks were bustling and the trees that lined the streets of Carmel Cove were in full midsummer bloom, along with the flowers the town planted along every possible walkway. The fragrant, colorful florals transformed Carmel into an idyllic haven of relaxation just a few hours south of San Francisco.

  In the summer, tourists filled the streets—whether it was to continue their journey down the Big Sur coastline or head inland toward the Rock Beach Resort for golfing.

  I passed Josie’s bakery but everything was dark inside now. She was always in before the crack of dawn baking fresh bread for the day, the scents lingering warmly in the outside air long after. I made it to the corner and looked across the street at the Carmel Pub. The green lantern on the building a dim marker for the cozy local hangout inside.

  There was already a group of girls collecting outside, dressed up for a bachelorette party and waiting for the rest of their friends. Tourists. As a local, I could always pick out the ones who were just here for a short time, especially when they came donned with fake tiaras and sashes.

  I wondered if Miles would end up with one of them tonight.

  The thought made me cringe, even though it shouldn’t.

  Since the wedding, he’d gone downhill. Not in a way that justified any sort of serious intervention from Mick. No, Miles still got up, stopped in for coffee, and went to work–the two of them, combined with Eli, continuing to put out the best construction work in the area. Instead, his fall was more of a slow and steady decline. And, to me, those kinds were the worst—the ones that came in concise and coordinated steps, preventing the people who cared from reaching out to grab you before you fell.

  Because you weren’t falling; you were taking yourself down easy.

  But you were still taking yourself down.

  And the whiskey and women Miles was drowning in were definitely cushioning his decline.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat and turned away. I shouldn’t be wondering about that. I shouldn’t be wondering about him. Especially after one broken dance and one failed kiss.

  Miles Madison wasn’t my prince and, therefore, his self-destruction wasn’t my problem.

  Pushing him from my thoughts, I turned the corner toward Bloom
s and didn’t look back.

  The Blooms building was located just a few short blocks off of where the pub stood at the corner of Ocean Avenue. It rose as a large, vibrant Victorian home, one of several like it in the surrounding blocks, the front porch draped with ivy and colorful blooms like a friendly floral shield.

  “Addy?” I called as I entered the keycode and let myself inside.

  Because of the nature of the women who stayed here, security was a major concern. The women who sought shelter here from the men who’d abused them needed to know they were safe. So, Ace and Dex Covington, the owners of Covington Security, had installed the best alarm system their firm could find. In the back of my mind, I wondered if Addy was ever afraid, too, that her ex would come looking for her. But I could never ask my badass older sister; she cared far too much about protecting me to share the truth—the details of her past.

  Closing the door, I smiled at the photo that hung in the hall of the three of us along with our grandparents. From the English tea always stocked in the kitchen—our grandmother’s favorite—to the monthly showings of old black-and-white Abbott and Costello films—a go-to of our grandfather’s—the house still held so many of the little things to preserve the memory of the couple who’d raised us here even though there’d been some remodeling done since.

  We’d never known our parents. Drug addict mother unwilling to leave abusive and drug-dealing boyfriend… I wished our story was less common than it was. But unlike many, we’d been placed in the care of our maternal grandparents who loved us and did everything they could to make up for the parents who’d neglected us.

  It was because of them and the fate of our mother that my sister set her eyes on this dream. Blooms. A safe space. A place where women could come and live, free of charge, while they healed and were encouraged to learn the skills they needed to grow into whatever new future they desired.

  “Hey, Evie.”

  I looked up at the address. “Hey, guys.”

  Two of the current residents, Kylie and Jo—her name was really Laura, but she went by Jo—slowed as they passed me in the hall; their hands were filled with bags of fresh vegetables to take down to the Lookout.

  As soon as he’d got the Lookout up and running last year, Ash had only looked for employees from Blooms or from the local chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous to work there. As a recovering addict himself, Ash knew how important it was to feel like you were doing something for yourself and your life. It made it easier to accept the kindness and generosity given to them knowing they were giving back.

  “Is Addy in the garden?” I called over my shoulder.

  “No, she’s in her office!” Jo yelled back; she was the more outspoken of the two.

  I tilted my head to the side, surprised.

  My sister loved gardening. It was one of the reasons she’d redone my grandmother’s flower garden and patio that sat adjacent to the house and turned it into a full-scale vegetable garden. The products were either used in the kitchen here or were taken to the Lookout, like Kyle and Jo had been doing. I would’ve bet my savings that Addy would’ve been knee-deep in dirt from dawn til past dusk on a day like today.

  I worked my way toward the kitchen and small office in the back of the building, following the sounds of a heated conversation between my siblings.

  “You don’t need to do this, Addison. Blooms doesn’t need you to do this.” I heard my brother growl. “It’s not smart nor safe.”

  I took a deep breath. My brother was normally a pretty low-key, quiet guy. But whenever the idea of safety came up, especially when it came to Addy or me, he turned into a completely different person.

  Zeke was the oldest out of all of us, but only less than a year older than Addy and five years older than me. He stood tall and well-built with rich brown hair like mine also flecked with gold. After whatever happened with Addy’s ex, my brother dropped out of law school and lost his full ride to Georgetown in order to move back to San Francisco—where Addy had been living at the time—to help my sister recover. I’d only been in high school then and never got the whole story, no matter how many times I asked.

  “Don’t just pick anyone, Evie. Make sure you pick the one before you give him any piece of you,” was the one and only response I’d ever gotten.

  She hadn’t dated since then—almost a decade ago. And the bright blue hair and murals of tattoos she’d moved home with were just shadows of all of the walls she’d erected to prevent anyone from ever finding out what happened to her.

  “What did I miss?” I interrupted just as my sister was about to unleash on our brother.

  They both turned to me, the fire in their eyes immediately dimming. The baby sister was always sheltered from their arguments.

  “The local news wants to interview me about Blooms,” Addy replied calmly, sliding her annoyed gaze back to Zeke. “I think it would be incredible exposure for the program.”

  “I mean, that sounds really great.” I looked to my brother, knowing he was waiting to make his case, too. “What’s the problem?”

  “I think it would be not-so-incredible exposure for you,” Zeke bit out through clenched teeth, only looking at Addy. “Blue hair isn’t much of a disguise, sis. Even after all this time.”

  The intensity of their stare-down almost erased the knowledge of what he said. Almost.

  “What do you mean ‘a disguise’?”

  And then it was gone. All of the fight from my sister’s face. “Nothing.” She smiled at me. “We can talk about it later. It’s only a small segment anyway.”

  Zeke’s nostrils flared at her before he turned, pulled me in for a quick hug and greeting, and then walked out of the room in frustration.

  I knew better than to probe when Addy got like this. My sister was the master of emotional switches and the Fort Knox of feelings. As soon as she said nothing, as soon as she indicated the discussion was over, it was over.

  I shifted my mat bag on my back and leaned against the doorframe. “Okay, well, I have to start getting set up, but I wanted to tell you that I’m going to be holding my morning classes out on the beach for the next few weeks. I found a pretty secluded spot, and I think it’ll be perfect.”

  At my excitement, her face instantly brightened. She may be reserved when it came to her life and her past, but when it came to anyone else, especially me, Addy was exuberant in her encouragement. There were some days I believed her only joy came from others turning their lives around and finding a new path.

  It was a good thing—an admirable thing—to want and to celebrate. Which was why it was also strange to feel sad about it, too, because my sister never seemed to find joy for herself.

  “That sounds amazing, Evie,” she gushed, pulling her long blue hair up and piling it on her head. With it off her shoulders, I could see the tattoos that came down the sides of her neck and disappeared onto her back. “I’m sure the girls will love it. They’ve been talking about your summer yoga sessions for weeks now. It’s like the highlight of the season around here, I swear.”

  “That’s awesome.” I couldn’t stop the crazy wide grin that split my face.

  I’d fallen in love with yoga in high school, and it all started with our grandmother, Mimi. As she got older, she’d happened on it for both strength and relaxation. We’d spend hours out on the patio on a Sunday practicing along with videos and humming with the birds.

  After high school, I’d gotten my business degree, worked on my yoga practice and teaching certification, with a single goal in mind—to open my own yoga studio. It was my dream, one I’d been steadily working toward for over half a decade, and it was within my reach.

  “I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” she returned.

  If she wasn’t my sister, I might not have noticed the subtle change in her voice that told me whatever it was, wasn’t that good.

  “What’s up?” I stepped farther into the room, setting my bag on the floor and taking a seat in the chair across from her.

&nbs
p; “This summer, we’re going to remodel upstairs,” she began.

  I pushed my glasses higher on my nose. “Okay… that’s great.”

  What did that have to do with my summer class?

  Her head tipped and she asked out of the blue, “How close are you to having enough for your own space?”

  My sister and I shared the same habit of blurting out random, blunt questions that were only then connected to the conversation in hindsight.

  My mouth gaped for a minute.

  I’d been saving for a few years, but I didn’t make much as a barista at Roasters. At first, most of my income went toward my college classes. Then, it shifted to yoga training and certifications. After that, my savings had taken a hit when I’d had to buy a car even though it was used. But for the past two years, I’d been able to save steadily and, hopefully by next year, I’d have enough for the down payment of a mortgage for a small building here in town; I wanted a space I could live in and teach out of—a space that was entirely my own.

  “Well, umm… I’m hoping by next year I can start looking…” I trailed off as my sister’s face fell. “What’s going on, Addy? Just tell me.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and began to chew on her lip. “I want to remodel our rooms on the third floor so that we can house more girls,” she said with a slow and steady tenor that meant she’d already decided on it.

  I sat, stunned.

  I wasn’t paid for my yoga classes here—not that I wanted to be. I did it not just to help the girls but also to better myself so I was ready for my own studio. But one of the unspoken reasons why I declined when my sister offered to pay me was because I still lived upstairs. Rent free.

  Moving out now and having to pay rent somewhere was going to set back my goals substantially.

  “Say something, Eve.”

  I shook my head and stuttered. “S-Sorry. I just… I wasn’t expecting that. Like at all.”

  She pulled her hair down from the tie only to tug it back up and retie it—the only nervous habit I’d ever seen my perfectly composed sister have.