Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(9)
“No pets,” Liz said. But she grinned, nonetheless. Of all the things she missed about Sugar Falls, it was Bailey. They’d been BFFs since before it was even an acronym. Thank God for cell phones and e-mail.
“You’re no fun. How about a puppy?”
“Be serious.”
“Okay, I’ll be serious. How is Lover Boy taking the disappointment of not scoring Wednesday night?”
Liz picked at a fleck of paint sticking to her shirt and wished she hadn’t shot down the flamingo idea. “Pretty well.”
“I can’t believe he’s okay with waiting to do the deed with you. Is something wrong with him? A man that can wait this long…” Bailey trailed off and stared meaningfully at Liz as she took a long sip of latte.
Liz frowned. “Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s very respectful of my need to take things slow, that’s all.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe he bought that load of bull.”
“It’s not bull. It’s a statistically sound strategy. Ninety percent of couples that have sex in the first thirty days are broken up within a year. That’s only a ten percent success rate. But, by waiting ninety days, we increase our likelihood of remaining a couple to one in four.”
“Mmm. How romantic.”
“Besides, do you know how disastrous an office affair can be? If we get caught, one of us needs to leave the firm. It’s company policy. If my career is at stake, I’m not starting something unless I’m pretty darn sure it’s leading somewhere serious.”
“Is it? Serious, I mean?”
“Actually, yes. Just the other day he said he thought we should take things to the next level.”
“Exact words?”
“Exact words.”
“God, I wish I were you.” Liz gave her a sidelong look. “I do! I have fantasies that I wake up living your life. Then I’m the one who’s smart. Successful. Makes enough money to live on her own. I think I was more disappointed than you after the other night. I had such high hopes.”
“Stop. You do not fantasize about my life.”
“Hello? I live in a trailer with my mother, am currently cleaning people’s toilets for a living and haven’t had sex with a partner other than myself since I got toasted New Year’s Eve. I’d be crazy if I weren’t fantasizing about living someone else’s life.”
“It’s not a trailer. It’s a double-wide. And besides, you know you have a lot going for you. Your time will come. You’ll see.”
“Right. Like I’m going to meet my soul mate over a toilet bowl.”
“It could happen.”
“Only in your world, honey. Hence the fantasies.”
“There must be somebody in Sugar Falls worth dating.”
Bailey shoved the rest of the Snickers bar into her mouth and chewed. She stared over Liz’s shoulder. “Define ‘dating,’” she said.
Liz turned at a sound in the driveway. An unfamiliar pickup coasted to a stop, the driver’s door creaked open, and a weathered boot hit the ground. Two sneaker-clad feet followed. Liz got a brief glimpse of a masculine, jean-clad backside as the man picked up the empty boot and threw it back into the pickup, then slammed the door shut. He turned.
Liz froze.
Oh. My. God.
Carter McIntyre?
Liz smacked Bailey on the back. “What the hell is he doing here?” she whispered. “His uncle was supposed to be coming!”
Bailey just shrugged, swallowed, and chugged her latte.
Carter’s sneakers scrunched on the gravel drive as he loped toward them, head bent, fishing in his jeans pockets for something and clearly not finding it. Liz was grateful, as it gave her a few precious moments to collect herself. She swiped at the flecks of paint still clinging to her arms and old college T-shirt as she peered at him through her lashes.
Wow, he’d changed. So had she, of course, but knowing that only made her feel foolish for expecting him to look like the teenager he’d been ten years ago. His hair was thick and dark and slightly unruly as ever, but gone was the almost too-lanky frame of youth. His shoulders had broadened, and his face was fuller somehow, yet still lean and expressive. His pecs jumped under his tee as he finally looked up and extended one solid, muscular, man-sized arm toward her.
“Wow,” he said. “Beth ‘the Brain’ Beacon in the flesh! Long time no see.”
“It’s ‘Liz’ now.”
She reflexively extended her hand, resenting him acutely even as her fingers reached for his palm like a drowning victim reaches for a life preserver. For one thing, he was two hours late, clearly no more driven or reliable than he was ten years ago. Two, he was as smart-mouthed as ever. And three—her eyes skittered from the tips of his dust-covered sneakers to his tanned, smiling face—he was even more sinfully gorgeous than she remembered.
Liz swallowed before she drooled and made a complete fool of herself. Why couldn’t he have turned out all pot-bellied and prematurely bald for crying out loud?
The next thing she knew, his hand closed over hers.
She pumped his hand twice—just to be polite—then yanked hers away again before the firm calluses on his fingers had a chance to register in the part of her brain that was checking him out in a way she didn’t intend to acknowledge.