7. Carter
Carter
C atalina drags me into town with her, saying she needs to “get some work done” at the bookstore. Which really means she’s going to spend all day fussing over shelves that are already alphabetized and rearranging displays no one asked for.
But fuck if I’m complaining.
I take my spot in the corner by the counter, hat low, a paperback in my hands that I’m not really reading. My eyes keep drifting over to her.
She’s in her element here—hair pulled back with her lavender bow, bright sundress swaying around her legs, gold hoops catching the light when she bends down to fix a stack of fantasy hardcovers.
She’s humming under her breath, Where You Are, of course, completely unaware of how damn sexy she looks alphabetizing romance novels.
Customers come and go.
I don’t miss the way a couple of guys glance too long when they walk in. My jaw tightens, and I shift in my chair just enough so they see me; their eyes snap away quickly.
Good.
“Stop glaring at my customers,” Catalina scolds as she passes the counter with her arms full of books.
“I’m not glaring,” I mutter.
“You’re brooding.”
“Same thing.”
She smirks, rolling her eyes, and heads toward the back shelves. I watch her the whole way, hips swaying, that damn bow bouncing, and all I can think about is how she looked last night in the pasture.
“Enjoying the view?” she calls over her shoulder without looking back.
I grunt, dragging my eyes down to the book in my lap, even though I haven’t turned a page in half an hour. “Always, baby.”
She laughs, and I swear my chest aches with how much I love her.
I’m supposed to be busy with a book, but honestly, I haven’t read a single word. My eyes keep drifting to her across the store, sunlight catching the bow in her hair, her laugh echoing through the aisles as she helps a customer find some romance novel I’ll never understand.
She’s happy, and it breaks me open all over again that I’m able to do that for her.
When the customer leaves, she comes back to the counter, scribbling something on a notepad, totally unaware I’ve been staring holes into her.
“Darlin’,” I say, standing and walking over, bracing my hand on the counter.
She glances up, arching a brow. “Yes, baby?”
“I hope you know how proud I am of you,” I tell her, voice steady but soft. “This store. This life you built. You’re runnin’ circles around everyone, and I get to stand here and say you’re mine.”
Her pen slips out of her hand. She blinks up at me, “Carter?—”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “No, I mean it. I love you, Catalina.”
Her lips part, her eyes shimmering with that fire I’ll never get tired of. “You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m working,” she whispers, pressing her hand over her chest.
“Sure, I can,” I smirk, leaning closer until my hat brim almost bumps her forehead. “I’ll say it every day until you believe it deep down in those stubborn bones of yours. I love you, baby.”
She narrows her eyes, trying not to smile, but she’s glowing, and I know it. “You’re so sweet.”
“And you’re my whole fucking world.”
She groans, throwing her head back. “Ugh, you’re going to make me cry in front of the books . ”
I reach across the counter to pull her into me, kissing her hard. She’s my wife, my chaos, my sunshine, and my storm.
I’ll love her loudly every day of my life.
Afternoon drifts by, sunlight shifting across the hardwood floors, dust motes catching in the beams. Catalina moves through the aisles, adjusting a display, restacking a tower of fantasy novels, chatting with some girl about the newest dark romance release.
I don’t move from my chair by the counter; I’m content just watching her.
Her dress sways around her thighs as she climbs the little step stool to reach the top shelf. She huffs when the bow in her hair slips sideways, mumbling something under her breath in Spanish, then straightens it again with a dramatic sigh.
I grin, sipping my coffee. She has no idea how fuckin’ gorgeous she looks when she’s in her element.
A couple of customers trickle in and out. I keep an eye on them, of course, but my gaze always finds its way back to her, my wife.
Every once in a while, she glances my way, catches me staring, and makes a face. “You’re supposed to be reading,” she teases, arms crossed.
“I am,” I mutter, flipping a page in the book that’s been sitting open in my lap for an hour.
“You’re not even looking at it.”
“Book’s not as interestin’ as you.”
She groans, shaking her head, but her lips curve anyway, and she disappears into the stacks again, humming under her breath.
The shop is nearly empty as Catalina flips the “Closed” sign with a flourish, locks the door, and sighs.
I stand, stretching, watching her move around the counter as she counts the till and scribbles something in her ledger. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and I swear I’ve never seen anything prettier.
“You gonna stare at me all night, cowboy?” she teases without looking up.
“Depends,” I say, leaning against the counter. “You gonna give me somethin’ better to do?”
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Help me put the romance table back in order, and maybe I’ll let you carry my bag.”
“Big honor,” I deadpan, earning myself a playful shove when she comes around the counter with her tote.
We move through the store together.
She fusses over stacks of books, and I trail behind, grabbing the heavier ones when she points. Every time our hands brush, she glances up at me like it still surprises her that I’m here, that I’m hers. And every damn time, my chest squeezes tight.
When the last light is off, she stands in the doorway, locking it behind us. The streetlamps flicker on outside, casting her in a soft glow.
She turns to me, smug grin in place.
“Well, Mr. Hayes,” she says, looping her arm through mine, “did you enjoy supervising my bookstore shift as much as you enjoy supervising my bathroom renovations?”
“Hell yes,” I mutter, kissing her temple. “You’re somethin’ to watch, darlin’.”
She rolls her eyes but squeezes my arm, leaning into me as we start toward the truck. “You’re hopeless.”
“And you’re mine,” I say simply.
Her warm, dramatic laugh fills the night, and I immediately realize I would follow her anywhere, whether it’s from a half-finished bathroom to a busy bookstore or to the ends of the earth.
She pulls me down the sidewalk, with her lavender bow bouncing with each step. “I’m starving,” she declares, dramatic as always. “If you don’t feed me, I’ll waste away right here in the street.”
“You ate lunch two hours ago,” I mutter, though I let her drag me along.
“That was two hours ago,” she snaps back, like I’m the unreasonable one.
I huff a laugh. “You’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”
“Good thing you married me, then,” she says with a smug grin.
We arrive at a cozy bistro lit with string lights, the kind of place she loves, with small tables on the sidewalk, candlelight flickering, and soft music drifting through the doors. She slides into her seat, tucks her hair behind her ear, and begins studying the menu with seriousness.
I don’t even bother pretending to look at mine.
Her eyes lift after a minute, catching me. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Staring.”
I shrug, leaning back in my chair. “Baby, you have no idea how stunning you are.”
She groans, rolling her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curve. “Do you practice these lines in the mirror or do they just… come to you?”
“They’re not lines,” I say, my voice steady. “They’re just what I see.”
She pokes at her water glass, cheeks heating, and I feel the smallest surge of victory.
Dinner went by in a blur; she stole more than half of my fries and the last bite of dessert. I give her my best scowl, but she licks chocolate off her fork.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
“Marriage is about sharing.”
“Pretty sure I shared my last nerve about ten minutes ago.”
She laughs, tossing her napkin at me.
We walk back toward my truck, the night warm and peaceful. She loops her arm through mine, leaning on me, her bow brushing my shoulder. “See? This is why I married you.”
“For my fries?”
“For putting up with me,” she says, looking up at me with a grin that’s all teeth and love.
I pull her closer, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Hell, Catalina, it ain’t puttin’ up with you. It’s the best part of my life.”
She has no comeback, only a gentle smile.
She leans into me, letting out a little sigh. “This was nice.”
“Yeah?” I glance down at her, catching the curve of her lips.
“Mhm.” She rests her head briefly against my shoulder. “You should take me on dates more often.”
I chuckle, squeezing her closer. “Darlin’, every day with you feels like one.”
She groans, swatting at my chest. “Soooo corny.”
“True,” I counter, kissing the top of her head as we walk.
She smiles to herself. And in that quiet stretch of sidewalk, with her tucked against me, I know I don’t need candlelight or fancy dinners.
Just her. Always her.
We reach the truck, and I open the door for her, steadying her hand as she climbs in. She glances at me, soft and playful all at once.
“You’re not so bad at this husband thing, cowboy.”
I grin, shutting the door behind her. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’ll keep practicin’.”
As I round the hood to climb in on my side, I already know, practice or not, loving her will always be the easiest thing I’ve ever done.