by Cheri Allan
“I’m helping Kate with dinner. Plus she invited me.”
“You do realize she only asks you over out of pity. She sees how you live.”
“And you only allow it because it gives you an ego boost to show off your beautiful wife and family. Admit it. You think you’re hot shit.”
Jim reached over Carter for a soda, popped it open and relaxed into a chair at the kitchen table. “There is that. Where is my lovely bride anyway?”
“Upstairs giving Lily a bath. I think Liam is helping.”
Jim eyed the ceiling warily. “She hasn’t called for reinforcements?”
Carter tore open a bag of sub rolls. “Not yet.”
Jim sipped from the can and set it down, lord o’ the manor style, on the table. “So, what about you? Got the itch to get yourself a wife and family of your own?” He swept his arm to encompass the dishes in the sink, the toy cars on the floor and the burpie cloths stacked on the placemat in front of him. “Just think, all this grandeur could be yours.”
A loud thump! rattled the ceiling above them, and Liam, the three year-old squealed something about Noah and floods.
Carter nodded toward the doorway. “You want to check that out?”
Jim bit his lip. “No. I’m good. I have every confidence in my wife. Plus, that upstairs bath is too small for all of us at once. I can’t believe we’re a family of four sharing a single bathroom.”
“Ah, way to sell the grandeur of it all.”
Jim laughed, an easy chuckle, and Carter felt a momentary stab of… something. It seemed like everyone was getting married, starting families, growing up. Jim’s sister, Rachel, had her first baby just after the new year, and Lily had been born barely a month ago.
The grandmothers, of course, were ecstatic.
Carter was close enough to Jim and Kate to know the road hadn’t always been easy for them, and day-to-day life wasn’t necessarily smooth or flood-free, but he knew they were happy in a way few people were.
Maybe that kind of happy was only for some people. Jim was different. He was the responsible guy everyone turned to when they needed to get out of trouble. Carter was the guy they called when they wanted to have fun.
Or he had been that guy.
He thought about Liz and her brother and realized it had been quite some time since he’d been that guy, either. And yet, when the crap hit the fan down at the fire department, he’d been the first one Ted had turned to when he started pointing fingers. It didn’t matter what Carter was now. It only mattered he had the reputation of being that guy…
Another thump! followed by a door slamming, the sound of running feet and more doors slamming came from upstairs.
“There’s no room for the towels in the bath,” Jim explained. “That was probably Liam getting one from our closet.”
Carter shook his head. “I know you love this place, but you should build a bigger house.”
“I’ve been talking to your brother about that very thing. He’s been talking again about buying the lot up on Blackberry Hill.”
“Not for Ian. For you. What does Ian need a house for? All he needs is a laptop and an internet connection. He doesn’t even have a cat.”
“His accountant said he should own rather than rent for the tax deduction. And who knows, maybe he’s thinking about settling down. Grams seems to think you both should.”
“Grams is a hopeless romantic. Thanks to you and Rachel, she has babies on the brain.”
“She told Kate she thought there was a possibility of you connecting with Beth Beacon when she’s in town.” Jim waggled his eyebrows. “Who knows? Maybe Beth is The One.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been to her house all of three times since she’s been back. How would I know?”
Jim shrugged. “Is the sex good?”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Funny you should ask, because even though I’ve known her over ten years, not once have we slept together.”
“Astounding.”
“I know. How long was it before you and Kate slept together?”
Jim cleared his throat, then stood and began to load dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I think that’s irrelevant.”
“Oh, that’s right. You knocked her up within like a week of meeting her, didn’t you?”
Jim paused. “In my own defense, my wife is smokin’ hot.”
Carter rolled his eyes as Jim nodded in sudden understanding. “Oh. Beth must have a terrific personality.”
Carter laughed as he stuffed pastrami into the sandwich rolls. They both knew ‘terrific personality’ was code for ‘unattractive.’ “Actually, she’s a knock-out.”
“I’m confused. I thought Grams said she was single. And she hasn’t fallen into bed with you? You’re losing your touch.”
“Single. Attractive. In town. I know. Who would have guessed you could put this,” Carter gestured to himself, “in the same room with a hot woman and in ten years we still haven’t had sex?”
“Mind boggling. But you’re planning to, I take it.”
“Hoping is more the word I’d use,” Carter corrected as he reached for the chips as an image of Liz’s full, soft lips popped helpfully to mind. “Definitely hoping.”
“You’re really superficial, you know that?”
“That’s not superficial. It’s honest. And you’re one to talk. At least I’m not walking around chasing widows with kids.”
“I didn’t single Kate out like that. It was… chemistry,” Jim tidied the kitchen counter around Carter and stuffed the chips bag back in the cupboard.
Carter chuckled. “Like cold fusion chemistry. The next thing you know you’ll be telling me you knew when you first locked eyes with Kate that she was The One.”
“It’s not like that.”
“No?”
“It’s more like a fog that creeps in and before you know it, you’re socked in.”
“Nice metaphor.”
“Thanks.”
“So, Kate is a menacing weather front now and not the love your life?”
“I don’t even know why I talk to you.”
“I keep you on your toes. Besides, we’re family. It’s like super glue. Once stuck, nearly impossible to shake off.’
“Nice metaphor.”
“Thanks. So, about Kate, and I’m genuinely curious here, why Kate? Aside from the fact that she’s—”
“What am I?” Kate asked as she padded into the kitchen with the baby splayed over her shoulder. Her T-shirt was soaked, she was missing one sock, and water dripped from the right side of her hair.
“Gorgeous,” both men said at once.
“You guys are such suck-ups. I love you.” She leaned in toward her husband for a quick kiss. “And I’d love you if you’d watch Liam for some male-bonding time while I mop up the bathroom floor and change.”
“What am I? Chopped liver?” asked Jim.
“No. You’re holding Lily.” She handed over the baby.
“Are we still calling her ‘Oops’?” Carter asked as he brought plates and cole slaw to the table.
“Not to her face,” Kate murmured. “And by the way, I think I feel a chill in the air.” She turned a raised brow toward her husband. “You might want to check the forecast.”
Jim winced. “You heard that, huh?”
“I heard you stuff your foot in your mouth, yes. I haven’t heard you pull it out yet.”
He stepped closer to her. “You truly want to know the first time I knew you were different from all those other women I’ve never dated?”
“Yes. Tell me.”
Jim smiled at his wife. “Chicken raft.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Get a room, you guys,” Carter said, but Jim just laughed and hugged his wife over their baby, swept his arm behind her back and silently mouthed, this could all be yours.
CHAPTER TWENTY
____________________
LIZ MOANED, rolled over and tried to ignore Eddie as he insiste
ntly poked his paw at her cheek, hoping she’d get up and serve him breakfast. No doubt the rustling noises and occasional clang of metal outside were the sweet sounds of progress. A quick peek at the clock told Liz it was barely seven a.m.
She groaned. Despite falling into bed some time after midnight, she had work to do. Sliding out of bed, she did a few stretches to get the kinks out of her lower back then padded to the window.
She slid the curtain aside. Carter was in the driveway lifting supplies off the tailgate of his pickup, the muscles in his lightly tanned forearms flexing with the effort. Her skin tingled, as a warm flood of purely feminine appreciation washed over her.
She frowned.
She shouldn’t be noticing his forearms. Or tan. Or musculature of any kind.
She let the curtain drop back into place and headed toward the bathroom. She should be showering and getting on with the business at hand. Like checking her e-mail for the morning. And making sure Grant didn’t need any clarification on the spreadsheet she’d sent before falling into bed the night before.
She had no business checking out Carter like he was the pool boy. It was unseemly. Unprofessional. Un—
A loud thunk from outside had her rushing back to the window. A heavy looking machine was on the ground beside a trailer. Carter was frowning and swearing at the machine, or so it appeared, and rubbing his shin. She must have made some noise of alarm, because he glanced up and caught her eye.
He waved hello.
Liz waved back automatically then leapt from the window with a groan. Perfect. She’d just waved good morning to the guy she wasn’t supposed to be having inappropriate thoughts about—wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties!
She let out a quick breath and told herself she was being ridiculous. He probably hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t wearing pants. She would just put on some sweats, finger-comb her hair and go get her coffee like every other morning. No need to worry about her appearance. Carter was here to work, not socialize.
Liz had her hand on the bedroom doorknob then turned toward the bathroom.
It couldn’t hurt to brush teeth. Brushing teeth was simply good hygiene.
It had nothing to do with the last dream she had before waking up—a dream of kissing a sexy, dark-haired man in the rain.
“HELL-O,” CARTER MURMURED under his breath as he straightened again, the bruise on his shin forgotten. “And good morning to you, too.”
An appreciative smile creased his face as he maneuvered the compactor to the side of the driveway and began loading hand tools into his wheelbarrow. A sight like that could bring more cheer to a man’s morning than a cup of coffee and a sunny day combined.
Carter pushed the wheelbarrow to the backyard and plugged an old radio into the outdoor socket. He waved to Liz through the slider as she got her morning coffee and counted himself a lucky man. He’d be doing this job alone.
Normally, he’d bemoan the lack of a second pair of hands. Certainly having help would have prevented the bruise to his shin from the compactor as it slid off the side of the trailer’s ramp, but a bruise was a small price to pay to spend an extra day or so on the job. Not that Pops would have been much help unloading the compactor anyway.
Carter turned as Liz opened the patio door.
“Did you want some coffee before you get started? You can drink it in the sunshine.”
Carter held up the travel mug he’d filled at home.
Her smile faded. “I guess you’re all set.”
“Can I take a rain check?”
“Of course. There’s water in the fridge. You know where the coffee pot is. Help yourself. Whenever. Just don’t let Eddie out.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”
He felt a gut punch of desire as her teeth worried her lower lip. His mind worked in overdrive to think of a reason to keep her there. She looked sexy as hell, like she’d just rolled out of bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I could use a hand with screeding later. Pops is at the chiropractor’s again.”
She gave a half smile. “That presumes I know what ‘screeding’ means.”
“Leveling the sand with a straight edge before I start laying the pavers.”
“Oh. Sure. I’d be happy to help. Sorry about your uncle. Is it serious?”
He shrugged. “An old back injury, it’s just been acting up lately. He had it operated on back when I was in college, but it got infected. Pretty nasty.”
“My God, that’s awful! And, when you’re self-employed, there’s no workman’s comp to fall back on.”
He nodded, impressed she understood. “I did what I could to keep things going until he was back on his feet.”
“But you were in college. How did you—?”
“I quit. Heck, probably wouldn’t have made it through anyway, right?” He flashed a grin and took a long slug of coffee, ignoring the sympathetic, curious expression on her face. “Well, back to work. I’ll let you know when I need that extra hand.” Unfortunately, she wasn’t done.
“Why didn’t you go back to college? When your uncle was better?”
“What was the point?”
“But, I thought you were getting your business degree. Certainly it made sense—”
He laughed without humor. “No need when I’m working off my back.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got so much potential. Your business, I mean.”
“I’ve got plenty of work. No degree needed.” He walked over to retrieve a roll of mason’s line that had rolled under his wheelbarrow.
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” she said, trailing after him. After a moment, she said, “But after our conversation the other night, I had some ideas on how to strategically grow the business, really make a brand for yourself. I’d love to share them with you. Not that you’re not doing fine as you are, but I was thinking there’s such an opportunity here for you to capitalize on the eco-building materials/hardscape niche.
A denial sprang reflexively to the tip of his tongue, but she pressed on. “Think of the clients who have the money to do those sort of projects; they’re the same clients who can afford to go green, right? Some selective advertising in local home and building publications… a carefully prepared photo portfolio of past projects…”
A carefully prepared portfolio? Where did she come up with this stuff? He looked at her, and she paused. “Anyway,” she said, giving a small, self-conscious laugh, “only if you’re interested.”
He straightened, ready to tell her ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ but then her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and he felt something in him soften. “I’m interested. Potentially.” He felt himself smile. “Can’t hurt to talk.”
She grinned. “Great. I look forward to it. Well.” She bit her lip. “I should let you get back to work.”
But she didn’t go.
He glanced up. She looked uncertain for a moment. “I wanted to mention,” she said, “what you did the other day for Ben… that was really nice.” Carter frowned. “You know. When you made him feel okay about chipping the paver? I just wanted you to know, I thought it was sweet of you.”
“We all chip things now and again. I’ve chipped enough pavers for ten people combined over the years.”
“I suppose you’re bound to in this business.” She chuckled, but then paused, a considering look on her face.
Carter shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just careless.” He took a sip of coffee.
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right. We’re not in tenth grade anymore. It’s not like I won’t graduate if I chip a few pavers, so we don’t have to dance around the obvious. Precision isn’t my strong suit.”
“Mmm,” she said, although he got the sense she wasn’t listening.
“Mmm?”
She blinked and looked at him. “Wh—? Oh.” She chuckled, a short awkward sound. “I was just thinking.”
A notepad fell out of Carter’s pocket and h
e bent to pick it up. “About?”
“About your carelessness and… hmm… how you lose track of time.”
Carter rose. “How I what?”
“…how much sugar and caffeine you ingest….” They both stared at the travel mug in his hand.
Liz continued, obviously on a roll. “Are you aware you have a dozen of those little notepads, but you never seem to remember where you’ve left them? That you have a tendency to act impulsively? And you fidget more than the average person? Back in high school it was all you could do to stay focused sometimes when I tutored you.” She exhaled and made a helpless gesture with her hands. “Look, Carter, what I’m trying to say is…”
He blinked, still reeling from the list she’d just rattled off.
She put her hands on her hips and looked at him matter-of-factly. “What I am saying is: You might have ADHD.”
“I might have what?”
She swallowed. Flushed. “Look, I was up until after midnight gathering information for my sister. I’ve read the web sites. I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner. You have ten out of ten symptoms.” She frowned. “Except oppositional defiance. You don’t score high there.”
He stared at her.
“I’m sorry to be blunt. I thought you knew. Sort of like being bald. At some level you can’t not know, right?”
“Are you saying I’m bald?”
“No. No, you have excellent hair.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Good to know.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
“It doesn’t make you unintelligent,” she blurted. “That’s the thing. A lot of people with ADHD are very smart. In fact, I read that their inability to filter ideas makes them unusually creative.” She bit her lower lip again. “I should stop talking now, shouldn’t I?”
“Probably.” He set his travel mug down and turned to get ready for work. The coffee had suddenly lost its appeal. She trailed after him again.
He blew out a silent breath. He forgot she had a tendency not to let things go.