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

by Fabiola Francisco

  It’s been a few days since I left that stupid note in her mailbox, and I haven’t heard from her at all. I didn’t think she’d run into my arms, but I expected some type of contact. Maybe part of my frustration this week has to do with June and her silence.

  Sighing, I turn to my friends again, ignoring their curious stares, and wave a waiter down so I can order another drink. I’m not sure what’s going on with me lately. Maybe I just need to sleep for three days straight. Or go fishing. It’s been a while. I need to do something that’s just for me instead of working and drinking at a bar.

  When some women come to our table to talk to us, I hold in the urge to roll my eyes. Been there, done that. I’m over the bullshit attention they give me because of who my father is and what our family means to this town. I thought going away to college would’ve stopped the attention I received, but when I moved back three years ago after graduating, it was like high school all over again—except worse because now I’m in my mid-twenties and don’t have the patience for that crap.

  My eyes wander to June throughout the night, and when she stands to leave, disappointment hits me. I’m not even sure why.

  Chapter 6

  June

  I keep checking if the position at the winery is available, refreshing the search a few times a day. I don’t know why. I had decided to leave it alone and find something else, but everything else seems so…blah next to this opportunity.

  This past week a job for a lifeguard at the local pool was posted, but they’re looking for teens, and I’m the kind that person who would need a lifeguard instead of saving someone else’s life. I look around the living room. My half-drunk mug of coffee is on the coffee table getting cold, my notebook with ideas has more scratched-out words than possibilities, and my pajamas have a coffee stain since I apparently can’t aim when I drink. Basically, I’m a mother effin’ mess that resembles a three-year-old instead of a twenty-five-year-old.

  I comb my fingers through my hair and grimace when I’m met with knots. I need to wash it. I need to shower and get dressed in regular clothes. I’ve spent the better part of three days in this same position—in new pajamas. I’m not that much of a pig.

  Sighing, I stand from the couch and stretch my body. My shoulders pop as I do so, and I decide a hot shower will help loosen up the tight muscles. Hopefully, it will also calm my mind so I can gain clarity.

  I strip out of my clothes and throw them directly in my hamper before stepping under the hot spray, exhaling any weight and stress. Every time I open the link to the job at Carlisle Cellars, it taunts me. I know I should put my differences aside and apply. Who knows? They probably wouldn’t even hire me. I have zero experience working with wine or hospitality, but then again, I’m smart enough to memorize the wine list and the wine’s qualities and serve it to groups of people.

  I have to ask myself if I’d react differently if Miles weren’t a part of the equation. When I see him, I turn into that hurt girl who would daydream of him standing up for me. It was silly to think he would. People like Miles don’t defend people like me. He’s royalty. People bow down to him and his family, and I’m…well, I’m the help’s daughter.

  I shake away those thoughts and will them to drain down the shower. So much for clearing my mind. I need to move on from this crap, but being back here is like being slapped in the face with all the terrible things I had to endure.

  But that’s in the past.

  I finish up in the shower and get dressed, opting to let my hair air dry. I comb through some product that will keep the curls as tamed as possible and minimize the frizz before grabbing my keys and going out for a walk. A river runs through town, not too far from my house, and I used to love going when I was young. When I was a little girl, I would play there, and when I grew up, it became my escape. Hopefully, it isn’t full of people since most are working. There might be some kids since school’s out for summer break already, but I can handle that.

  The sun beams down, and I almost wish I would’ve thought of bringing my bathing suit. I can still sit on the bank and relax. A change in scenery may be exactly what I need. I’m spending too much time inside my head, revisiting old memories, and putting pressure on myself. It’s not worth it. I promised myself I’d overcome it and grow from it. Living in Willow Creek is a second opportunity to appreciate my hometown for the beauty and not drown in the ugly.

  The house-lined streets turn into a path shrouded with trees, and I inhale the fresh air. I love being out in nature without the concrete of LA. It was a shock when I first arrived in Los Angeles, but thankfully, I soon discovered the hiking trails in the mountains. I’m not sure I would’ve survived had it not been for that.

  When my skin dampens from the heat, I tie my hair in a messy knot atop my head and run a hand across the back of my neck. At least I was wise enough to dress in shorts and a tank top. The sweaty mess is worth it when I reach the river, and it opens up like an oasis. I smile, looking around and giving thanks that it isn’t full of people hanging out.

  Not everything in Willow Creek is filled with bad memories. I walk along the bank, listening to the soft lapping of the water. The beaches in California were gorgeous, but I missed this. I missed the peace that fills me when I’m not surrounded by a ton of people. The distant sound of rushing water reminds me that there’s a waterfall not far from here. I’ll have to plan to come back to hike that way and see it.

  My butt hits the sandy ground, and I lean back on my hands, staring out in front of me. Nothing else matters right now than being in the moment, listening to the sounds moving around me like the soft breeze rustling the trees and the water flowing peacefully, feeling the sunshine warm my skin, and breathing in the comforting scent of cypress. My eyes close as the rest of my senses heighten. Birds sing and the sound of rushing water grows louder. The sand is damp beneath my palms, and the breeze tickles my skin.

  I sit like this for some time. Nothing but my senses controlling what I think and feel. When I blink my eyes open, I notice a few people have arrived and watch the kids play with a small smile as I return to my reality. I’m slowly realizing, and most importantly, accepting that I’ll have to apply to the job at the winery so I can discard it after giving it a fair chance. I also know that being Scarlett Sullivan’s daughter gives me an in. Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle love my mom, so they’ll help me if they can.

  I sit forward, brushing the sand from my hands, and remove my shoes. Leaving them in place, I stand and walk toward the river. As soon as the water touches my feet, I shiver. It’s freezing. I walk around, getting accustomed to the temperature, and breathe in courage. If I decided to not let my past rule my present, then that means I can work for the Carlisles and release the resentment I hold toward Miles. Besides, chances are I’ll barely see him if I do get the job. All I know is that I need to work—both for financial reasons and for my sanity.

  I turn around and walk back the same way I came, halting when I see a familiar figure. I glance up at the sky and groan. “When I said release the resentment I’m holding, I didn’t mean right now, Universe.”

  Inhaling and exhaling, I hope I can make it back to my shoes without Miles noticing me. It’s not like he noticed me much before. But then I remember the note he left me, and I know he won’t let me go without saying something.

  Not looking his way, I attempt to sneak toward the spot where I left my shoes. No such luck, though. Miles looks at me with raised eyebrows and a slow smile. He makes his way toward me, and my heart beats chaotically. Why do I get nervous around him?

  “Well, if it isn’t Junebug…” His hands are in his pockets, and his smile is bright.

  “Miles,” I nod once and continue walking.

  “Hey, wait up.” He reaches me effortlessly. “How are you? Did you see my note?”

  Straight to it. I roll my eyes and shake the sand off my feet, so I can busy myself with something. They’ll get dirty again unless I sit and make a real effort at cleaning them.

 
“Yeah,” I lift my brows and shrug.

  “And?” he draws out the word. His voice lilts with hope, but I choose to ignore it.

  “You got a definition from Urban Dictionary,” I state like an idiot because I’m not sure what else to say.

  “And I asked you out at the end. You didn’t respond,” he points out the obvious, which almost makes me laugh at the odd pair we are.

  “Soooo…that should be your answer.” I finally sit on the ground and brush the sand away before slipping on my socks and sneakers. Miles towers over me as if my response wasn’t enough, his body blocking the sun from my face.

  “Let me take you out,” he finally says.

  “No,” I let out firmly.

  “We’ll catch up. It’ll be fun.”

  “For who?” I stand and look at him in his damn green eyes that look brighter surrounded by the trees. His hair is mussed, and he’s dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt. I guess some of us don’t have to work at all.

  “For the both of us. I’d love to hear about your time in LA.” He turns on the charm, a crooked smile lifting one side of his lips, making his one dimple appear.

  “Like I told you, this isn’t some game where the popular guy bets to win a date with the nerd. I have to go,” I turn and walk away. This time he doesn’t follow, and I let out a relieved breath. What’s up with him asking me out? As if we have anything in common in the first place.

  I tell myself that he’ll lose interest after a few days and pursue someone else. He’s Miles Carlisle. I’m sure he’s got plenty of women willing to spend time with him, although I’m surprised he’s still single, to be honest. I always thought he’d marry one of the popular girls in school and have gorgeous children. I guess we’re still young, and he has time for that later on.

  My stomach turns, and my mood sours at the image of him with some bitch. I shake that away and focus on my walk. I don’t need to be jealous of the woman who steals Miles from the single life. Or maybe he’d rather be single so he can sleep with whomever he wants. Maybe he has already slept with most of the women in town, and that’s the reason he’s asking me out—another notch on his bedpost. I shiver, hating that idea even more.

  I roll my eyes at my inner-rambling. I’m a mess. Honest to God, I need to get a grip on my life and my emotions. I’ve been uprooted and stirred, but this will all settle soon, and I’ll go back to my simple and quiet life. No one, not even Miles Carlisle, will make me feel like I did back then.

  When I get back home, I open my laptop, and without second-guessing my actions, I apply for the wine-tasting position. It’s a rebellious act to prove to myself that I’m going to lead my life the way I want. And what I want is a well-paying job that will allow me to buy the books I want, help me save some money, and eventually rent my own place.

  After I’ve submitted my résumé, I numbly sit back on the couch. Well, there goes that. I reach for my book and continue reading as if I didn’t just put myself in the line of fire. Okay, that’s dramatic. But I did just place myself in Miles’s path.

  Whether I like to admit it or not, I might enjoy his attention more than I’ve allowed myself to believe. That thought makes my skin itch. Dropping my book, I distract myself in the kitchen, cooking homemade Bolognese sauce, boiling pasta, making a salad and fresh garlic bread. By the time my mom gets home, dinner is ready, and I’ve drunk two glasses of wine. Without question, she sits to eat and patiently waits for me to speak.

  “I applied to the Carlisle position,” I blurt out.

  “Really?” Her eyebrows fly up on her forehead. I nod, biting my lower lip. “I think that’s great, June.” She squeezes my hand in encouragement. I’m grateful I have her support.

  Chapter 7

  Miles

  I sort through my email after settling into my office. Human resources forwards me any résumés that seem promising in regards to the job opening. I hope that in the list of emails, I find a competent person to hire. I’m over the interviews. Yesterday, I took a break and went down to the river. To my surprise, I saw June there. With her hair in a curly, messy bun, she reminded me of the girl from high school. Unfortunately, the outcome of asking her about the note was not the one I expected.

  I shake her away and scan the emails. The faster I get through this, the better. I stop at one when the email address catches my attention. It can’t be. I click on it immediately and read through the email, smiling to myself. Well, I’ll be damned. Junebug needs a job, and I have what she needs.

  My office chair squeaks as I lean back on it, my arms behind my head. I could have fun with this… My thoughts freeze when I remember what she said yesterday at the river. When she once again brought up some bet to date the nerd, I was infuriated. To think that she actually thought that.

  I review her résumé with a critical eye, switching out my personal interest for my professional one. Whether I’d like to boss her around and see her daily, this isn’t about what I want. I need someone competent to work here. Not that I don’t think June is competent. She was the smartest girl in our class, but working in hospitality isn’t for everyone.

  My eyes narrow in confusion as I read her résumé. She went to UCLA, I remember that, but she doesn’t have a college degree listed. Surprised, I look at her work experience and note that she had a stable job for years until about a month and a half ago. Maybe she quit to move back.

  June doesn’t have experience working in this field, but I’m willing to interview her. She has to be better than the other options I’ve come across.

  I call human resources and tell them to set up an interview with June for this afternoon. When I mention not to say who is interviewing, Wendy, our human resources employee, simply asks what she should say. I don’t miss the surprise in her voice.

  “Just tell her Mr. Carlisle will interview her.” There are three of us who own that title, and chances are, June will think it’s my dad. I don’t want her to back away if she knows it’s me. She was clear about her feelings toward me yesterday. And a small part of me thinks it’s fun.

  After confirming the interview time with Wendy, I get to work. I do anything that will make time pass by quickly, so I’m not constantly looking at the clock, waiting for three o’clock to come around. Brett checks in with me before lunch, and I guarantee I’ve got everything under control.

  He stops by the door and looks at me. “Remember I’ll be out of the office tomorrow.”

  “Yup, I have it written down. Is Charlie excited about her field trip?”

  Brett chuckles. “She’s been talking about it nonstop. She keeps telling me about the different fish she’s going to see at the aquarium. Chloe is jealous that she can’t go.” Brett has two little girls, Charlie and Chloe, who are the bright light in our family. His wife passed away a few years ago, and we help him raise his girls as much as we can.

  “I’m sure she’ll eventually understand,” I tell him. “Y’all can go for ice cream after so she feels involved.”

  “That’s the plan,” he nods. “You don’t need anything?” He lifts a brow and scrutinizes me.

  “Nope,” I shake my head. “I have a promising interview this afternoon, so send me good juju that she’s a keeper.” I grin to myself, thinking about June. She’s definitely a keeper. I snap myself out of that thought. I don’t even know the woman she is, and clearly, she’s unimpressed by me.

  “Good. Call if you need me.”

  I wave him off and tell him not to worry about it before I get back to work. Before my lunch break, I check in at the tasting room and make sure things are going smoothly. A few people sit in the restaurant adjacent to the tasting room and sip wine as they eat lunch.

  Then, I step out for lunch, hoping the longer I take, the sooner I’ll see June.

  I’m sitting at my desk pretending to work when in reality, I’m staring at the door inconspicuously. Any moment now, Wendy will walk in with June. She has already informed me that June is here. A knock echoes before the door opens, and
I stand. When Wendy announces that Ms. Sullivan has arrived, June freezes at the door upon seeing me. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is pressed into a thin line.

  I smirk and nod. “Ms. Sullivan, come in. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.” Wendy leaves us alone, and I’m grateful she doesn’t hear June’s greeting.

  “Is this a joke?” She releases a harsh breath.

  “Absolutely not. Why would this be a joke?” I walk around my desk and lean against it, crossing my arms and taking her in. She’s dressed in black slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a gold necklace with a small crescent moon. Her hair is straightened, unlike yesterday.

  “Miles, cut the crap. I thought…” her voice trails off as she realizes her mistake. I’m sure she’s not used to calling me Mr. Carlisle.

  “I’m in charge of this department, so I’ll be interviewing you. Take a seat.” I point to one of the chairs across from my desk and sit back down on my own.

  June’s stubbornness shows when she refuses to sit. She stands with her arms crossed over her chest, eyeing me suspiciously. Ignoring her stance, I begin asking her questions, routine interview stuff in hopes that she relaxes and sits. If she applied, then she must need the job.

  Finally, she takes a seat with a deep breath and hands me a folder. “This is a copy of my résumé.”

  “I don’t need it,” I shake my head, pointing to a printed copy on my desk. “I notice you don’t have a college degree.”

  When my eyes lift toward her face, I see that she’s pale. After a few beats, she says, “The job description and requirements didn’t say the person needed a college degree. That’s something that would’ve been included if it were the case.”

  “It’s not required. I was curious as to why. You left for Los Angeles with a scholarship.” I’m fishing for information, but she doesn’t bite. Her jaw locks, and she stares at a spot on my desk, avoiding my eyes.