Specifically the word married.
“Me either. Who even needs to get married these days? It’s completely unnecessary.” I turn the key and push open the door, shifting out of the way to let Carter inside. He shuts the door behind him as I go to one of the table lamps and flick it on, illuminating the room.
“Your traditional Italian family would probably freak the fuck out if they heard you,” Carter says, leaning against the door.
“You’re so right,” I say with a sigh as I hook my bag on the back of one of the dining chairs. “They’re always on me, especially my mom and nonna. Asking when I’m going to find someone and settle down.”
We both make disgusted faces.
“Think about it,” Carter says, his voice soft. Ever so slightly seductive. He’s good, I’ll give him that. “My offer. Occasional sex. No strings. We’ll respect each other’s boundaries. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Hmm. Those words sound promising.
“It’ll be our little secret, Stel.”
I contemplate him, taking his offer seriously despite the warning signs flashing in my head. One apology and he thinks I’m that easy? Not quite.
I decide to change the subject.
“My brother demanded you come with me to the family dinner this Sunday.”
His expression turns sheepish. “I know. He talked to me about it too.”
“Why does he want you there? Because of my nonna’s house?” When Carter nods, I continue. “Do you really want to tackle that project?”
He’s quiet for a while, mulling it over. “I do,” he finally says. “I just—I didn’t know where to start, so I sort of gave up on it. The theme of my life lately.”
“If you don’t want to do it—”
He cuts me off. “I want to,” he says, his deep voice firm. “Your grandmother is sweet. And her house has so much potential. I’ve always wanted to flip homes. Buy something, fix it up and resell it for profit.”
“This would be the ideal project then,” I tell him. “Though I’m not sure if my nonna really wants to sell it.”
“She said she wanted a condo by the beach. She wants to live in a retirement community and make new friends.”
“She’s said that for years.” My tone is dismissive. Even I can hear it.
“That’s exactly what your brother said to me. What if she’s telling you all the truth, and that’s what she really wants, but no one is listening? Maybe she actually does want something smaller. Maybe she’s tired of taking care of her yard.”
“She says that too.”
“Right. She said that in front of me when we were still at Sweet Dreams.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t know if I can offer her what she wants.”
“What do you think she wants?”
“Someone who knows what the hell he’s doing.” His rueful smile kind of makes my heart ache. He’s totally putting himself down. Almost feeling sorry for himself.
Why?
“Even if she doesn’t want to sell it, the house definitely needs work,” I say gently. “Maybe she could pay you to help her with that.”
“What, like I’m a contractor? Which I’m not, by the way. I don’t have a contractor’s license.”
“You could be the project manager,” I suggest hopefully.
Wait a minute. How exactly did our conversation switch from hey, let’s be fuck buddies to remodeling my nonna’s house?
Oh right, that’s my fault.
“We’ll see.” The way he says that tells me he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Yawning, I cover my mouth with my hand and start making my way toward my bedroom. “I’m tired. Good night, Carter.”
He calls after me, “That’s it? Our conversation is over?”
I glance over my shoulder. “About my nonna? Definitely. You can talk more with her and my father on Sunday.”
He raises a brow. “You’ll let me come to the family Sunday dinner?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “But don’t mention to any of them that we live together.”
“Stella. They’re going to eventually figure it out. And it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He pauses. “Yet.”
“We will most likely never do anything.” I turn so I’m facing him once again. “It’s safer.”
“Safer for you or for me?”
“For both of us. We don’t need to ruin our friendship.”
“I never thought of you as my friend,” he admits, his voice low. “We moved beyond friends pretty quick.”
“Well, we need to shift to friends and stay there. Anything more and we’re just asking for trouble,” I tell him firmly, as if I’m trying to convince him.
As if I’m trying to convince myself.
“I happen to like trouble,” he says with a devilish grin.
“I’m sure you do.” My tone is sarcastic. “Good night.”
Sixteen
The minute my shift is over at Sweet Dreams, I flee the building, run up the stairs and jam the key in the lock, fumbling with it as if I’ve never used a key before. Finally I push open the door, bursting into my apartment to find Carter kicked back on the couch, watching some crazy violent war movie.
And I know it’s crazy violent because right when I glance at the screen, I see a dude get shot right between the eyes, making a weird face before he collapses to the ground.
Gross.
This won’t work with my plans. At all.
I slam the door, startling Carter and he immediately grabs the remote, turning the volume down, his gaze never leaving the screen. “You’re home early.”
“Not really,” I tell him, though he’s actually right. I don’t come home right when I get off work. Sometimes there are things I need to do, like run errands. Or I go visit my nonna. Or Caroline. Or even Sarah.
All stall tactics to keep me out of the apartment and away from Carter, who never seems to leave it.
But today, today is different. Today I’m home early and I want to watch Netflix because the movie sequel to To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, which I’ve been waiting for since I watched that cute romcom over a year ago, is finally releasing today, and I want to revel in its sweet, cozy romantic vibes.
I also wanted to watch it on my TV versus my laptop, so I could see the gorgeous male lead actor in all his 4K glory, too. Looks like I’ll have to kick Carter out of the living room.
“I was, uh, hoping to watch something right now.” I wave my hand at the bloody fight scene that’s currently unfolding. “On my TV.”
“Oh. Shit.” He sits up straighter and hits pause on the remote, then sets it down on the coffee table in front of him. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He rises to his feet and stretches his arms over his head, causing the hem of his T-shirt to lift, revealing a slice of firm belly.
My lips part and my mouth goes dry. Pretty sure I licked a path around his navel during our one moment together, not that I need to relive that particular moment yet again.
This is why I stay out of the apartment as much as possible. He’s a distraction. A delicious, sexy distraction, and while I do adore seeing him dressed up a little, I also adore seeing him in all his casual glory. Which means T-shirts that stretch tight across his broad chest and joggers that hang loose from his hips.