Page 24 of Wreck Me

She leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, and Ican’t help but wonder if they’ve hooked up before. My eyes close at the thought, and I suddenly feel like a fish out of water. I came in here so cocky, eyes only for Carter and so sure he was trapped in this bubble with me—no matter how toxic it may be—and I’m suddenly reminded that Carter is an active member of a sex club where he’s most likely been with people who are currently here. It’s a thought that didn’t cross my mind until now. I’ve been so focused on just the two of us that I seem to have forgotten Carter had an entire life before I waltzed in and blew the lid off of it.

We’re alone again, sitting in silence. I study the side profile of his strong face, and struggle with the urge to pull him into a hug. I hate admitting how badly I just want to hug him. I don’t need anything more, but to hold Carter close would be a gift. For some reason, he has the power to silence all the demons in my head, and I love how whole I feel when I’m next to him.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, both of us lost in our own thoughts as time passes.

“You going to write the article, Nash?”

“Haven’t decided yet, Hayes.”

He nods a few times, letting my words sink in before he gives the bartender a wave and stands to leave. Fuck, that’s it? I suddenly don’t want to go back to my house alone, I want to stay and talk with him; I want to learn everything there is about him. I want more. I want everything. Doesn’t he feel this?

It takes extreme effort to keep from smiling as the bell chimes over my head. I walk into the coffee shop and am met with a welcome, cool breeze. The interior is cozy while also beingvibrant, a classy bohemian aesthetic that works for the space. A single table sits inside a semi-circle window, an elderly woman with a little white dog in her lap eyeing me suspiciously. Odd.

I take steps further into the inviting space, past the few small booths that line the wall opposite a large pastry display case.Bean Havenis painted in a loopy scroll on the wall above the counter, and live plants are placed throughout the room. It’s hard for me not to notice every little detail. This is definitely a place worthy of writing about. But do the food and coffee meet my standards?

“Hey! New to town?” A beautiful young woman waltzes from the back room, her lavender-colored hair bouncing around her face. She’s wearing a tank top and jeans, a sleeve of intricately and expertly done floral line work covering an entire arm in a delicate tattoo.

“Hey, just passing through, actually.”

“Well, welcome to Bean Haven. I’m Hannah.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. What do you recommend?”

“Well, my best sellers are apple cinnamon muffins, cinnamon rolls, and chocolate croissants. But my favorite is the plum and cream cheese Danish.”

“How about one of each and an Americano?” I say, giving her a flirty wink.

She holds up her left hand and wiggles her fingers.

“Careful, I’m a married woman with a growly husband.”

I laugh and put my hands up, palms facing her, feigning innocence. I was genuinely just trying to be friendly. She gives me a smile and works on my order while I continue to look around the space. I’d love to interview her, learn the story, and meet more people. The town is somehow cuter than anticipated, and I had already thought it was something special. It’s a true hidden gem, both from its position hidden by the Olympic Mountains and the Pacific Ocean, and the quaint charm thatthe town exudes. I’ve never seen such an idyllic, charming town. It’s as if it were handpicked right from a storybook.

Patrons sit in various spots within the space, and I can feel the inconspicuous looks as they regard the newcomer. I’ve seen it all before; residents of small towns tend to be wary of outsiders, cautious, and protective. It’s one of the reasons I gravitate toward them. What brings these strangers together to share in the common, collective goal of protecting the thing they all love?

“Here you go!”

“Thank you. Can’t wait to try it all,” I tell her honestly. After taking one last look around the coffee shop, clocking all of the little details that make it unique, I head to the door. The little old lady sitting off in the window squints her eyes at me as she watches me go. Like she wants to make sure that I’ve actually left before she dares to look away.

The warm, balmy air hits my body in a gust of heat as I step out onto the cobblestone sidewalk. A hand roughly grasps my bicep, jerking me into the small alley on the other side of the brick building, shoving me against the wall. I do everything I can not to slosh my hot drink on either of us as I figure out what the hell is going on and if I’m about to be mugged in a tiny-ass town.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Carter hisses, his face pinched, clearly pissed the fuck off. Our bodies are near flush, his minty breath warm on my face. Any worry I had evaporates, replaced with a rush of endorphins, my heart settling, and a smile tugging at my lips.

“I was getting a coffee and breakfast,” I reply innocently, holding up the white bag of pastries and the to-go cup in my other hand.

“In Aspen Ridge, asshole. Just openly stalking me now?”

I scoff, even if it’s true. “Pretty full of yourself, Hayes. Youknow I’m a travel writer, right? I’m assuming you read more about me than just my name.”

“So, what? Now you’re going to blast my whole fuckin’ town? Stay the fuck away from my family. Stay the fuck away from Bean Haven. Hannah has been through enough.”

“Hannah, huh?”

“Yep. My sister-in-law. And we’re protective of what’s ours, Nash, so not so kindly, fuck off.”

I don’t know why, but his words strike a chord. I’m genuinely awed by Aspen Ridge and was interested in learning more about the place and its residents, even if I’ve been forbidden from ever stepping foot here. I wouldn’t ruin an innocent woman’s life and for him to accuse me of such pisses me off.

“Fuck you! You don’t know shit about me,” I snap, anger coursing through me now.

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