Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(94)
But John ignored her as he fished in his pants pocket a second time, a little awkwardly now that Valerie didn’t seem able to let go of the death grip she had on his other hand. He managed to retrieve the box, and Trish leaned over helpfully to pop it open, tears welling up in her eyes, too.
“Valerie Mirabelle Stinson?” John began again, “Will you make me the happiest man alive by agreeing to become my wife?”
“You’re an idiot,” Val whispered, her eyes glued to his face.
“Maybe,” he said, “but this is one idiot who will never leave you. Ever. I love you, Val. You’re the strongest, gutsiest, smartest, most beautiful woman I know. Marry me?”
John waited, watching, the room completely silent around them.
Val sucked in a shaky breath, pressed her lips together a moment, and then rounded on the nurse. “Can someone around here stitch up my damn hand so my fiancé can put this ring on my finger?”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
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Twelve years earlier…
CARTER HITCHED HIS backpack up his shoulder and high-tailed it down the hall toward the library. He was running late. Again. But, if he booked it, he’d get there in time.
He couldn’t wait to see the surprise on Beth’s face when he arrived at the dot of three.
He didn’t see Missy Green until it was too late.
One second he was charging down the hall, the next, Missy was flat on her backside on the floor, her big brown eyes looking up at him in surprise.
“I’m so sorry!” he said, hoisting her off the floor and brushing her off. She was carrying an armful of poster-board and art supplies, and he noticed the corners were bent on a bunch of them. He bent to hastily flatten them again. “Shoot. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” she said, “I shouldn’t have tried to carry so much at a time. I couldn’t see where I was going.”
Carter grabbed a stack of poster-board that was slipping out of her grasp as she gazed up at him gratefully. “Here. Let me. Where are you headed? The art room?”
“Yes! Yes, I was. I was just, um, working on some decorations for the prom.”
Carter started walking down the hall, in a hurry to drop the poster-board off and get to the library. “Sounds fun,” he said noncommittally.
“It is,” Missy said. “You should join us! There are just a few of us working today, but the drama department has some incredible displays worked up for the big night.”
“Love to,” he said, “but I’ve got to study for trig now.” He laid the art supplies he’d carried on a table for Missy. “There. Hope you enjoy yourself at the prom.”
He was this close to walking away… but then he saw the look on Missy’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, briskly sorting out her supplies. “I’m not actually going to the prom. Just, um, decorating for it.”
“Not going? Why not?”
Her face grew pink. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, right now, that is.”
He shrugged. “Just ask a friend.”
He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth by the hopeful, starry-eyed look on Missy’s face. He also knew Missy spent most afternoons watching over her younger, Down Syndrome, sister, so the fact that she was here, working on a prom she wasn’t even attending seemed all the more pitiable.
And that’s how he arrived fifteen minutes late for his tutoring session with Beth with an invitation to the prom from Missy Green he couldn’t say ‘no’ to.
Beth sat in one of those heavy oak chairs in the back of the library. It had been three days since Jenny Whitmeyer’s party. Three days since Carter had experienced the most amazing, mind-blowing kiss imaginable.
Three days since he’d first started thinking that Beth Beacon might, possibly, perhaps, be someone he’d like to get to know more.
“Sorry I’m late.”
He strode 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, because being with Beth got his blood pumping like nobody’s business, tossed it atop the backpack as well and pulled out a chair next to her.
His hormones kicked into high gear as his thigh accidentally brushed hers. He didn’t pull away. “It’s okay,” she said, her thigh soft and warm through the thin cotton skirt she wore. “Why don’t we get started?”
He ducked his head down as he searched for his trig text in his backpack so she wouldn’t see the devilish smile he couldn’t control, then he thumped the text on the table in front of them.
He ached to smell her hair.
They reached for his text at the same time, their hands colliding.
Beth gasp-laughed and yanked her hand away, and it sounded almost like the surprised moan she’d made when he’d first touched his lips to hers.
He smiled at her at the memory and opened the book to the next lesson.
Beth licked her lips. He could almost taste Twizzler.
Carter raised one eyebrow rakishly. “Aren’t we going to start?”
Beth coughed and fluttered to pull out a notebook, her face growing pink. “Yes. Of course,” she said. She glanced at the page he’d opened to. “Ah, yes. Oblique triangles and law of sines. Okay. Basically all this is doing is allowing you to find…”