Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(74)
“The color won’t appeal to most buyers. It’s better to keep things neutral. Isn’t that the mantra of all those shows you watch?”
Trish waved a dismissive hand. “To hell with them. I like it. At some point you have to do what you damn well please. Besides, it looks a hundred times better than it did.” She leaned forward. “But, if you’re looking for an excuse to keep Carter hanging around, I certainly understand.”
Liz stirred her coffee. “I’m not looking—”
“Please. It’s obvious something is going on between you two.”
“It is?”
“It is now,” Trish grinned, dropping onto a seat at the table. “I was just fishing a moment ago. So, when? Tell me everything! This is so much better than TV.”
Liz shook her head and sipped thoughtfully.
“What? Oh, no. No, no, no, no! Tell me you haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?” Liz evaded as her mind provided a dozen things she shouldn’t have done where Carter was concerned.
“You haven’t gone and slid from lusting for the man straight to—? You have! Oh God, it’s written all over your face!”
There was no use denying it as Trish stared at her pityingly. So she did. “Of course I’m not in love with him! That’s ridiculous!”
“Not ridiculous. Understandable. I may have a husband, but I have eyes. But, seriously, this isn’t good. He’s never struck me as the settling-down type.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Liz fired back. “He’s already given me the ‘this is just a casual thing’ speech.” She frowned. “Or maybe I did, but it doesn’t matter, because he agreed. And it’s just as well. I mean, I have a job and a life in Chicago…”
Trish nodded sympathetically. “True. Plus, he’s... you know.” What? Gay? Liz was pretty sure that wasn’t true. Trish shrugged. “Not necessarily an upstanding citizen, if you know what I mean.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t hear?” Trish took a slug of coffee and leaned closer. “Word is he quit the fire department after they found empty beer bottles in his truck and a used joint in the break room at the end of his shift.”
“He—? Was he arrested?”
“Not that I know of. Enough buddies at the station I guess. But I know he was asked to leave, and he didn’t fight it, so people are saying they were his.”
“Why didn’t you say something to me before?”
“I didn’t know you were, um, that involved before. I figured you were just having a little fun.”
Fun like a funeral. Liz just looked at her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burst your bubble, but I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Liz nodded. “Me either.” Her chest felt tight. “It’s just, I’ve had a crush on Carter since forever,” she whispered. “It’s hard to let that go.”
“Hey, no one said you have to give up your fantasies. But some things are better left that way, you know? I mean, do I seriously think Gerard Butler would be as good in bed as I imagine? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Obviously a bad analogy. My point is…”
But Liz stopped listening. She knew Trish was trying to make her feel better, but the truth was reality was crashing in, and here she was, over ten years later, still hoping the future with Carter would somehow, miraculously, be different than the facts suggested they would be.
The fact was, as intoxicating as it was to finally hook up with Carter, that’s all it was—all it could be—a hook up. She had a master’s degree and a good job. Life experience. She was smart enough not to confuse the excitement of these last few days with real feelings that could last in the real world. What she and Carter had wasn’t something lasting, something built purposefully over time on shared values and goals.
It was nothing like what she had with Grant.
And Grant still cared for her. He was good-looking and kind and stable. He wanted a future with her, and as much as it hurt, the pain she was feeling was no more than finally growing up and giving up the fantasies of a dreamy-eyed sixteen year-old.
She knew now what she had to do.
Carter wasn’t the only one who needed to grow up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
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CARTER ARRIVED EARLY the next morning to finish the walkways and saw Liz through the window. He hadn’t stopped to chat much since Monday morning, not because he was too busy, but because he still felt a little ridiculous having suggested she buy the house. As if she’d move back to Sugar Falls just because she liked her kitchen cabinetry and they’d had sex a couple of times?
He approached the back slider and knocked. He held himself stiffly, nervously, unsure how to act around her now that his feelings had overflowed like an ocean of water poured into a pool. He ached to touch her again, hold her, anchor himself somehow. But he feared he might pull them both under if he did.
“Hi.” He inclined his head as Liz let him in.
“Hi,” she said.
He frowned as she turned away. He laid his hand on the back of her nape, a light touch. His fingers flexed, gently kneading, immediately aware of the tension beneath the surface. “Any coffee left?”