Crazy for Your Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #5)(19)

Or rolled out of someone’s bed.

Jealousy stabs my gut at the thought, but I ignore it. I move my purse from the stool I was saving for him and hang it from one of the hooks by my knees. “I saved you a seat.”

He nods but doesn’t take it. He leans against the bar and studies me. “Are you going to tell me, or aren’t you?”

My eyes go wide. “Tell you what I’m thinking? Hell no.”

“I’ll consider that a good sign.” He chuckles, and the sound skitters across my nerve endings like a sensual caress. That’s what I imagine it would be like for me to be Carter’s lover. Because it’s always been laughter and silliness for us. The flirting isn’t new. Only the touching. Only the very real possibility of crossing that line again.

Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to imagine more. Maybe that’s why, even with my rules, I want to look him in the eye and tell him I couldn’t get through the day without imagining what would have happened if I had gone home with him.

He studies my lips, hovering there for a beat before shifting downward. He scrapes that hot gaze over my breasts and hips with so much intensity that I can practically feel his hands on me.

“Carter, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make decisions we’ll both regret tomorrow.”

His lips quirk, then his amusement fades in a blink and he sighs. “I’ll try to behave.”

Please don’t. I shake my head, as if I can make my sex-starved inner troublemaker go away that easily. “I asked you here because I need a favor.” I take a deep breath, telling myself that my plan is a good one, that I’m not making a terrible mistake.

“Hey, Carter!” Myla Quincy calls from across the bar. She hangs her jacket on the coatrack by the door before sauntering over to him. Myla’s a teacher at the local high school. She’s also the cheer coach and has the peppy air you’d expect from someone in that position. Never mind that she’s gorgeous. Her long, silky hair falls past her breasts in smooth layers, and her jeans and cropped sweater show off her perfect body.

She’s doing nothing more than smiling at him, and I already feel resentful, petty, and jealous. I was never the cheerleader type. Is that what Carter likes?

She sidles up beside him and wraps an arm around his waist. I feel a little vindicated when he stiffens. Does it not occur to her that maybe he’s standing this close to me because we’re on a date?

I frown. It’s pretty sad that even with that article in the paper, she still believes I’m nothing more than a friend. An honorary Jackson. I could have been sitting in his lap, and Myla probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it.

She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles, but it seems forced, and his eyes dart to me.

“I’ll text you,” he tells her gently.

“You’d better,” she says. She winks at him before walking away, smacking her hand against his ass as she goes.

I snort out an awkward bubble of laughter. “Did she just spank you?”

Carter has the good sense to look mildly embarrassed—pink cheeks and all. He clears his throat. “Sorry. She’s . . . um, a friend.”

“Clearly more than that.” I hate the bite I hear in my tone. Am I jealous? Why? Because he has something with her that he’s also offered to me? It’s ridiculous. This is Carter. He’s not mine. He shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter that he’s involved with Myla and was propositioning me for sex this morning. Maybe that’s the only sign I need that I can’t go there with him.

“What’s the favor?” he asks.

I swallow, taking a beat to get my mind back on track, to push aside my other thoughts and focus on why I asked him here. “My sister’s getting married on Saturday. The wedding is here, in Jackson Harbor. A long weekend of parties and brewery tours and family stuff.” I feel ridiculous. “Any chance I could convince you to be my plus one?”

“Can’t talk any of your girls into keeping you company?” he asks, laughing.

“I mean . . .” I toy with a cardboard coaster, tapping it on the bar before looking at him again. “I’d like you to be there as my boyfriend.”

He blinks at me, and though his body doesn’t move, I can feel him pulling away. “Teagan—”

“Like last night,” I blurt. Then, softer: “Pretend, Carter. I’m not asking you to go steady. Just to continue last night’s ruse until the wedding is over.”

He swallows, his shoulders dropping a bit. “Good.”

I try not to wince and fail. Maybe it makes me a hypocrite, but his relief stings. Sixty seconds ago, he was trying to seduce me all over again, then I said the word boyfriend and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a big rig. “I’m trying not to be insulted.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry. Shit. I . . .”

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine.” Even though that’s a bit of a lie, my conflicted feelings about Carter don’t really matter right now. What matters is making it through this week.

“You want a date for the wedding. A fake boyfriend.” He nods. “Sure. I’ll have to switch shifts with someone, but I should be able to get Saturday off.”

“It’s a little more involved than that.” I bite my bottom lip. “My mom rented out the Hayhurst mansion for the event.”