Bespoken: An Opposites-Attract Standalone Romance (Carmel Cove Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Alright,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I gotta run and shower for the thing at the Lookout tonight…” His gaze was still locked on me expectantly, and I had no idea what for. “It’s been three months since Larry’s passing.”

  “Oh.” My eyes fell, and I let my expression become shuttered.

  There had been a memorial for my grandfather at the new restaurant in town, Larry’s Lookout, a few weeks after the funeral. The owner, Ash Tyler, had named it after my grandfather for helping him get sober and gain a footing and a future in Carmel.

  Of course, my parents had deemed it unnecessary for us to go. We’d gone to the viewing and the funeral. Anything further was too much time wasted outside the resort.

  “Will I see you there?” he prompted with a low voice.

  Gwen was working later, so his question was only directed to me.

  “No, I don’t think so,” was all I could offer. Laurel had mentioned it the other day, but I hadn’t felt comfortable saying yes. “But tell everyone I said hello.”

  His disappointment was clear on his face.

  Even if Rock Beach wasn’t a prison, I hadn’t been a part of this town—the community—for so long, it was hard to feel comfortable taking steps outside it, especially knowing the kind of person the town thought I was. Stuck up. Snooty. Sometimes my confinement came from the outside, rather than the walls physically keeping me within.

  Mick’s eyes flashed with disappointment, and I felt the sudden urge to change my mind and give him some hope, but he nodded politely, and I swallowed the words back down.

  “Will do.”

  “Alright.” Gwen planted her hands on her hip, giving me the determined eye as Mick slipped out and shut the door quietly behind him. “Where were we?”

  She stepped around the bags to open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water for each of us, handing me one.

  “Do you have any questions about yesterday? And after we talk about that, let’s check out that application.”

  “Oh no,” Gwen whimpered. “No, no, no.”

  I looked down at my watch, we’d been talking for almost two hours, only finally making it onto Gwen’s laptop to look at the application for Monterey University’s nursing program in the past fifteen minutes.

  “Is everything okay?” My brow furrowed.

  She swiped her phone to answer the call—and the reason for her dismay. A few seconds later, I knew what was coming before she even spoke.

  “I’m so sorry to do this again, Jules, but they need help at the hospital and want me to come in early,” she apologized, and began to move frantically around her apartment, gathering up her things.

  I was beginning to realize that for all her love and exuberance for the job, Gwen was a workaholic—a condition that was easy to develop when you loved your job.

  “Of course.” I stood, too. Reaching for the navy blazer and my small purse that I’d laid on the couch earlier. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve given me so much to think about, I can look over the application at home.”

  A few minutes and several more apologies later, Gwen gave me a rushed hug at the bottom of the stairwell before jogging toward her car that was parked at the opposite end of the lot from mine. I waved as she pulled out, my feet unwilling to carry me over to the truck.

  Putting myself back on that shelf was getting harder and harder each day. I was afraid to think about what was going to happen once my parents were back.

  “Jules?”

  I spun to see Mick strolling toward me. Even in the dimming light, he had on a plaid button-down shirt and a darker pair of jeans that fit him all too well.

  “Hi,” I squeaked, thinking he was already gone by now.

  “Done already?” He came to a stop in front of me.

  “Gwen got called into work,” I explained, folding my arms over my chest.

  He sighed with an ‘I’m not surprised’ smile. “You’d think she was the only nurse they have in that place.”

  “Sometimes, I think she tries to be.”

  We both laughed, and I felt myself sway into him, like your body drifts toward a crackling fire on a cold night, knowing instinctively what it is that will keep you warm. My laughter faded into a sigh.

  Flushing, I looked to the maintenance truck. “Alright, I should probably—”

  “Would you like to come with me?” he blurted. “Sorry, I mean, if you want to, you’re welcome to come down to the Lookout. I’m sure everyone would like to see you.”

  Of course, I had several canned responses on how to turn him down politely. I had canned responses for everything. But then his smile quirked up to reveal those dimples and all those cans sealed shut.

  “I know I’d sure like to see you there,” he drawled quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

  Oh, goodness.

  And if there was any chance to do the sensible thing and take myself home, it was gone with the wind.

  “Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to impose.” I shifted my weight nervously, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “I’m positive, darlin’. Larry was your grandfather, too.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I’d hesitated on speaking up for so many things I wanted over the years in favor of what I was told I should do, but no more.

  “Okay,” I agreed, biting my lip. “I’d like to go.”

  “It’s just a little outside town. I’d be happy to give you a ride,” he offered, nodding to his truck parked on the other side of the lot, Madison Construction, emblemed on the side.

  “Thank you.” A thrill went down my spine.

  There were a host of reasons I was grateful to not have to drive the Rock Beach maintenance truck through town wondering who might see, but none of them came close to the real reason.

  He held out a hand, allowing me to walk ahead of him. The lights on the truck blinked as he unlocked the doors. When we got close enough, he didn’t veer toward the driver’s door. Instead, he followed me to the passenger side.

  I’d had doors opened for me my entire life. Rock Beach royalty and all that. But one look at Mick and I knew he didn’t open the passenger door for me because I was rich or because he had to. He did it because that was who he was—a gentleman.

  “Oh no.” I paused just as I was about to get in and turned to him. “Am I dressed okay? Is this too fancy?”

  My mother always said you could never be overdressed, but I disagreed. And I didn’t want to be that person. Not here.

  Since my singular pair of jeans was in the wash, I had on a pair of white-striped navy slacks, a white blouse, and my dark navy jacket. I was dressed for a board meeting or job interview—which was completely ironic since I’d never gone to either.

  Mick laughed, and my stomach tensed.

  I wasn’t going to fit in. I should’ve just gone home.

  “Darlin’, you’re dressed just fine. No one’s gonna care about what you’re wearing, they’re only gonna care that you’re there,” he assured me.

  “If you’re sure…” I smiled, eased by his open honesty.

  “Wait.” His voice stopped me.

  Mick moved around the open door, my back having to partially turn against his truck to accommodate his size. Still, it still hardly left enough space for the two of us to stand between the truck and the SUV parked next to it.

  My breaths slowed to steady my racing heart. We were close—anything closer would have my chest brushing up against his much larger one with every breath.

  My eyes widened, following his hand as it rose up near my face.

  “May I?” he murmured, his fingers ever so gently skimming along the sides of my head where my hair was cinched back into my usual demure bun.

  Oh, goodness.

  He wanted to take my hair down.

  So simple, yet so intimate.

  Maybe why my body reacted like he’d asked to undress me.

  My lips parted, air leaking out of my lungs. I wanted this—on
e more little taste of freedom. And I wanted it to be at his hands. The hands I’d watched work so expertly all week. The hands that could be so soft and strong, and made me crave their touch.

  I gulped and let my chin fall in acquiescence. “Please.”

  My eyes drifted shut at the gentle brush of his fingers.

  Oh my.

  The tender thread of his fingers through my hair evoked something I never expected and made this situation far more dangerous to my senses than I could’ve ever anticipated. But I had no strength or real desire to stop him. Instead, I tipped in closer, craving more of his addictive touch.

  I could only focus on one thing at a time when he was this close, and that one thing was continuing to breathe as his fingers worked the ties from around my hair, letting the mass slowly unwind and unravel down my back.

  In that moment, I realized the world of difference between being handled with care because someone thought you were fragile versus when someone believed you were precious.

  And Mick, his fingers treated me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

  A small moan hitchhiked out with my sigh as my scalp tingled in appreciation. The release of the tight pressure always felt incredible at the end of the day, but because he was doing it, everything sizzled. And when his strong fingers switched from freeing my long brown hair to gently massaging the sides of my head, I had to rest back against the side of his truck before my knees gave way.

  “You should let your hair down more often, Jules,” he said hoarsely.

  I didn’t open my eyes, letting myself fall into that moment—the one in the movies where all the stars have aligned, the music gently fades away, and the prince finally kisses the princess. And I wanted it.

  Just like I wanted to become a nurse.

  I didn’t care if it was wrong or right or worse—expected. I wanted it for me, and that was enough.

  The soft whisper of the words on my skin told me his face was close to mine, and I was afraid if I looked, it would disappear.

  “You look so damn beautiful with your hair down, darlin’.”

  My eyes jolted open. I’d experienced his brand raw truth before—assuring me, encouraging me—but never complimenting me the way a man does to a woman he desires.

  Intensely. Intently. Irresistibly.

  I never thought of myself as the swooning type—until that compliment lit a fire between my thighs and took the steadiness straight from my stance.

  Just as my lips parted, my gaze seeing nothing but his mouth and wondering if it would taste as sweet as the words he spoke, Mick pulled back, shaking his head—a cold dose of reality washing over both of us.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly, as he cleared his throat.

  My head immediately ducked and I lifted myself up into the seat with hardly a pause or falter though my insides had turned to complete mush.

  Because that was how I was raised—conditioned to remain unfazed when the things I wanted, the things that made me feel alive, were held just outside of my reach.

  Mick

  I drained the last of my cup of coffee. Laurel and Eli had roasted a special batch for tonight in honor of Jules’ grandfather and Ash, the owner of Larry’s Lookout, had made the old man’s signature spaghetti and meatballs with his ‘magic’ marinara, as everyone referred to it.

  “I can’t believe she’s here,” Eli remarked, sitting next to me at the bar.

  Bar was technically what the structure was—I would know, I helped him build it—but there was no alcohol served at the Lookout. Ash was a recovering alcoholic; it was how he and Larry met. When he decided to pursue his dream of opening up this restaurant, he knew he wanted it to be a safe place for anyone to come and hang out, especially those who struggled with the demons that he did.

  My gaze didn’t need an excuse to drift back to Jules; it had been wandering over to her with steady consistency ever since we’d walked inside and I had to share her with the group.

  She sat at the table in the center of the restaurant with Laurel, Eve—one of the baristas at Roasters, and Eve’s blue-haired sister, Addison, along with Ash’s wife, Taylor, who held their sleeping newborn baby, Grace.

  Meanwhile, all the guys were congregated at the bar. I sat between my twin and Eli. Next to Eli was Ash, followed by Eve’s brother, Zeke. The older Covington brothers, Dex and Ace, took over the end of the bar on the other side of Miles, lost in discussion about a case of theirs.

  “I’m surprised she came,” Eli told me. “Laurel said she mentioned tonight to Jules, but didn’t press because of what happened.”

  “I’m surprised, too,” I replied, taking another sip of coffee.

  “It’s good she’s here—out of the resort, I mean,” he went on. “I know Laurel is happy about that.”

  I tensed, knowing what was coming.

  “Though I don’t know how smart it was of you to bring her.” He sighed. “What if she remembers?”

  I grunted. “I’ve seen her a bunch of times now that she’s at Gwen’s all the time for nursing stuff, and she hasn’t remembered yet. No point in makin’ her feel even more shut out. Not now. She’s changin’ her whole life up. She needs all the support and friends she can find.”

  I winced at the slight edge in my tone.

  Laurel and Eli were just trying to keep her safe. We all were.

  “Don’t lie, Mickey.” I looked over my shoulder at Miles’ deviously grinning face. Strange how someone who was born identical to me could be so different. “Pretty easy to see why you brought her.”

  As my brother tipped his gaze over to Jules, I caught how the bubbly barista, Eve, kept glancing at him from underneath her wide-rimmed glasses, like she kept hoping he was looking at her.

  “Yeah? And why’s that?” My body hardened; my brother was about to say something moronic.

  Miles had always been the troublesome twin—a mouth that got him in trouble, a temper that was easily provoked, and, more recently, a line of ladies through his door I was starting to wonder if he had to sell timed tickets to keep everything organized. That was one of the reasons I got my own place here. Siblings were better friends when they didn’t take up the same space.

  And just because I knew Miles had a heart of gold buried down deep, and I’d die for him, didn’t mean I couldn’t admit he was a giant ass sometimes.

  “Look at her.” He nodded over to her before winking at me. “She looks like a dollop of whipped cream grew a head.” He chuckled. “And you want to lick her right up.”

  My fist balled. What I wanted was to punch him right now.

  Normally, I wasn’t the one quick to anger—I was the one called in to put out his fires. But when it came to Jules…something primal changed inside me. And it was the kind of thing that made it all too tempting to throttle my own brother.

  “Mick.” Eli put a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  “What?” I clipped.

  “You looked like you were about to rip your brother to shreds, which is the last thing that’s going to happen right now.” He sighed, pulling his hand away and running it through his dark hair. “You know he’s just messing with you.”

  “It’s the truth though,” I heard Miles mumble from my other side, downing the rest of his coffee.

  Talk about having the angel and devil on each shoulder.

  “I brought her because she’s lonely—because she seems like she could use a few more people in her life that care about her. Figured this was a good place to start.”

  Ash named the restaurant Larry’s Lookout because that was what Larry Ocean was to Carmel—the man who looked out for everyone in town. No matter what your problem was, no matter what bad you’d done, he’d take you in, give you a safe place to regroup, and get you back on your feet.

  He’d done it for Eli, and Ash, and he’d helped Miles and me get our construction business going. He’d touched the lives of everyone in the room.

  Larry looked out for people, and those of us who knew him
were continuing that legacy the best way we knew how.

  “Whatever you want to call it, little brother.” Miles clapped me on the back. He always like to remind me that he was a minute older. Too bad it didn’t make him any wiser.

  He took one last swig of his coffee and declared, “Alright, I’m goin’ to go check and see how Benny’s doin’.”

  My shoulders dropped. That meant he was heading down to the Pub to get some real drinks.

  “Don’t give me that look, Mickey.”

  “Then don’t do somethin’ where I have to come get you again,” I returned in warning, and that got me a finger instead of a wave goodbye.

  More and more of late, Benny was calling me for one problem or another with Miles. Either he was picking fights, usually over women, in the bar. Or he was being too belligerent. Or he was just too drunk and refusing to call a cab to take him home.

  Worst part of it all was that I knew my brother, and I could see he was trying to punish himself more than anyone else.

  “I’m gonna see if Jules wants to take a look at the back patio,” I said with a sigh, sliding off the stool that seemed relieved to be rid of the weight.

  “Mick,” Eli grabbed my arm, his eyes concerned. “Just… take it easy, okay? She’s been through a lot. We just don’t want to see her hurt anymore.”

  I stepped toward him, my much larger frame planted uncomfortably and squarely right in front of his as my head tipped down to say, “I’d die before I let anything or anyone hurt her ever again.”

  Threat or promise… I didn’t care which it was, it was the truth.

  From the moment I’d held her on the sidewalk that night, her body bloody and broken, but her spirit at her very core unshaken, something had attached me to her.

  Maybe if I’d gone to college or had some fancy degree like the men of her caliber, I might be able to describe what that attachment was. What I did know about what tied us together was it felt like a bowline sailor’s knot—the more pressure put on it, the tighter—stronger—it got.

  Jules

  The first thing one noticed on entering the Lookout was the décor—the history and the love and the sentimentality that went into building a place like this and the kind of values that the establishment stood for. The second thing was how the back of the restaurant was wrapped in large windows, looking out to the edge of one of the cliffs along Big Sur.