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“I didn’t ask for time off. You know me better than that. But you’re right. I need sleep, pronto. Besides, we leave for our ski trip next week and have five full days together to hang out and get ourselves into trouble,” I tell her with a wink.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Leanna. I plan to get us into all the best kinds of it!” Daphne says, clapping her hands excitedly. I blow her a kiss and go to my room.
I kick off my slippers and crawl into bed, staring at my ceiling and trying to find random patterns within the paint strokes. It sounds like a weird thing to do, but it’s surprisingly relaxing, and it’s my version of counting sheep. Unfortunately, no matter how long I lay there and stare, I can’t get Carter and the “almost kiss” out of my head.
Was I so deliriously tired that I dreamed the whole thing? Did I misread a different emotion from Carter, projecting my own desires instead? All I can definitively say is that I would have welcomed the kiss while Carter was content to run from it.
The following day, I woke up to an empty house. Daphne had left early since her commute is well over an hour, upwards of two depending on traffic. On several occasions, I’ve suggested that she rent a room down south for the next six months while working on the project. She can always come home on the weekends to spend time with her family. The money she would pay for rent would easily be offset by what she spends on gas and tolls. The last time we spoke about it, she said she would consider it.
As for Carter, I expected to see him either making breakfast or coming back from a run. Looking out the window, I see that his truck is not in its usual parking spot. I don’t give it much thought, figuring he might have gone to the gym for a strength training workout.
By the time I’m ready for work, I have plenty of time left to stop and get pastries and coffee for the guys at the station. I call #JavaGoodTime and order a coffee traveler and two dozen muffins in various flavors. They thank me for my order and tell me that it will be ready for pick up in half an hour.
It’s about a 30-minute walk to the coffee shop and only a block past the station. Rather than driving, I bundle up to make the trek and enjoy the invigoratingly brisk air. The burn of the cold in my lungs makes me feel alive. It’s the only proof I have that I’m still breathing when the world stops spinning, and I see Carter through the window, sitting at a table with a petite little blonde.
My heart hurts when I see them laugh over something, and the woman runs her finger up his arm in an overly familiar way. The only saving grace to the situation is that Carter quickly loses his smile and pulls his arm away from her when she does it. However, he doesn’t leave, nor does he cross his arms over his chest in his typical “closed-off” position. Instead, he leans back and places his arm over the back of the empty chair, a sign of openness regarding body language.
I’m not one to shy away from awkward encounters, so I pull myself together and walk inside. I stand in line and pretend I don’t see Carter because, let’s face it, I don’t go looking for awkward encounters either. With my back turned, I can only hear snippets of their conversation.
“You were my first love…hurt deeply…now that you’re back,” Carter says to the woman.
“It’s been a long…both so young…You asked me to marry you,” she responds. Her last words cause me to choke on my saliva, and the person behind me starts patting my back as if that will help.
“I’m…gasp…fine…gasp…thank you.” I smile at the gentleman who had been trying to be a good Samaritan when my gaze connects with Carter’s. His eyes beg for a chance to explain, so I walk over and introduce myself like I would with any of his friends.
“Hi, I’m Leanna, Carter’s roommate,” I hold my hand out in greeting. The woman arches an eyebrow at Carter before she smiles at me and shakes it.
“I’m Melissa. His fiancée,” she says.
“Ex,” Carter quickly chimes in. “Melissawasmy fiancée, and now she’ll be leaving,” he says, visibly upset.
Trying to hide my hurt from him keeping such a monumental secret from me, I put up my hands and take a step back in retreat. With a smile firmly in place, I tell them, “Oh, you don’t have to go on my account. I’m just picking up coffee and muffins for everyone at the fire station. It should be ready any minute, and then Hi-Ho! Hi-Ho! it’s off to work I go!” I swing my arms while marching in place to punctuate my statement. Carter smirks at my antics, but Melissa looks at me like I’m the dirt beneath her shoe.
“Leanna! Your order is up!” yells Barry, the Barista.
“Welp. You two have fun catching up! I didn’t mean to interrupt your date!”
I smile at them both before heading over to the pick-up counter to grab my order. It’s all I can do to keep the tears at bay.
“Can I give you a hand with that, Pollyanna?” asks a voice I recognize. I see Officer Bryce Jordan standing behind me wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a flannel button-up worn openly. His ordinarily dark, slicked-back hair hangs loose and carefree, looking tousled as if he just got out of bed. Many men have tried to pull off the look, but Bryce succeeds.
Still sitting at the table while Melissa talks animatedly to him, Carter feels the weight of my stare and looks over at me. His eyes darken when he sees Bryce standing to my right and far too close for comfort. Taking a step back to get some space, I turn to Bryce and smile. “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”
Bryce carries the coffee traveler and all the condiments that go with it while I carry the two boxes of muffins down the block. When we arrive, I show him to the kitchen, where we work together and get everything set up quickly.
“Thanks for the help, Bryce. Please make yourself a cup of coffee and grab a muffin as my way of saying thank you.”
Bryce steps in front of me to block my escape. “How about going on a date with me instead?”
I shake my head. “You know the answer to that, Bryce. It’s the same as the last ten times you asked.”
He steps back, giving me a huge smile that shows his perfectly straight teeth, “Mark my words, Pollyanna. One day, you’ll agree to go out with me.” He points his finger at me like a gun and winks.
If there is one thing that can be said about Bryce Jordan, it’s that he’s persistent. Under normal circumstances, he’s a nice guy who deserves a chance—if only my heart didn’t belong to someone else.
Chapter ten
Carter
