Page 35 of Smartasses
Chapter Twelve
With the morning bakery rush over, Aubrey wheeled her new office chair over to the closed secretary desk tucked away in the corner of the small dining room ready to start her new life. It may not be the one she’d planned on having, but it was the one that fit with who she was now and where she wanted to take her life. The past week since she’d gotten home hadn’t been easy, but then again, change never was. She pushed her chair into place at the desk. It was white with a fold-down top that locked when she closed it, had three drawers and two cabinets—plenty of space for her notebooks, laptop, research, and more.
Nerves all jangly about the fact that she was really going to do this, she took out her key and unlocked the desk. Everything was precisely in its place. Pens stood in the mug decorated with the bakery’s logo. Her laptop was on the top shelf charged and waiting. Her sticky notes were in the top drawer waiting to be used. She let out a nervous breath. Yep, she was finally going to do this.
The bell on the front door gave her half a second of warning before the first of the morning gaggle of gossipers walked through the door. Mr. Lucas had been coming to the bakery every morning for years to sit with his cronies and solve the world’s problems over coffee and a cruller.
He jerked to a stop in front of her, then looked around as if to confirm he was in the right bakery. “Where’d the corner table go, Aubrey?”
“It’s in the other corner now,” she said, pointing at the table she’d dragged over to the other side of the dining area last night after she’d finished building the desk and getting it in place.
He glanced over at the table, already set with his usual Retired And Loving It mug along with Mr. Mendoza’s Old Fart mug, Mr. Corelli’s Life Begins At Seventy mug, and Mr. Jackson’s Best Grandpa mug. “Why?”
“The plug-ins are over here.” Lord knew she’d looked around every square inch of the place to see if there was any other place it could go. “I need to be able to charge my laptop so I can work on the outline for my book.”
Oh, wow. Admitting it out loud had been a rush. She hadn’t told anyone yet. Of course, now that she’d told him, she wouldn’t have to.
“You’re writing a book?”
“I am.” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, prepped for mockery.
“Good for you.” Mr. Lucas gave her a nod of encouragement. “I’ll steer the boys over here when they come in.”
A bubbly excitement filling her, she settled in at her desk while Mr. Lucas took his mug from the table and wandered over to the counter where he filled up his coffee from the carafe that was always on the corner and picked up one of the crullers already on a plate, leaving exact change behind to cover the bill. There was a benefit to having regulars who always got the usual.
For the first time since she’d left for the cruise, she opened her laptop. The screen was dirty with smudged fingerprints—why did she never notice that until she was out in public—but it only took a few seconds for it to warm up and an image of Carter to fill the once dark space. In it, he was smiling, no Iowa farm boy scruff covering his face, as he walked his dog. And with that, every happy little fizzy bubble of exhilaration popped until nothing but a chin-trembling sadness was left.
Clicking on the log-in button for her Insta account was the last thing she needed to be doing, but her fingers moved across the trackpad almost of their own accord. Her thirst account popped open, showing photo after photo of Carter on the set, doing interviews, and out living his life. It was a bittersweet punch to the gut because while she didn’t want to let go, she knew that she had to move forward. She’d had her chance, and she’d fucked it up. The best thing she could do now was hit the delete button.
Her hand hovering over the trackpad, she took one last lingering look, and that was when she noticed the new posts. That was wrong. There shouldn’t be anything new since she’d deleted the post that had almost outed Carter on the cruise. Adrenaline made her hands shake as she clicked on the posts, enlarging the photos. They were casual shots, the kind of fun-in-the-sun photos that the ship’s official photographers had been snapping throughout the cruise. In the first pic, Carter had his face to the camera as he smiled at Aubrey who had her back to the camera. In the next, they were on the private island shopping in the souvenir huts, and once again, only Carter could be identified. The final picture was of her standing behind him, blocked by his body, as she reached around and taught him how to play shuffleboard. She hadn’t put these up. She didn’t even know where they’d come from.
Heart hammering against her ribs, she clicked on each post, trying to figure out who had gotten into her account and posted them. Even though she knew she’d never see Carter again, she couldn’t stand having him think she’d done it again. The bell on the bakery door jingled as panic gripped her lungs tight.
“Crullers on the counter, gentlemen,” she said as she glanced up, expecting to see the rest of the coffee klatch.
But there, at the bakery, was Carter. He’d shaved off his scruff and had ditched the ridiculous Iowa farm boy on a cruise clothes, but it was him. Aubrey couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Seeing him in person was the best worst thing that could have happened, and she had no idea what to do.
“I didn’t come for a donut,” he said, closing the distance between them. “I came for you.”
Carter hadn’t planned beyond finding Aubrey and apologizing. He definitely should have done that because now he was just standing here like a dumbass, inwardly cringing that he’d just said he wasn’t here for a donut.
For.
A.
Donut.
“Aubrey.” He let the door fall closed behind him and started toward her, having to shove his hands into his pockets so he didn’t reach out and pull her into his arms when she probably was ready to deck him.
“Don’t look!” Eyes wide, she slammed her laptop closed but not before he spotted the photos on it. “It’s not what you think. I have no idea who—”
“I did it.” That had been the first part of his plan. “I contacted the cruise ship people and bought every photo their photographers took on the cruise.” Unable to stop himself, he crossed to her, needing to at least be close to her, even if this might be the last time he saw her. “Then I looked for any that had us in the background or the casual shots we hadn’t realized people were taking. I cropped them down so you weren’t recognizable because I didn’t want to out you as the woman I fell for without your permission.” The need to protect her from some of his more aggressive fans had been instinctual and visceral. “My brother, Byron, knows someone who knows someone who owed someone else a favor, and that’s how I hacked your IG feed.”
“Why?”
“Because it was the only way I knew to show you that I’d lied that night.” Oh, fuck it. He reached out, cupping her face with his hands. “What’s between us means something. It’s special.” He sucked in a shaky breath. Everything was riding on this moment. “Aubrey, I’m sorry I was an asshole.”
“Language, young man,” one of the old men at the corner table called out.
