Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2)

by Lindsay Paige

  “Take it,” Scott says.

  “Thanks for sharing. I’m sorry about what happened.”

  He only nods.

  “Hey, Elizabeth,” I answer as I stand to leave.

  “Hey. How was the game?”

  “You didn’t listen?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “Oh, well, we won.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You sound tired.”

  “I’m worn out,” she agrees. She sounds more than worn out; she sounds exhausted. She also doesn’t sound like she wants to talk to me, which begs the question: why did she call?

  “Everything okay?” I ask as I step onto the elevator.

  “Yeah.”

  She’s lying, but I don’t push it. I need to pick my battles and I don’t want to fight or argue or discuss anything serious tonight.

  “Well, I have a question for you.”

  “Then ask it, Marc.” Her tone is a bit snippy, but I ignore that.

  “Want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

  There’s a brief pause. “Not really.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t make this like our first date all over again. It’s a fun date, promise.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with Christmas, does it?”

  Her question confuses me a little, but I answer, “No.”

  “Then I’ll go.” She’s quiet for just a moment as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Her voice is soft as she adds, “I’m sorry, Marc.”

  “For what?”

  “For being in a bad mood. I bought the girls presents today, but since I waited so late, I had to go to the store instead of ordering online like I usually do and it wasn’t fun. Plus, I feel really guilty.” Her voice catches and I wish I was there with her right now. She’s probably close to tears. She shouldn’t be alone right now.

  “Why?” I ask. I enter my room and lie down on my bed.

  “Because I keep thinking about Roger while wishing you were here with me. It doesn’t feel right to think of him, but want you.”

  “It’s okay, you know. I get it, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

  “You don’t? You’re not upset?”

  “For how you feel? No, Elizabeth. You don’t ever have to worry about that.” Now, does it make me slightly uncomfortable? Of course. Who wants to be paired with a dead husband? But Elizabeth is trying her best to handle it when she doesn’t really know how, so I can’t get upset at how she feels. I’ll be glad when Roger is behind us, though. He’s probably always going to be around in some capacity, but I’m ready for when he’s not such a prominent figure with us.

  “You’re too good for me,” she whispers.

  “I really am,” I say seriously.

  She laughs, making me smile, and I feel much better. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who said I was too good for you. Not me. I didn’t even hint at it. This is all on you. I can’t help that I’m so damn amazing and irresistible.”

  “You’re plenty resistible,” she interrupts. “Don’t force me to knock you down a peg or two.”

  “I can’t let you do that because you’d enjoy it too much.”

  Elizabeth laughs again. “I would.” I hear her take a deep breath. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, be ready around six-thirty.”

  “Okay. Thanks for talking to me. You’d probably rather go to sleep after a game.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  We hang up and I finally start getting ready for bed. Maybe our date tomorrow will help loosen her up with the looming holiday.

  I knock on Elizabeth’s door and it swings open within seconds. Her body is stretched across mine as she throws her arms around my neck. Her hold is strong. My grin can probably be seen from the moon.

  She missed me.

  “Hey,” I whisper, turning my face inward to kiss her temple.

  “Hey,” she whispers back.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She locks up, takes my hand, and we walk to where my truck is still running. It’s not cold today; I think the high is in the low fifties, but it’ll drop to the twenties tonight. It feels pretty good to me, actually. “Where are we going?” Elizabeth asks once I’ve backed out of her driveway.

  “Well, we’re going to Bagels and Butts for dinner.”

  “Oh, good. I’ve been wanting that lately.”

  “Me too.” That’s the first time I’ve had Carolina BBQ because I’ll be honest and admit I’ve avoided it, but it was damn good.

  “What about after that?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  A quick glance shows her rolling her eyes at me. I thought she might try to push for more details, but she doesn’t. We have light conversation at the restaurant, which is good, but once we pull up at the dance studio, Elizabeth is confused.

  “We’re going to square dance.”

  She starts laughing.

  “What?”

  “I swear, I think there’s a wannabe Southerner hidden inside of you. First, you love my accent. Then you talked about a Southern belle. You love BBQ, and now we’re going to learn how to square dance?” A few more giggles escapes her.

  “You mean you don’t know how?”

  She shakes her head. “Well, kind of. I vaguely remember learning some steps in P.E. in elementary school or middle school; I can’t remember. Basically, I don’t know how.”

  “Well, we get thirty minutes of an introduction to the steps and then a couple of hours of dancing. Let’s go.”

  Let me just say that I’ve never seen Elizabeth keep a smile on her face for as long as she does while we’re here. She smiles the entire time. Elizabeth hates this time of year, usually stays isolated in her house, and she’s smiling.

  “Right hand star,” the announcer calls out.

  I grab the right wrist of the person on my left. Even I have to admit that this is more fun than I was expecting, and I was expecting it to be fun. Maybe Elizabeth is right and there’s a covert Southerner waiting to break out inside of me, which is really odd to think about.

  “Back by the left,” the next call comes. And then, “Allemande left.” A few moves and kicks and then a smiling and laughing Elizabeth is in front of me.

  “Howdy, lovely lady.”

  She snorts, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “See saw pretty little taw, folks!”

  I don’t know what’s up with these names, and if it wasn’t for watching everyone around us, I’d be messing up more than I have. Our intro was only thirty minutes. I did not retain everything. Following the lead of the crowd, I go to the right of Elizabeth and move around her.

  “Waist swing!”

  Facing one another with our right hips together, we shuffle forward.

  “This is great,” Elizabeth tells me. “I didn’t know square dancing was fun.”

  “Me either.”

  “I officially trust you to plan future dates.”

  And just like that, my entire fucking year has been made. It only took until the last month to happen with a week or so left to go, but it’s happened. Year. Made. Elizabeth has been a game changer. She’s been the best unexpected play made on the fly of the year. This day, this girl, is going to be on the highlight reel of my life for years to come.

  Elizabeth has us dancing all the way until the end. She leans against me, sipping from the bottle of water the organizers handed out. “That was exhausting, but worth it. Thank you.”

  “Welcome.”

  “But my legs hurt, and I think I may fall out right now.”

  I laugh. “I didn’t know you were a dramatic person, Elizabeth. Want to jump onto my back and I’ll carry you out?”

  Her eyes light up. “Yes!”

  I turn so my back is facing her.

  “You don’t honestly expect me to jump, do you? You’re too tall, I’m too short, an
d my legs could give at any second.”

  Laughing, I bend my knees as she puts the lid on her bottle of water. She wraps her arms around my neck and I hook my arms under her knees. The temperature has dropped since we were last outside. Elizabeth drops one of her arms, leans to the side, and digs into my pocket to retrieve my keys. She smacks a loud kiss to my neck.

  “I think I lied to Sylvia,” she says softly.

  “About what?” I knew she saw Sylvia last week, but she never said what happened during their conversation.

  “You have changed me.”

  We’ve reached my truck, so I swing her around to my front and lean her back against my truck. I can’t truly read her expression, but I don’t need to. Her words spoke loud and clear for me. She doesn’t give me a chance to kiss her because she grabs my face and pulls me to her first. Her lips are firm against mine for a few long seconds. And then she opens her mouth, causing mine to do the same. When was the last time I kissed her? Because it feels like it’s been forever.

  Elizabeth pulls away. Apparently, only a tiny taste is all she needed. “Take me home, Marc.”

  “Say that you like me.”

  With a laugh, she rolls her eyes. “I like you.” I grin. “But it’s only a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty, little bit.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  She laughs again. “You’re okay with that? Really?”

  “Yep. That’s all I need.”

  Her arms tighten around my neck for a brief moment, as if in response she’s telling me that I’m all she needs.

  MY EYES OPEN, and I immediately want to close them. It’s Friday. I’ve been at Marc’s house since Monday night after his game. We’ve mostly been watching movies that are the farthest from Christmas that we can get. And now, it’s Christmas.

  A kiss is pressed to the back of my neck. “You’re okay,” Marc whispers, sounding as if he’s still half asleep thanks to that sexy voice of his.

  I’m glad we’re at his house. It already makes things a little easier. However, nothing has been mentioned as far as what we’re doing today and I’m nervous. But how Marc knows I’m nervous, I don’t know. “I know I am,” I mumble. I want to believe it anyway.

  “No, you don’t. You’re fidgeting in my bed again, Elizabeth.” He tightens his arms around me. “We’re going to make today a good day. It’s already planned and written in stone. Can’t change what’s written in stone.”

  At this, I roll over to face him. He grabs the back of my thigh and lifts it over his hip before resting his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer. We’re both naked and it’s suddenly distracting and overwhelming to feel all of him against, near, on, and brushing over me. He raises an eyebrow. It’s out of place between his bedhead, thumb brushing the skin on my back, and there’s not even a smile on his face. Why is there a quirked eyebrow?

  Oh.

  Right.

  I was going to say something.

  “What do you have planned, Marc?” My lungs seize. Are we actually going to celebrate? “I don’t want to do anything for Christmas. I can’t. Please tell me that’s not what you have up your sleeve. I mean, I’ve made some progress, but I can’t do that yet. He was a Christmas fanatic, and—”

  “It still hurts too much,” Marc interrupts. “Have more faith in me, Elizabeth. It’ll be Christmas without the Christmas.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  He smiles. “It will.”

  “Okay,” I say, giving in, dipping my head to press my face to his chest.

  “One day,” he starts quietly, “we’ll be able to start new, simple Christmas traditions—something we can both handle while still enjoying it. Promise.”

  My body seems to continue functioning as normal, but my thoughts have skidded to a complete stop. Marc just said a lot of things that I’m not sure I’m comfortable with, things I hadn’t thought of yet. Do I focus on the “one day” or the “start new traditions” part? Damn it. Marc is thinking about a future. With me. I haven’t thought about a future with him. Not even once. Hell, I haven’t thought about my own future since a month after Roger died.

  What am I doing here with him? How can he already be thinking about a future? It’s too soon! I’ve been focused on the right now, on the right this very second, not the next moment, the next day, the next year. I like Marc, I do, but he can’t be thinking about a future with me! I don’t even deserve him! He doesn’t even know what I’ve done. What Sylvia thinks I should tell him “one day.” Marc has put up with a lot from me, but if I tell him about that, it’s going to completely change the way he looks at me, and I don’t want to do that.

  I’m more of a handful than even I thought. I want him now, but maybe not in the future. I want to tell him about my life, want him to tell me about his life, but I don’t want to tell him everything.

  Marc’s phone starts vibrating on the nightstand, which is closest to me since Marc has no qualms over a particular side of the bed. “Will you reach over and turn it off?”

  “Turn it off instead of on silent?” I ask, leaning back to look at him.

  “The only person I need to talk to today is you, so turn it off.”

  I roll away from him. It pangs my heart to see that it says Francis instead of dad. It shouldn’t bother me because I know Marc is making his decision based on his experience, but I no longer talk to my own parents either, so I sort of know what it’s like. The only difference is my parents don’t attempt to call me.

  Marc grabs my hip to turn me to face him again. “Hungry? I have an extravagant breakfast planned.”

  “Then it sounds like you should get started.”

  He grins, gives me a quick kiss, and gets out of bed. My gaze follows his naked body until he’s tugging on shorts and a T-shirt to cover his lightly tanned skin. I bet in the summer if he spends any time outside, his hair gets that much brighter and his skin’ll darken to make his hair look lighter still. Marc is hot in the winter, but I think I want to see what he’d look like after a week at the beach, too.

  “Don’t stay in bed too long; I might need help,” he says over his shoulder before he walks out of the room.

  I’m sure he just doesn’t want to leave me alone for too long. With a sigh, I get up to take a shower. Showers always make a person feel better, right? They do me, at least. I take my time washing, shampooing, shaving, and even just standing underneath the water. Once the smell of bacon starts to overpower the aroma of Marc’s body wash, because I didn’t think to bring my own, I figure it’s time to get out.

  There’s a spread of food laid out on the bar. Bacon, sausage, biscuits, white gravy, grits, eggs, rice, ham slices, and hashed potatoes.

  “Do you even know what grits are?” I ask Marc.

  He turns from where he was grabbing two plates. “Sylvia told me about them and the gravy when I asked for ideas.” He scrunches his nose and frowns. “I don’t know about trying it, though.”

  “You cooked it; you need to try it. Plus, grits are awesome. Some people eat them with shrimp. I probably would if I liked seafood, but I don’t.” He stands next to me as he places our plates on the only two empty spots on the bar. I lift onto my toes to kiss his cheek. “It looks and smells great. Thank you.”

  He presses his lips to mine. “Welcome.”

  We take a seat and I mix Marc’s measly sample of grits with eggs and make him try it that way. If he got ideas from Sylvia, then I’m sure she told him how to make them good.

  “I don’t know,” Marc says. “It’s weird. Not bad, but weird.”

  I laugh. “Would you try it again?”

  He nods.

  “There just might be an actual Southerner hiding inside of you! I’m becoming more and more convinced.”

  He grins. “The day I casually throw in a y’all will be the end of us all.”

  “Are you going to try the gravy you slaved over?” He was staring wide-eyed when I poured some all over my biscuit instead of just my rice. Surely, he’s seen people do that befor
e, but I guess not. He’s a sheltered man to be so well-traveled.

  He reaches over to cut a piece of my biscuit to try. “Okay, that’s good.”

  “It’s good with country fried steak, too.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Oh my god, we just need to start feeding you a bunch of unhealthy foods for a while. I’ll fix it one night.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  We eat in near silence. Marc, I’ve learned, doesn’t like to stay quiet for too long, not that I mind. Once we’re done, he tells me not to worry about dishes and to sit on the floor in the living room. My phone rings with a call from Scott, but I don’t answer. As soon as it’s done, I text him.

  Me: Merry Christmas. I love you. I’ll talk to you after tomorrow. Promise. Tell Sylvia and the girls the same.

  Scott: You’re okay?

  I glance up as Marc walks in with a bunch of bags. I’m suspicious, but I text Scott back.

  Me: I’m okay. Marc is with me. Please don’t tell Sylvia, you know how she is. I’m only telling you so you’ll believe me and not worry. Enjoy your day off with your girls.

  “Okay, so, we probably should’ve done this yesterday, but today works, too,” Marc says. He pulls out a three-foot-tall black wire tree. “We have lights and non-Christmas ornaments.”

  “When did you go shopping?” I ask. I’m uneasy about this, even though it is a bit anti-Christmas.

  Marc looks sheepish. “I didn’t. Meredith did it for me. I’ll put the lights on and you get started taking the ornaments out and putting hooks on them.”

  He gets started wrapping lights around the wires, so I start on my job. I snort when I pull out the first ornament.

  “Meredith must’ve seen this and thought of you.” It’s a pig. I hold it up for Marc to see.

  “She knows how much I love to eat, I know, and I love bacon.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant.”

  He turns back to the tree to hide his smile. I don’t know how Meredith found all of these non-Christmas ornaments, but she did. There’s a unicorn, a hockey player, a slice of bacon, a dog, a stack of books, a cupcake, a dinosaur, a gnome, and a mixer. That’s probably all the tree will be able to hold. Seeing the array of ornaments that are definitely not screaming Christmas makes me feel so much better. Maybe I can get through the day.