Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(107)

“About twenty million people... and Niagara Falls.”

“No.”

Liz sighed again. “You won’t change my mind—”

“I mean ‘no,’ as in technically Niagara Falls is only partly in New York. The rest is in Canada. I saw a program about it on TV last year. Did you know the falls are eroding a foot per year and in 50,000 years they’ll merge into Lake Erie and cease to exist?”

“Oh, look!” Liz interrupted with relief, not wanting to get into a geography lesson which was so not the point at the moment. “Sorry to cut you off, but we’re here. It looks like quite a crowd, so I think I’ll just let you off here by the bank if you don’t mind—”

“You’re not going to walk me to the common?”

“Walk you?”

“What if I have heart palpitations again? I brought a bottle of water with me, but...”

Glancing at her cell to check the time, Liz blew out a quick breath. What was a few more minutes delay in the scheme of things? Asking the driver to wait, she pushed open the side door. “Ten minutes, Aunt Claire. Truly. That’s all I can spare. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

“Fine. Fine. If we just find the other gals, I’ll let you go.”

“Fine.” Liz gripped her aunt’s elbow and pushed forward through the crowd.





CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

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“I THINK I SEE LYDIA,” Aunt Claire announced as she and Liz pressed through the crowd.

Liz fought the urge to roll her eyes, as this was the third time the elusive Lydia had purportedly been spotted. You’d think a woman who dressed primarily in hideous florals would be easier to find.

“Aunt Claire, I really have to get to the airport. My plane leaves in ninety minutes and the pre-flight—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is Sugar Falls! How long will it take to put fourteen passengers through a metal detector and onto one little puddle-jumper? There! I’m sure that’s her by the gazebo.”

The air held the warm promise of summer, and Liz’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. It was the time of year for lovers. For fresh beginnings.

Maybe she’d find someone new. Out of the millions of men in the world, there ought to be one or two possibilities, right?

Her heart squeezed again. She didn’t want just any man. She wanted one man. Carter.

She squinted against the sun and told herself that’s why her eyes were moist.

“Liz.”

She froze. Oh God…

Aargh! It wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t the Fates let her leave on her own terms? Quietly? Without conflict or confrontation? Slinking away with at least a tiny shred of her remaining dignity intact?

Liz turned and strained to remain calm even as every nerve cell in her body leapt with awareness. “Carter!” she said with false brightness.

He stood a few feet away, his dark hair ruffling lightly in the breeze. Liz wondered distractedly whether he had some official role in the dedication ceremony, because he was wearing a trim dark suit and burgundy tie that gave him the air of a high class spy. Lord, he cleaned up nicely.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. His green eyes sparkled in the sun, drinking her in, or at least that’s what Liz told herself, because she didn’t want that glittering look to be anger.

Guilt ate at her. She’d hurt this man so deeply. To hell with her dignity.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, struggling to remain composed, resentful of the crowd chattering happily around them. Her skin tingled under his gaze, and she fidgeted, fighting the urge to bolt. “I never meant to hurt you, Carter, to imply—”

“I know.”

“You were right. About so many things. But you were wrong about one thing. The real me was—is— the me I am when I’m with you. Every time. Always. And, that’s the me I want to be. That’s the me I plan to be from now on…”

“Glad to hear that.”

“I just… I needed to tell you that.” She waited and he was so quiet, the tears threatened again. She turned away. If she didn’t leave now she’d do something to embarrass them both, like blubber all over him and beg him for another chance. In front of the marching band. And the baton twirling squad. And that guy over there in the uniform that looked way official and was looking at her like he was afraid he’d have to offer her a tissue…

“Liz—”

“I have to go. I—”

“Wait,” he said, his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

She could not look at him! How could she face the man she’d ruined any chance of having a future with—the man she loved—because she’d been too scared to be herself?

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, intending to make a run for it, dignity be damned.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, touching her chin lightly until she looked up at him. “Loving me too much or trusting yourself too little?”

She hesitated, about to deny both, but then she saw what his easy manner couldn’t quite conceal—the rhythmic tick in his jaw, the taut way he held himself.

For some reason, her answer mattered.

She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. Someone bumped her from behind, but she hardly felt it. The crowd, the noise, the excitement buzzing around them was nothing to the roar of her own blood in her ears.