Page 20 of Stuck with Mr. Grump

“Yeah, no, I can’t. No one gets Emilia to do what she doesn’t want to do.”

I roll my eyes at that. It’s becoming clear he’s not going to help me on this.

“Where did she even come from, anyway?” I ask.

“Hm?” Carson says with his mouth around his glass.

“Emilia,” I clarify. “Is she really your sister?”

The question feels a little dumb. A person only has to look at them together to see that they’re siblings. She’s like the female version of Carson with curves, full lips, and legs for days.

“Yeah, she is,” Carson replies, his tone becoming serious. “She showed up on my dad’s doorstep four years ago. Man, I can’t even begin to tell you how awful it was back then. We just woke up one morning and there was this skinny twenty-one-year-old girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes that looked like they’d seen a lot of shit. She introduced herself as Emilia Sutter, then said Dad was her biological father. I had a hard time believing it, but Dad immediately knew she was telling the truth.”

“Must have been hard,” I say sympathetically.

“Yeah, it was. Emilia had been living with the woman who gave birth to me her whole life. Her name was Olivia. Olivia and my dad got divorced when I was like four years old. I don’t even remember her, but my dad’s told me stories of how awful she was. A drug addict, emotionally abusive. He said once he realized he didn’t have a future with a woman like that, he got me out and away from her as soon as he could. But he had no idea Olivia was pregnant when he left. We relocated here toEdenton and dad never looked back, never bothered to see how Olivia was doing after. If he had, he would have known she gave birth to a little girl, his daughter, and she didn’t even tell him. It kills me to think about what Emilia must have gone through living with that woman,” he says sadly.

“Why did she come looking for you after so long?” I ask.

He shrugs. “She said she just found out about us and made her way here. Emilia doesn’t really talk about her life before moving to Edenton. I think she just needed us to accept her into our lives and once we did, it’s like she’s locked up her old life and thrown away the key. We know nothing about it. Dad tried to look for Olivia but nothing’s come up. I think a part of him keeps waiting for Olivia to show up or something, but I couldn’t care less if I’m honest. That woman had better not show up again in our lives. She’s dead to me, and I hope she’s dead to Em as well.”

I don’t speak for a couple of seconds. My hand swipes across my mouth as I clear my throat.

“She’s going to be pissed if she ever finds out I told you about this. I’m serious, Sterling.”

“Yeah, I got it,” I assure him.

“Now that you know now, just go easy on her, alright? She’s been through a hard time and that café means a lot to her.”

“I feel bad for her but I’m not giving up on getting that land,” I say after a couple minutes.

Carson laughs. “Yeah, I knew you were going to say that. You and Emilia are actually quite similar. You know that, right?”

I make a face at that. “Look, I hear you. And I’ll consider a better approach to the negotiations with her. I’ll be nicer and more appealing.”

“Sounds like you’re talking about someone else.” Carson grins. “Do you even know how to be any of those things?”

“Sure I do,” I mutter.

“Good luck then,” he states, clapping my shoulder. “Just remember, I may have known you my whole life, unlike Em. But she’s my sister. If you hurt you, I’ll make you pay.”

I meet his gaze and the firmness in his voice makes it clear he’s not kidding. I didn’t think he was. Carson likes to pretend he’s an idiot, but he’s secretly one scary motherfucker. I once watched him beat up a guy for harassing Anika when she was thirteen. He’s not a person to be trifled with.

“Yeah, I got it,” I tell him.

It’s another Monday when I make my way to Emilia’s café, bright and early. I park my car in the same spot as the last time before making my way into the shop. She’s not behind the counter today. Instead, she’s seated at one of the tables, biting the corner of her bottom lip absentmindedly while she scrolls through her phone.

She doesn’t immediately look up, perhaps too distracted by whatever’s on her phone, but once she does, she freezes. And then her lips pull up in smirk. She slowly rises to her feet.

“Are you here to accept defeat?” she asks cockily.

My eyebrows rise and I give her a look that conveys that that will never happen.

The nerve of this woman, seriously. I ignore the way her hips swish as she walks over to stand in front of me. She’s wearing a white skirt paired with a frilly blouse and there’s a gold necklace hanging around her neck, the word “survive” written on the pendant. She catches me staring at it and her gaze narrows right before she tucks it into her shirt.

“What are you doing here, Sterling Harrington?”

I make a show of looking around, followed by an awkward cough. “I’m here to get coffee,” I mutter.

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