Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(105)

“Secondly, look at things from her perspective. Liz has worked hard to make something of herself. She thought she had to be a certain person to be a success. I’m sure it’s hard to let that go. It makes her vulnerable.”

“How about me, huh? How about the guy she’s supposed to—”

“Love?” Grams’ eyes twinkled in that annoyingly knowing way that made Carter wish he were an orphan. Again. “Oh, honey, you have to know if she loves you, she’s going to fight against it harder than anything.”

“You must have early dementia, Grams. That makes no sense.”

She poked her spatula at him. “Don’t you backtalk me. Think about it. If she gets involved with you, it’s like asking her to put aside everything she’s worked to build over the years and jump in feet first. If she’s the woman you say she is, I’d say she doesn’t do impulsive. I do not know why you don’t get this. It was a string of lights, Carter, she didn’t throw an engagement ring back in your face!”

“It’s what they represented.”

“To you they represented you. To her, they represented the part of her she was afraid of. She was scared. Scared of putting herself out there. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of being too in love.”

Love. Ha! He’d happily leave it to the buffoons on Grams’ stupid reality TV show.

Grams wiped her hands on her apron and wrapped her arms around him. He was nearly a foot taller than she, which made him feel a little silly. Still, looking into those eyes, that had held so much compassion over the years, had seen so much, made his chest ache. He’d do anything to get rid of that ache. “I’d never hurt her,” he whispered hoarsely.

Grams pursed her lips, and nodded as she patted his shoulder. “You wouldn’t mean to.”

She put her fingers to his lips to silence him. “I know you’d never physically harm her. She knows that. But that doesn’t mean she’s not scared of what you make her feel.” Grams gave him another quick squeeze then returned to the stove and picked up her spatula. “The question you need to ask yourself is: is love scarier than being alone? Or, is it scarier to lose the one you love because you didn’t do everything in your power to be with them?”

Carter’s throat felt thick, and he let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know,” he said.

She glanced at him over her bifocals. “I think you do.”

He bit his lip and looked outside at the rain again and let his mind roll over the memories. Liz and the grease fire. Playing chess. That kiss in Jenny Whitmeyer’s pantry. Liz fighting with the cart on the way out of the hardware store. The look on her face on that first day of tutoring when she took the Twizzler from him and their fingers brushed. The feel of her hair in his hands as he cradled her beneath him on her front lawn, praying to Sweet Jesus and Mary his body would protect her…

His eyes were blurry when he looked at Grams again, his heart thudding deep and heavy in his chest. “I’m just like my mom, aren’t I?”

“Oh, honey, “Grams said, reaching up and wrapping him in a tight hug. The smell of maple syrup enveloped him. “You always were. You always were…”




“I’VE CALLED THIS MEETING, ladies, because my grandson has asked for our help.” Carter fought not to wince as Grams squeezed his hand with wrinkled, arthritic fingers on top of the big farmhouse table.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all, he thought with some trepidation.

Four sets of bifocals peered at him earnestly.

“He does look in bad shape,” tsked Lydia sympathetically. “Haven’t been sleeping well, have you?” For some reason he had the sense this almost delighted her.

“Serves him right for being so hard on my Liz,” Claire sniffed indignantly.

“Now, now. We’re not here to judge. Carter sees now he wasn’t fair to Liz and he wants to make amends. He’s come to us to seek our advice on how to apologize.”

“Apologize?” croaked Carter.

“And win her over,” Grams continued.

“Oh! What fun!” Lydia clapped her hands, silver bangles tinkling excitedly. “Do you love her terribly?”

Carter blinked back at the four eager women. “Do I have to answer that?”

“Yes,” Grams insisted. “We don’t help unless you’re willing to be honest. True love isn’t easy and usually involves a willingness to publicly humiliate yourself, so you need to tell us. Do you love her?”

Carter couldn’t have felt any more on the spot if he were on national TV. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

He might have said more, but then a floral muumuu was smothering him as Lydia cried her delight into his shoulder. “I knew it! I knew it! The cards don’t lie!” she cried exuberantly before sitting back again and mopping her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

“Moving on,” Claire said with a quelling look for Lydia. “What do you want us to do?”

“I want to surprise her. I have this idea...” He cleared his throat again. “It’s a bit out of the box, so I’d appreciate it if you ladies would keep open minds. But I’ll need help. Can I trust you to be, uh, discreet?”

Four silver heads bobbed eagerly. “Absolutely!” they said in near unison.