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Charlotte
Ishould be working, but instead I called Trent. It was three hours later in New York. Everybody I knew in Sweetbriar would be asleep. Well, except for Cade and I didn’t want to call him for obvious reasons. Plus, an update on the stalker situation beyond our daily text check in would be good. So far, he was working, strolling through all the New York tourist places, enjoying Big Mac lunches, and going straight home. Stalking me must have been his only hobby. He had been quiet since I left New York.
“Yeah, Trent. I’m fine. I’m not saying there aren’t any nut jobs in Sweetbriar, there’s plenty. It’s just that anyone local knows not to screw with me. My brothers will put the hurt on anyone who messes with me and I’m on a first name basis with almost all the cops in town. My ex-father-in-law is the police chief for goodness’ sake. And of course, you know all about Cade.”
Trent wanted to come to Sweetbriar. He was concerned that my asshole stalker would somehow give him the slip and get to me before he could send out a warning. It was silly, but I always tried to avoid saying or even thinking his actual name as if acknowledging it somehow gave him a power over me. He also wanted me to tell my family and the police here in Sweetbriar about him, but I refused. No way. I liked my freedom too much.
“Okay, then I’ll stay here in New York and keep following Creepy McStalkerpants around. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m not a professional and I’m stretched kind of thin since I’m still in play rehearsals. I don’t want to miss anything and put you at risk. At least let me hire a hit man or maybe a sexy private detective I can have a fling with—I have money now and I don’t mind. Or I could always just kick his ass myself.”
“Murder isn’t always the answer, Trent,” I teased. “But I guess I wouldn’t mind if you gave Weirdo VonStalkerton a beat down. Maybe it would scare him off for good.”
“Don’t make me laugh! Look at what you write! Murder, mayhem, and dead bodies piled up all over the pages. Uh-huh, sure. Violence is your bread and butter, Charli. And look, I’m just waiting for that motherfucker to step a toe out of line. I may joke around with you, but I take your safety seriously. You’re my best friend. I love you.”
“I love you too. I know you worry about me. And I appreciate it, Trent. You rock as an ex-husband.”
“And you’re the best ex-wife ever. The next person I marry will probably be pissed at the pre-nup they’ll have to sign now that I finally got the fifty mil. Stay safe. I’ll check in tomorrow. Bye Charli.”
“Bye.” I set the phone down.
I was showered, dressed, and caffeinated. My laptop was open, my manuscript ready and waiting. I should be writing but all I could think about was banging Cade on the stairs again. Or maybe banging him in my bed, or on this couch, or the floor. Damn, I wanted him, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care about anything else. My writing mojo was deader than the latest victim in my manuscript, who had just died of an overdose of rat poison disguised as a tragic woodchipper accident—obviously, I had some residual feelings of anger from last night to work through.
I flopped back against the cushions, throwing an arm over my forehead in the most dramatic fashion I could muster.
This sucked.
His curt note still stung a bit, but I managed to rationalize it away for the moment and not burst into tears because he had to be feeling just as weird as I was about our sexy staircase escapade last night.
“Ughhhh. Screw this.” I had to get out of here before I went stir crazy.
Cade had told me he didn’t mind if I worked at Violet’s. I shot a text to Dahlia to see if she could meet me. Naturally, she was already there and told me to come on down.
I was feeling better already. I’d get some writing done, and if Cade’s mother happened to drop a few nuggets of information about how he was feeling about me, it would be a happy bonus.
I dug through the bottom shelf of my coffee table for my laptop case and extra charger cord.
“Damn it.”
Whatever.
It was obvious I needed a good night of sleep and perhaps a spa trip to clear my head. I was losing everything lately, including my mind. And now that Cade and I had taken it to the next level, I was losing my heart too. I darted upstairs to my room and grabbed a backpack. I stuffed my wallet, laptop, and other necessities in and headed outside to get the heck out of dodge.
Shoot! My Jeep was still at Cade’s. I threw my hands up, frustrated. “Double damn.” Violet’s coffee shop was close. It was cold as heck, but the sun was out. “Screw it.” I shoved my keys in my pocket and took off walking.
Sweetbriar in spring could often be described as winter part two, and today was no exception. I was only halfway down the block, and I was already freezing my ass off. “Jeez, this fricking sucks. Literally the worst day ever.” I continued ranting to myself as I walked with my breath puffing out in little clouds as I crunched over the—thankfully shoveled—sidewalk. I was going to drink the crap out a hot and steamy huge-ass vanilla latte, and decided maybe I’d get a chocolate croissant too. My standard blueberry muffin didn’t feel like enough of a reward for living through this shitty morning. Blueberries were delicious but felt too healthy for my mood.
Finally, I made it to the little strip mall where Vi’s shop was located. It was adorable and mountain-y—New York had nothing like this. The long building was built to emulate the look of a log cabin, with dark wood and stacked stones, big beams, and forest green trim. Little planters were filled with evergreen shrubbery and tiny topiaries glittered with clear lights wrapped around their trunks.
This town was charming as hell. When the weather grew warm, each light pole would hold a hanging basket overflowing with flowers from the local nurseries and the empty lot at the end of the street would be filled with little stands for area farmers to sell their produce.
With each step I grew angrier with myself. Why had I stayed away for so long? I loved it here. This was my home, not New York.
By the time I got inside Violet’s I was grumpy, and a little bit pissed off. I did this sometimes—got myself worked up over something that was my own fault.
“Hey, Charlotte!” Violet called. “The usual?”
“Not this time. A vanilla latte, extra hot, and something chocolate please.”
“Oh crap, girl, you’re ordering something different. What did my bonehead brother do to you?”
Startled laughter burst out of me. “How did you know? I mean, he didn’t do anything really—”
“One, your face always tells the tale. You’ve always been a wide-open book. And two, duh, he’s my brother and I love him to pieces, but I know for a fact that he can also be a stubborn horse’s ass sometimes. He needs to learn how to communicate.”
“Well, he left me a note earlier and it was brusque to say the least. I mean, we—um, last night—never mind. I just expected more, I guess. He really didn’t do anything. It’s my fault for having expectations before we were able to hash everything out.”
“I’m so sorry. He’ll make it better. Don’t give up yet. His heart is good. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I do. His heart is amazing and wonderful, and I missed it so much—uh, which is probably why I’m so grouchy and hurt this morning, I guess.” My cheeks burned; I didn’t have to spell it out for her to guess what had happened between me and Cade. Her knowing eyes on mine understood everything I hadn’t said.
