I’m shocked by the hostility in her tone, but I tell myself I shouldn’t be. “Okay, I get it. You’re right. What happened between us last year—shouldn’t have.”
“Right. So you want to forget everything.” The hurt on her face is unmistakable. “I should tell your sister I don’t want you living with me after all. And I should tell her the exact reason why.”
She starts to walk away, but I’m faster than her. I catch up easily, walking beside her, matching her brisk pace. “I didn’t phrase that correctly.”
“I think you phrased it exactly the way you feel about this. About us. About me.” Stella comes to a stop and so do I. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are thinned as she contemplates me. “I’m your dirty little secret. Don’t worry. We never have to talk about it again.”
Stella shakes my hand off her arm and stalks off, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk, looking this way and that before she darts across the road, toward Sweet Dreams and her—soon to be our—apartment above it.
Well. I handled that pretty fucking badly, now didn’t I?
Six
Considering I pissed Stella off so thoroughly in front of the restaurant after Alex and Caroline left, I figured my ass was about to be left in the street. No cheap apartment living in downtown Carmel for me.
But I never heard a single peep out of Stella after that conversation. Caroline didn’t come to me with questions I didn’t want to answer either. I held my breath for what felt like twenty-four hours every time I got a text or a phone call, afraid it was going to be bad news.
Neither woman said a word. And now here I am. It’s move-in day, a Sunday, and Caroline sent me a text first thing in the morning, reminding me that I needed to come over to the apartment and move my things in.
Like I’d forget. She’s turned into a major mother hen.
Since I left all my furniture and most of my belongings in storage down in Los Angeles until I found a place to live here, it’s a fairly simple process. A couple of boxes, a suitcase, and a traveling garment bag filled with three of my favorite and most expensive suits are all I’m bringing to my new apartment.
I shove that garment bag into the farthest corner of the tiny closet that now temporarily belongs to me, then glance around the room. It’s not huge like my old bedroom, or even the suite I’ve been staying in at Alex’s hotel, but it’s bigger than I thought it would be, so that’s a pleasant surprise. The window is large and faces out toward the street, which offers a fantastic view of Ocean Avenue and beyond that, the ocean itself.
Caroline left her bedding since she doesn’t need it at Alex’s, promising me it would be washed and the bed remade. I stare at it now, wishing she would’ve warned me that the sheets were a pale pastel pink and the comforter was a silvery gray with faded pink and white flowers dotting it. There’s a thick, fuzzy blanket draped across the end of the bed, the same pale pink of the sheets and flowers, and I reach out, smoothing my hand along the buttery-soft fabric.
“She left you the good blanket.”
I turn at the sound of Stella’s voice to find her standing in the doorway of my new room, wearing a sports bra and a pair of tiny shorts, her thick, dark hair pulled into a high ponytail. She has AirPods nestled in her ears, and I swear her skin is covered in the faintest sheen of sweat like she’s just been exercising—running, maybe?—which is sexy as hell.
She is sexy as hell. Having her back in my stratosphere is reminding me of that on a daily basis. Even when she’s mad at me, I find her attractive. Clearing the air and apologizing to Stella was the tactic I should’ve used a few nights ago. Asking her if we could forget what happened in the past and start over was a mistake. Clearly I was talking out of my ass.
How the hell am I going to be able to resist her while living with her?
I’m not sure if it’s possible.
Realizing she’s waiting for me to respond to her now forgotten question, I end up playing stupid. “What are you talking about?”
“That blanket.” She nods toward the very one I was stroking not a minute before. “It’s my favorite. We’d snuggle up together in it at night and watch movies on the couch.”
I’d suggest we could do the same thing, especially if she’s wearing the sports bra and tiny shorts getup, but I don’t say that at all. I value my balls and would like to keep them intact. “It is a nice blanket,” I say almost tauntingly.
She crosses her arms, plumping up her breasts, and I can’t help but stare at the black sports bra, hoping for a nipple shot, though I’m reaching. I don’t stare too long, though, and when I lift my gaze to meet hers, the disgust on her face tells me she caught me checking out her tits. Oh well. “I hope you enjoy it,” she practically spits out.
I frown, already lost in the conversation again. “Enjoy what?”
She throws her hands up in the air. “The blanket. God, you can’t even follow a simple conversation. Or you say things that sound overtly sexual.”
Whatever I’ve said since she’s made her appearance, I didn’t mean to make sound sexual whatsoever. I can’t help it that when I see her, I think about the time we actually had sex, and how great it was. “Maybe you’re the one turning everything I say into something sexual.”
An actual growl escapes her and she stalks into my new bedroom, stopping directly in front of me. Having her this close, I can smell her shampoo. Light and floral. I remember this scent from before.
The night we spent together.
I need to stop thinking about that night. Put it firmly in the past like I suggested we could do a few nights ago.
I’m an idiot.
“Stop trying to turn this into something it’s not. We can’t flirt with each other, Carter.” She pokes her finger into the center of my chest a couple of times and I step away with a muttered ow. That finger should be a weapon. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said the last time we were together and how you were right. We do have to forget what happened between us.”
I frown, rubbing my chest. There is too much skin on display for me to concentrate. “What happened between us?”
Again, she throws her arms up in the air, looking like a frustrated Italian mother. I bet she got that move from her actual Italian mother, so it makes sense. “Did you already forget your own advice? God, you’re so frustrating. Don’t act like you can’t remember.”
“Remember what?” I want to hear her say it. I didn’t realize how much fun it is, poking the bear that is Stella Ricci.
My new roommate.
The sexiest woman I’ve ever had the opportunity to have sex with.
Damn, I wouldn’t mind a re—
“Don’t make me say it.”
I grin. “Say what?”
Another growl, this one louder. “You’re infuriating.”
And with that, she stalks out of my room.
Like a man under a trance, I follow after her, down the tiny hallway, past the bathroom we’re going to share—that’ll be interesting—and the closed door of her bedroom. Until we’re both in the kitchen and she’s opening the refrigerator, pulling out one of those protein snack packs full of cheese, nuts and dried cranberries. She tears it open and starts shoving nuts and cheese into her mouth, those full lips moving, her jaw working as she stares at me while she chews.