Not So Charming: A Hate to Lovers Romance (Carlisle Cellars Book 1)

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Not So Charming: A Hate to Lovers Romance (Carlisle Cellars Book 1) Page 2

by Fabiola Francisco


  I take my time looking through the different genres, although I know I’ll end up with a romance novel. Regardless, it’s fun to read about different stories and take in the synopses on the back of each cover.

  Finding a book I’ve heard a lot about on social media, I grab it and continue browsing. I could spend the rest of the day here, but my stomach growls, reminding me that all I have in my system is coffee. I make my way to the counter with my book and empty coffee cup. After promising Mrs. Collins that I won’t be a stranger—as if I could ever stay away from her shop—I head back to my car.

  The weather’s nice, so I plan to make a sandwich, lay a towel out in the yard at home, and read this new book. My life may not be like a romantic comedy, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get lost in one and dream of an alternate life where I’m the leading lady in a swoony story.

  Lying back on a towel with the sun shining down on me, I block it from my face by holding the open book above my head as I read. I’ve lost track of time out here, and it’s been amazing to disconnect my mind and just get lost in a book. I can’t remember the last time I quieted the chaotic thoughts like this. Losing my job, feeling my sense of security slip away was hard on me. I need to find a new job, and I’m unsure of where to begin looking here. I’ll have to ask my mom if she knows of any openings when I pick her up from work.

  When my arms begin to shake from holding them up and sweat trickles down my neck, I sit up and dog-ear the page I’m on. My roommates were scandalized when they learned I bent the pages of my books, but it’s something I’ve done since I was a little girl and makes me feel like me. Of course, I’d never do that if a book were signed. I just love the feel of a well-worn and loved book. Spine cracked, pages bent, lines highlighted. It shows the book lived a good life, was loved and enjoyed by its owner.

  I stretch my arms overhead and check the time on my phone. I have enough time to shower before picking up my mom from work. She let me use her car so I could go around town. Although I could walk, I wanted some kind of shield to hide behind. Tomorrow, I’ll go for a walk if I need to go anywhere.

  Once I’m ready, I hop in the car and make the familiar drive to the Carlisle Estate. No matter how many times I’ve seen the home, it still amazes me and takes my breath away.

  It sits on a huge piece of property that’s perfectly landscaped, where the stone house rises magnificently. It has like a ten-car garage, I swear. Inhaling deeply, I drive around the cobblestone driveway toward the side door my mom will walk out from.

  Mr. Carlisle was a huge football star back in his day, playing for the Dallas Cowboys. He’s famous nationwide, and our town takes pride that one of our own has made such a name for himself. After a career-ending injury forced him to retire early, he and Mrs. Carlisle moved back to Willow Creek to start their family. They opened a winery, which is the most popular winery in the state of Texas. People come from all over to tour the winery, have tastings, and eat at the restaurant. I’m sure most of those come for the sole purpose that Nathaniel Carlisle owns it. They’d give anything to see the football star up close and personal.

  I’ve never been to the winery, but from what I’ve heard growing up, it is as impressive as their home. It provides a ton of jobs in town, making the Carlisle family even more loved.

  While I wait for my mom to come out, a Rebel Desire song comes on the radio, and I turn up the volume. I close my eyes, mouthing the words to the country song about heartbreak and second chances.

  I startle when the door opens, and my eyes snap open to find my mom chuckling at my reaction. I blow out a breath and lower the volume, sitting up.

  “Hi, how was work?” I ask my mom as she buckles in.

  “Good, same as always.” She smiles but looks tired. My mom had me when she was young, barely twenty, and we’ve always had a close relationship.

  “How was your day?” She smiles over at me as I drive down the street.

  “It was good. It’s odd to be back, but I went into The Book Nook. It was great to see Mrs. Collins.”

  “You love that place.” She pats my arm. “Did you go anywhere else?”

  I shake my head. “Just the coffee shop to grab some coffee.”

  “That place is great. Did you sit for a while? It’s a perfect spot for reading.”

  I shake my head again and focus on the road.

  “Why not?” I hear the concern in my mom’s voice. It’s not like me to pass up a chance to settle in a coffee shop for a while. The coffee shop near my apartment in Los Angeles was like my second home, spending as much time there as possible with a book.

  I shrug. “It still feels weird being here.”

  “You’ll get settled soon,” she assures me. “It helps to go out and see people. Rip it off like a Bandaid. You should be proud of your life, sweetheart. I’d hate for you to stop yourself from enjoying this town because you think you’ve failed.”

  My throat burns with unshed tears. I can’t reply because I’m sure my voice will crack if I do. I had all these plans for my life, and I’m back here without a college degree, and the most extensive work experience I’ve had is being an administrative assistant. I was at that job for years and never climbed that metaphorical ladder I’m certain only exists if you’re a certain type of person. After all, how far will a college dropout really get?

  “I mean it, June. You’re the brightest woman I know, and you’ll find your place soon. As your mom, I’d love for it to be here because I’m selfish and miss you, but I’ll support you wherever you go.”

  This time I can’t swallow back the tears, and a few roll down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away. “Thanks, Momma. I need a job first, even if it’s temporary while I figure out my next step. I’m in no position to move somewhere else, if I even had another place in mind, and I’m glad I’m here with you.” I smile at her quickly, so she knows I mean it.

  “I can ask Mr. Carlisle if they need someone at the winery.” She sits up taller, determination painted on her face.

  “Uh, no. I’m going to check the newspaper tomorrow morning and see if there’s anything in town.”

  “June, you know if Mr. Carlisle can help, he will. Both he and Mrs. Carlisle are good people.”

  “I know, but I rather try to do this on my own before my mom starts calling in favors. If I need you to, I’ll let you know. Just…just let me do this on my own first, please.” I need to be able to face this town by myself and not hide behind my mom’s favors or requests.

  “Okay, just remember you aren’t alone.” She sounds a bit deflated, but I brush it off. I know she wants to help, and I need her support, but life already didn’t go as planned. I want to be able to find a job on my own.

  “Thanks, Momma.” I park the car in our driveway and turn to her. I reach over and hug her, grateful I have someone to lean on and a home to come back to when life gets turned upside down. It’d all be so much worse if I didn’t have her.

  Chapter 3

  June

  It’s been a week since I’ve been back in Willow Creek, and I haven’t had much luck searching for jobs. The beauty of small towns—opportunities are limited. Then again, I had the same experience in a huge city like Los Angeles.

  Part of the problem is that I have no idea what I want to do. The good thing about living here versus a big city is that the cost of living is less, so I could be more flexible with pay. Yet, I feel stuck. If someone asked me what I want my career to look like, I’d stare blankly, mouth opening and closing silently like an awkward fish.

  The only job openings I found in the newspaper were a grocery store clerk and an after-school assistant at our daycare. They’re both fewer hours than I’d prefer, but it’s worth a shot. Even if it’s not what I’m meant to be doing, it will give me time to explore my options and find my passion.

  Somehow, I lost the drive I had along the way. When I was a young girl, I had aspirations. Now, I’m stuck in limbo. It amazes me how much we transform throughout life experiences. How much
things control and shape us until we hardly recognize the reflection in the mirror. I’m determined to dig deep and find that girl again.

  My mom was right. Going to the coffee shop has been a good way to start reimmersing myself into this town and its people. I’ve visited a couple of times this past week and stayed a while. I’ve even greeted a few people who have said hello, and it turns out that the barista is super nice. She’s a few years younger than me, but I bet we would’ve been friends had we gone to school together. That alone brings me joy. I’m so used to being a loner, and it takes a lot for me to open up to people, but something about her makes me want to be her friend.

  Noticing the time, I close my book and rush out, waving at Lucy, the barista, over my shoulder. My afternoon coffee fix took longer than expected, and I’m late to pick up my mom from work. I shoot her a quick message as I slide into my car to let her know I’m on my way.

  My phone rings almost immediately.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I breathe out as I answer. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “It’s okay, June. Miles offered to take me. I’ll be home soon.”

  I freeze, driving one-handed as I hold the phone with my other hand.

  “June? Did I lose you?” I hear a snicker in the background, and that snaps me out of my daze.

  “Momma, I would’ve been there in a sec. He doesn’t have to take you.” I blow out a breath and turn into a shopping center so I can turn the car around.

  “That’s fine. I think it’s great you were enjoying yourself. I’ll see you at home.”

  I nod as if she could see me and hang up. My heart beats against my ribs. Maybe if I drive at a turtle’s speed, I’ll get home way after Miles has dropped off my mom. I could do with not seeing him for another seven years or longer, to be honest.

  Unfortunately, I make it home at the same time they do. Instead of hiding in my car and pretending to look something up in my phone, I step out and try to make an escape inside.

  “Hey, June.” I close my eyes and grind my teeth as his deep voice hits me.

  “Miles.” I nod once and turn around.

  “June, don’t be rude,” my mother calls out as I glare at her.

  What a traitor. Although she knows Miles has never been my favorite person, she is firm in her belief that I must be confused because the Miles she knows is a charming snake that knows how to cover up his true colors, and my mother has fallen for his act.

  “Hello.” I offer a cynical smile.

  “I heard you were back.” He leans against the hood of his car and crosses a foot over his ankle. His hands are in his pockets, and he wears a cocky smile. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit sans tie with tailored pants that hug his thighs, a crisp white shirt with the top buttons undone. His ginger hair is messily combed as if he only used his hands. He looks like the epitome of everything I’ve grown to hate—an arrogant suit who believes that he's the center of attention.

  I nod once and lift my eyebrows, silently saying, “Yup, Captain Obvious.”

  “It’s good to see you.” His green eyes dance around playfully.

  Great, now he wants to do small talk as if he ever cared to talk to me while we were growing up. I was only good enough when I was the only person who was around for him to play with when he was a young boy. As we got older, I wasn’t even good enough for that.

  “Yeah, I gotta go.” I don’t bother to hear his response. Instead, I unlock the door and walk in, dropping my purse on the couch on my way to the kitchen.

  I’m pouring a glass of wine when my mom enters, calling out my name in a firm tone. I turn around with a raised eyebrow.

  She sighs and visibly relaxes, dropping her shoulders. A sad smile marks her lips. I hate seeing that look on her face. She steals my glass of wine, and I yelp, but she takes a sip, daring me to argue. I slump and reach for another glass.

  “Miles isn’t a bad guy.” With the glass halfway to my lips, I stare at her with wide eyes. She chuckles and sits at the counter. “He’s not.”

  “Shall I remind you that I was miserable growing up here, and he never once admitted he knew me or did something to stop them, knowin’ he could?”

  What she doesn’t know is that Miles was my first crush, and the moment he chose to laugh at some stupid joke about my big curly hair instead of defending me, he broke my heart. The experience made it almost impossible for me to easily trust people—and that was one of the nicer comments I heard growing up.

  Once we were in high school, the words got meaner. From fat nerd, because I had more curves than the average fifteen-year-old, to a slut’s daughter that wasn’t good enough for her daddy to stick around, each insult tore a piece of my heart until I was left with a fraction and only enough love for my momma because she didn’t deserve my hatred. But I carried so much pain in silence, and that weight eventually crushes you.

  I chug the wine as if that will erase the memories tattooed in my mind, and I shake my head. “I know you believe he’s a good person, but I have my reasons. Please, drop it.” I curse internally when my last words crack. I give my mom my back as I turn to refill my glass.

  “I was thinking we could make tacos for dinner. Is that good with you?” I finally speak when I’ve composed myself.

  “Perfect. Do you need help?”

  I shake my head. “Go take a shower and relax. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  My mom smiles and takes her wine glass with her to her bedroom. I release a long exhale when I’m alone and open the music app on my phone, a welcomed distraction as I get lost in preparing ground beef and chopping vegetables for our tacos. There’s no point in digging up the past anyway. I’m moving forward, not backward.

  What’s important right now is finding myself and the passion that propels me to live life in bright colors.

  I’m walking out of The Book Nook after an interview at the daycare for the after-school position when I hear, “Junebug.” I cringe upon hearing the nickname given to me by those who treated me badly.

  Turning around, I roll my eyes when I see Miles walking toward me, hands in his pockets and an easy smile—as if running into each other was a normal occurrence or a happy one at that. Wearing a suit similar to the one from the other day, I wish I could ignore how handsome he is. My body betrays me, though, and I take in the man walking in my direction before snapping out of it.

  “Ugh, I hate that. Are you seriously bringing up the insulting nickname everyone used in high school? Goodness… I can’t even with you.” I roll my eyes again and walk away. Quick steps echo behind me as Miles jogs up to me.

  “I didn’t think it was insulting. Do you even know what that means?”

  “Uh, yeah, they’re those ugly beetles.” I don’t stop walking.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “Junebug means a cute girl. A girl guys like.”

  “You’re so full of shit. If you think that made up story is gonna make me fall for you, you’re wrong.” I can’t believe this guy.

  “I promise. Look it up on Urban Dictionary.” That stops me.

  I almost spit as I laugh. Facing him, I say, “Seriously? You’re telling me to look it up on Urban Dictionary?”

  “Yeah,” he nods as if it were a normal request.

  “The online dictionary that makes common terms into repulsive meanings?” I lift my brows.

  “It’s not all repulsive,” he defends with his own eyebrows raised. “And if it’s there, it’s because people use that term, and they list it so everyone can be in the know.”

  I shake my head and walk away.

  “Hey!” He calls after me.

  “Leave me alone, Miles. I’m in a hurry and don’t have time for a twisted walk down memory lane that glorifies your life while putting mine down. This isn’t some real-life She’s All That situation. You don’t get to win the nerd over for some ego trip.”

  “That’s not—” He stops himself. When he doesn’t add anything, I walk away.

  I don’t need to rem
ember how crappy growing up here was. My peers took every opportunity to tease me while all I wanted was to be left alone. Miles Carlisle was the leader of the pack, and I won’t buy into his bullshit.

  Not in the mood to see people, I head home and do some job searches in nearby towns. I need a backup plan if the interview I had today doesn’t offer me the job. Dealing with toddlers isn’t ideal, and I don’t have any experience, but I’d take it right now. With that said, I’m not sure I’ll be their first choice in hiring.

  Grabbing my laptop, I go out to the patio and sit on a chair, opening one of the job search websites and filtering the search for Brookeville, one of our neighboring towns. Maybe I’ll have better luck there, and the commute won’t be more than twenty minutes. That’s nothing compared to LA travel times.

  I swallow thickly when a new notification pops up on my account. The words stare at me like a taunting joke from the universe.

  Carlisle Cellars has a part-time position available for tasting room personnel. I stare up at the sky and look back at my screen as if that would change the wording in front of me. I continue reading the description. They offer decent pay, and it’s a job I could do, but it’s for the Carlisle family. I don’t think that’d be the smartest idea, especially since my mom already works for them, even if she’s not at the winery.

  Closing my laptop, I grab my book instead and read for a bit. As much as I’d hate to work for them, I have to admit it’s a much better opportunity than working at a daycare. With things to consider, I get lost in a fictional world, so I can clear my head and maybe gain some perspective.

  Chapter 4

  June

  I’m wallowing, stuffing my mouth with a blueberry muffin at the coffee shop after getting a call from the daycare. They thanked me for my interest, but they’re going with a more experienced candidate—one who has probably worked with toddlers, knows why they cry and can change a diaper swiftly. I’d have to google all that before beginning the job so I wouldn’t put a diaper on backward or cry along with the child.

 

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