Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(95)

Thirty minutes later Carter was jiggling his knee, frowning at the notebook and glancing at the clock on the wall as Beth’s face grew red with frustration.

She bit her lip, obviously trying to figure out how to salvage the tutoring session and get anything meaningful through his thick skull, but all he could do was sit there and wonder how he could get her into a dark room again.

He was going to be late for work, and Beth was clearly not happy. She couldn’t even look at him!

He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should try again next time.”

“No! I mean, of course we can, but I know you’ll get it. It’s my fault for not explaining it right to begin with.”

Just like Beth, always trying to make him feel better for being thick-headed.

“It’s okay, Beth,” he said, deciding he’d better put her out of her misery. He started to shove his text into his backpack.

“So,” she said, closing her notebook. “I hear a lot of people are getting excited about the prom.”

Carter fought with the zipper on his backpack. It caught, again, and he yanked it in frustration at it and himself. “The food should be good,” he said. He’d heard something about Missy having a nut allergy. Or maybe it was mangoes. He wondered if she’d eat at the prom.

“The Whitmeyers sure threw a great party the other night, didn’t they?” Beth was still trying to converse pleasantly, probably to make him feel better. She was nice that way.

Carter glanced at her and wondered if she’d heard what Dan had said in the hall that night. Asshole. He’d never forgive the guy for being such a bastard. What had Beth ever done to him? “It had its moments.”

He heard her intake of breath as he stood to leave, and he turned to see her standing next to him, hands folded together, her head held high just like she’d looked when he’d opened the door at the Whitmeyers’. He looked at her lips.

“So, Carter, I, um, was wondering… if … like, as just friends… if you thought it might be fun to go, I mean, together. To the prom, I mean.”

Holy. Shit. He hadn’t seen that coming.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even feel his heart any more, as she stood completely still, waiting for his reply. What now? Forty minutes ago he hadn’t even given the prom a second thought and here he was with two girls asking him out? But there was nothing he could do. He’d already told Missy ‘yes.’ And here Beth was, standing in front of him a second time, completely vulnerable, and it wasn’t in his power to make this turn out right. Crap. His answer would surely crush her.

Here he was, beholden to her for so much and yet she was the one laying it all on the line. His lips tilted at the irony of it as he turned to grab his jacket. “I can’t. Missy Green already asked. That’s why I was late.” He smiled wider hoping she would see how much he enjoyed her company, too, that he’d go with her if he could, but his hands were tied… and shrugged into his jacket.

But, if she were there, too, at the prom, could Missy complain if he danced with Beth a few times? “But you don’t have to have a date to go,” he found himself suggesting hopefully. “There are plenty of guys going stag. Maybe I’ll see you there?”

“Right,” she said, her smile taut. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he said. “See you next time.”

“See ya.”

But, he knew it wouldn’t be at the prom. He knew by the set of her jaw and the cold disappointment in her eyes any possibility he might have had to pursue Beth Beacon had locked shut like a Brinks truck as soon as he suggested she play second fiddle. He should have known. Beth was too proud and had too much going for her to wait around for him to sort his life out.

So, he left.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

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CARTER SAT IN THE HARD plastic chair in the E.R. waiting room and stared at the wall. His shirt stuck to his chest, he had grass-stains on his suit, and he felt guilty as hell.

He’d just gotten the call from Ted with preliminary findings from the Beacon’s house. Probable cause of fire: a strand of decorative lights.

Smiley-face lights.

He brushed a hand down his face and glanced across to where Liz’s family was gathered. Ben still held the tablet with Liz’s mother peering out, sipping tea and periodically asking to see something.

Bailey and Trish and Aunt Claire were entertaining the baby.

And that Grant guy was over in the far corner grimacing into his cup of vending machine coffee.

Liz walked out.




LIZ SCUFFED HER LITTLE blue disposable booties across the floor. Low, excited chatter met her reentry. Carter stood.

She felt achy, dirty and weary as hell, but grateful. He was here. Her hero! She glanced shyly at Carter, her eyes eating him up eagerly. He looked wet and rumpled and had a big smear of dirt across one thigh, but he’d never looked better to her.

She waved, a feeble attempt at looking chipper despite the large gauze bandage over her right temple and eye and the mud and grass stains across her never-wear-it-again dress.

“It looks worse than it is,” she assured everyone. “The eye patch can probably come off by morning. They just want to give it a rest until the swelling goes down. I think it’s more there so I don’t scare people.”