Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(31)
Whatever.
Trish had it wrong.
Liz wasn’t waiting for Prince Charming to carry her away. She was just waiting to be carried away. Period.
There was a world of difference—and a pair of laughing, sexy green eyes—between the two.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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Twelve years earlier…
OH GOD! Oh God! Oh God! How did she get into these things?
Beth trailed after Valerie, her velvet flats scuffing on the hardwood floors of Jenny’s house, the nylons in her bra growing sweaty and itchy against her skin. She dared not scratch, could barely breathe, as she tried to blend into the white-on-white color scheme of the Whitmeyer’s newly-renovated kitchen.
The room smelled of cinnamon and apples like a Yankee Candle store, wholesome and welcoming except for the cold sweat dripping down between Beth’s shoulder-blades as she waited for the others to do whatever it was they were going to do. She hung back by the door, while Valerie playfully positioned the participants—boy, girl, boy, girl—in a circle on the floor.
Beth grew a little lightheaded from holding the air in her lungs and then it came out in a surprised whoosh as she noticed the lone figure standing in the far side of the room.
Ohmigod. Carter McIntyre.
He rested one shoulder against the refrigerator, a slight smirk on his features as he took a sip of soda from a can. At least, Beth thought it was soda. It was hard to tell now that Valerie had dimmed the overhead lights. Rain pounded outside, a steady drumbeat matching the pounding of blood in Beth’s ears as she watched Carter. He had on that vintage motorcycle jacket he always wore, the one that creaked a little as he moved. He took another drink from the can, raised his head and caught her staring.
Beth felt a warm flush heat her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Couldn’t have even if she tried. She smiled tentatively.
He winked at her.
Her smile froze on her face as she tried to figure out whether he was teasing her or flirting. It was so hard to tell. When he smiled and joked during their tutoring sessions, did it mean he liked her, or was he just taking pity on her?
She was sure her emotions were plastered over her face—the fawning attraction, the nervous self-doubt—and she wished she were bold and sexy and confident like the girls leaning into the guys on the floor, running their fingertips over the boys’ arms in casual flirtation, laughing gaily, throats lifted up in invitation for who knew what.
Beth glanced across the room again. Carter’s lips hitched up a little on one side and he took another drink. He looked away.
She swallowed, her cautious smile fading altogether as Valerie spied Carter loitering outside their little group. “Carter! No voyeurs! You have to play.”
He took another sip. “I’m an odd man out.” He gestured to the group on the floor. “I’d throw off your numbers.”
“Oh, I’m sure we can find—Beth! Stop hiding in the corner!”
Beth pushed away from the wall. “I wasn’t hiding,” she lied. “And if Carter doesn’t want to—”
“Nonsense!” Valerie popped up to grab Carter’s arm playfully. “Carter’s always up for a good time. Aren’t you?”
Beth swallowed, her gut twisting as she knelt on the floor. The couple next to her shuffled aside to make room. She bit her lip, her gaze bouncing off of Carter’s, Chip’s, Jenny’s.
Dan O’Connell, varsity everything, most popular boy in the junior class, stared at her chest for a long moment and then slowly met her eyes.
Beth flushed and looked away.
“Okay. We all know the rules.” Valerie said as she spun the wine bottle on the floor with her index finger, expertly twirling it in a slow hypnotic circle. “Ladies first. Once the bottle has chosen, the lucky lady waits in the pantry for her seven minutes of heaven. Boys, no excessive licking or groping.”
“Define ‘excessive,’” Dan drawled as he ran a finger down Valerie’s arm.
Valerie swatted his hand, and he let it fall to her thigh. Squeezed. “Oh,” she said, “and most important—no kissing and telling. Half the fun is guessing who you’re with.” She batted her eyes at Dan and licked her hot pink lips until they glistened. “Shall we begin?”
Beth watched the bottle spin round and round, the rhythmic sound of it scraping against the floor causing her to clench her fingernails into her palms. She dared not look at anyone, particularly anyone male for fear they’d know she was thinking about being in the pantry with them. Which she was, of course.
The bottle began to slow, growing uneven and wobbly. Then it stopped.
It pointed to her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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LIZ SWIPED THE LAST STROKE of mis-tint paint onto the front door and sighed. Much as she tried to make herself like it, it looked about as pleasant as old, dried-up mustard. Oh, well. She’d call it a base coat and buy something more attractive later if she had time.
She cleaned up her painting supplies and decided she’d better return her mom’s calls. All four of them. After Grant’s bombshell the day before, Liz hadn’t felt like talking to anyone, but if she put it off too long her mom would probably send out carrier pigeons.
“How is Dad today?” Liz asked.