Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (26 page)

Probably just as well she wasn’t home given his mood.

He tucked the brochures he’d brought in the casing by the door, but as he pushed away, the slider moved, and he realized it was unlocked.

He cracked the slider open an inch. “Liz?” No answer.

Spying a pad of paper on the table, he walked over to jot down a brief note then stopped short when he read what was there. He hurried back to the door. Maybe it would be better to leave a message on her cell.

“What are you doing here?”

Before he had time to register her question, Liz snatched the legal pad from the table. Carter stood at the slider, speechless. She’d been showering. Her hair hung in wet locks, her robe snugged tight around her waist, damp patches making the fabric almost translucent in places where her hair had lain against it. Her face was scrubbed clean and pink. All he could think about was number one on her list.

He found his voice with difficulty. “I came to check on the job and tell you I’ll finish when the weather clears and the yard dries out, but I, ah, wanted to know if you’ve decided to extend the pavers around to the driveway. I had some ideas for—”

“How did you get in?”

“The door was unlocked.”

She frowned and strode toward the slider, heedless of the state of his libido. “It was?” She fiddled with the lock/unlock knob, her thin robe molding to her curves.

“You should be more careful with that. Eddie might get out again. But, I’m glad you’re here, because you saved me the trouble of writing a note.” As he said the words, her eyes flew to his. He smiled guilelessly. “No need now. I didn’t want to drip across your kitchen, anyway, so you’ve saved me the trouble of cleaning up after myself.”

She forced a smile, he could tell, because her fingers clenched the legal pad tightly despite her bright expression. “Glad I caught you, then,” she said.

He watched her throat move as she swallowed.

“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I want to thank you for the lights. The smiley-faces?” She gestured with the notepad in the general direction of the shed and then sucked it back to her chest again when she saw the words she’d written there waving around for all to see. “They’re charming. The lights. Very sweet.” Her tongue darted out to her lips. “And, I want to apologize for over-reacting yesterday.”

Carter looked at her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was hard to be peeved when she was extending the olive branch like that. Especially dressed the way she was. “Two,” he finally said.

“What?”

“I have two fillings.”

She stared at him a moment, a nonplussed expression on her face. “I have five.”

“Five?”

Her lips tilted guiltily. “I liked sweets as a kid.”

He smiled, genuinely now, inordinately pleased that perfect Liz had her faults, too. “So, I stopped by because I wanted to talk about the design for the side walkway. I was thinking a more fluid curve instead of hard angles. I could sketch a couple op—
Wait
. I brought some brochures…” He leaned out the door a moment to retrieve the flyers he’d placed there. He heard paper tearing behind him. He turned back around. Paused.

Liz waited, her breath coming in light bursts, the legal pad at her side.

He squinted at her. Frowned. “
Hmm.
” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He gestured vaguely toward her chest where she’d clearly stuffed the paper. “Are you a little, um, lopsided?”

“What?” She clutched the legal pad to her chest again. “
NO!
Why would you even ask?”

He met her eyes. “Because I could have sworn things were, um, even five seconds ago.”

Liz’s face turned crimson. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

My God, she was cute when she blushed. He decided to take pity on her. “My mistake. So, are we doing the side walkway or not?”

Liz pushed her wet hair aside like she was still trying to figure out whether she could trust him. Short answer? No.

“I’m still running the numbers.” Her gaze skittered away from his.

She chewed her bottom lip.

He stifled a groan.

“Pavers would certainly dress the place up,” she said. “But I’d want to do the front walkway, too, so it would all match.”

“The front, too? You’re snowballing on me.”

“Snowballing?”

“Otherwise known as while-we’re-at-it-itis.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, holding the notepad like a shield. “I just always had this vision of what the place should look like, you know? What I would do if it were mine. I even had a scrapbook I made of it, if you can believe that. It’s kind of hard to let it go.

“It was my grandparent’s house before my parents bought it and rehabbed it. I always thought it would stay in the family.” She shook her head as if to rid it of ridiculous notions and backed toward the swinging door. “I’d better get to town if I’m going to finish priming the kitchen today. And, I need new paint for the front door...”

“Want a ride?”

She stopped, the door at her back. “I can call Trish.”

“I’m happy to do it. Nothing better to do. It’s still raining.”

“I have to dry my hair… Get dressed…”

His smile grew wider. “I can wait.”

I
T WAS NOT A BIG DEAL. If he saw the list, he saw the list, right? What was on it anyway? Liz unfolded the wad of paper she’d stuffed in her bra and winced.

Skinny dipping at noon.

Okay, in the scheme of things, that wasn’t such a big deal. How many people have gone skinny dipping? He’d probably think it was out of character for her, borderline exhibitionist given the timeframe, but he wouldn’t be put off by it.

She groaned as she looked at numbers two and three. Obviously she’d had naked skin on the brain, because ‘Try a thong’ and ‘Play strip poker’ came next, followed by ‘Learn to play piano’, ‘Visit the Grand Canyon’ and ‘Ride Space Mountain.’ ‘See Niagara Falls’, ‘Explore a real castle’ and ‘Learn to shoot an arrow’ were all innocuous enough.

But what made her worry her lip as she pulled on a pair of jeans and T-shirt was number ten. Dear heavens, why had she put pen to paper on
that
one? Crumbling the list into a little ball, she went into the bathroom—and promptly flushed it down the toilet.
There
. That was where silly thoughts like that belonged.

Carter was waiting for her when she descended the stairs ten minutes later with the shreds of her dignity as taped together as she could manage. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Waiting? That was the fastest I’ve ever known a female to get ready in my life. I’m impressed. Nice hair, by the way. The new style suits you.”

Liz felt the heat of his compliment warm her cheeks as she gathered her purse and coat.

The ride to town was companionable despite the fact that she’d been caught stuffing her bra with paper products.

“I can get you a contractor’s discount,” Carter offered as they walked through the entrance of the local building supply store.

“Oh, that’s not—”

“A problem? You’re right. What do you need?”

“Just a few supplies. A quart of paint for the front door. A bucket of primer for the kitchen.”

“No paint for the kitchen?”

“I’m still deciding. White is probably the best choice. Those old kitchen cabinets are in tough shape, but I’m waffling. White is so sterile.”

“How about off-white?”

She stared at him then, one of those looks women give men when they haven’t a clue.

“Okay, if you don’t like off-white, what would you paint the cabinets if the house were yours?” Carter asked.

“Celery green,” she said immediately, forgetting to mock him as she pulled a sample card from the rack in front of them. “With white subway tiles on the backsplash and cherry-red ceramic knobs.” She glanced up and slid the card back into place. “But, white is the sensible choice, and I might as well get the paint while I’ve got your truck to haul it.” She pulled another card from the rack. “This shade looks fine. Bright. Clean. I’ll get enough for the ceiling and walls, too. Then I’ll only have to mask off the floor.”

He grinned a little at that.

See? She had a sense of humor.

“And seeing as I’m here, I’ll get this for the dining room,” she pulled a paint chip out of the rack. “And this for the living room. Then I’ll be done.”

“Nicely decisive,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get the paint while you collect the other stuff on your list.”

“I’ll take a look at light fixtures. I’d like to replace the front coach lanterns. They’re badly rusted.”

“You might have trouble getting an electrician on short notice.”

“I think I can figure it out.”

But just to be sure, she scribbled ‘Home Electrical Guide’ on her shopping list.

C
ARTER JIGGLED HIS KEYS impatiently as he stood in line and hoped the cashier wouldn’t recognize him. They’d never actually dated, more hung out a few times at Lucky’s. He’d driven her home once. And while she’d clearly been hinting for more than casual barstool conversation, he’d exercised enough self-control to heed the warning bells in his head that had told him she was sweet but a little wacky.

For one thing, she liked to pretend she was twins.

The cashier caught his eye, and Carter fought a groan as she smiled. He nodded in return and searched the aisles for signs of Liz.

It wasn’t that he was a hopeless flirt—or an absolute Don Juan—but in a small town, it was hard being young and single and not run out of options after a while.

The line moved forward and the cashier—what was her name again? Jill? Marina?  One of those—maybe both—was batting her mascara-laden lashes at him. He grimaced and she seemed to take it as a positive overture, because she waved coyly and tucked her hair behind the half-dozen earrings in her right ear. He remembered her hinting about having other piercings she was willing to show him.

Marina was the wild twin. He remembered now.

“What do you think of these?” Liz tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned, relief and inexplicable joy flooding his body. She pointed to a pair of light fixtures in her cart. “I know they’re more Craftsman style, but I really liked them, and they’re on clearance, so the price is right.”

“Nice. Very classic,” he said.

“That’s what I thought.” Liz absently tucked her hair behind her ear. Carter smiled at the small gold hoop. It was small, elegant and very
Liz
. “Is the paint ready?”

Carter pulled his mind off Liz’s earlobe to concentrate on her question. “Already in the truck. The cashier should have the slip.”

Liz set her purchases on the counter, oblivious to the dark looks Jill/Marina was now flashing her as she recognized that he and Liz were together.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I won’t be but a moment checking out.” Liz reached into her purse and frowned. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Carter peered over her shoulder.

“My wallet must have dumped.” She scrounged quickly amid the jumble on the bottom of her purse to find her credit card and handed it to the cashier. “No big deal. I’ll reorganize it later.”

Carter accepted the receipt from the cashier with an apologetic smile as Liz bundled her purchases into the cart.

It wasn’t as if the cashier wasn’t attractive or even friendly. But, as Liz fought to make it through the double-doors—the painting poles falling askew and one of the cart’s wheels wedging into a crack in the concrete—Carter couldn’t help but admire the fact that Liz wasn’t immediately turning around to find some man to bat her eyes at to save her from her plight, or worse, someone to blame. Instead, she laughed—a low, self-deprecating chuckle. Then she gave the cart a solid shove and grabbed the poles moments before they attempted to skewer an incoming customer.

Carter was used to women looking to him for something. Whether it was a good time, help opening a jar lid, or an attractive date to hang off their arm for the infamous family wedding. Women had turned to him again and again. Except Liz. A person had to admire a woman who wanted to do things for herself.

Especially when her jeans fit her so damn nicely.

Carter bounded after Liz. She was already unloading her purchases into the truck when he grabbed what remained in the cart and stowed it away. He held her door for her—a gesture he took for granted but which brought a fresh blush to her cheeks—and smiled to himself.

The air was clean and fresh, the rain clouds beginning to clear, and all Carter could think was how much he enjoyed watching Liz blush and how much he envied her an afternoon of industrious activity.

He pulled up to the traffic light, and tapped his toe as he waited for it to turn green. “So, would you mind if I stuck around to help paint?”

Liz blinked at him like he’d just offered to scrub the soap scum off her shower stall. “Oh, no. You don’t have to spend your Sunday—”