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

by Fabiola Francisco

  His jaw ticks before he adds, “She’s Scarlett’s daughter, and Scarlett is like family. I don’t want problems with them.” He stands and leaves, getting in the last word like always.

  I slam my palm against my desk before squeezing my eyes. Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t move somewhere else after college. Instead, I felt a loyalty to work in the family business.

  Madison has her music career. She always knew what she wanted. Brett has the winery since he’ll take over when my dad retires. It’s always been his dream. And I… I’m just the boss’s son, trying to fit into a role I settled on.

  I’m the unofficial middle child since I was born a couple minutes before Madison. I had football growing up, but I never could make it pro. I wasn’t good enough for that. Then again, was football ever truly mine, or was it me mirroring my dad’s footsteps so I could be like him? Make him proud?

  Instead, I studied hospitality since it fit with the winery and settled like a lazy dog dropping anywhere so long as he could lay with his tongue out and rest. Except, this doesn’t feel like rest. And something inside of me feels like a ticking time bomb. I like my job, the pay is great, and I’m working as part of my family’s legacy. Do I love it? Probably not, but I don’t put too much thought into that because then I’ll be miserable. I’d rather be complacent than miserable.

  I fell into this role because it was expected. If there’s a family business, how could I choose to work in something else? It didn’t make sense. But the winery isn’t mine, and it won’t be. That’s always been Brett’s inheritance. He lives and breathes it. I just work it.

  My conversation with my dad has stayed with me all day. Not working the weekend is welcomed, so I won’t have to think about it. I can’t believe he’d go behind my back and confirm my choice in who I hire by asking Carla and fucking customers. I comb a hand through my hair, expelling a frustrated breath. The numbers I was analyzing become a blur as the lines on the spreadsheet become one huge blob.

  Pushing my chair back, I stand and roam my office. Then, I walk out of it and head toward the vineyards. I need to clear my head before I return to my office and continue working. I breathe in the fresh air and feel my mind begin to clear. I walk along the long strips of trees, looking at the bunches of grapes growing on the branches. It’s quiet and peaceful. I used to love being out here when I was a kid, observing the changes in the vines and stealing grapes.

  I freeze when I hear rustling and narrow my eyes. I turn around, but there’s no one behind me. I face forward again and then catch a pair of feet separated by the line of plants.

  “Who’s there?” I call out.

  “Holy—” I hear a mumbled curse and lean to the side to peek through the branches.

  “June, is that you?”

  “Yeah,” she breathes out. “I didn’t know anyone was here. Sorry, I have a ten-minute break and came out here.”

  “That’s fine.” I look at her through the grape vines and catch her wide eyes. She’s biting her lip. “Really, you can take your break.”

  “I didn’t touch the plants or anything. It’s just nice out here.” Her words come out rushed and defensive.

  “I know. I like coming out here, too.” I begin walking toward the end of the aisle and see she’s coming out of hers. We meet at the opening, standing in front of each other. I look over her face—unsure hazel eyes, barely tamed waves curling her hair, plump lips, smooth skin. She’s dressed in black slacks and a white silk shirt. Her beauty is understated, yet only a fool would miss it.

  She’s looking at me with careful scrutiny, probably reading my bad mood, and suddenly asks, “What’s wrong?” Then, she snaps her mouth shut and shakes her head. “Sorry, not my business.” She raises her hands and looks beyond me. “I should get back inside.”

  I nod and watch her walk away, wondering about the different layers she hides from people. June is smart as a whip, beautiful, and yet if someone asks, I can’t really tell more about her than that. She keeps to herself—always did.

  In school, I’d see her in corners, against walls, eating lunch alone, always reading a book. She never went to parties, but I also suspected she never got invited. Kids were mean as hell to her. I don’t blame her for not wanting to spend time with them.

  But she should’ve been different with me…

  When we were kids, probably six or seven, she’d come over while her mom worked. and we’d play—her, Madison, and me. Brett was older and not interested in what we were playing. June was our friend, but at some point, that changed. I can’t recall when the shift happened, but I’m going to change that.

  I walk through the vineyard a little longer and head back to my office. I’m hoping these next couple of hours go by quickly so I can start my weekend.

  I’m walking toward The Grind for an afternoon cup of coffee after leaving The Book Nook with a stack of bookmarks to make my bookmark bouquet. My steps falter when I see June. She must’ve just gotten off work. She’s walking out of a store, so I catch up to her with a crooked smile.

  “Hey.” I place my hands in my jean pockets, the bag hanging from my wrist.

  She looks up at me and blinks a few times. “Uh, hi?” Her greeting comes out like a question, and I chuckle lightly.

  After seeing her yesterday at the vineyard, I knew I needed to spend time with her and get to know her better than the bits and pieces I remember from my childhood.

  “Wanna grab a cup of coffee?” I tilt my head toward The Grind behind me.

  “Um… I was going there anyway, but I plan to sit alone.” Her guard is back up, but I’m prepared this time.

  “Well then, let’s sit together.” My smile widens. “One coffee, what’s it gonna hurt?”

  “Miles…” Her voice is terse, and her jaw is set tightly.

  “June…” I tilt my head and watch her. “Have coffee with me? How many times are you gonna turn me down?” I pout in what I’m sure is an adorable expression—Charlie and Chloe love it and learned their pouting skills from me.

  “As many as it takes for you to stop asking.” June crosses her arms, not falling for my expression.

  I straighten and smirk. “I’m a patient man and very persistent.”

  “Oh my goodness, if I agree to have coffee, will you leave me the hell alone?” She throws her hands up in exasperation.

  “Yup, but I’ll warn you… I’m so charming you’ll beg me for a second date.” I wink.

  “It’s coffee, Miles, don’t make it something more than it is.” She says flatly and shakes her head.

  “Sure, okay, whatever you wanna call it. Come on.” I cheer, which grants me a sideways glance. She’s trying to keep a straight face, but I see the underlying amusement in her eyes.

  Yeah, I’m totally going to charm her straight into a second date. Once she sees I’m not a bad guy, she’ll let go of whatever it is she’s holding against me.

  “Uh…h-hey, y’all. What can I get ya?” Lucy stutters when we walk up to the counter.

  “What would you like?” I look down at June with an easy smile.

  She doesn’t look at me as she mumbles, “My usual.”

  Lucy nods and then looks at me expectantly.

  “I’ll have a black coffee.”

  June tries to pay for her drink, but I’m quicker and hand Lucy a ten before walking toward a table.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” June raises an eyebrow as she takes a seat.

  “I wanted to.”

  “You already pay my salary. I don’t need you to pay for my coffee.”

  “I know I don’t need to, but I wanted to,” I repeat so she can understand the difference.

  “Fine.” She looks at the table as if the light wood grain were the most entertaining thing.

  “So…” I search for words. I don’t want to talk about work. “Are you glad you moved back to Willow Creek?”

  June snorts. “It wasn’t exactly a choice. Had I not lost my job, I probably wouldn’t be here now.” />
  “Why not?” I watch her carefully as she traces the wood design. After she’s quiet for a few beats, I prompt her. “Aren’t you glad to see your mom?”

  Her gaze lifts to mine, although her head is still bowed. “Of course. I just… Willow Creek never felt like home.”

  “Why not?” I push, wanting to know her deep layers.

  She lifts a brow and looks at me head-on. “Are you really asking?” She shakes her head in annoyance. Maybe this wasn’t the best topic.

  “Yeah, I am,” I go for honesty.

  “People are assholes here. I was never treated kindly, and all I could dream about was booking it out of here as soon as we graduated. I wanted a fresh start, someplace where people didn’t know me, didn’t know my family.”

  “I get that,” I say under my breath, not meaning to.

  June stares at me with a serious expression, then rolls her eyes. “Please, Miles. You’re royalty around here. Everyone loves you, loves your family.”

  “Everyone loves my father and the legacy he left in the NFL. They love that he’s built the winery and created jobs for people.” I don’t bother hiding my frustration.

  Combing a hand through my hair, I look over her shoulder and toward the counter. When the hell is our coffee going to be finished?

  I avoid June’s eyes for a few more beats then look back at her. “I’m gonna see if our coffees are ready or what the deal is.”

  She nods silently. I take a deep breath as I walk toward the end of the counter where drinks are delivered and ask the person making them if they’re almost ready. When he assures me they’re next, I decide to stay put and calm myself before returning to June. I don’t want her to see me like this. I’m still upset about my dad’s line of questioning yesterday, but it’s not her fault. Besides her not deserving my frustration, I really want to get to know her, and being a dick won’t gain me any points. And I clearly need a lot of points when it comes to June.

  By the time I make it back to the table with two steaming mugs of coffee, June seems less guarded.

  “Thanks,” she whispers as I place her coffee in front of her.

  We sit in silence as we wait for our drinks to cool enough to take a sip. When the silence becomes awkward, I speak. “What did you like about LA?”

  “The hiking trails and mountains. The city was overwhelming and expensive as hell.” She cradles her mug, looking down into the light brown liquid.

  “I can imagine it is. Did you have a lot of friends?”

  She shakes her head. “My two roommates were my closest friends. I got along with my co-workers, but we never really hung out. Most were married with kids.”

  “And you didn’t have a boyfriend?”

  She shakes her head.

  “I’d say that’s a shame, but I’d be lying,” I admit. Knowing she doesn’t have a boyfriend or an ex she’s missing makes me happy as hell. I’m a selfish ass, but I don’t want to compete with a long-distance relationship or the ghost of an ex.

  June gives me another eye-roll in response, and I chuckle. Our coffee date started off awkwardly, but little by little, I pull more conversation from her. Mostly tales of her years in Los Angeles, but I’ll take anything she’ll give me.

  When I ask her what her favorite book is, I’m not surprised to hear it’s a classic we read in high school. I won’t say this coffee date is one-hundred-percent perfect or awkward-free, but I think I have a greater chance of convincing her to have dinner with me soon after this.

  Chapter 13

  June

  When Miles cornered me on the sidewalk, the last thing I felt like doing was dealing with him. It was a long day. The person I had been communicating with about a car I wanted decided to sell it despite the fact I told him I’d be there Monday to look at it.

  Then, I went into a store to find some clothes for work, and none of what I tried on fit. Nothing. Either I gained weight, am bloated, or pregnant. I really hope it is the second choice because it is impossible for me to be pregnant at the moment, and I really like wine and tacos and don’t want to go on a diet.

  I was frustrated, wanted to read and eat tacos. When Miles approached me, I didn’t have the energy to fight him off for long and figured that if I gave in once, he’d let it go. We wouldn’t have anything to talk about. He’d be bored and realize I wasn’t worth chasing.

  Then, he said that comment about his father, and I was struck silent with confusing thoughts swimming in my head. Although he tried to move on with the conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I noticed something odd about his mood when I saw him at the vineyard yesterday. I chucked it to stress at work, but maybe there is more to Miles than I thought.

  “How come you didn’t finish college?” Miles’s blunt question snaps my attention back to him, and I inhale deeply.

  In Los Angeles, no one asked me this. No one cared enough. There were plenty of people who never went to college and worked their way up the corporate ladder. In Willow Creek, where everyone knows you, this question doesn’t surprise me, and yet it still makes me hold my breath.

  When I don’t answer, Miles adds, “You were the smartest girl in class. Every subject was easy for you. I’m sure you got offered a ton of scholarships. I guess I always expected you to have like a Ph.D. or something,” he chuckles awkwardly, lifting his mug and then placing it back on the table when he realizes it’s empty.

  I keep my answer simple. “I started working. I needed the money, or so I thought, and the hours started to clash with my classes. Ultimately, I chose work over a degree.” I opt for the truth.

  “Couldn’t you have worked somewhere that respected students’ class schedule?”

  “I could’ve, but I wouldn’t have made what I was making. In retrospect, it wasn’t a ton of money, but for a twenty-year-old, it felt that way.”

  He nods, pensive. “I can see that. Money can serve as a great incentive to continue working, so you receive more of it.”

  I finish my coffee, needing some kind of barrier, even if it’s a coffee mug, to collect my thoughts. “Yeah.”

  “Anyway…” Miles looks around the coffee shop. Silence falls over the table as I wait for him to finish that thought. When he doesn’t, I ask a question of my own.

  “What did you study? Business?”

  He shakes his head. “Hospitality.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “That makes sense. I assumed it’d be something related to business, but I guess working at the winery in the department that you do, hospitality is a good choice.”

  Miles shrugs indifferently and asks, “Do you want another coffee?” He points to my mug. I shake my head.

  “Wine? We could go to Last Call,” he eyes me with some kind of intensity I can’t quite understand.

  I shake my head. “I should get going, actually.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He stands when I do, guiding me out of the coffee shop. When we’re by the sidewalk a few feet from the door, he smiles. “Thanks for saying yes even if you didn’t want to.”

  I nod.

  “Would…” He combs his hair. “Would you like to have dinner?”

  My eyebrows lift slowly, and my eyes widen. My throat is suddenly dry. I thought he’d let it go after coffee.

  “Um…”

  Miles’s eyes dance between mine expectantly. After another beat, he says, “Never mind. Anyway, thanks again, and sorry if I interrupted your afternoon plans.”

  I nod again and watch him turn around and walk away. That was weird. He was weird. Miles isn’t usually broody, nor does he easily quit. Today he was just…odd. That’s the best way I can explain it.

  Confused, I walk toward my house. Carla was kind enough to take me to work and drop me off here so my mom could use the car. The walk home will help sort through my thoughts and feelings.

  By the time I get home, I’m sweating from this Texas heat and not any less confused by my reaction to Miles and his expression when he walked away. What more would he want to talk about that h
e’d want to have dinner? It’s not like I’m exactly the exciting type of person. And if my dad didn’t care to stick around and get to know me, why would a guy like Miles Carlisle, who could have any woman in the world he desired?

  Instead of feeling better, I feel worse. My mom’s already home, and one look at my face tells her it’s been a rough day. Silently, she grabs the bottle of wine from the fridge and serves two glasses, passing one to me.

  “Thanks, Momma.” I sit at the counter and watch her move around the kitchen. She spends all day cleaning and caring for someone else’s house. Then, she comes home and does the same here.

  “Wanna order tacos? On me?” I ask over the rim of my glass.

  She looks at me over her shoulder. “I was gonna make spaghetti.”

  “You work too hard. You cook for the Carlisles. It’s Saturday evening, so let’s drink wine and eat tacos.”

  “And you can tell me what’s wrong,” she eyes me knowingly.

  I nod in a silent promise to talk about it. Then, I chug my wine and refill my glass.

  After I tell my mom about my afternoon, I feel a tinge better. She’s been silent, listening with slight head nods here and there.

  I sit back and wait for some of her wisdom to shine on me. Instead, the doorbell rings. I sigh, curse under my breath for the interruption, and open the door to receive our food delivery. When I walk back into the kitchen, she’s already set two plate settings. I drop the bag on the counter and start grabbing containers.

  “I think you should go to dinner with Miles.” My mom’s sudden words surprise me. I was expecting her to go slow on me, ease me into that declaration. “He’s a good person, and it seems he likes you.” She smiles softly, and it reminds me of the way she’d smile when she’d sing to me before putting me to bed as a child.

  “Momma…” I sigh and shake my head. “This town…the people.” I look down at the Formica counter.

  “Weren’t kind to you, but it wasn’t everyone. If it were, do you think I’d stick around? There are good people here. Kids are assholes; that’s a given. And I hate that you were on the receiving end of their unkind words. However, I’d hate more that you settle for a mediocre life when you could soar through greatness. You deserve greatness, June.” Her intense gaze burns into mine.