Page 38 of Stalked By the Alphas
“I might’ve taken the liberty before I came in here,” he says with that familiar smile.
I take it from him. “Oh, did you now? Bold assumption that I still drink tea.”
“Old habits die hard, Haze,” he jokes. “And I find it amusing that you think the bold assumption was the choice of beverage and not me assuming you’d talk to me.”
I giggle, unable to help myself. It’s like falling back into a rhythm that we had for so many years. “Well, thanks. I could do with it.” Taking a sip, I move around the back of the counter and nod at the stool on the other side for him to take a seat. He perches on it and takes a gulp of the scorching hot tea.
“I’ll never know how you do that,” I murmur automatically.
“What?” he asks.
“Gulp back hot drinks like that.”
Carter smirks, a hint of that boyish charm I remember peeking through. “Years of practice.”
I nod, taking a more careful sip of my tea. A strange silence falls between us. There’s so much unsaid, so many years of distance.
“This shop is great. I can see why you fell in love with it and the area,” he murmurs, almost awkwardly.
“Thanks. It was good to get away. Start over.” This is dangerous territory.
Carter nods, his eyes roaming over the shelves, ignoring the elephant in the room. “It suits you.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What have you been up to all these years?”
Carter’s eyes darken slightly. “Oh, this and that. I mostly focused on my law career. Made partner last year at Richmond & Associates.”
“Wow, congratulations,” I say, genuinely impressed. “That’s amazing, Carter.”
He shrugs. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Thinking about a change of career. Need any help around here? Looks like the Lake District is the place to go to make a new life for oneself.”
The edge to his tone gives me pause. “Carter,” I say, shaking my head.
“Why did you leave, Hazel?” he asks, suddenly, even though I should’ve expected it.
“You know why. With my parents’ death and seeing them everywhere I turned, all the memories... I had to go. It was stifling!” The part truth comes out in a rush and harsher than I wanted.
His eyes harden, and he looks like he wants to argue, but then, to my shock, he lets it go and nods. “Of course,” he murmurs. “It must’ve been hard.”
My breath is coming in fast pants as we edge around the subject of the pact, but his expression softens, and I nod. “It was.”
He drops his gaze back to his tea and takes anothergulp before rising from the stool. He moves purposefully around the counter, and I back up, panic rearing in my throat. But all he does is drop the empty to-go cup in the bin on top of the smashed doll.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t go unnoticed. He frowns and leans down to stare at it, moving the cardboard cup out of the way. “A masked doll,” he murmurs.
“Fucking bastard fucking thing!” I spit out. “Deserved what he got.”
Carter’s eyes widen, and he straightens up cautiously. “Oh? Offend you, did it?”
“By existing,” I growl.
“I see things definitely don’t change. Still scared shitless of masks.” His tone is light, but with an undercurrent I can’t quite place.
“They should all rot in hell.”
“Okay, Hazel Bishop, masked magician killer. It has a nice ring to it.” He smirks, which sets me slightly more at ease.
“Sorry. I just really hate those fucking things.”
