by Cheri Allan
She nodded, afraid to look him in the eye. Afraid of what she might see there. If he didn’t kiss her, if he walked away, she’d know he didn’t return her interest. That was fine. She could live with that. She had thus far, hadn’t she?
But what if he did kiss her? What would she do? Would he stop at one kiss? Should she stop him? Did she want to? Would he sweep her away? She didn’t need romance, per se, she—
“Liz.”
She swallowed and continued to stare at his mouth. “Mmm?”
“Liz.”
Taking a shallow breath, she dared to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. “Yes?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he held her gaze, leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers. Soft. Warm.
Heavenly.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she clamped down on the impulse to drag him toward her and grind her mouth against his the way her body craved, fearing what might happen if she took even one tentative step down that slippery slope.
Instead, she let herself glory in the moment. Finally! Here! Today was the day Carter McIntyre kissed her again! Had she imagined it like this? His lips so incredibly warm? His breath melding with hers as his mouth parted ever so slightly? Journey playing ‘Open Arms’ in the background?
Okay, maybe there wasn’t a rock ballad playing on cue, but she made up for it by humming a soft moan of pleasure somewhere in the back of her throat as she let herself sink into the pleasure of this one, perfect kiss.
Just like the first time.
After a few heady moments, Carter pulled back, an easy, sensual smile lingering on his lips. “I guess you can cross ‘Counted Carter’s Fillings” off that ‘Liz Never’ list,” he said. “Anything else I can help you with today?”
Liz gasped. Here she was, winded, overwhelmed, needy in ways she’d not remembered feeling for a long time—if ever—and he was making light of it? “Is this just a joke to you?”
“Come on, Liz. Have a sense of humor.”
She squiggled out of his arms. “Pardon me if I don’t have the sense of humor of a thirteen year-old.” She brushed the hair from her temple with a shaky hand. How could he make light of something that felt so monumental? She’d spent the better part of her youth mooning after this guy and dreaming about one stupid kiss shared in a dark closet and when she finally gets the nerve to relive that moment after ten, long years, he makes a crack like that?
“It was just a joke,” he said.
“It wasn’t funny.”
Carter sighed and shrugged and stepped away. “You need to lighten up, Beacon.”
“You need to think before you speak.”
His eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything else except. “I’ll see you Monday.”
She nodded curtly, not trusting herself to be polite in return and wordlessly walked him to the door. She closed it softly behind him.
Carter McIntyre wasn’t worth a slam.
CHAPTER THIRTY
____________________
BAILEY WAS BACK at Liz’s door, knocking, within ten seconds of Carter leaving.
Liz opened the door. “What?”
Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Somebody’s in a pissy mood.”
“Yes, somebody is. I also have no sense of humor, so watch out.”
Bailey walked in without being invited. “I forgot my bag. Got halfway to my job and realized I don’t have keys to get in.”
“Sorry, go ahead. I’m sure it’s around somewhere.”
Bailey started walking toward the kitchen. “I was afraid I might have to sit in my car for a while. Didn’t want to disturb you two if Carter was still apologizing.”
“Yes, well you’re lucky he quickly made an ass of himself.”
“It’s only been ten minutes.”
“He works fast.”
“What happened?”
“Remember that kiss back in high school?”
“The one you wrote sonnets about?”
“Mmm. Well, we kissed and you know what he says? He makes some crack about my counting his fillings. Can you believe it?”
“Did you?”
“Of course not! It was a beautiful… moment.”
“Until he didn’t recognize the magnitude of the occasion.”
Liz refilled her coffee. “When you put it like that…”
“It makes it sound like he was getting that scary chick vibe and wanted to redirect away from all the heavy emotional stuff?”
Liz looked at Bailey over the rim of her mug. “You think I’m a scary chick?”
“Serious. Just serious. You need to lighten up sometimes, that’s all.” Liz closed her eyes. “Unless he already told you to lighten up… in which case you need to kick his unfeeling ass right on out of here! Ah, here’s my bag!”
Liz sighed and flumped into a chair. “You’re right. I blew it. I finally get the courage to kiss the guy after all this time and it’s—honest to God—as incredible as I remember, and I go and spaz out on him. Lovely.”
“The good news is this isn’t Fatal Attraction spazzing. You can recover from this.”
“How?”
“Getting naked usually helps.” Bailey fished in her bag without looking up.
“It was hard enough kissing him. I don’t think getting naked is in the cards.”
Bailey popped a peanut butter cup into her mouth. “My experience is, where there’s unfinished business, getting naked is always in the cards.
“By the way, I think you should look outside.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
____________________
LIZ STOOD IN THE dining room and stared out the window at the string of smiley-face lights Carter had hung along the roofline of the shed. She had no idea when he’d done it. Probably yesterday before he came inside with the flowers. They hung there, glowing and smiling goofily, even though it was pouring rain over their little faces.
She hated them and loved them all at the same time.
Liz sighed, watching the rain drip off the shed roof and puddle on the ground. Because of the rain, she’d spent her Saturday afternoon tackling indoor punch-list items before spending the night second-guessing every action of her adult life.
Did she take everything too seriously?
By the time Sunday morning rolled around—still damp and cold—she hadn’t come to any epiphanies. She rose and dressed early with every intention of getting started on a fresh to-do list for the day but, instead, found herself staring at her yellow legal pad on the kitchen table, sipping her third cup of coffee and wallowing in self-doubt. It was nine o’clock, and she’d only gotten as far as writing ‘to do’ at the top in bold, purposeful letters.
Was she boring? Had she shied away from living? Did she really have no sense of humor? Those questions and more had plagued her fitful night, in part, because she knew they held a grain of truth in them.
True, she hadn’t sought opportunities to rebel against her parents. Hadn’t she seen firsthand how hurt they were by John’s reckless behavior? How frightened they were when he’d stagger in the door at three in the morning? How Mom would cry when John argued with Dad? Liz could still hear the slam of the door as he’d storm from the house. Again. Then Mom would quietly, resignedly call the police to pick him up, because she knew he wasn’t fit to drive.
Liz had vowed never to cause such pain. Then, when Trish had gotten pregnant and moved out, Liz had made a second vow to be the perfect child. To never cause her parents a moment’s worry.
But, where had that gotten her? Here she was, in her parents’ home, the only one not doing whatever she darn well pleased with her life because she was still busy being the dutiful child.
Still busy being everything everyone expected of Brainy Beth Beacon.
But what if I wasn’t? she wondered. Who would I be? What would I do then?
“Go skinny dipping—at noon,” she murmured as she penned the words on the notepad. She stared at them and laughed a bit self-consciously at herself. It wasn’t as if s
he actually planned to follow through on it. It felt freeing, though, if even in fantasy, she could escape from the boring box she’d painted herself into.
Grinning, Liz added another item to her list. Then another. Before long, she was at number ten. She tapped her pen on the pad and pondered.
Then, laughing out loud, she added one final item to the list and headed up to shower.
“LIZ? YOU HOME?”
Carter knocked on the slider door and waited, the weather wet and overcast again this morning. The heavy rains they’d had overnight would make it difficult to continue the patio until things dried out or he’d make a mess of their yard.
He’d made up an excuse to come over anyway, intending to talk to her about the design for the side walkway. In truth, he was still a little peeved about how things had gone the last time he’d been over. Peeved and a little turned on.
It was not a pleasant combination.
He couldn’t say why he’d cracked the joke when he did. Maybe it was because Liz was looking at him in that intent, vulnerable way she had, and he’d wanted to put her at ease.
Now, he wanted to shake the superior out of her. Figuratively speaking, of course. He needed to think before he spoke? Pot calling the kettle black.
Probably just as well she wasn’t home given his mood.
He tucked the brochures he’d brought in the casing by the door, but as he pushed away, the slider moved, and he realized it was unlocked.
He cracked the slider open an inch. “Liz?” No answer.
Spying a pad of paper on the table, he walked over to jot down a brief note then stopped short when he read what was there. He hurried back to the door. Maybe it would be better to leave a message on her cell.
“What are you doing here?”
Before he had time to register her question, Liz snatched the legal pad from the table. Carter stood at the slider, speechless. She’d been showering. Her hair hung in wet locks, her robe snugged tight around her waist, damp patches making the fabric almost translucent in places where her hair had lain against it. Her face was scrubbed clean and pink. All he could think about was number one on her list.
He found his voice with difficulty. “I came to check on the job and tell you I’ll finish when the weather clears and the yard dries out, but I, ah, wanted to know if you’ve decided to extend the pavers around to the driveway. I had some ideas for—”
“How did you get in?”
“The door was unlocked.”
She frowned and strode toward the slider, heedless of the state of his libido. “It was?” She fiddled with the lock/unlock knob, her thin robe molding to her curves.
“You should be more careful with that. Eddie might get out again. But, I’m glad you’re here, because you saved me the trouble of writing a note.” As he said the words, her eyes flew to his. He smiled guilelessly. “No need now. I didn’t want to drip across your kitchen, anyway, so you’ve saved me the trouble of cleaning up after myself.”
She forced a smile, he could tell, because her fingers clenched the legal pad tightly despite her bright expression. “Glad I caught you, then,” she said.
He watched her throat move as she swallowed.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said. “I want to thank you for the lights. The smiley-faces?” She gestured with the notepad in the general direction of the shed and then sucked it back to her chest again when she saw the words she’d written there waving around for all to see. “They’re charming. The lights. Very sweet.” Her tongue darted out to her lips. “And, I want to apologize for over-reacting yesterday.”
Carter looked at her. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was hard to be peeved when she was extending the olive branch like that. Especially dressed the way she was. “Two,” he finally said.
“What?”
“I have two fillings.”
She stared at him a moment, a nonplussed expression on her face. “I have five.”
“Five?”
Her lips tilted guiltily. “I liked sweets as a kid.”
He smiled, genuinely now, inordinately pleased that perfect Liz had her faults, too. “So, I stopped by because I wanted to talk about the design for the side walkway. I was thinking a more fluid curve instead of hard angles. I could sketch a couple op— Wait. I brought some brochures…” He leaned out the door a moment to retrieve the flyers he’d placed there. He heard paper tearing behind him. He turned back around. Paused.
Liz waited, her breath coming in light bursts, the legal pad at her side.
He squinted at her. Frowned. “Hmm.” he said.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” He gestured vaguely toward her chest where she’d clearly stuffed the paper. “Are you a little, um, lopsided?”
“What?” She clutched the legal pad to her chest again. “NO! Why would you even ask?”
He met her eyes. “Because I could have sworn things were, um, even five seconds ago.”
Liz’s face turned crimson. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
My God, she was cute when she blushed. He decided to take pity on her. “My mistake. So, are we doing the side walkway or not?”
Liz pushed her wet hair aside like she was still trying to figure out whether she could trust him. Short answer? No.
“I’m still running the numbers.” Her gaze skittered away from his.
She chewed her bottom lip.
He stifled a groan.
“Pavers would certainly dress the place up,” she said. “But I’d want to do the front walkway, too, so it would all match.”
“The front, too? You’re snowballing on me.”
“Snowballing?”
“Otherwise known as while-we’re-at-it-itis.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, holding the notepad like a shield. “I just always had this vision of what the place should look like, you know? What I would do if it were mine. I even had a scrapbook I made of it, if you can believe that. It’s kind of hard to let it go.
“It was my grandparent’s house before my parents bought it and rehabbed it. I always thought it would stay in the family.” She shook her head as if to rid it of ridiculous notions and backed toward the swinging door. “I’d better get to town if I’m going to finish priming the kitchen today. And, I need new paint for the front door...”
“Want a ride?”
She stopped, the door at her back. “I can call Trish.”
“I’m happy to do it. Nothing better to do. It’s still raining.”
“I have to dry my hair… Get dressed…”
His smile grew wider. “I can wait.”
IT WAS NOT A BIG DEAL. If he saw the list, he saw the list, right? What was on it anyway? Liz unfolded the wad of paper she’d stuffed in her bra and winced.
Skinny dipping at noon.
Okay, in the scheme of things, that wasn’t such a big deal. How many people have gone skinny dipping? He’d probably think it was out of character for her, borderline exhibitionist given the timeframe, but he wouldn’t be put off by it.
She groaned as she looked at numbers two and three. Obviously she’d had naked skin on the brain, because ‘Try a thong’ and ‘Play strip poker’ came next, followed by ‘Learn to play piano’, ‘Visit the Grand Canyon’ and ‘Ride Space Mountain.’ ‘See Niagara Falls’, ‘Explore a real castle’ and ‘Learn to shoot an arrow’ were all innocuous enough.
But what made her worry her lip as she pulled on a pair of jeans and T-shirt was number ten. Dear heavens, why had she put pen to paper on that one? Crumbling the list into a little ball, she went into the bathroom—and promptly flushed it down the toilet. There. That was where silly thoughts like that belonged.
Carter was waiting for her when she descended the stairs ten minutes later with the shreds of her dignity as taped together as she could manage. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Waiting? That was the fastest I’ve ever known a female to get ready in my life. I’m impressed. Nice hair, by the way. The
new style suits you.”
Liz felt the heat of his compliment warm her cheeks as she gathered her purse and coat.
The ride to town was companionable despite the fact that she’d been caught stuffing her bra with paper products.
“I can get you a contractor’s discount,” Carter offered as they walked through the entrance of the local building supply store.
“Oh, that’s not—”
“A problem? You’re right. What do you need?”
“Just a few supplies. A quart of paint for the front door. A bucket of primer for the kitchen.”
“No paint for the kitchen?”
“I’m still deciding. White is probably the best choice. Those old kitchen cabinets are in tough shape, but I’m waffling. White is so sterile.”
“How about off-white?”
She stared at him then, one of those looks women give men when they haven’t a clue.
“Okay, if you don’t like off-white, what would you paint the cabinets if the house were yours?” Carter asked.
“Celery green,” she said immediately, forgetting to mock him as she pulled a sample card from the rack in front of them. “With white subway tiles on the backsplash and cherry-red ceramic knobs.” She glanced up and slid the card back into place. “But, white is the sensible choice, and I might as well get the paint while I’ve got your truck to haul it.” She pulled another card from the rack. “This shade looks fine. Bright. Clean. I’ll get enough for the ceiling and walls, too. Then I’ll only have to mask off the floor.”
He grinned a little at that.
See? She had a sense of humor.
“And seeing as I’m here, I’ll get this for the dining room,” she pulled a paint chip out of the rack. “And this for the living room. Then I’ll be done.”
“Nicely decisive,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get the paint while you collect the other stuff on your list.”
“I’ll take a look at light fixtures. I’d like to replace the front coach lanterns. They’re badly rusted.”
“You might have trouble getting an electrician on short notice.”
“I think I can figure it out.”
But just to be sure, she scribbled ‘Home Electrical Guide’ on her shopping list.