Chapter 21
T HE OLD PINK-AND-WHITE house came into view as Carrah turned at the stop sign. She yawned, pulling into the closest parking space and admiring the gingerbread adorning the front porch of the town’s favorite coffee shop. A lightly caramelized, almost nutty scent had found a way to escape the confines of the house and seduce anyone up early enough in downtown Mount Dora, to beat the morning rush for magic promised in a cup.
As soon as Carrah opened her car door, that caramel nut scent coupled with roasting coffee beans hooked her olfactory sense and lured her inside through the little Dutch door. The hustle and bustle of the baristas in addition to the aromas swirling around vanquished the grogginess she’d endured from the last two days of researching to find ingredients to stabilize the serum.
So much for summer , she almost said aloud while waiting for her order to be taken. Not only was she working as if she were in her lab at headquarters, but she’d skipped dinner with her friends yesterday and was considering bailing out on Reggie’s game night this weekend for a quiet evening all to herself. The worst was that she was no longer sure about moving forward with the publishing contract.
Carrah suspected it would take another two or three days coupled with a miracle to balance the formula. There would be more days and weeks to invest in for reinvigorating the pipeline pending the formula’s success. And that would be the beginning of restoring a semblance of hope. It was the only way out without feeling as though she’d assassinated Noir.
“Next,” the boy behind the counter called, offering a kind smile while she approached.
Carrah inhaled the rich, dark delicious scent that made her mouth water as she stepped up to the register. “Morning! I’ll have a London Fog with almond milk. No sugar, raw honey.”
“Make that two.” The depth of authority oozing from Chris did more to her than words could describe… or that she would ever admit. She released a shallow exhale then glanced over her shoulder. “That sounds good”—his light eyes locked with hers—“and I’m in the mood to try something new.” He then leaned forward and tapped his phone against the payment reader before his fingers gently curled around her wrist and he pulled her away from the order line to the pickup area.
Carrah’s breath quickened, her heart raced, and she had no idea that she coveted this man’s touch. “Thank you,” she managed to get out as he let her go. She cleared her throat. “Imagine seeing you here.” She eyed him, noting the leather Armani sandals that exposed his toes, which actually appeared manicured, and boat shorts he’d paired with a classic V-neck that allowed the fine hairs on his chest to peek out. “Not working today?”
It was a legitimate question since she knew Chris maintained office hours due to his recent expansion. Besides, she needed to distract her mind from imagining her fingers playing at his chest.
He chuckled as his hands slid into his pockets. “Actually, I’m done working for the day. I wrapped my last call about thirty minutes ago.” A bark of laughter escaped him as she drew back and fiddled with her phone to check the time.
“It’s only eight thirty in the morning. Is that normal for you… I mean in your line of work?”
Chris nodded, answering, “The entertainment industry is worldwide. I was negotiating with a production studio in London. It’s afternoon there now, and in this industry early is always better.”
“Morning meetings are not my ministry.” They both laughed. “Having to be cordial and no doubt code switching before eight is just crazy and seriously early.”
“No earlier than you tiptoeing out my front door.” Not a trace of humor was visible on his straight face, and if she were not overanalyzing maybe the small tick at his jaw revealed a hint of frustration. “Haven’t heard from you since.” He folded his arms and watched the baristas work. “What, it’s been—”
“Two days.” Carrah refocused her attention to the prep bar silently hoping they would call her order and remove the elephant he’d dropped in the room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod his head. It was that cultural way of acknowledging BS. “I didn’t want to wake you up after I’d already overstayed my welcome.”
His brows furrowed. “Did I say that?” Carrah shook her head no in response. “Then how did you arrive at that conclusion?”
“Two London Fogs,” a high-pitched voice called from behind the counter.
A sigh of relief escaped her as Chris darted forward and retrieved their teas. He passed her a cup then carved a path through the now crowded café for them to exit. “This is good!” He sipped from his drink as they stepped outside onto the porch. “Never heard of it until now. London Fog,” he mumbled, lifting it back to his mouth.
Carrah couldn’t resist the smile she felt curving her lips. She loved that he had taken a liking to one of her guilty pleasures. “Well, when you don’t like the taste of coffee, but want something more sophisticated than hot chocolate with a pinch of caffeine.” She raised her drink then took a sip and relished the sweet hints of bergamot smoothed by vanilla and honey.
He smiled at her, and dear God, it made her think of the way Billy Dee smiled at Diana Ross in Mahogany . She melted. Only, she knew the outcome of this. So she caught herself because falling wasn’t an option.
At that moment she decided that one day after Noir was rescued and she could dream again, maybe then she would publish her story. Lord knows she wanted people to read the tale of how her star-crossed lovers waited for each other over a thousand lifetimes. She would break the news to Chris later. She wasn’t prepared for him to think less of her or be upset for wasting his time.
“You know what would be good with this?” His words pulled Carrah from her contemplation and she watched him saunter down the sidewalk. He turned right, taking a few more steps, then paused as though he were expecting her to be at his side. “Are you coming?”
“Depends on where you’re going,” she responded while walking to where he stood.
He raised his cup and pointed in the opposite direction of her car. Most of the shops in that direction were retail. “A glazed twist would pair well with my London Fog.”
“From Not Jus’ Donuts?” The light rumble in her stomach confirmed that she too thought it would be good. In fact, it made her think of her grandmother Madilyn, and how the old woman often paired fresh beignets with her tea. Carrah groaned, fighting hard to resist sweet temptations that could otherwise compromise the fit of her gown for the annual Juneteenth Red Party. “I can’t.”
“Are we back to this? First fries, now donuts.” He did an about-face, came to where she stood, and then tugged her until she started walking at his side. “Besides, you owe me after I was forced to endure an insufferable romance.”
“ Dirty Dancing is not insufferable.” She side-eyed him, watching as he shook his head in disagreement. Not a battle she wanted to fight today. “Do you know how many calories and carbs are in one donut?”
“I’ll burn it off when I run.” He glanced across to her. His lips quirked in a way that made her regret Chris was retained as her good, commonsense attorney, because damn if she didn’t want more than legal advice. “Can you live a little bit, Carrah Andrews? Be like Baby, or whatever her name was in that movie. Don’t stay in the corner.”
His words froze her. In one evening the boy she had known from afar had deciphered the secrets of her soul. Shame flooded Carrah, drenching her in the regret of knowing that she still lived for everyone else. The last few days in the lab and reconsideration of the book’s contract proved as much.
Though she would not confess it to Chris. He’d escaped the preordained path of working at his family’s company, ventured out, and found his own way, which garnered much success. Someone like him would never understand how or why she was afraid to push out of a corner.
How could he? He’d never been boxed in. Carrah had been trapped a long time, and it started with her mother.
Camille had dictated Carrah’s style, weight, hair, elocution… the essence of who she was for appearances’ sake. Then, of course, her father had reinforced four sides of the box and given it a lid two days ago. A reminder of the trade she’d made from beauty queen to lab rat. Therefore, she was in no position to simply live a little bit. Not when her duty was to revitalize the life of Noir Cosmetics.
The second her feet became stuck on the cement, Chris regretted his words. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You watched the movie? I thought you fell asleep.”
A lazy smile curved his lips. “ You fell asleep. I was in and out,” he lied. He’d watched it until the end while stealing long glances at her.
Even right now, Chris couldn’t help how he studied her in those blue, hip-hugging yoga pants and formfitting crop top, which accentuated all her curves and taut stomach. It was clear she cared about her body. He’d long noticed how fit she was. Still, he had no idea why she was so hung up on counting calories and grams of sugar. Perhaps habits from being on the pageant circuit died hard.
“But you saw the part where Baby is trapped in the corner.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “That’s like the most important scene, and it’s at the end, so I don’t believe you, Christopher Chennault.” Her jesting warranted a snarky reply. Only, before he made a comeback her face became pinched, making him swallow his words. “And it’s okay. You’re right,” she muttered. “Everything is always for someone else. Me being in the lab the last few days goes against why we come to the Shores.”
Again, Chris pumped the brakes on a response. If he confessed what he knew, then maybe he could help her. But then, would she really want his help? He didn’t want her to reject his assistance… or him for knowing what his father had planned. A sliver of regret planted seeds of doubt.
It was unfortunate he had the knowledge of knowing her family’s empire was on the brink of collapse and that she was the only one with the brains to maybe pull it out. His mind floated back to the first thoughts he had after his father presented the joint venture.
While his concerns should’ve been of his mother and knowing that Claudette wouldn’t want their family mixed up with the Andrews, he thought of Carrah. Noir’s impending ruin wasn’t her fault, and having to fix it was not fair to her. Only, he understood the expectations of the burden she carried to give back to her family. Most everyone in their circle of friends had been raised to exalt the family legacy.
Beyond the frill of being a child raised in an elite Black family, he didn’t want her to become a casualty of a revenge-based business deal. It would likely tarnish lines for any future reconciliation. However, the last and most concerning thought was that he wondered if her family were the ones she felt trapped by.
It made the most sense as he considered crumbs she’d unwittingly dropped. She’d definitely maintained her guard. Yet, as he heard her speak about working the last few days while in the Shores, he speculated the concerns with the family business were maybe the reason she had not responded to an email from the agent he’d referred.
“Have you been talking to my dad?” he asked, and she giggled. “He, too, doesn’t believe in work during the summer. He’s still upset I’m keeping hours while here this year and made our vacant space downtown into my makeshift office.”
“I think I might like your father,” Carrah teased, and opened her mouth to say something but stopped and then stuck her nose in the air. “Mmmm.” She inhaled deeply. “You smell that, Chennault?”
A flush of adrenaline rushed through his body at the way his name fell from her lips. His face lit up like a kid’s in a candy store, unsure if it was because of her beautiful wide smile or because his sweet tooth would finally get some action. “Fresh donuts!” He licked his lips, still uncertain of what he liked most. “Come on.” He tilted his head in the direction of the store. It was easier than telling her that he liked the way she’d said his name.
They commenced a brisk stroll down the sidewalk, sipping their Fogs. They passed a host of shops, including the new comic stand Duncan had helped bring to downtown, Uncle Willie’s and the bookstore he imagined would one day hold Carrah’s book. Being beside Carrah as they wandered downtown was one of the most touristy things he’d done in a long time.
He especially liked their debate on which debutantes and escorts might hook up after the ball. It was intriguing to see how they similarly read people. They both agreed that Destiny and Xavier might as well set a wedding date. On the contrary, Alexandria and Carter were done. Alex was pretty, came from a good family, and had decided to attend Spelman, which was right across the street from Carter, who was at Morehouse. However, she was much too bossy and immature for the two-year age gap already between them.
For a fraction of a second, his breathing suspended, listening to Carrah speak so highly of his brother. She had really taken time during preparation for the ball to learn who Carter was. Chris couldn’t help wondering if she would give him the same courtesy or if she would relegate him to simply being a professional service. Time would tell.
For now, he still wanted to know more about this foe he was currently aiding. He paused at the edge of the sidewalk leading to the front door of the donut shop. “Before we go inside, I want you to tell me something else I don’t know about you.”
“Right here?” She scanned him, skeptically debating his question and he nodded yes. “Is this a game?” He shrugged, savoring another sip of his hot tea. “It’s how we bridge the distance between us courtesy of our families’ feud.”
Her lips pressed together and he could see her mind searching for a nugget to share. Finally, her cheeks filled as her eyes focused to his face. “I love landscape art. Mountains, the lake, a lush meadow, and sunsets… I chase them sometimes searching for a modicum of peace.”
“It’s why you cherish your time here?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
Chris understood. Peace was always discoverable in the Shores. He found it every morning on his run to greet the sunrise as it bloomed over the lake and scattered light across the sky. His steps restarted then halted when she tugged at his arm.
“Not so fast.” She giggled. “Your turn. Eye for an eye, remember?”
“I miss the beach.” He couldn’t help returning her smile. “I haven’t been in ages.”
“Why?”
A knife-sharp pain pierced him in the chest. He looked off for a second, struggling to breathe, and then finally exhaled. “Time… my mother’s passing. Then there is the expansion and client demands. My ex also wasn’t a fan. She hated sand between her toes,” he sheepishly admitted.
“Well, I love sand between my toes. We should go. I mean, we’re only an hour or so away.”
Reality seemed woozy, but Carrah appeared genuine. A part of Chris believed she was. And yet, loyalty to his family demanded he think differently. It whispered against where he stood with her now, and chastised the attorney-client agreement.
Accepting her as his client introduced an unnecessary complication into his life. Instead of avoiding it, he ran to it. There was something about her that challenged his right mind. He didn’t know what it was. Yet he was compelled to find out.
“Maybe we should grab a dozen to go, to take with us to the beach.” He took a swig of his tea and then restarted his steps down the sidewalk. He opened the door to the shop for her, and as she was about to pass through he asked, “How long will it take you to get ready and meet me at the cottage?”