Anything but Love (Wingmen #3) Page 23

  “Just Carter?” Her laughter is nothing more than a quiet chuckle. “Thanks for keeping it professional.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  We chat about brands I know and like. I’m leaning toward the athletic companies, hoping I can get sponsorship for some bigger triathlons and some free gear.

  When we get off the phone, I’m feeling positive and excited. For the first time since Gomez identified me, I think maybe my life isn’t ruined.

  Despite Albuquerque sounding like it’s a million miles away, it’s still in the same country.

  It’s also almost impossible to spell. Thank god I don’t have to send Cari actual mail.

  We’ve been texting.

  Or I’ve been texting and she responds.

  Most of the time.

  Sometimes it feels one sided.

  Doesn’t stop me.

  I know Cari won’t move back here if she doesn’t have something for herself. She left a life in San Diego. After much convincing, I finally got her to share her photos with me.

  Turns out she’s amazing.

  She’s so much more than the random girl who took a pic of a random boy on a beach that went viral.

  The world needs to see more of her work.

  Jonah and I could hire her to shoot Whidbey Joe’s images, but a small coffee company would be a waste of her talents. Not that I don’t suggest it to Jonah, who agrees with a smug, knowing smile.

  “It would be nice to have the lovely Caribou back in our midst. We can redesign the website around new images. Freshen things up.”

  There will be none of this group “midst” or “freshening up” related to Jonah if I have anything to say about it. “Right. I’ll mention it to her.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  I’ll do no such thing.

  It’s my turn to make a bank run. I’ve been avoiding going to the local branch for the past several months. The island gossip girls aren’t happy I shut down their T-shirt and mug business. Actually, Ros broke the news to them, blaming big, mean corporations protecting their investments.

  I suspect there is still a black market of HAG goods being traded at book club meetings, baby showers, and the odd bridge game. In fact, I have no doubt.

  Connie gives me a friendly wave when I enter the bank lobby.

  Show tunes and Muzak softly play as I stand in line for the tellers. I wonder if this is what purgatory will sound like. Of course I get Connie’s window.

  “Well, if it isn’t Whidbey’s most famous son.”

  “Sandy was in earlier today and we chatted about you.”

  “Hi, Connie,” I mumble, hoping she won’t create a scene. Whatever happened to friendly greetings?

  Ignoring my attempt at politeness, she continues as if I haven’t spoken at all. “We have a brilliant idea.”

  I hand over the deposit slips and our bank bag, dreading what sort of brilliance these women have come up with now. “Oh, really?”

  “We think you’re missing a big local opportunity to expand.”

  “Whidbey Joe’s?”

  “No, the whole naked guy stuff.”

  At least my dread instincts are on point. I inwardly cringe, but curiosity gets the better of me and I ask the question I don’t want the answer to. “What kind of opportunity?”

  “Calendars.”

  I chuckle. “I’m flattered, but twelve months of my butt might be too much for anyone, even you, Connie.”

  She blushes and giggles like a much younger woman at my flirtatious smile. “Oh, sweetheart. You know that’s not true.”

  Dear lord.

  “Not that we haven’t loved your photos, as you know, but we’re thinking bigger.”

  “You lost me.”

  “Include some other hot island men, solo and together.”

  I’m sure she’s not talking about gay porn. Pretty sure. “Still not clear on your idea.”

  “Twelve men, each get their own month. Here, let me find that other calendar on my phone. I have it bookmarked.”

  Of course she does.

  I tap my fingers on the counter while she scrolls and taps away on her phone.

  “Look.” She shoves her screen in my face so I don’t have any option but to stare at some British guys playing golf . . . naked.

  I cover the screen. “I’m not sure the world is ready for the Whidbey version of this. I suspect most guys around here are a lot hairier.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised. Lots of calendars with this sort of thing are on the market. This one went viral, like your bottom. Raised tons of money for charity.”

  In no reality do I ever know what “sort of things” Connie is talking about.

  Nope.

  “Thanks for the tip.” I take my deposit receipt and money bag.

  “If you do one, I want mine autographed!” She winks at me. “And get John Day to pose, too.”

  Once in the safety of my truck, I crack up. I’m still laughing when I call Roslyn to tell her the wild idea.

  Imagine my shock when she says, “That’s brilliant!”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You need to do this. Pick a good charity. Talk about spin! I should hire Connie to brainstorm marketing opportunities some time.” Roslyn’s enthusiasm scares me.

  “I didn’t agree with her. Connie and her gang of Golden Girl Gossips are meddlers, not marketing geniuses.”

  “Don’t be an ageist, Erik. It’s the perfect chance to have some fun with the situation. You’re going to make a lot of money with the formal endorsements and donating profits from this will make you seem like a good guy.”

  Reflexively, I raise my eyebrow in doubt even though she can’t see me. “Seem? I am a good guy.”

  “Right. Of course you are. The island is only home to good guys. It must be in the water.”

  “I’m sensing sarcasm, Ros.” I ask a question that’s been bugging me. “What’s the deal with you and Dan anyway? Other than the professional stuff?”

  “None of your business. The past is past.” She cuts me off with her tone. “Let’s focus on the calendar. It’s July. If we can shoot soon, we’ll be ready to launch in October to hit the holiday season. Photo shoot, video, social media campaign.”

  The familiar sound of her fingers flying over a keyboard fills the short silence.

  Waiting for her to continue, I pull out of the parking lot and head up the island. When I pass the sign for Campbell Road, Cari and her fear of the camp sign pop into my mind.

  I know the perfect photographer.

  Except she’s somewhere in New Mexico.

  “Do we have a budget for a professional photographer?” I interrupt her typing.

  Roslyn clears her throat. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Who you want.”

  “I want Cari.”

  “Of course you do, but isn’t she in Utah?”

  “New Mexico. She’s from Albuquerque.”

  “I’m sure we can find someone local who’d be willing to sign an NDA.”

  “Non-disclosure? Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “To shoot naked men from behind? Um, yeah. You want photos leaked all over the Internet again? This time we’re controlling this from the beginning.

  “I don’t think anyone local will do that.”

  She remains silent for a beat. “You’ve seen the T-shirts and mugs made by your fellow islanders? According to Dan, they got kicked off of Zazzle for indecent products.”

  I groan loudly at the thought of what qualifies as indecent.

  Roslyn laughs at my pain. “Okay, you want me to contact Cari about availability? Or will you finally admit your feelings and beg her to come back to your island under the guise of being the only photographer capable of shooting your ass in all its glory?”

  I choke on my breve. “A precedent has been set.”

  “I’m sure I know someone in Seattle.”

  “No.” My voice sounds harsher than I intend. “I want Cari.”<
br />
  “It’s about time you admitted the truth.” Laughing, she continues typing in the background. The woman never stops multi-tasking.

  “I’ll call her.”

  “Call her today. No texting or using emojis. Be honest.” Another phone rings in the background. “Gotta go. Let me know when the shoot is. I’ll come over to supervise.”

  “I’m sure you will.” I laugh. “Thanks, Ros.”

  “You owe me. Some eye candy is the least you can do.”

  I’m still laughing when the call disconnects.

  I stare at the screen so long it goes black.

  I do need to man up and call Cari.

  The first time I call her, voicemail picks up immediately.

  The second time, I hang up after the third ring.

  On the third attempt, I listen to her voicemail message, then hang up.

  Ignoring Ros’s instructions, I text Cari and ask her to call me.

  After two days, I call again.

  “Hi, stalker.” Her voice holds amusement. “You know phones come with caller ID now, right?”

  “Hi.” I swear my voice cracks. “If you knew I called, why not call me back?”

  “I didn’t know why you were calling. You didn’t leave a message.”

  “I texted.”

  “Too cryptic.”

  “God, I miss you.” I don’t regret the words. It’s a relief to share them. “I’ve missed your voice.”

  “You couldn’t tell me that in a text?” She whispers and the sound reminds me of being in bed with her.

  “No. What’s the point of texting how much I miss you and hearing your voice when calling accomplishes both?”

  “You’re so old school.”

  “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

  “Figured you would.” I hear the smile in her voice.

  And we’re back.

  Our normal may always be snark and middle fingers as good-bye gestures.

  If we have an always.

  “There’s another reason I’m calling. I have a proposal for you.”

  Her breathing stutters and goes quiet.

  “Don’t hang up,” I say when she doesn’t speak. “I have an idea. You might like it.”

  “What kind of idea are we talking about? Calling me or naked cliff diving idea?”

  “That’s the range, huh? I would never be calling you without the genius of the naked cliff diving. I’m just sayin’.”

  “Excellent point.”

  “I have a job for you. It’s yours if you want it.”

  “Oh.” Her tone is filled with disappointment. “I’m working down here.”

  “Really?” I try to keep my voice upbeat and encouraging.”

  “It’s all part of my campaign to stop making poor life decisions. I’m assisting one of the largest wedding photographers in the area.”

  Wedding photographer? I know it’s the most important day and everything for some women, but I can’t think of anything less Cari than spending every Saturday at weddings.

  “It’s good work. Most of the couples are nice and I always get free cake.”

  “If it’s free cake you’re after, we have cake at the café.”

  “Erik.”

  “Come back to Whidbey.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Because you’re fulfilling your dream of being a wedding photographer and living at home with your parents?” My comments are unfair, but I don’t care. No, that’s not true. I care too much. “We have weddings here on the island. Eventually Tom and Hailey will set a date. You can shoot their wedding.”

  “Is that your proposal? To photograph Hailey’s wedding? Don’t you think she should hire her photographer?”

  “She can, but she’d be a fool not to hire you. When the time comes.”

  “What’s this job?” I can tell she’s fighting her curiosity, and losing.

  “We’re going to make a calendar and need a photographer. You’re the most familiar with the material and a natural choice. I’ll fly you back up here and cover all your expenses, plus whatever you want to charge us for the photo shoot.”

  “Us.”

  “Roslyn and me.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been talking about partnerships and it’s all coming together.”

  The sound of her exhale brushes against the mic of her phone. I swear I can feel her breath against my ear.

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you. I admit, I didn’t really see the two of you together when I was there. I always thought she had something with Dan. But once again, I miss the obvious when it comes to relationships.” She sighs. “I’m not sure I’m the right person for the job after all. Tell Roslyn I wish you both well. I hope you’re happy together.”

  Her words are clear, but don’t make any sense like she’s speaking a foreign language or Pig Latin. “What are you talking about?”

  “Listen, I’m not sure why you felt the need to tell me on the phone you’ve moved on, but thank you?” It’s a question.

  “I haven’t. At all. Wait,” the puzzle pieces finally line up and click into place, “you’ve never been more wrong in your life.”

  I start to laugh and can’t stop. The heaviness lifts from my shoulders and I have to lean forward to catch my breath.

  “Why are you laughing?” Her words are tight in her throat. Clearly, she doesn’t see the humor yet.

  “I really do suck at the whole communication thing. I’m trying to lure you back to me with the promise of a cool job and money to establish yourself here. Instead, I’ve somehow made you think Ros and I are an item and I want you to shoot some sort of formal going steady portrait.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh,” I echo. “Roslyn Porter isn’t my type. In fact, I think you’re right about the Dan situation. She’s helping me with some endorsement deals and now we’re doing a calendar.”

  “A year of your ass? Wow, your ego is out of control.”

  “See what happens when you’re not around to keep me in check?” I grin at this ridiculous conversation. “You need to come back before my ego cannibalizes the entire island.”

  “There’s an idea for a bad horror movie.”

  “I think you meant brilliant.” My voice softens and drops lower. “Come back to me, Cari. Admit you miss me. Give us a chance.”

  “Only you could go from cannibals to romantic in a single breath.”

  She hasn’t said no. Or hung up on me yet. I’m taking both of these as good signs.

  “You’re never going to find anyone else like me. Come back.”

  “Is there really a legit job? This won’t be taking pics of you and Carter in your boxers in the backyard will it?”

  I laugh. “As bizarre as this sounds, there is. Twelve individual photo shoots and a couple of group shots. Maybe some behind the scenes videos. Are you up for it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Think about it.”

  “I will.”

  I wait for her to say more, hoping she’ll say yes right now.

  “Bye, Erik.” She doesn’t hang up right away. I listen to her breath until she disconnects the call.

  In the grand scheme, this whole situation is crazy and impetuous, but we work. Somehow out of all the bars in Cabo and all the women in the world. Cari and I found each other. Yes, we might not have hit it off the first night. Hell, we might have hated each other. Still, it’s pretty fucking incredible.

  Maybe Ros is right about this being a love story.

  I set down my phone and pull up the new labels. As part of the calendar campaign, I’m going to create a new coffee blend. Proceeds from the coffee will go to the same charity as soon as I pick which one we want to support.

  Fifteen minutes later my cell rings, making me jump.

  The screen lights up with Cari’s name.

  I let it ring again, so I don’t appear to be sitting by the phone waiting.

  “Hello?”

  “I’ll
do it.”

  OhmySantaClaus! #OMSC

  LADIES! IT’S CHRISTMAS IN AUGUST!

  AND WE’RE GETTING EVERYTHING WE EVER WANTED!

  Remember our sweet, sweet HAG? I know it’s been quiet and many of the fickle have moved on, distracted by the latest asscandy, but not us. Never.

  And now our loyalty is being rewarded.

  It would appear our favorite guy is embracing his fame and using it for positivity and world peace. Okay, maybe not world peace, but a little birdie told me to check out the domain name www.nakedwhidbey.com.

  I did and you should, too.

  Remember the lovely British boys and their calendar of naked boys?

  Ring a bell?

  Well, well, well. Seems our favorite HAG has been inspired.

  Twelve months of HAG action? Looks like this will be stuffing a lot of stockings this year.

  Come to me, HAG!

  Where do I sign up to be a towel boy?

  If there’s a launch party, you know I’ll be there. CoughHINTcough

  Smooches,

  Gomez

  CARI’S BEEN GONE for two months.

  Fifty-eight days.

  Today, she’s finally going to return.

  For good if I have any say in it.

  Albuquerque is a direct flight from Seattle. Faster than driving. I offer to pick her up at SEATAC, but she said she’s getting a rental car and will text when she’s on the ferry.

  I think about parking above the dock to wait for her. I won’t bring the sad harmonica. I should’ve learned to play the ukulele.

  In the end, I decide to act cool instead of overeager and pitiful. Instead of stalking the ferry dock, I sit in my office and check my phone every two minutes.

  “You have a visitor,” Layla announces from the hall.

  “I don’t have any appointments. I’m too busy to stop for a random walk-in.”

  With a shrug, Layla walks out of my sight line down the hall.

  “Who is it?” I call after her. She doesn’t answer. Annoyed, I step into the hall to find out who the mystery guest is.

  A T-shirt hits me in head, covering my face.

  “What the hell?” I pull it down and another one lands on my shoulder. Spinning around, I find Cari standing a few feet away with her arms full of shirts.

  “Hi.” She grins at me.

  “What are you doing?”