Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (40 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
____________________
Twelve years earlier…

C
ARTER HITCHED HIS backpack up his shoulder and high-tailed it down the hall toward the library. He was running late. Again. But, if he booked it, he’d get there in time.

He couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Beth’s face when he arrived at the dot of three.

He didn’t see Missy Green until it was too late.

One second he was charging down the hall, the next, Missy was flat on her backside on the floor, her big brown eyes looking up at him in surprise.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, hoisting her off the floor and brushing her off. She was carrying an armful of poster-board and art supplies, and he noticed the corners were bent on a bunch of them. He bent to hastily flatten them again. “Shoot. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” she said, “I shouldn’t have tried to carry so much at a time. I couldn’t see where I was going.”

Carter grabbed a stack of poster-board that was slipping out of her grasp as she gazed up at him gratefully. “Here. Let me. Where are you headed? The art room?”

“Yes! Yes, I was. I was just, um, working on some decorations for the prom.”

Carter started walking down the hall, in a hurry to drop the poster-board off and get to the library. “Sounds fun,” he said noncommittally.

“It is,” Missy said. “You should join us! There are just a few of us working today, but the drama department has some incredible displays worked up for the big night.”

“Love to,” he said, “but I’ve got to study for trig now.” He laid the art supplies he’d carried on a table for Missy. “There. Hope you enjoy yourself at the prom.”

He was
this close
to walking away… but then he saw the look on Missy’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said, briskly sorting out her supplies. “I’m not actually
going
to the prom. Just, um, decorating for it.”

“Not going? Why not?”

Her face grew pink. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I mean,
right now
, that is.”

He shrugged. “Just ask a friend.”

He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth by the hopeful, starry-eyed look on Missy’s face. He also knew Missy spent most afternoons watching over her younger, Down Syndrome, sister, so the fact that she was here, working on a prom she wasn’t even attending seemed all the more pitiable.

And that’s how he arrived fifteen minutes late for his tutoring session with Beth with an invitation to the prom from Missy Green he couldn’t say ‘no’ to.

Beth sat in one of those heavy oak chairs in the back of the library. It had been three days since Jenny Whitmeyer’s party. Three days since Carter had experienced the most amazing, mind-blowing kiss imaginable.

Three days since he’d first started thinking that Beth Beacon might, possibly, perhaps, be someone he’d like to get to know more.

“Sorry I’m late.”

He strode in, repeating the same three words he’d met her with every tutoring session since September and tossed his backpack onto the table. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, because being with Beth got his blood pumping like nobody’s business, tossed it atop the backpack as well and pulled out a chair next to her.

His hormones kicked into high gear as his thigh accidentally brushed hers. He didn’t pull away. “It’s okay,” she said, her thigh soft and warm through the thin cotton skirt she wore. “Why don’t we get started?”

He ducked his head down as he searched for his trig text in his backpack so she wouldn’t see the devilish smile he couldn’t control, then he thumped the text on the table in front of them.

He ached to smell her hair.

They reached for his text at the same time, their hands colliding.

Beth gasp-laughed and yanked her hand away, and it sounded almost like the surprised moan she’d made when he’d first touched his lips to hers.

He smiled at her at the memory and opened the book to the next lesson.

Beth licked her lips. He could almost taste Twizzler.

Carter raised one eyebrow rakishly. “Aren’t we going to start?”

Beth coughed and fluttered to pull out a notebook, her face growing pink. “Yes. Of course,” she said. She glanced at the page he’d opened to. “Ah, yes. Oblique triangles and law of sines. Okay. Basically all this is doing is allowing you to find…”

Thirty minutes later Carter was jiggling his knee, frowning at the notebook and glancing at the clock on the wall as Beth’s face grew red with frustration.

She bit her lip, obviously trying to figure out how to salvage the tutoring session and get anything meaningful through his thick skull, but all he could do was sit there and wonder how he could get her into a dark room again.

He was going to be late for work, and Beth was clearly not happy. She couldn’t even look at him!

He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should try again next time.”

“No! I mean, of course we can, but I know you’ll get it. It’s my fault for not explaining it right to begin with.”

Just like Beth, always trying to make him feel better for being thick-headed.

“It’s okay, Beth,” he said, deciding he’d better put her out of her misery. He started to shove his text into his backpack.

“So,” she said, closing her notebook. “I hear a lot of people are getting excited about the prom.”

Carter fought with the zipper on his backpack. It caught, again, and he yanked it in frustration at it and himself. “The food should be good,” he said. He’d heard something about Missy having a nut allergy. Or maybe it was mangoes. He wondered if she’d eat at the prom.

“The Whitmeyers sure threw a great party the other night, didn’t they?” Beth was still trying to converse pleasantly, probably to make him feel better. She was nice that way.

Carter glanced at her and wondered if she’d heard what Dan had said in the hall that night.
Asshole
.
He’d never forgive the guy for being such a bastard. What had Beth ever done to him? “It had its moments.”

He heard her intake of breath as he stood to leave, and he turned to see her standing next to him, hands folded together, her head held high just like she’d looked when he’d opened the door at the Whitmeyers’. He looked at her lips.

“So, Carter, I, um, was wondering… if … like, as just friends… if you thought it might be fun to go, I mean, together. To the prom, I mean.”

Holy. Shit. He hadn’t seen
that
coming.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even feel his heart any more, as she stood completely still, waiting for his reply.
What now?
Forty minutes ago he hadn’t even given the prom a second thought and here he was with
two
girls asking him out? But there was nothing he could do. He’d already told Missy ‘yes.’ And here Beth was, standing in front of him a second time, completely vulnerable, and it wasn’t in his power to make this turn out right. Crap. His answer would surely crush her.

Here he was, beholden to her for so much and yet she was the one laying it all on the line. His lips tilted at the irony of it as he turned to grab his jacket. “I can’t. Missy Green already asked. That’s why I was late.” He smiled wider hoping she would see how much he enjoyed her company, too, that he’d go with her if he could, but his hands were tied… and shrugged into his jacket.

But, if she were there, too, at the prom, could Missy complain if he danced with Beth a few times? “But you don’t have to have a date to go,” he found himself suggesting hopefully. “There are plenty of guys going stag. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Right,” she said, her smile taut. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he said. “See you next time.”

“See ya.”

But, he knew it wouldn’t be at the prom. He knew by the set of her jaw and the cold disappointment in her eyes any possibility he might have had to pursue Beth Beacon had locked shut like a Brinks truck as soon as he suggested she play second fiddle. He should have known. Beth was too proud and had too much going for her to wait around for him to sort his life out.

So, he left.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
____________________

C
ARTER SAT IN THE HARD plastic chair in the E.R. waiting room and stared at the wall. His shirt stuck to his chest, he had grass-stains on his suit, and he felt guilty as hell.

He’d just gotten the call from Ted with preliminary findings from the Beacon’s house. Probable cause of fire: a strand of decorative lights.

Smiley-face lights
.

He brushed a hand down his face and glanced across to where Liz’s family was gathered. Ben still held the tablet with Liz’s mother peering out, sipping tea and periodically asking to see something.

Bailey and Trish and Aunt Claire were entertaining the baby.

And that Grant guy was over in the far corner grimacing into his cup of vending machine coffee.

Liz walked out.

L
IZ SCUFFED HER LITTLE blue disposable booties across the floor. Low, excited chatter met her reentry. Carter stood.

She felt achy, dirty and weary as hell, but grateful. He was here. Her hero! She glanced shyly at Carter, her eyes eating him up eagerly. He looked wet and rumpled and had a big smear of dirt across one thigh, but he’d never looked better to her.

She waved, a feeble attempt at looking chipper despite the large gauze bandage over her right temple and eye and the mud and grass stains across her never-wear-it-again dress.

“It looks worse than it is,” she assured everyone. “The eye patch can probably come off by morning. They just want to give it a rest until the swelling goes down. I think it’s more there so I don’t scare people.”

Bailey gave her a quick hug. “I’ve got a pirate hat to go with that if you like.”

Liz let herself laugh at that. “I think I’ll pass for now.”

Trish hugged her next. “You scared the bejeebers out of me. Don’t do that again!”

Aunt Claire gave her a pat on the shoulder.

Liz let her family dote on her a few moments before her eyes met Carter’s across the waiting room. She walked over and gave him a small smile. He had that serious, brooding look again. Probably because he’d been worried about her. She shouldn’t find it sexy, but she was injured, not dead. And, heck, she’d be fine once the bruising subsided. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey.” He reached up to feather-touch the bandage on her temple. She wished he’d give her a hug. “Hurt much?”

She shrugged, then winced. Okay, so being body-slammed into the ground by your One True Love isn’t something she’d want to do every day. Maybe they could go home and he could help inventory her injuries. “Some,” she said. “Okay, a lot. Thanks for saving me.” She reached out to touch a muddy abrasion on his cheek. “You okay? I never thought to ask if you were hurt.”

“I’m fine.” He grimaced, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed. She dropped her hand. “Ted just called, Liz. They think they found the cause of the fire.”

“Already?”

He nodded, his lips forming a taut line. “It was the lights. The ones I gave you. He thinks there must have been a short, or the plug wasn’t in right, and it started a fire. That set off the fireworks. They would have all gone off at once if John hadn’t tried to plan how he was going to link them together for his big show. I guess we’re lucky it gave us some warning.”

“The lights…,” Liz repeated.

“Must have been defective.” Carter blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Elizabeth? Elizabeth! Did I hear her voice? Somebody pick me up so I can see my daughter!” Ben ran over to pick up the tablet with his grandmother from the chair. He held it up. “Oh, my Lord, Elizabeth! You look
awful
! I just went to get… say, where’s Grant? Why am I not seeing Grant? He should be here now that you’re back!”

“I’m here,” Grant said, stepping into view of the tablet. “How are you, Liz?”

I’ve been unconscious, have one eye swollen shut and just learned I nearly blew up the man I love, but all things considered…
“I’m okay.”

“She’s not okay!” Mrs. Beacon insisted. “She’s miserable! Just look at her. Grant! Scootch in! Why are you standing so far away? I’m sure Carter won’t mind if you stand next to your own fiancé, for heaven’s sake!”

Carter’s head snapped up. “Fiancé? Did your mother just say
fiancé
?”

Liz blanched. “Yes, but that’s not important right—”

“When did he propose?”

“A couple of hours ago—”

“
A couple of hours ago?
Wow. You were just primed for takeoff, weren’t you? From ‘sort of’ to all the way? So much for giving me six weeks. Were you going to break up with me before or after dinner?”

Liz’s head began to throb. What? “No! Carter, it’s not like that. I turned him down! I don’t
want
to marry Grant!” She turned toward Grant. “Sorry.”