Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(75)

“Sure.” She slipped away from his touch and poured him a cup, avoiding his gaze as she handed it over. She stared at the cabinet behind him.

Carter took a sip. It scalded. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” Her eyes flew to his.

“The cabinets. You still want them white, don’t you?”

“You know I love the color.” Her voice was firm, oddly resigned when she next spoke. “But, yes, I think it would be best to repaint them.”

“It was a stupid impulse. I thought you’d change your mind once you saw them.” He tried another sip. “But I’ll fix it. As soon as I’m done with the walkway.” He reached out to brush the hair from her face. She stepped away. His stomach clenched, and he let his hand drop.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” she said.

“I told you I’ll fi—”

“No. Don’t.” She inhaled. “Carter, I need…” She took another breath. “There’s something I need to say. Something I should have mentioned sooner. And, I’m not sure how to say it.”

He gave her a lopsided smile despite the shot of unease coursing through him. “Just spit it out.”

She grimaced and turned to straighten the salt and pepper shakers on the counter. “I want you to know, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you again. I have.”

“Me, too.” He smiled, but it wasn’t close to genuine this time. He could already see what was coming. He could read it in her eyes when she snuck a glance at him then looked away just as quickly. Good Lord. She was dumping him? It hadn’t happened often, he had to admit, but he knew the signs well enough to recognize them.

“The thing is... you and I... we’re very different. And...”

“And?”

She turned to face him. She blew out a breath. “I’m sort of engaged.”

“Engaged?” Hell, he hadn’t seen that coming. A flash of hurt, then anger, jolted through him. How could she be engaged and not tell him?

“Sort of. What I mean is—”

“Sort of?”

“We’ve talked about it. Grant and I.”

“Oh, I see. You’ve talked about it.”

“Well, yes. Given our shared values and profession and direction in life, it’s a logical step.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Who talks like that? You make it sound like some spreadsheet analysis you’ve done to decide how to spend the rest of your life.”

“It’s not like that.” She was getting annoyed, he could tell. He didn’t give a crap.

“Are you in love with him?”

“It’s complicated. We have a history,” she said, “and… feelings for each other.”

“Wow. You have feelings for each other. My best to both of you.” He knew he sounded mocking. He also didn’t give a flying shit.

Her hands rose pleadingly then dropped to her sides. “This isn’t productive. I’m sorry you’re hurt, but if you think about it, it’s probably for the best that we—”

“Does he know about us?” He cut in. “Hell, does he know what we’ve done?” He gestured widely. They both looked at the table.

Her cheeks flamed. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about that—”

“Why? Too messy for you? Too complicated? Oh, that’s right, that’s what you feel for him. What, dammit, do you feel for me?”

He began to pace now, the impotence of the situation nearly overwhelming him, forcing a need for movement. Action.

She looked at him in disbelief. Well, honey, that made two of them! Here he’d finally gone and fallen for a woman—hard!—and she was dumping him? Ha!

“Oh, please,’ she said, “I’m not so na?ve as to believe you don’t have a string of women lined up ready to succumb to the fabled McIntyre charm.”

He stopped in front of her, the irony of the situation forcing his fingers to flex in frustration. He wanted to grab her and shake her for acting so… so… reasonable… when he felt anything but. “Did it occur to you I’m not interested in a string of women? Did it occur to you I might be interested in you?”

She caught her lip between her teeth and for the first time he saw the glossy sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “We’re not right for each other,” she whispered.

“Why? Shit, I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment, Liz. I’m not trying to force things. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re giving me the heave-ho. I thought we were—” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know—having fun.”

God, that sounded lame. Fun? It had gone way beyond fun for him. For the first time in his life, he thought he understood the panic his mom must have felt knowing his dad was still in the house. Shit. If this is what love felt like, maybe he didn’t want any part of it after all.

“I don’t think we’re looking for the same kind of fun,” she said.

His mind spun as he tried to make sense of her words. “Seems to me it was a mutual thing.”

“I’m nearly engaged,” she repeated, as if that meant a damn thing to him.