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“Let me just check.”
No.But like watching a car crash, I couldn’t not watch as he grabbed a couple of dishes from the dry rack and scrutinized them, tipping them left and right.
“I swear they’re clean.”
“You took my advice?”
“Of course.”It came from you.
As he continued to scan, and most likely judge, I scurried around, picking up my clothes and depositing them on the available chair. The tools remained in a pile on the floor.
“I need to catch up on laundry.”
“There’s a laundromat around the corner, down the stairs in the basement.” He pointed to the left, but inside the motel room, which wasn’t facing the main road, I wasn’t sure where that was. No doubt, Google would help. “I’m trying to get them to carry our coffee, so if you go there, mind putting in a good word?”
“Of course.”
He kicked at the toolbox near the cupboard door. “What are you working on?”
“Nothing.”
The cupboard door wasn’t level and therefore wasn’t closing properly. A few quick adjustments and it was perfect. How I wished I’d put my tools and level away. Mind you, I didn’t think I’d be bringing anyone back.
“Can we go now?” I stood by the door, desperate to pick up from where we ended in the parking lot of the grocery store.
“Sure, why not?” There was an odd skip in his steps. “You getting hungry?”
I stopped in a heartbeat and stared into his eyes. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, really?” There was just enough fire in his gaze to ignite my embers.
“Let’s go.”
With my groceries safely stowed in my motel room, I drove Carter to his place and parked alongside the road, helping him carry his up the stairs at the back of the building. The metal-grated stairs were outside, and looking up from the back to his place, I would’ve never guessed they would’ve led to an apartment. It looked rather industrial.
We climbed the twenty or so steps, and after we closed the door, he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in a tiny closet. Not that I blamed him for removing his jacket; it was toasty warm which was apparent the second the door opened, and a burst of heat slammed into us.
“Wow, you like it warm, eh?”
“Who doesn’t?” He nodded and took a grocery bag from my hand. “You can hang your jacket there.”
I spun around and tucked behind the door was an ornamental coat rack. Adding my coat to it, I paced around and checked out his spacious apartment. In addition to the place being borderline hot, it also had a slight tropical scent to it, something spicy yet citrus-like. I loved it. It took me back in time to when we were younger, and he always had a mandarin orange fragrance tree hanging in his car.
“I’ll put on some tea and get these put away. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”
His couch had a navy-blue waffle-weave blanket thrown across it, as if he’d had a guest who vacated in a rush, and the living room wasn’t as neat as tidy as I thought it’d be. The Carter of our younger years always had a meticulously clean bedroom.
Sidestepping a pile of books, I beelined to the bookcase as I’d read somewhere if you wanted to know someone, you checked out their bookshelves. Aside from a few trinkets (nothing even coffee-related), a collection of video games, and a smattering of Blu-rays, there wasn’t much of interest. He had a couple of family pictures – one which included his parents and all the sisters, another with spouses and one tiny human, which I assumed was Starcy, his niece. With an upturned nose and a smattering of freckles, she was adorable.
The books weren’t stacked lovingly on the shelves, but rather in piles on his coffee table. One stack was a full collection of BJ Sutcliff novels with a sticky note and the wordsisland authorscratched across. Another pile contained names I didn’t immediately recognize but tickled the back of my brain like they should have been familiar.
It wasn’t the stack of books or the bookshelves devoid of reading material that caught my eye though – his walls were filled with artwork, but mostly huge, green leafy trees and in one of them a guy was holding onto the branch of berries. Or was it cherries?
I tapped the one picture and called out to Carter. “Are these those coffee trees you talked about?”
He wiped his hand on a towel, which he then threw over his shoulder as he walked into the living room. “Yep. That there is my friend Diego.”
“The plantation worker?” Our conversation came back with impressive speed, and internally, I clapped myself on the back for remembering. Carter nodded. “Wow, that’s cool. So that’s where coffee comes from, eh?” I laughed at my words, unsure why it sounded funny to say that.
