Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(36)

The room was lined with shelves. Fancy pasta. Soup. A large stand mixer in the corner. Beth turned as Valerie unwound a long silk scarf from around her neck, revealing a giant purple hickey beneath. Beth stared at the hickey and then Valerie tied the scarf around Beth’s eyes. It was still warm from Valerie’s neck.

“Can you see anything?”

“No,” Beth answered. And she wasn’t lying. She’d hoped the gauzy scarf would have given her a little sense of the world beyond, even just the outline of a profile. But she saw nothing. Sensed nothing. Nothing but the faint scent of Valerie’s perfume as she adjusted the scarf at the back of Beth’s head. The idea that a boy would come in and touch her, kiss her, made Beth feel intensely vulnerable.

“No peeking,” Valerie warned, her voice growing fainter as she moved away. “Have fun.”

And then Beth was alone. At least, she assumed she was.

She swallowed, the fruit punch in her stomach making her slightly queasy as she stood there, waiting, wondering. She licked her lips and strained to listen outside the confines of the pantry, but Valerie had closed the door on the way out, so all Beth could hear were distant, muffled voices and the steady beat of pounding rain.

She had no sense of time. It had probably only been a couple of minutes since Valerie left, but it seemed like hours already.

A dog barked somewhere in the neighborhood. Beth wiped her mouth with her hand, then wiped her hand on her jean skirt. She stuck her hands in her pockets and then took them out again. What was she supposed to do with them anyway? Was she allowed to touch him? Would she want to?

The idea of kissing a pair of lips without touching anything else struck her as slightly ludicrous and a bubble of nervous laughter rose to her lips before she tamped it down again. God forbid he find her in the closet laughing to herself. He’d think she was unstable.

Maybe they all did.

Beth bit her lip.

Who was to say they weren’t planning to leave her in here? Maybe they were all in the kitchen right now laughing their butts off because they’d tricked dorky Beth Beacon into standing in the pantry… waiting for her first kiss.

Beth fought back tears behind the blindfold.

What a fool she was.

There was a thump outside in the hall and she jumped, wringing her hands together. She let out a long, shaky sigh.

Oh God! She was an idiot for thinking she could do this! A fool for imagining she could fit in with these people and play a game where she didn’t know the rules and couldn’t imagine the stakes. All she knew about that stuff came from watching Sex in the City on the sly with the sound turned off, so she only knew half the story even then.

She let out another uneven breath.

She should start walking home right now. Forget about waiting for John. Forget about trying to preserve her dignity. She didn’t belong here. Never would.

But just as she decided to reach up and remove her blindfold… the latch of the door snicked open.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

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“TELL ME ABOUT your business. What’s your specialty? How do you market yourselves? Are you into using eco-friendly materials? Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Liz and Carter had retreated to the corner of the living room after dinner to play a game of chess. Carter glanced up, his hand hovering over one of his pawns. “Sheesh. I haven’t felt grilled like this since I got caught with Beth Peabody behind Old Man Richard’s barn.” He held her gaze. “Nothing happened.”

“Yes, well, she’s a lesbian. I could have told you that wasn’t going to happen.” Liz felt her face flush. “Anyway. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come on so strong. It’s just… stream-lining and improving business operations is what I do.”

Carter shrugged and picked up his pawn. “We do a lot of hardscapes. I like building stone walls. Word of mouth, I guess.” He paused. “What was that last one? Oh, yeah. Five years?” He blew out a breath. “Damned if I know.” He set the pawn down again.

“You can only jump two spaces the first time you move your pawn.”

Liz reached out to move his pawn back into position, inadvertently touching his hand as she did so. A warm tingle, not so much electricity as a sweet heat, infused her fingertips. She rubbed her fingers down her thigh under the table and picked up her tumbler of wine before she got the urge to touch him again.

He’s too close.

Technically, he was a respectable distance away. Across the table, in fact, but the table was small, and if she wasn’t careful, his knee would occasionally knock against hers, making her acutely aware of the earthy, richly masculine scent of him as he bent his head over the chess board.

He tapped his fingers on the side of his can of soda as he contemplated his move.

“Really, you don’t have to over-think it,” she said. “I haven’t played in years. Probably you were the last person I played.”

“How come?”

“Gr—That is, I really haven’t had a lot of opportunities.”

“Doesn’t like chess, huh?”

“Who?” she evaded, knowing exactly who he meant.

“Your interoffice guy.”

“He’s not—Move your knight or I’ll get him with my bishop.”

“Thanks. You’re blowing my concentration is all,” he said amiably.