“The last time we saw each other, we were more than friends, don’t you think?” He raises a brow. That single brow I find so freaking sexy.
I blink at him. He didn’t forget the kiss. Nervous laughter bubbles forth as if I have no control over it. “We were kids. It didn’t mean anything.”
“I couldn’t admit it to you then, because I was shy and insecure, but I had a massive crush on you,” he confesses, the smile fading. “Carter would’ve killed me if he ever knew most of the time when I went over to your house, it was so I could see you, even for just a little bit.”
I laugh again, not feeling so nervous this time, though my heart is fluttering wildly in my chest. It’s more like I’m thrilled with his confession. “You had a crush on me?”
He nods. “I couldn’t talk to girls back then. It was like my vocal cords froze every time I got near one, unless that girl was…you.”
Aw. I had no clue he felt that way. “You were always nice to me,” I tell him. “Nicer than any of Carter’s other friends.”
“Because I liked you.”
All I want to ask is why. “I was twelve and hideous.”
“You weren’t hideous.”
“It was my ugly duckling stage,” I say, and it so was, I swear. I look back on photos from that time period and all I can think is sheeeeesh.
“It was my ugly duckling stage too,” he agrees. “I was going through a lot then. My family—they put huge expectations on me, from the time I was very young. All that tremendous pressure that came with being the heir to the family business didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. Instead, it scared the shit out of me.”
That’s so sad. “I want you to know, I had no idea you were from the Wilder Corporation family.”
“Really?” He raises his brows. More surprised by my little revelation versus the horrible story I told about his fiancée. “Well, that shouldn’t surprise me. It wasn’t something I talked about with my friends at that age. I didn’t want anyone to know I came from a lot of money. I wanted to feel…”
“Normal,” I finish for him, and he nods.
We remain quiet for a moment until I say, “I’m sorry about Tiffany.”
He presses his lips together and gives me a quick nod. One of those, I’ll be just fine gestures men give when they are feeling anything but fine. “I’m going to end the engagement. If not tonight, then soon.”
My mouth drops open for a moment and I have to remind myself to close it. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“I don’t want to be with a woman who doesn’t want to be with me.” Stated so simply, his words make total sense.
“You believe my story?”
He seems offended by my question. “Would you have any reason to lie?”
“Of course not.” I shrug. “Though Tiffany will probably accuse me of lying.”
“Anything to save face,” he spits out. Ah, there’s some emotion. He sounds bitter.
Panic hits me, and it’s suddenly a struggle to breath normally. I don’t want to be the reason they break up. Oh, I know that I’m not the only reason, but I am a huge contributor to their engagement’s demise.
“Just…if she has something to say, maybe you should listen to her.” His lips pop open, ready to protest I’m sure, but I hold my hand up to halt him from speaking. “You should probably let her explain herself.”
“Why? So she can lie and spin a story that is absolute bullshit? I don’t think so.” He rises to his feet, and I note the exhaustion in his features, lids heavy over his brilliant blue eyes. I bet he’s emotionally and mentally tired. “I really appreciate your help, Caroline. More than you’ll ever know.”
I stand as well, slinging my bag over my shoulder, still clutching the empty water bottle in my other hand. “I don’t feel like I helped you, Alex. Not at all.”
He smiles, chuckling, though there’s not much humor in the sound. “You saved me from marrying a woman who’s cheating on me. I’d say you’re a huge help.”
Alex walks me to the office door, his hand at the small of my back guiding me, my skin tingling where he’s touching me. It’s so inappropriate for me to have these thoughts, these feelings, but I wonder…
Does he feel it too? The low simmering attraction between us? A shared kiss when we were middle schoolers didn’t seem like such a big deal only a few days ago. In fact, I’d mostly forgotten about it.
But after seeing him again, I can’t help but wonder how he kisses now. Or what he tastes like.
Yikes, this is so bad. The man is still engaged. He’s going to break up with his fiancée because of what I told him, over what I saw. This entire situation is a twisted mess—
The water bottle slips out of my fingers and falls to the ground, and when I tried to grab it, I somehow trip on the rug, sending myself careening into Alex. He grabs hold of me so I don’t take the both of us down, stopping me in my tracks, his strong arms wrapped tight around my waist, his big hands spread across my back, our bodies nestled close.
An electric hum courses through my body at first contact, and slowly I glance up to find him studying me. Lips parted, breathing shallow, gaze locked on my mouth.
I’m tempted. So tempted. But this can’t happen. Not like this.
Not now.
I brace my hands on the solid wall that is his chest and give him a gentle push. It’s the wake up he needs. He blinks himself back into focus, his arms falling away from me.
“You’re all right?” His voice is rough and he runs his hand through his hair, making a complete mess of it.
“Sorry. I almost knocked you down too.” I run my trembling hands down my front, straightening my shirt. My entire body is taut, like a wire being pulled from end to end, and I exhale shakily, offering him a quick smile. “It was nice to see you again, despite the circumstances.”
“I feel the same exact way.”
His words echo in my mind when I leave his office, when I walk down the hall that leads to the lobby of the Wilder Pebble Beach Hotel. The restaurant nearby is packed with people, their voices echoing, and I realize I don’t want to be alone tonight.
I need to gather up my girls.
Chapter 10
Once I climbed into my car, I sat there and rounded up my troops, AKA my best girlfriends, via group text for a night of Italian food and drinks at our favorite restaurant in downtown Carmel. Stella’s older brothers just so happen to own and run the restaurant, so they give us VIP treatment every time we go there.
VIP treatment means we get a decent table without having to make a reservation, they give us a discount on the alcohol and our meals, plus we get free appetizers. We in return have to make sure to Instagram our food and drinks, and tag the restaurant.
This is a win-win deal for all of us.
Right now, I need discounted alcohol and free appetizers like I need my next breath. After the fraught-with-tension—mostly sexual, OMG—meeting with Alex, I called Iris and said there was no way I could possibly come back to work…right? She agreed, and let me have the rest of the afternoon off. So instead of working, I splurged and went and got a blowout and a manicure. And dang, I feel like a new woman as I walk into Tuscany with my shades on, scanning the restaurant for the table with my best friends.
But none of my friends are here yet. Maybe that’s because I’m a full fifteen minutes early.
I’m greeted at the door by Stella’s big brother Michael, and I stash my sunglasses in my bag just as he approaches with a giant smile on his face. “Caroline, aren’t you looking mighty fine?” he says, giving me a hug. He greets me this way every single time we see each other. He thinks he’s funny, rhyming my name, and I humor him by letting him believe I think it’s funny too.
“Michael, thank you for letting us have a table so last minute.” I return the hug and give him a kiss on the cheek. “You don’t know how badly I need this.”
He pulls away from me, his hands still grasping my shoulders. “Having a tough Monday?”
/> “The toughest,” I tell him as he leads me to our table. The restaurant is mostly empty, though I can see the bar is already starting to fill up. It is right around five, so happy hour is about to kick in. “I need a glass of wine.”
“Coming right up,” Michael says as he pulls the chair at the head of the table out for me. “Have a seat. Once everyone begins to arrive, I’ll have your server bring the appetizers out.”
I settle in, already snapping photos of the table with the pristine white tablecloths and the elegantly simple silver stemware, the cluster of red roses in a clear glass vase sitting in the middle. The restaurant is aesthetically pleasing, which makes it ultra-easy to photograph and share on social media.
Stella is the first of my friends to arrive, which is no surprise considering we live so close. She’s wearing a long floral sundress that’s extra flowy and practically covers her feet.
“What’s with the dress?” I say in greeting as I give her a quick hug before she sits down. “You could hide a baby under there. Maybe two.”
“I wanted something fashionable yet comfortable,” Stella answers with a defensive shrug.
Oh no. I hurt her feelings when I didn’t mean to. “You look fabulous,” I tell her, taking a sip from the glass of wine Michael just brought me.
“No, I look fat.” Stella scowls at me. “I want to wear flowing dresses and look like a hippy fresh from Coachella, and instead you ask me if I’m pregnant.”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were going for the fashionable boho look.” Stella went to Coachella few years ago, and she’s always wanting to go back and take me with her, but my idea of fun doesn’t involve doing lots of drugs, drinking lots of alcohol, wearing freaky outfits and baking in the sun in the desert.
In other words, Stella sometimes thinks I’m absolutely no fun. Not that Stella did lots of drugs, but she did confess she ate a few edibles…
“Whatever, I’m being sensitive. Ignore me.” Stella leans forward, her voice low. “Tell me what happened with Alex.”
I texted her both when I arrived at and when I left the Wilder Hotel, so she doesn’t really know any details yet. “He believed me.”
Stella’s eyebrows shoot up. “He did?”
I nod, taking another sip of my wine. I’m probably going to drown my anxiety in alcohol tonight, and hopefully I’ll have no regrets. “He recorded my statement, so to speak.”
“Wait a minute. He recorded you? Like a cop?”
Another nod. “He promised me he wouldn’t play it for Tiffany, though.”
“And you believed him?” Stella sounds incredulous.
“Of course I did. He believed me.” That sounds so simple.
Huh.
Too simple, maybe.
“Why would he record you telling him what you saw if he wasn’t going to play it for his fiancée, hmm? It makes no sense. He just can’t go to her and say, ‘Heard you’re cheating on me. We’re through.’ It doesn’t work like that. He needs evidence.” Stella points at me. “And you’re the evidence.”
“How do you think their conversation is going to go down then?” Shit, I was sort of hoping it worked exactly like that.
“She’s going to deny his every accusation. It’ll turn into a huge argument, because she has a lot to lose. He’s rich as hell, and that’s probably half the reason she’s marrying him,” Stella explains.
I don’t doubt what Stella’s saying. It’s just so incredibly…sad.
“When she asks for proof, he’ll whip the recording out and she’ll hear your voice, and yep, she’ll know you’re the one who ratted her out,” Stella continues, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.
“You make me sound like a jerk,” I tell her.
“That’s because Tiffany what’s-her-name is going to think you’re a jerk. I know you’re not one. And I’m betting ol’ Alex Wilder doesn’t think you’re a jerk either, so you’re fine.” Stella waves another dismissive hand.
But I think about what Stella said as more of our friends show up, as the appetizers start appearing on our table. I don’t want Alex playing that recording for Tiffany. I should’ve never agreed to him recording me in the first place. That was a stupid move.
Like real stupid.
Like I wish I could contact Alex again and tell him I want that recording destroyed. Not like I signed a contract or anything. I’m not legally bound to him. I’ve changed my mind, and I no longer want that recording to exist.
Easy as that.
“Are you okay, Caroline?” My friend Sarah is sitting to my right, and she’s resting her hand on my arm, her gaze full of concern. She works at a high-end lingerie store that’s not too far from Noteworthy, and we do lunch together at least once a week. I consider her a good friend, probably my closest after Stella. “You look a little…preoccupied.”
“I’m fine.” I rest my hand over hers and give it a squeeze. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Want to talk about it over lunch? Maybe on Wednesday?” Sarah asks.
“That sounds good.” Sarah would listen to my crazy story without judgment. That’s what I love about her. Actually, I love that about all of my friends. None of them really judge me too hard. Oh, we give each shit for fashion choices—Stella’s flowy dress as an example—and sometimes we’re hard on each other when it comes to our love lives, but it’s never mean spirited. More than anything, we try to uplift each other. That’s what friends are for, right?
I love my girls. And they love me.
I’ve already had two glasses of wine and I’m working on my third. I’m a little emotional. I also need to pee, so I excuse myself from the table and make my way to the bathroom. Every table at the restaurant is full, and the bar is packed, so I’m squeezing through crowds, smiling at familiar faces. Carmel is a small town, and when you live in the area your entire life, then end up working here too? It kind of feels like you know everyone.
After I’m finished, I exit the bathroom and cut through the bar, headed for my table when I spot a familiar face sitting alone.
Stopping in my tracks, I study her. And I’m pretty sure that’s Alex’s assistant?
“Hey.” I approach her, and she turns, a faint smile curling her lips for the briefest moment before it disappears. “Aren’t you…”
“Kelsey. Alex’s assistant.” Her little smile remains in place, and it’s feeble at best. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me? “You’re Caroline.”
“Yes, hey, good to see you again.” I’m about to leave, considering how awkward this feels, but then I notice how her smile falls away completely, replaced by a full-on down-in-the-dumps expression.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve just been stood up,” she admits, her voice cracking.
“Aww.” I reach out and touch her upper arm, then pat her shoulder. “No way.”
“Yeah, I think so.” She nods, her jaw working. If she cries over being stood up, I’m going to get mad on her behalf, I swear. “He’s forty-five minutes late. And he won’t answer my texts or calls.”
“What an asshole! Like, you’re the most beautiful woman in this entire bar!” I shake my head. “And I’m not saying that because I’m drunk either.”
Kelsey laughs. “I think you’re my new best friend.”
“I’m serious.” I laugh with her. “So. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what went wrong. We met at a co-ed bridal shower a few weeks ago, and we just clicked, ya know? We exchanged numbers and we’ve been texting for weeks. Our schedules were always so busy, though, it was hard for us to make a date. So we finally decide to meet her tonight for drinks and dinner and now he’s a total no-show.” Kelsey frowns, and even when she does that, she’s still devastatingly beautiful. I should sort of hate her. “I don’t understand why he didn’t show up. He hasn’t called me or texted me with an excuse. It’s just so weird.”
“Maybe he freaked out,” I suggest.
“Freaked out over what?”
“That you
’re so beautiful. Maybe he doesn’t think he measures up.”
Kelsey’s cheeks turn pink. “I’m not that beautiful.”
“You’re absolutely freakin’ gorgeous. I noticed that first thing when I saw you in the office earlier.”
She pats my arm. “You’re way too sweet.”
“No, I’m actually not,” I tell her, making her laugh. “But I am honest.”
Her laughter dies, but she’s still smiling, and that makes me happy. “I’m glad you stopped and talked to me. You made the night a little better.”
“I can make it a lot better,” I tell her. “You should join our table.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” she starts to protest, but I shake my head, taking her hand and pulling her off the barstool.
“I insist.” I spot Stella’s other brother working behind the bar. “Tony, add this lady’s drink to our tab, okay?”
“Got it, Caro,” Tony yells, giving me the thumbs-up.
“Are you serious? I don’t want to crash your date,” Kelsey says as I take her hand and lead her into the restaurant.
“I’m not on a date. I’m having dinner with a bunch of friends,” I explain.
“I don’t want to crash your party either.”
“You’re not crashing anything. We love new friends. Trust me!” We stop at the table and I put my arm around Kelsey’s shoulders. “Everyone, this is our new friend, Kelsey. Kelsey, this is…everyone.”
They all shout their hellos, and soon chairs are moving, an extra one is found, and Kelsey is wedged between me and Sarah at the end of the table.
I’m so, so tempted to pick her brain about Alex Wilder and what she might know about him, but I can’t do that. I’ll look like some sort of psycho, and that’s not cool.
But God, there are so many questions I could ask her. I drink another glass of wine, and so does Kelsey, and soon I don’t have to ask her anything. She just starts volunteering information.
“So you know Alex, huh? Are you guys like…friends?” Kelsey’s cheeks are flushed, she’s a lightweight like me, and I know this is probably the alcohol talking, which isn’t good. But I don’t care.
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