Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(65)

He popped open the can, looking somewhat pensive. “This would be my first solo project.”

“From what I’ve seen you’ve been working on your own for a while.”

“I know. But, if Pops isn’t working at all, I’ll probably need an extra hand. That means hiring an employee or two, scheduling…” He ran a hand over his face and looked at her soberly. “As I said, growing up.”

“Take heart. It happens to the best of us.”

He sat down. “I just never expected it to happen to me.”

She chuckled at the lost boy look on his face and got up to get a drink as well. “I have to say, I’m feeling as proud of you as the day you came home with a B+ on that trig test. I couldn’t have been more pleased—”

“I cheated,” he said.

She whirled around. “You didn’t!”

“No,” he laughed, standing up again. “But, your expression just now was priceless.”

She harrumphed and went back to pouring her iced tea. “Worry not. You haven’t grown up as much as you think.”

“Aw, but that’s what makes me so loveable,” he said.

She turned, intending to tell him he wasn’t all that loveable, either, but the words died on her tongue.

“Thanks,” he murmured, eyes dark, sober, as his lips hitched up at the corner endearingly. “You always did make me reach higher than I ever thought I could.”

The look on his face made her nerves hum like they had the night she’d waited for her first kiss in Jenny Whitmeyer’s pantry.

“You always did have more potential than you gave yourself credit for,” she murmured. And then he went and flashed her a bright smile, and her stomach hit the floor.

Holy. Smokes.

Liz struggled to take a breath, her blood roaring in her ears.

It couldn’t happen that quickly, could it? It didn’t even make sense! How could she be standing here, minding her own business (thank you very much) and have a feeling like that rush over her?

She was far too pragmatic for it to be true. Besides, it was totally inappropriate on so many levels. She didn’t even live in Sugar Falls anymore! They had nothing in common. He was completely irreverent, and she was completely and utterly…

And yet, the wave of certainty that flooded her as his brilliant smile hit her in full force was just as unquestionable.

She didn’t just have a crush on Carter McIntyre anymore. She’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with him.

“Should we call for a pizza?”

“What?” she asked, shaking her head as if that would bring her to her senses.

“Pizza. It’s quick. It’s easy. And I’m starved.”

“You have paint on your cheek,” she observed distantly.

Strangely, she didn’t even care that he was talking about food in the midst of her making the most monumental emotional discovery of her life. Somehow it was fitting. Real.

Because, she suddenly realized, she no longer wanted a fantasy of love, she no longer wanted the possibility or promise of love sometime in the future. She wanted the imperfect reality that stood before her. Hungry. Smudged. Smiling, wondrous reality.

Lord help her, she wanted Carter McIntyre.

She told herself it had to be some other woman. It certainly wasn’t Liz who stood, took a paper napkin from the table and calmly wiped the smudge of paint off Carter’s cheek, licking her thumb and rubbing it over the light shadow of stubble as it tugged at her flesh, marveling at how good it felt to touch his face.

And it wasn’t Liz who swallowed in anticipation as she became acutely aware of the scent of his body, the air in her own lungs as they filled deeply, involuntarily, then caught when his eyes turned almost imperceptibly darker. It couldn’t be Liz who licked her lips and smiled, who forgot about being straight or narrow or responsible as she took a step closer.

Carter didn’t speak. The man who always seemed so quick with a wise-cracking comment was completely silent as he reached a hand out to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so lightly over her skin. And when he pulled her forward and pressed his mouth to hers, it was she who made a primal sound of surrender deep in her throat as her lips parted.

So good, she thought, her hands sliding up to pull his head closer. He tasted, felt so good. Never before had she felt so blissfully whole, so complete simply from touching her lips to a man’s.

Except once.

Carter melded their mouths, his lips soft yet firm, light touches following searing pressure. Liz sighed into his mouth and learned his brilliant smile all over again in a way she’d never dreamed possible but had dreamed about a thousand times.

She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to be this woman who could kiss and be kissed with such deep passion her entire life.

Heaven help her, she wanted.

Another small moan of pleasure escaped her as his hands slid, hot and firm down her back to cup her rear. Then he pressed her against the kitchen table—the same kitchen table she’d eaten pancakes at as a girl—and she realized with a hint of excited alarm that she was picturing them on that same table.

She pulled him to her. Hard.

Carter grunted in surprise and tried to pull back, but Liz would have none of that. Not now. No, now that she’d decided to be this new woman, there was no turning back. Gripping his head with one hand and his right buttocks with the other, she held him tight, nipped his bottom lip with her teeth.