Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(60)
LIZ STOOD IN THE dining room and stared out the window at the string of smiley-face lights Carter had hung along the roofline of the shed. She had no idea when he’d done it. Probably yesterday before he came inside with the flowers. They hung there, glowing and smiling goofily, even though it was pouring rain over their little faces.
She hated them and loved them all at the same time.
Liz sighed, watching the rain drip off the shed roof and puddle on the ground. Because of the rain, she’d spent her Saturday afternoon tackling indoor punch-list items before spending the night second-guessing every action of her adult life.
Did she take everything too seriously?
By the time Sunday morning rolled around—still damp and cold—she hadn’t come to any epiphanies. She rose and dressed early with every intention of getting started on a fresh to-do list for the day but, instead, found herself staring at her yellow legal pad on the kitchen table, sipping her third cup of coffee and wallowing in self-doubt. It was nine o’clock, and she’d only gotten as far as writing ‘to do’ at the top in bold, purposeful letters.
Was she boring? Had she shied away from living? Did she really have no sense of humor? Those questions and more had plagued her fitful night, in part, because she knew they held a grain of truth in them.
True, she hadn’t sought opportunities to rebel against her parents. Hadn’t she seen firsthand how hurt they were by John’s reckless behavior? How frightened they were when he’d stagger in the door at three in the morning? How Mom would cry when John argued with Dad? Liz could still hear the slam of the door as he’d storm from the house. Again. Then Mom would quietly, resignedly call the police to pick him up, because she knew he wasn’t fit to drive.
Liz had vowed never to cause such pain. Then, when Trish had gotten pregnant and moved out, Liz had made a second vow to be the perfect child. To never cause her parents a moment’s worry.
But, where had that gotten her? Here she was, in her parents’ home, the only one not doing whatever she darn well pleased with her life because she was still busy being the dutiful child.
Still busy being everything everyone expected of Brainy Beth Beacon.
But what if I wasn’t? she wondered. Who would I be? What would I do then?
“Go skinny dipping—at noon,” she murmured as she penned the words on the notepad. She stared at them and laughed a bit self-consciously at herself. It wasn’t as if she actually planned to follow through on it. It felt freeing, though, if even in fantasy, she could escape from the boring box she’d painted herself into.
Grinning, Liz added another item to her list. Then another. Before long, she was at number ten. She tapped her pen on the pad and pondered.
Then, laughing out loud, she added one final item to the list and headed up to shower.
“LIZ? YOU HOME?”
Carter knocked on the slider door and waited, the weather wet and overcast again this morning. The heavy rains they’d had overnight would make it difficult to continue the patio until things dried out or he’d make a mess of their yard.
He’d made up an excuse to come over anyway, intending to talk to her about the design for the side walkway. In truth, he was still a little peeved about how things had gone the last time he’d been over. Peeved and a little turned on.
It was not a pleasant combination.
He couldn’t say why he’d cracked the joke when he did. Maybe it was because Liz was looking at him in that intent, vulnerable way she had, and he’d wanted to put her at ease.
Now, he wanted to shake the superior out of her. Figuratively speaking, of course. He needed to think before he spoke? Pot calling the kettle black.
Probably just as well she wasn’t home given his mood.
He tucked the brochures he’d brought in the casing by the door, but as he pushed away, the slider moved, and he realized it was unlocked.
He cracked the slider open an inch. “Liz?” No answer.
Spying a pad of paper on the table, he walked over to jot down a brief note then stopped short when he read what was there. He hurried back to the door. Maybe it would be better to leave a message on her cell.
“What are you doing here?”
Before he had time to register her question, Liz snatched the legal pad from the table. Carter stood at the slider, speechless. She’d been showering. Her hair hung in wet locks, her robe snugged tight around her waist, damp patches making the fabric almost translucent in places where her hair had lain against it. Her face was scrubbed clean and pink. All he could think about was number one on her list.
He found his voice with difficulty. “I came to check on the job and tell you I’ll finish when the weather clears and the yard dries out, but I, ah, wanted to know if you’ve decided to extend the pavers around to the driveway. I had some ideas for—”
“How did you get in?”
“The door was unlocked.”
She frowned and strode toward the slider, heedless of the state of his libido. “It was?” She fiddled with the lock/unlock knob, her thin robe molding to her curves.
“You should be more careful with that. Eddie might get out again. But, I’m glad you’re here, because you saved me the trouble of writing a note.” As he said the words, her eyes flew to his. He smiled guilelessly. “No need now. I didn’t want to drip across your kitchen, anyway, so you’ve saved me the trouble of cleaning up after myself.”