Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(22)

Carter chewed a little more slowly. “They haven’t released the work specs yet.”

“Well don’t forget to follow through. I hear they not only want to replace the fountain but add a garden trellis and a little stone half-wall for seating. Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

He swallowed. “It sounds like you told the committee that’s what they should have.”

Grams pursed her lips. “It was only a suggestion. Anyway, make sure you bid. A job like that would get you noticed... get you started on the right foot for when you take over the business.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Nothing’s been decided yet.”

“What’s to decide? Your uncle spends more time at the chiropractor now than I do. He’s up in bed right now, stiff as a board. It’s time for him to retire. Time for you to take over.”

“He can work in the office. I’ll take the heavy work. Nothing needs to change.”

Grams rolled her eyes. “He hates paperwork as much as you do and you know it. You need to step up to the plate and take on responsibility for—”

Carter swiped a piece of popcorn off his lap. “Maybe I’m not ready to be responsible.”

Grams followed the bit of popcorn with her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “You never will be if you don’t try.”

“Trying isn’t always the problem.”

Grams huffed. “Well, I’m not going to talk about it if you’re going to give me attitude.”

Carter heaved a sigh and bent over to pick up the popcorn. Grams meant well, but she could be a royal pain in the backside sometimes. “I’m not giving you attitude, Grams, just facts. The fact is I do the best I can, but it’s not always good enough. I’d love to do the fountain job, but it’s right in the damn center of town, and you and I both know that if something goes wrong people will notice. I’m better off sticking to less high profile jobs.”

“So you’re not even going to bid?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Fine. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’d rather not.”

Sappy mood music bellowed from the TV, signaling the return of the show and saving Carter from further discussion. They watched in silence for a few minutes.

“Did you stop by the Beacon’s today?” Grams whispered, as if Carter cared a hoot whether he missed anything. It wasn’t as if he disliked the show, he actually found it pretty entertaining. Just unrealistic.

“Yup.”

“And?”

“They want a patio.”

“Don’t be obtuse. Did you see Claire’s grandniece? Elizabeth Beacon?”

“Yup.” He pulled the bowl of popcorn back toward him as the show broke for yet more commercials.

“I hear she’s done very well for herself—though not married. Be sure to say hello from me.”

“Okay.”

“Carter,” Grams said in frustration.

“What?”

“Are you even listening?”

“Maybe.”

She harrumphed and nearly fell out of her recliner to poke him with a bony index finger. “Why are you being difficult?”

He laughed at her look of consternation and helped her back up before she fell to the floor. “Grams, why are you trying to set me up again? This is the third time in a month.”

“Who’s setting you up?” she evaded, pretending an intense interest in acid reflux medication.

“Grams, come on. I don’t have any problems meeting women. I’m doing just fine in that— Ho! You’ve got to be kidding!” Carter gestured abruptly toward the TV where they were showing a preview of the dramatic moments to come. “He’s going to get rid of the professional chef? What’s with this guy?”

Grams waved dismissively at the TV. “You’re not meeting the right kind of women, Carter. I think I can help.”

“How do you know they’re not the right kind?”

“For one thing, you almost never bring them around to meet the rest of the family.”

“Maybe I don’t want to scare them off.”

“Stop it. Tell me what you thought of Elizabeth.”

Carter winced as the professional chef criticized the bachelor for being inept, unimaginative and prematurely deflating her soufflé, as it were. Ouch. “She was… fine.”

“Fine as in a fine wine?” Grams prompted.

“Fine as in neutral-fine. As in either hamburgers or hotdogs for dinner are fine.” He tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth.

Grams pursed her lips. “Now you’re toying with me. When are you going to stop playing the field and settle down?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I like the game too much.”

He watched as the camera zoomed in on the chef, her mascara streaking down her cheeks as she sobbed out her disappointment on national TV. Never leave them angry, he cautioned the bachelor silently.

“Don’t be afraid of love, Carter. It can’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll bet my mom would have something to say about that.” At Grams’ soft but unmistakable intake of breath he turned—and instantly regretted the flip comment. “Grams. I’m sorry. I—”