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

by Fabiola Francisco

  As we talk, we eat the apple appetizers and talk. Conversation with June comes easily, and it’s not just focused on the winery or my status in society. She brings up real topics, shares her beliefs and stories about her life.

  Once the salad is ready, I set the two plates on the counter and refill our wine glasses. Then, I sit beside her. Silence settles as we eat our first course.

  “This is delicious. Who knew zucchini would taste this good in a Caprese.” She shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe it.

  “I’m glad you like it.” I squeeze her knee, causing her to jerk. “Ticklish?” I lift a brow and grin.

  “Just a bit,” her voice is tight, and I throw my head back as I laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t torture you with tickle spots.”

  She nods in silence. I notice a slight shiver when I don’t remove my hand and smile to myself, glad I’m not the only one affected. I still haven’t been able to figure out this feeling buzzing inside of me or why it’s there since I first saw June again. We had barely spoken a word at that point.

  It’s ever-present, though. A tightness in my chest tugs me toward her, needing to be close to her. If only Madison would call me so I can talk to her—and to make sure she’s okay.

  “What’s wrong?” June asks, squinting her eyes.

  “Nothing,” I shake away any negative thoughts and focus on the beauty in front of me.

  “Are you sure? You look worried.”

  “I’m positive.” I lean forward and kiss her quickly. “Let’s finish so I can really impress you with the main course.” I squeeze her thigh one final time and remove my hand from her leg before I’m tempted to test how that skirt works and how much of her it’ll display with a single tug.

  “Okay.” She nods but eyes me curiously.

  “I promise,” I add to ease her mind.

  We finish the last of our salad, and I clear the plates. Leaning on the other side of the island, I stare at her amber eyes. “Ready to be fully impressed?”

  Chapter 18

  June

  “Ready to be fully impressed?” Miles smirks like the devil himself.

  Impressed? I’ve been impressed since before I stepped out of my car. The façade of his grey stone house made my mouth drop. My hands shook as I pressed the doorbell, looking at the porch with heart-eyes. He has a swing that would easily fit four people, and my book-loving heart was full of envy. It’d be the perfect spot to sit and read for hours.

  When I walked in, I was left even more speechless. The entire place is gorgeous, magazine-worthy, and nothing like I’ve ever or will ever own. I thought his parents’ estate was impressive, and while Miles's house is nowhere near the size of the estate, it’s impressive in its own right.

  And the kitchen…it’s huge. Stainless steel appliances that are so pristine, I’m sure he has someone who cleans this place multiple times a week. In LA, we had a stainless steel fridge, and it was a bitch to keep streak-free. The appliances match the grey and white marble tops and white cabinets. It’s all a clear reminder that he and I are so different when it comes to our financial status.

  Looking at Miles's expectant smile, I nod and drink more wine. Of course, it’s a Carlisle wine. I wouldn’t expect anything less, and based on the bottle, it’s not one we use on the tasting menu, which means it’s one of the more expensive bottles. It’s so freaking delicious I’m spoiled for all other wines.

  Miles works the kitchen like a pro. I’m surprised he never went to culinary school with everything he knows. He talks me through each step—searing the scallops, which makes my mouth water, cooking the steak to perfection, and the red wine mushroom sauce he’s going to make once the steaks are done, using the juice from the steak.

  “It’s a pretty basic meal once you know how to do it, though I shouldn’t admit that since I’m on a mission to blow your mind with it.” As he turns the scallops, the buttery aroma mixed with sage pulls me from my thoughts.

  “That smells great,” I comment.

  “The sage adds a nice touch to the scallops. Wait ’til you try ‘em.”

  “I bet.” I nod, leaning on my elbows as I stare at him.

  Miles owns the kitchen, moving around with an ease that makes him sexier than ever. He wipes his hands with the towel draped over his shoulder in the most natural way, and it makes the muscles in his arms flex. His t-shirt gives me a full view of his arms, unlike the dress shirts and suits he wears at work.

  He smiles at me periodically, making me a part of this experience instead of solely focusing on the meal he’s preparing. It’s fun watching him cook, and I’ll admit, a turn-on as well.

  “Do you have any new car prospects?” he asks as he serves polenta on two plates.

  “Not yet, but I know I’ll find the best car for me.” I’m willing to have patience, so I don’t make a hasty decision I’ll later regret.

  “You will,” he nods with certainty while placing the steaks over the plated polenta and drizzling the mushroom red wine sauce over it. On the side, he adds three scallops to each plate.

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat all this.” I eye the dish and pat my stomach. “I’m already half full from the appetizer and salad.”

  “Eat what you want. It won’t hurt my feelings,” he teases. “Moment of truth.” He places the plate in front of me, a combination of smells swirling up and making my mouth water. Would I look like a starved woman if I did eat it all?

  “Go ahead.” Miles nods toward my plate, anxiously waiting for my reaction.

  First, I cut into a scallop because I can’t remember the last time I ate one and have always loved them. The seafood melts in my mouth, and I can’t hold back the moan of appreciation.

  “Good, yeah?” His eyes light up.

  “So good.” I swallow the bite and wash it down with a drink of wine. Then, I try the steak, cutting into the juicy meat, cooked to perfection. I scoop up some polenta and a mushroom, taking the bite.

  Goodness. I moan again. The meat is tender and flavorful. The sauce isn’t overpowering; instead, it provides a complementary layer to the meal. The polenta is light and airy, allowing the meat to be the star in this dish.

  After swallowing, I stare at Miles in awe. “I’m officially impressed.”

  His proud smile makes my heart beat rapidly. It’s innocent and honest. “Thanks.”

  We eat mostly in silence, only commenting on the meal. I eat most of it, pushing more than I should’ve, but it’s worth feeling stuffed. No way I could let that meal go to waste. When Miles polishes off his plate, he turns in his seat and grabs my hand, caressing my skin.

  “I’m glad you liked it. I was nervous,” he admits.

  “Really?” My eyebrows lift, and he nods. “I never would’ve guessed.”

  Feeling brazen, maybe because of the wine, I lean my hands on his thighs, his eyes glancing down at the contact before looking into my eyes.

  “It was sexy watching you cook. The way you owned the kitchen,” my voice drops, and I don’t recognize the huskiness accompanied with it.

  Miles groans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. I smile as I watch his Adam’s apple bob. When his eyes meet mine again, fire clouds the green orbs. His hands reach for my hips and pull me to him. I let out an unattractive screech as he brings me to his lap.

  Combing away stray strands of hair that have fallen from my braid, he leans forward. “You’re sexy,” he whispers against my lips before taking them in his. The kiss is demanding and possessive, and my body instantly reacts, my nipples hardening and core clenching.

  “Miles,” I moan.

  Instead of responding, he takes the opportunity that my lips part to snake his tongue between them and seek my tongue, swiping them together. As soon as I feel the contact, sparks go off inside of me, fire in my veins, an overwhelming sensation causing me to tremble from the heat.

  Goosebumps break out on my skin. Our kiss the other night was good, but this one wraps me in a tornado of desire. Every
cell in my body becomes alive. This kiss does more than claim my lips—Miles is claiming me, my body, and my heart. I’ve never felt a kiss reach so deep within me before.

  I scoot on his lap, needing some type of friction, but I can’t get any sitting this way, and I doubt straddling him on this stool will be a good idea. We’d topple over to the hard marble floor, and it’ll be worse than an ice bucket thrown over us.

  “You taste so sweet.” His hands force their way into my hair, angling my head and deepening the kiss, his tongue demanding as it thrusts into my mouth. My hands search his body, trying to touch everywhere at once. His roam up and down my back, squeezing my hip. God, I can’t…

  My ability to think is stripped away when he bites and tugs my lower lip. My breathing is erratic, and my chest rises and falls as if I just ran a marathon. And running is not my sport of choice.

  “Junebug…” he mumbles my nickname, one I hated with everything in me. He’s making me reconsider it, giving it a different meaning. Of course, he was right about Urban Dictionary’s definition. The intellectual in me had to verify it.

  “You feel so good. I’m so tempted to pull this skirt open and see what’s underneath, run my hands over every inch of your body, memorizing it until I don’t need a roadmap to find your favorite parts.” I whimper at his words, dazed thanks to the fog of lust that has settled over us.

  “I want to find which part makes you moan the loudest.” His lips tremble over mine. “Although I have a feeling I know which one it is…” His breath tickles my ear as he whispers his dirty confession.

  “Goodness,” I breathe out.

  “You’re so gorgeous.” His hand skims down the side of my body, untucking my top and sneaking a hand under, skin on skin. His touch is gentle as his fingers flit over my back and ribs. I sigh, shivering at the contact.

  “We won’t go any further tonight. I want you to truly believe I’m a good guy before we do more than this.” His lips find mine to show me what exactly he’s talking about. His fingers tighten over my waist as if he’s fighting to keep his self-control in that one movement.

  Even if he were a bad guy, right now, I’d dare to play with the devil to feel more of him like this, see what else he’d do to drive me wild.

  His hand leaves my body, and I instantly feel the loss, which is ridiculous. Miles runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. The strands stick up every which way.

  “Let’s sit on the couch and finish our wine there. I don’t have dessert,” he grimaces.

  “That’s okay. I really don’t have room for that anyway.” I pat my belly, moving from his lap. Miles groans painfully, and I eye him before understanding dawns on me.

  A wicked smile overtakes my face, and I lean with my hands once again on his thighs. “Is it hard to stand up?” I tease him.

  When Miles growls, I laugh loudly, snorting. Miles chuckles as my neck heats in embarrassment.

  “Fucking adorable.” He kisses my nose. “And yes, very hard.” His eyes darken.

  Unfamiliar confidence moves through me as I stand between his legs and drape my arms around his shoulders. “Too bad you want to prove you’re a good guy.” I shift purposefully, brushing his erection.

  “Fuck,” Miles mumbles. His hands land on my hips in a tight hold. “Drivin’ me crazy, Junebug.” He grits out.

  Feeling bad for him, I give him a break and step back. He reluctantly releases me and closes his eyes, inhaling and exhaling in measured breaths.

  “I’ll get some more wine while you…you know.” I nod my head and open the fridge, pulling out the bottle of wine. The cold glass is a welcomed feeling to my heated skin.

  Miles stands by the time I finish filling our glasses and grabs both, taking them to the living room that opens into the kitchen. He sits on the ivory leather couch, placing the glasses on the marble coffee table. I swear it’s the same marble as the kitchen, keeping with the same decor in here.

  He pats the seat next to him. Smiling, I settle beside him, and his arm immediately wraps around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. Miles kisses the top of my head and sighs. His beating heart thumps in my ear as I lay my head on his shoulder. I’m sure mine is pounding as hard as his.

  “What’s your favorite memory about Willow Creek? I know you don’t have many, but you must have some.”

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, his heart lulling me down memory lane as different ones move through my mind, stopping at one. I almost chicken out of saying it, but he squeezes my shoulder and peers down at me with sincere curiosity and kind eyes.

  “Do you remember the summer we were eight? I spent most of it at your house. We swam in the pool, my mom let us bake, and made us popsicles. Your dad bought a slip-n-slide, and Madison and I made you slide down it with dish soap.”

  He nods, his eyebrows slightly pulling together.

  “That’s one of my favorite memories.”

  “Really?” His confusion is clear as day.

  “Yeah. It was the last time I knew the innocence of being a child. After that, things changed. Kids at school started treating me differently, making fun of me, and saying mean things about my dad. It just got worse after that. That’s the last happy memory I have here. I was accepted. You and Madison treated me like I was normal.”

  “You are,” he interjects.

  “You know what I mean.” I sit up and look at him. “After that, we never hung out again. Neither of you was my best friend, but I thought you guys liked me. It was then that I learned I wasn’t more than the maid’s poor daughter who had to spend time at your house because my mom couldn’t afford summer camp and couldn’t leave me home alone.”

  “June…” he shakes his head. “That’s not… We never saw you like that. I probably should’ve made sure you were okay when we were older, and I understood what was happening. I’m sorry for that, but you’re not less than anyone else. You’re amazing, smart, beautiful, and honest to the core. You speak your mind, not caring what people think.”

  “That’s not true. I care way too much what people think.”

  “You shouldn’t.” He cups my face, and I lean into his touch, allowing him to comfort me.

  My heart’s burst open in this moment, and I pray Miles will be gentle with it. When he kisses me softly, I sigh into him and trust him like I’ve never trusted anyone besides my mom. I allow him to pull me out of the painful memories and believe that I’m just like him. I melt into him and allow him to balm my broken pieces. He never wavers, kissing me until all I can think about is him and his lips. Then, he holds me for a long time as I lay on him with my head on his chest, silence but the beating of our hearts filling the space between us and a comfortable peace settling over us.

  Chapter 19

  Miles

  I call my sister’s best friend in Nashville and hope she has news from Madison. According to her schedule online, she doesn’t go out on tour until next month. I know she’s rehearsing, but it’s not enough for her to ignore my calls.

  I’ve been losing my mind, and I haven’t wanted to worry my parents or Brett. When Lauren doesn’t answer, I call her again. On the third ring, she picks up this time.

  “Hello? Hey, Miles, what’s up?” Her voice uncharacteristically rises on my name.

  “Hey, Lauren… Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to know if you’ve heard from Madison lately. I’ve been trying to reach her, but she won’t return my calls or text messages.” I blow out a breath, running a hand through my hair as I pace my living room.

  This house now has memories of June in it. I loved having her here, and I want to see her again—hopefully, today. Yesterday, we talked for a bit, but she spent the evening with her mom when she got home from work. I’m counting on her spending the evening with me today.

  “Um…” Lauren stalls.

  “What’s wrong? Tell me if something’s going on, or I’ll fly over there.” I grit my teeth, barely holding on to my frustration.

  “No, no… Yeah, I sa
w her yesterday. She lost her phone, which is probably why she hasn’t been able to call you. She was going to get a new one today. I’ll make sure to tell her to call you. We have brunch plans in a bit since she’s not working.” Lauren’s voice calms a bit.

  Although I’m still not completely convinced, I’m going to let it go and wait for Madison to call. If I don’t hear from her by tomorrow, I’m taking a trip to Nashville and seeing with my own two eyes.

  “Okay, tell her to call me as soon as possible, or I will fly over.”

  “Okay,” Lauren rushes out. “I’ll let her know.”

  “Bye.” I hang up as soon as her goodbye is out of her mouth and drop on the couch. My head falls into my hands, my fingers tugging the roots of my hair.

  Lauren sounded off, but I have to take her word for it in the meantime and wait until Madison calls. I hope all it was is that she lost her phone. Soon, I’ll be able to judge it for myself when she calls.

  For the first time ever, I wish I worked on Sundays so I could distract myself. Between knowing that June is at the winery and being worried about Madison, I’m restless and need to burn some energy. I stare out the big French doors that open to my patio and see the blaring sun.

  Grabbing a bathing suit, I head out to my parents’ house. Going for a swim would help pass the day and clear my mind.

  As soon as I walk into their house, I call out, “Hellooo,” and move through the house. Charlie and Chloe are in the living room watching some kind of cartoon that looks like real people instead of the animated ones I saw as a kid. I kind of feel bad for kids nowadays that don’t get to experience those.

  “Hey, girls.” I smile at them. They jolt in surprise and break their focused gazes from the television to look at me.

  “Uncle Miles!” They jump up. “Why are you here?” Charlie asks with a toothy grin.

  “Well, I was hoping to go for a swim. I didn’t know you girls were here.” I crouch down next to them. Their faces are sleepy, with swollen eyes, and they’re sitting on the couch, surrounded by pillows and blankets. It looks cozy.