Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2)

by Lindsay Paige

  “Sylvia’s twins like to come over sometimes. I fixed a room up for them, so they’d be comfortable.”

  Oh. Well, that makes sense. Elizabeth opens the correct door for the bathroom and waves me inside. The moment I step away from the girls’ bedroom, she closes the door. I don’t think any more of it. The timer I set is going off when I return for my cakes and Elizabeth is already pulling them out of the oven and putting hers in.

  “Hey, you have some missed calls,” Elizabeth says, hitting the dismiss button on the timer on my phone, which was sitting on the counter.

  “They can wait.” It’s most likely my father anyway. I start my icing and now, I’m the one being watched.

  “Are you sure? There’s a bunch of them.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But what if it’s an emergency?”

  “It’s not. Leave it the hell alone!” Fuck. She stiffens and I mentally berate myself for being so harsh with her. “There’s things you don’t want to talk about, and there’s things I don’t want to talk about, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

  “It’s okay. If anyone can understand that, it’s me.” She even comes over to monitor my job with the icing, lightly resting her hand on my back.

  “Are you ready for time without me?” I ask to change the subject.

  “What? You’re not going to talk to me at all?” Is that a trace of hope in her voice? Or disappointment? Maybe it’s a mixture of both.

  “Depends. How much of a break do you need from me?”

  “I don’t know yet. How much of a break do you need from me?”

  “I don’t need a break from you at all.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Yeah, right.”

  We’re quiet until I go to put icing on my first layer. I’m sitting at her table with the cake in front of me and the icing slightly to my left. My chair is perpendicular to the table. Elizabeth is sitting in the seat to my left, analyzing my every move.

  “What are you doing?” Elizabeth asks me just as I’m about to drop a scoop of icing onto the layer.

  “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Everything.”

  I grab her hand and pull her into my lap. She’s tense. “Show me how it’s done.”

  “Okay.” There’s less icing in her scoop than what was in mine. I have one hand on her hip while the other trails random patterns on her lower back. I almost wish I could play in her hair, but she’s put it up in a ponytail. It is shoulder length. “You have to remember that you have to divide this up, too,” she continues. She starts to spread it out. “You want to spread it evenly, but you want the edges to have extra fluff because it’s going to have cake sitting on it and you want it to be pretty.”

  My lips quirk. I just want the cake to taste good. It doesn’t have to look pretty. Elizabeth gets the icing covering the top of the layer and then gets to work on fluffing how it looks on the edges. I expected her to make me try to do it myself, but she doesn’t. When she leaves my lap for the second layer, she sits there once again to repeat the process with the new layer.

  By the time she’s done, her cake is now sitting on the counter, waiting to cool before she decorates it and we’re sitting at the table, tasting my cake.

  “Mmm. There’s no way you’ll win.” I’ve never had a German chocolate cake before, but it’s delicious.

  She scoffs and looks over at me. “I helped you with this one. What makes you think mine won’t be better?”

  She makes a good point. “Shouldn’t I get something since my first attempt was an obvious success?”

  She pats me on the back with a smirk. “There you go.”

  “Damn. I was hoping for a kiss.”

  Elizabeth laughs. “Keep hoping. What am I supposed to do with two cakes anyway? You’re about to leave and I’ll be left here with two cakes.”

  “Take them to work or to Sylvia. Hell, if you want, eat them yourself.”

  “I’d get sick from all the sugar.” She stands and goes over to see if her cake has cooled enough to be iced. It must be because she brings it over. Then comes a large bowl of white icing, a box, and a few more bowls. “How should I decorate it? That’s why I’m going to win, by the way.”

  “Have you decided what your prize will be?”

  “Not yet.” She sits in my lap and taps her fingers on the table. “What should I put on the cake?”

  “Christmas is in a few weeks.”

  She nods and gets to work. First, she puts a layer of white icing on the cake. Then, she scoops icing into a bowl, colors it, puts it into a white bag, picks a tip, and gets started on the outline of a tree. Her hands are steadier than ever. When she takes a long, shaky inhale, I realize she’s lost in her head again.

  “Roger’s birthday is the day after Christmas, so the last time I baked a cake was for his last birthday.” She pauses to look at me. “Scott was freaked when you told him about me talking about Roger with you, wasn’t he?” I nod. She sighs and returns to her cake. “There’s really no way to explain how bad off I was after he died. There was so much going for us one moment and the next, I was watching him die right in front of me. Things were going just fine for me. Then, Sylvia started this dating crap.”

  “Hey,” I interrupt. “You have to admit she threw at least one great catch your way.” When Elizabeth glances at me with narrowed eyes, I grin and motion to myself, which ultimately causes her to laugh.

  “That’s still debatable,” she murmurs. “You are easy to talk to. I can admit that.”

  “And I’m good-looking.”

  “Oh lord,” she mumbles under her breath, but there’s a smile on her face.

  “And I’m funny.”

  “With a big ego.”

  “And you like me.”

  “Oh god. Not that again.”

  I grab her wrist so I don’t mess her decorating up, lean forward to press a kiss on her shoulder before resting my forehead against her temple. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth. I like you, too.” I release her wrist and lean back in my seat. I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy how it takes her a few seconds before she resumes her decorating. “So, do you have any siblings?”

  “No. I’m an only child like you.”

  “Are you glad we did this?”

  She shifts in my lap, and I swear, the woman hasn’t been able to be still this entire time. I’m going to die a slow death this way, but I’ve been trying to focus on her and the cakes instead.

  “Yeah, I guess so. It hasn’t been as hard as I thought it would be. Though, it hasn’t been a piece of cake either.” She chuckles to herself. “However, this is probably better than me drinking too many margaritas and begging you to have sex with me.”

  “You didn’t beg.”

  “I said please.”

  I start laughing. She thinks one little please is begging? Elizabeth looks at me with a puzzled expression. I kiss her quickly. “You’re cute.”

  “You say that a lot.”

  “It’s true.”

  She rolls her eyes and we don’t say much. I stay until she finishes decorating the cake. She does a fantastic job. The tree even has ornaments on it and gifts underneath it. She adds stars in the background. It takes a lot longer than I’d expect it to, but the cake looks great. Elizabeth takes a quick photo before we cut a slice for each of us.

  I have no idea what’s in this cake, but it’s amazing. Unlike any other cake I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. It’s definitely not a traditional cake.

  “Elizabeth.” That’s all I can manage to say once I’ve quickly devoured my slice.

  “I know. I won. I can tell by your moans that I clearly won.” She smiles, and it takes my breath away. That may just be the first truly genuine, one hundred percent happy smile she’s given me. It starts to slip. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I think between it being so late and you being on a sugar-high, you’re becomi
ng delusional. You should go.”

  Except I don’t want to. Who in their right mind would want to walk away from a woman like Elizabeth at any point?

  “Come home with me.”

  That is not the right thing to say. She locks up on me. Damn it. Why isn’t there a way to know what’s going to scare her off and what won’t?

  “You wanted to see where I live,” I add, hoping that will help. What’s the difference in her staying at my place for the night and me staying here? Maybe it’s because she’s sober and she wouldn’t actually sleep with me if she was. I’m not even asking that honestly. “I just want to spend some more time with you. I’m not expecting anything from it.” Hopefully, that will ease her worries. When she doesn’t answer relatively quickly, I take that as a no. “Okay, no problem. I do need to get going, though, because I haven’t packed yet, and I don’t want to wait until morning.”

  Elizabeth stands with a nod, but avoids looking at me. I swear it’s like one step forward and a million back with this girl. I kiss her cheek, feel bad that I’m leaving her with a messy kitchen, but I’ve already said I’m leaving, so that’s what I’m going to do. When I get into the truck, I turn it on and crank up the heat. It’s fucking cold.

  I finally check my phone against my better judgment. Dad usually doesn’t bother me as much as he has lately. I wonder if something’s happened.

  “Wait!”

  I look up to see Elizabeth running toward the truck. I roll the window down, cursing under my breath at being assaulted by the cold air just as I was about to be toasty. Elizabeth steps onto the running board and grabs the door where the window just disappeared. She leans into the truck and kisses me. Her lips press hard to my mouth. Her tongue tangles with mine, and the smallest of moans leave her. That’s all I need. That’s all it takes to make me want to pull her through the window and have a repeat of Halloween.

  Her semi-cold hands dive into my hair. Her grip is tight and I briefly wonder if it’s because she’s no longer holding on to anything. She stops kissing me, but her mouth is still against mine. When I open my eyes, hers are still closed.

  “You caught me off guard,” she whispers. Then, I get to see those hazel eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, or what I even want to be doing.”

  “Do you want to talk about this now? Like this?”

  She raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you trying to get me to come back to your place again?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughs. “At least you’re honest.”

  “Come on. You can talk while I pack. You don’t have to stay; I can bring you home afterward, if you want.”

  Elizabeth sighs. “Give me ten minutes and then I’ll follow you.”

  I turn off the truck and go inside with her. I tidy up the kitchen and make sure the cakes are put away while she packs an overnight bag. Soon, we’re on the road to my house. I rent a house in a subdivision not too far away from where she lives. Elizabeth is subtle as she checks out my home. It’s very plain with only items I deem necessary. With the life I live, moving often is a possibility. On top of that, it’s only me. Less is more, right?

  Elizabeth follows me into my bedroom and sits on the very edge of the bed with her bag at her feet. I go about my routine of beginning to pack. After a minute or two and Elizabeth still hasn’t said anything, I decide to prompt her.

  “So, you don’t know what you want to be doing?”

  “Yeah. I never thought about dating before Sylvia started annoying me about it. It’s like...” Her voice trails off. “Once I felt like I could move forward in general, I quickly realized I didn’t know how. I feel stuck. Living like I have has been easy because I haven’t really had to let him go. I’ve grieved him, but the next stage has been elusive. Like, I honestly don’t even know why you’re still around considering how much I’ve talked about him, but I don’t know how to let him go. I don’t know if I want to lose him that much more. I don’t know if I want to date if that’s what it means.”

  Her voice tightens. “There’s so much pain involved in that time for me. It was life-changing. What I’ve done so far is as much as I can to move on. And then, there’s you. I don’t know how you fit into whatever the hell my life is now.”

  I zip my bag up and place it on the floor before coming to sit net to her. “Do you know what I think?”

  “That I really am certifiable?”

  I laugh. “I think you should stop thinking about it so much.” Her mouth opens to argue with me, but I cup her face. “I’m serious. You’re thinking about this more than I am. You’re being bothered by things that don’t bother me at all. You’re thinking about things that I’m not thinking about.”

  “Not at all?”

  I shake my head. At this point, it doesn’t bother me that she talks about Roger, especially since I know she hasn’t spoken about him with her family. I think a large reason why is because I keep hearing in my head how she said if I wanted to know her, I had to know him. He’s obviously a huge part of her life, even now, and I’m not going to dictate how she’s choosing to handle it.

  Elizabeth throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you. You have to be the only person who isn’t bothered by it.”

  That makes me frown. Is she hearing shit from Sylvia and Scott? Everyone handles things like this in their own way and as long as Elizabeth isn’t causing harm to herself or anyone else, what’s the fucking problem? My own arms finally snake around her waist.

  “Trust me, I’m the last person that will be bothered by something, and I won’t be judging you for anything either.”

  “Thank you, Marc.”

  She lets me go, so I do the same, and we start getting ready for bed. It’ll be interesting to see how this week apart goes and how things will be once I return.

  HOW CAN A person’s house, which seems so underwhelming, smell so damn good? I was hit with that heady scent when we walked in and now, it’s a cocoon wrapped around me while lying in Marc’s bed. It smells so good. I have no idea how to describe it other than manly, yet relaxing. And it smells like Marc. Speaking of...

  His bare chest is pressed against my back. He’s only wearing boxer-briefs, so his naked thighs and legs are nestled against mine as well. His arm is locked over my waist. Lastly, his nose is buried in my now-down hair and I can feel his every breath. His ceiling fan is circling on high, but I’m about to burn up.

  I can’t sleep like this. I almost wished we’d had sex and then maybe I’d be more tired and worn out, but nope. We’re seriously just sleeping like he said, which is fine. I’m relieved. Jumping in so quickly after so long without has bugged me.

  “Elizabeth,” Marc mumbles.

  “What?”

  “Are you uncomfortable?” There’s a bit more alertness to his tone.

  Despite being a little too warm, enjoying the closeness a little too much, and easily overthinking it, I’ve never been more comfortable. Swallowing hard, I reply, “No. Why?”

  “You’re fidgeting.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re so still.”

  He laughs. “I’m trying to sleep.” My heart stills when I feel the tip of his nose glide along my shoulder. I’m wearing a tank top, so there’s some skin there. Marc presses a tender kiss to the crook of my neck once he’s made his way back. “Would you feel better if I slept on the couch?” He rests his mouth on my shoulder.

  I relax into him at his offer. It’s sweet for him to offer to sleep on the couch in his own home, but I won’t make him do that. Me being uncomfortable because I’m so utterly content nestled in his arms is not his fault. “I don’t want you to leave,” I reply honestly.

  His lips lift into a smile against my skin. “You know I’m going to remind you of that for a long time, right?”

  A groan drags out of me before I can stop it. “Marco—”

  “Polo,” he interrupts.

  My laughter returns, but I bite my lip in an attempt to stop.

  Marc hums as he drags his hand
across my stomach and down my leg. Damn, I love his hands. “I haven’t cared for that nickname since some jackass in Juniors gave it to me, but every time it makes you laugh, I want to change my name to Marco Polo.”

  I’m glad he can’t see the ridiculous grin on my face. “Don’t do that.” I take a deep breath as his hand now glides over my forearm and locks fingers with mine. “I like your actual name better.” As an afterthought, I add, “What’s your middle name?”

  “Francis.”

  I frown, first because it doesn’t seem to fit, and then because of the disdain and hatred in his voice when he says it. Before I can question him, he squeezes my hand.

  “I’d love to talk to you, but we should sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  “But if you start dreaming of me and it’s really good, feel free to wake me up and make it a reality.”

  Somehow, I manage not to laugh at that, but I do squeeze his hand in a promise. Or maybe it’s just a bluff. I kind of hope it’s a promise.

  Marc has me pressed against my car. How did I not realize how freaking tall he is? I need a step ladder just to kiss him without wearing my calves out. I’m only five-five. But when Marc has those hands of his gripping my waist, my arms are starting to tingle from how long I’ve had them lifted around his neck, and I think I’m about to get a cramp in my foot from standing on my tiptoes for so long. None of that matters.

  Not when his lips are sliding against mine.

  Not when his tongue is fucking mine.

  Not when all six feet and however many inches of him is pressed against my body.

  Not when I feel...

  I feel sixteen again. Like it’s five minutes past curfew and the making out session is so good, you don’t care about being grounded. There seems to be one important thing in this world right now and that is kissing this man. This morning started innocently enough. We woke up, had breakfast, got ready for our days, and walked out to our cars. Marc grabbed my hand before I could get too far away. Next thing I know, a soft goodbye kiss has ended up like this.