Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(86)

Liz froze. Her breath stopped dead in her lungs.

“Wow. I didn’t expect a welcome like that.”

The man on her front stoop was tall, good looking—and blonde.

“Grant!” she gasped. “What are—? What a surprise!”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course!” She stepped back as he entered the living room.

A slight furrow creased his forehead as he turned to her. “I know this is unexpected.”

Liz swallowed and shut the door before Eddie made a dash for it. “You could say that.”

Grant bit his bottom lip, met her gaze for one brief moment and then stepped toward the living room. “So,” he said, “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Busy?”

“Painting.” He looked back at her. “I see you’ve been painting.”

“Oh. Yes. The front door, most of the downstairs, the kitchen… Yes. I’ve done a lot of… painting.” And crying and gnashing of teeth and second-guessing…

“Looks nice,” he said.

Liz nodded and set her cleaning rag on the window sill, determined to scrape together her dignity. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“Great.” She stared at him, unmoving for a moment before she remembered she was supposed to be doing something and gestured toward the kitchen.

Liz led the way through the dining room and the swinging door to the kitchen, her mind running in circles. What was he doing here? Hadn’t they broken up? Or, at least, hadn’t she?

She poured him a glass of iced tea without asking what he wanted and handed it over.

“Thanks,” he said. He gestured toward the cabinets. “The place looks terrific, Liz. But, I’m not surprised. You do have an eye for color.” He sipped his drink and smiled over the rim. “A woman of many talents.”

Liz gripped the edge of the counter she was leaning on and tried not to snap like a bow string. “Why are you here?” she blurted.

“After your call… When you didn’t return my messages… I was worried. Ethan told me you planned to delay your flight back.”

“Just through the weekend.” She looked out the back window. “I need a little more time to wrap things up here.”

“I had hoped you might need me.”

Liz frowned and looked back toward him. “Need you?”

“Is that so surprising? You’re always there for me; I thought I’d return the favor.”

“I don’t understand.” Didn’t we break up? Didn’t you just want to do the wild thing? Am I genetically incapable of communicating with other people?

“The last we talked you sounded… upset. Confused. Not yourself at all. I knew you were out here on your own, and when I heard you were extending your time off... I took the earliest flight I could manage. So, here I am.”

“Yes. Yes, here you are.” Liz let go of the counter and paced toward the back door. “The question is: why?”

Grant crossed the room and took her cold hands in his. “Why? You even have to ask?”

“Um, yes?”

“Because of what you asked me, Liz! As soon as you hung up, I realized we haven’t been honest with each other. I haven’t been honest with you. I needed to apologize... in person. I needed to make you understand.”

She slipped her fingers from his. “You shouldn’t have made the trip. I understand completely.”

“No,” he insisted, a confident smile tilting the corner of his lips as he brushed the hair from her temple. “I don’t think you do.”

Liz wished he’d stop sticking his fingers in her hair and get to the point. No such luck.

“Let’s go for a walk. You can show me your new patio,” he said.

Goodie. A nature walk. Liz opened the slider and stepped out, memories of Carter and the last few weeks slamming into her. She swallowed and made a half-hearted sweeping gesture with her hand. “Here it is.”

“Nice.” Grant was nodding appreciatively, totally ignorant of the magnitude of the patio in Liz’s life—one of the few horizontal surfaces she and Carter had yet to, um, dedicate. “I see you redid the walkway, too,” he said, following it around the side of the house.

Liz trailed after him.

“Grant…”

She nearly ran into him when he stopped abruptly.

“You told me your parents had eccentric taste,” he laughed, motioning toward the storage shed, “you didn’t do them justice. This looks like it belongs to the Griswold’s from National Lampoon.”

The string of smiley-face deck lights Carter had hung on the shed grinned at her en masse.

The Griswold’s? Liz grabbed the deck lights and tugged, embarrassment flooding her. Happy yellow faces bounced around merrily and sagged toward the ground.

“I meant to take that down,” she muttered.

But Grant didn’t seem to hear as he turned and let his fingers trail through the strands of her hair. Again. Maybe he was just surprised it was loose for a change.

“I know my being here is a lot to take in,” he said.

“Yes. Wow. You’ve no idea—”

“I’m ready, Liz. You can believe it.”