Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(84)

“I don’t know what you mean.” Valerie set her mug on the counter and headed toward the slider. “I forgot to take photos of the garage. I’m going to go do that before I forget.”

“It’s shorter if you go out the front door,” Bailey pointed out sweetly. Or, as sweetly as a mischievous fairy could be.

“Why don’t you like my brother?” Liz demanded. “Or, do you have a thing against my whole family?”

Valerie’s boobs inflated, straining the buttons of her satin blouse, as she took a deep breath then let it out again. “If you must know, and as painful as you will surely find this information, your brother and I have… a history.”

“Oh my God!” Liz breathed. “You and John?”

Valerie’s eyes flashed as she pointed a silencing finger at Bailey. “Not. A. Word.”

“I can’t…” Liz managed.

“Neither can I,” Bailey said, around a mouthful of Snickers despite Valerie’s laser finger directive. “You’ve been shagging Liz’s brother?”

“We had a… relationship. Yes.”

“Ew!” said Bailey and Liz in unison.

“But it’s over now.”

“Because she kicked me out.” All eyes turned toward the swinging door to the dining room where John stood, moody and brooding and looking at Valerie like she was a chocolate fountain at a diabetes fundraiser.

“I didn’t kick you out,” she said. “We agreed we were moving our separate ways.”

“We didn’t agree on anything,” John said, walking in and grabbing a coffee mug of his own.

Liz scowled. My God, was this a diner or something? At this rate, she’d have to make a second pot.

“I need to give my marriage another shot,” Valerie said, albeit weakly.

“You’re divorced, Val. You’ve been divorced four years. Dan had his shot.”

“He wants me back,” she said.

“Wait a minute,” Liz interjected. “You just told me I could have Dan.”

Valerie gave her the look of death.

Wow. No wonder vampires didn’t want to look in mirrors. They’d scare themselves right out of immortality.

“It’s complicated,” Valerie said, turning back to John.

“He’s a drug addict and a jerk,” John spat.

“We all have our faults,” Valerie murmured.

John just stared at her like Heathcliff brooding over Catherine.

Liz didn’t want to tell either one of them that things ended badly in Bronte’s world.

No one spoke for another long moment, and then John let out a sigh and turned toward the door again. “Thanks for the coffee, sis.”

The door swung shut.

Bailey chewed her candy bar and turned to Val. “Aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine?”

“Bite me,” Val said, walking toward the swinging door as well. “I’ve got work to do.”





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

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Twelve years earlier…

BETH SAT IN THE HEAVY oak chair in the back of the library, her heart in her throat. It had been three days since Jenny Whitmeyer’s party. Three days since she’d experienced the most magical, earth-shattering first kiss imaginable.

Three days since she’d first started thinking she might, possibly, perhaps, summon up the nerve to ask Carter McIntyre to the junior-senior prom.

It gave her goose bumps to even think about it—her! Who would ever have guessed that quiet Beth Beacon would have the guts to ask a boy out on a date, much less the tall, dark and charming Carter McIntyre?

She pulled a Twizzler from her backpack and bit into it on the sly—because food wasn’t allowed in the library—and chewed, her eyes closing as she was instantly transported back to that wonderful, amazing, possibility-changing kiss. It was hands-down her new favorite candy.

She swallowed and took a deep breath, rubbing her damp hands on her skirt as she waited.

And waited.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Carter came loping in, repeating the same three words he’d met her with every tutoring session since September and tossed his backpack onto the table. He shrugged out of his leather jacket, tossed it atop the backpack as well and pulled out a chair next to her.

Beth caught her breath as his thigh accidentally brushed hers. She didn’t pull away. “It’s okay,” she said, reveling in the warm vitality of his leg touching hers. Did he feel it, too? “Why don’t we get started?”

She watched him, her pulse thrumming through her veins, as he burrowed, head bent, inside his backpack for his trig text then thumped it on the table in front of them.

Oh, she ached to touch his hair.

They reached for his text at the same time, their hands colliding.

Beth gasp-laughed and yanked her hand away and then berated herself for being so jumpy. How would she ask him out if she couldn’t even touch his hand without panicking, for goodness sake?

He smiled at her, that winsome flash of a dimple that had her insides doing flip-flops, and opened the book to the next lesson.

Beth licked her lips. She could still taste Twizzler.

Carter raised one eyebrow questioningly. “Aren’t we going to start?”