Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (30 page)

Liz fought not to wince as she reached over to her phone and turned it off. She didn’t want to think about Grant. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Of course not.”

“Are you lovers?”

“What? No.” She jumped up and opened the refrigerator door.

“Are you in love with him?”

Tea. She’d pour tea…
“There’s no point in talking about—”

“Are you?”

Liz sloshed tea into two tumblers,
this close
to throwing herself at Carter and taking what little he had to offer, dignity be damned.

“Why? What does that even matter?” She closed the refrigerator door. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do this,” she motioned vaguely with her hand between them, “with you. I shouldn’t have the first time; but then you showed up, and you
kissed
me—”

“So now it’s my fault we had sex?”

“
No!
No.” She swiped a hand over her face. “It’s not about fault. It’s just... I don’t
do
impulsive, Carter. I’m a planner. A list-maker. An I-know-what-my-credit-card-statement-will-say-before-I-get-it-in-the-mail type of person.”

“So?”

“So, I need to think…”

“Christ, Liz, do I have to kiss you again? Because I will if I have to.”

“Is that your answer to everything?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yes,” she said, half afraid he’d kiss her and half afraid he wouldn’t. “Let’s get back to painting.” Her back and shoulders would ache like the devil in the morning, but if she didn’t do something—
right now
—she’d no doubt blurt out something she’d regret.

He watched her in silence a few moments then finally picked up his drink. “You’re more stubborn than I remember,” he said, although his tone was slightly amused. He handed her her pizza. “Fine. I’ll start the finish coat on the cabinets. You can go eat.”

Liz glanced at the table. It was probably best if they were in separate rooms for a while. “Are you sure?”

His gaze lingered on the vee of her T-shirt a moment before he met her eyes again. “As sure as I am that if you don’t leave, we won’t get any painting done at all.”

A
FTER SHE ATE, she tried to return her plate, but Carter met her at the kitchen door and announced she was banned from entering until further notice. He told her he’d be too tempted if she tried to help and wouldn’t it be nice for her to see the final unveiling? So, she settled in the living room and attempted to figure out the wiring instructions for the coach lights. But listening to Carter sing along to the radio and being alone with her thoughts did nothing to help her focus, and she soon tossed the manual aside in favor of painting over the hideous, mustard mis-tint on the front door with a couple of coats of refreshing periwinkle blue.

Around eight o’clock, Carter came out of the kitchen to announce he was between coats and was in the mood for Chinese. They got it to-go, and Liz pretended she was okay with casually eating take-out and casually touching one another and casual sex. Yet, every time he touched her, smiled at her, leaned in for one small kiss, her heart soaked it in like a drought-stricken land soaks in rain even though she knew that in seven days she’d be on a plane again… and it would all be over.

After dinner, Carter went back to the kitchen and Liz started a primer coat in the dining room. She could hear him through the door belting out the chorus to a rock ballad as he sang along to the radio, and even though she hated the song, it didn’t stop her from wondering if things had been different… if they’d somehow gotten together in high school instead of now… would they have made it as a couple? Could it have worked then?

The hours passed, and sometime after midnight, Liz decided she’d had enough. She knocked on the door to the kitchen. “I’m going to bed.”

She heard movement, and a moment later, Carter poked his head out. “
Mmm
. I’d love to join you, but I’m going to keep going. I won’t be much longer.” He kissed her quickly then smiled. “Keep my side warm, will you?”

She’d agreed, but he’d never come up. Liz was both relieved and disappointed.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and rolled to her back with a sigh.

It was nearly dawn, and replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours in her mind had done nothing to help her sleep.

She’d fallen in love.

She’d slept with Carter.

She’d forgotten about Grant.

God. How could she do that? How could she forget
about a man she’d envisioned herself
marrying
not two short weeks ago? What did that say about her?

She groaned and threw an arm over her eyes. It wasn’t the fact that she and Grant were on some sort of siesta. It was crystal clear now she wasn’t in love with him and never had been. If she never saw him again, yes, she might be disappointed, but she wouldn’t be heartbroken.

She swiped away a tear that had the nerve to escape down her cheek and threw back the covers.

She wouldn’t go there. She’d cried those tears for Carter already, hadn’t she? She wasn’t a starry-eyed sixteen year-old anymore. She was a grown woman who had charted her course in life. Yes, they’d enjoyed something wonderful and memorable, but Carter didn’t fit in her life and never would. Fantastic, mind-blowing sex didn’t change that fact. Neither did a foolish, hopeful heart.

Liz swung her legs to the floor. She couldn’t hide in her room forever. She needed to put on her big-girl panties and face things like a grown-up.

Tip-toeing down the stairs, she found Carter sprawled on the sofa. His shirt was off. No doubt it lay splattered with paint somewhere. She smiled, noting he’d at least taken the time to throw an old sheet over the sofa before falling asleep.

The faint light from the hallway illuminated his face.

He looks so vulnerable
, she thought. Awake, he was a dynamo. Always moving. Always using that never-ending charm and mega-watt smile to get what he wanted. Go where he wanted. But in sleep, it was as if all artifice melted away.

As if he, too, could be hurt by what they were doing.

Ridiculous. He was a grown man. He knew perfectly well what he was doing, and it wasn’t falling in love.

Liz shook off the depressing thought and headed to the kitchen. She was thirsty, she rationalized, getting a drink. She wasn’t peeking.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Liz froze, her hand on the kitchen door, as Carter’s sleep-groggy voice touched her across the darkened room. “I’m thirsty.”

“There’s water in the upstairs bath.”

“I need a cup.”

“Liar.”

She could hear the smile in his voice even as she pursed her lips and peered into the darkness.

“Go ahead and take a peek,” he said. “If you can’t wait. Go ahead.”

“I just want a—
Oh.”

He’d left the under-cabinet fixtures on, and even in the predawn light, the room was cool, serene. Breathtakingly lovely.

“Surprise,” he whispered. She knew he was right behind her now, could feel the heat radiating from his sleep-warm body as they stood in the doorway.

“It’s just as I pictured it,” she murmured.

And it was. Soft, fresh, celery green nearly shimmered on the cabinet doors. Tomato-red ceramic knobs fought with brushed nickel hardware in her mind’s eye before Liz could push the fanciful thoughts away.

Who was she kidding? Pretending she could keep this vision was as delusional as pretending she and Carter had a future together. She shook her head. “I know you meant well, but you shouldn’t have. It’s— You know I chose white.”

“You chose this first.”

She let out a sigh of regret. “But, then I decided on white.” She squared her shoulders and turned toward him. “It’s a neutral that will appeal to most buyers.”

“But not to you.”

“I’m irrelevant. I’m not a buyer.”

“Maybe you could be.” His hair was lightly mussed, bottle green eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, and seeing him barefoot and bare-chested in her home was as surreal as what he was suggesting.

She blinked. “Buy...? This? I’ve got a job, Carter, a… a ...
place
in Chicago. My life is there. We both know that.”

But his words hung between them nonetheless. It was a ludicrous idea. It wouldn’t bear the light of day, she told herself, even as the possibilities swirled like fairy sprites in her mind.

His lips formed a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he wiped a weary hand over his face. “Right.”

“It’s beautiful,” she rushed to assure him. “And I know you meant well. I just don’t think—” But he cut her off with a single hard kiss that left her stunned, speechless, yearning for something she couldn’t even name.

“Then don’t,” he ground out, the ferocity of his words catching her off guard. His lips hovered fiercely, temptingly, over hers. “For once in your life, Liz,
don’t
.”

Then he let her go, gathered his clothes, and said a curt goodbye before she could even ask what, exactly, she wasn’t supposed to do.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
____________________

C
ARTER SAT AT THE DESK in his home office and closed his eyes, remembering Liz’s whispered words from the day before.

The truth had hit him like a ton of bricks. It had been
him.
He’d
been the one to give her her first kiss. He didn’t know why it mattered or even if it did, but there was a sense of fate in knowing, a sense of relief that he’d intervened that night at the Whitmeyer’s and it hadn’t been Dan in there.

Not only for Liz’s sake, but his own.

And yesterday, he’d relived the memory of that kiss right along with her—experienced its power all over again.

He’d always thought the fight with Dan had made the kiss more intense than it actually was. He couldn’t believe a girl he’d overlooked so many times could blow him away with a single kiss.

And for the next few days, he’d looked at the world with new eyes. Everything had seemed brighter. Crisper. There was a promise in the air. A sense of possibility.

Carter ran a hand over his face as he waited for the printer. He glanced at the clock. It was almost eight a.m., and he felt like he’d ridden an emotional roller-coaster over the last twenty-four hours. He’d come home, exhausted and confused, and poured all that frustrated energy into working up the bid for the fountain project. Now, three and a half hours later, he was spent.

He pulled the completed bid from the printer and took a breath.

Well, this was it.

He laid it on the desk.

Ironic how a single project could hold such power. But, like that kiss, it felt like a turning point. Hell, he’d thought about his future more in the last couple of weeks than he had in the last ten years.

Liz did that to him. She got him thinking about the past and who they’d been and who they were now. And where they were headed.

He wouldn’t pretend he didn’t want the future he saw for himself when he was with her.

He reached for a pen and paused. He didn’t blame Liz for balking when she saw the cabinets. He didn’t blame her for looking at him like he’d lost his ever-lovin’ mind when he’d suggested she buy the house.

Lord only knew what he’d been thinking, except he didn’t want what he’d found with her to go away. He wanted to preserve the feeling that Liz always carried with her that the possibilities were endless, that any person could make him or herself exactly and whatever they wanted to be no matter what they’d been in the past. And, at four a.m., when he’d looked at her in the pre-dawn light, he’d not been able to stop himself from reaching across the divide between them just to test if it were as wide as she seemed to think it was.

A bittersweet feeling settled in his chest as he signed the bid, slid it into a manila envelope and wrote ‘Beautification League of Sugar Falls’ on the outside.

He blew out a careful breath. 
Done.

And just like ten years before, Liz would never know how close he’d come to believing they could magically become two people who had more in common than lust and a taste for Twizzlers.