“Dad, it’s fine.”
“Do you know how many accidents happen between the hours of—”
“Dad.”
He huffs out a disgruntled breath. “Just be careful.”
“We will be.”
“And call me tomorrow.”
“I will.”
Carter looks halfway amused by the time I hang up. “He wasn’t watching the news?”
“No.”
“So what was that all about?”
I shake my head. “Who knows. Let’s find your sister.”
* * *
I’m exhausted by the time Franklin and Jessa drop Carter and me off at my house. It’s well into the early morning hours, and I don’t usually stay out this long—not unless I’m visiting the emergency room.
Carter’s truck sits in the drive, looking right at home. The outside light shines, welcoming us back. As I often do, I look at my empty flower beds and wish they were full, but other than that, it’s a pretty perfect picture.
“Call me tomorrow,” Jessa says quietly so she won’t wake the neighbors, sticking her head out the passenger window.
“It is tomorrow,” I feel the need to point out.
She rolls her eyes. “Call me later.”
I wave as they pull away from the curb, and then I head for the door. There’s a soft, warning bark when we walk inside. Cocoa peeks around the corner, looking half asleep but on guard. The moment the puppy realizes it’s us, he trots forward, weaving like he’s barely awake—and looking a little drunk.
After a few pets, he decides it’s time to go back to bed and disappears down the hall.
“That was a fun evening,” I say with a sigh, hanging my purse.
“It was.” Carter wraps his arms around my middle and pulls my back to his chest. I lean against him and close my eyes, committing the moment to memory.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Uh oh,” I say, trying to hold back a yawn but failing miserably. “Nothing good can come from that.”
He laughs and then turns me in his arms until I’m facing him. “I want to tell your dad.”
“Tell him…what?”
“That we’re together. You know—serious.”
Is it my imagination, or does he look nervous?
His eyes search mine. “Exclusive.”
“We are?” I whisper. My heart hammers in my chest, and my tired brain tries to tell me my ears have deceived me.
“I want to be,” he says. “Don’t you?”
“Yes,” I find myself answering, though I have no idea how it will work. “But tell my dad? Are you crazy?”
One thing is for sure—I’m a lot more awake than I was a moment ago.
“Probably.”
“Carter…no.”
“It’s time. I’m not playing around, and this isn’t how I want to do this.”
I huff out a slow breath. He means it; I can tell.
“Are you sure?” I have to ask, but I can’t meet his eyes. “Like, certain? Because I feel I should point out that you don’t do serious, and it would be such a waste to throw your career away for nothing.”
“Addison.”
Forcing a smile, I look up. “It just hasn’t been very long, and I can’t help but think you’re going to get bored.”
“Are you bored?” he demands, looking slightly offended.
“No,” I laugh. “Carter, I’ve liked you forever. I’m not the one I’m worried about.”
His eyebrow quirks, and his smile becomes crooked. “Define forever.”
“A long time.”
“Yeah?” He tugs me in closer. “Since high school, right?”
If only.
“Definitely high school.”
A wicked look crosses his face. “Middle school?”
“Yes, Carter,” I say, pretending to be exasperated. “I said forever.”
“Elementary school?”
I meet his eyes. “You remember the Valentine’s Day you gave me that lopsided heart? The year you were helping Jessa and I with our school Valentines?”
“No,” he says with a rotten grin, drawing the word out. “I was in sixth grade, and you were, what, eight or nine years old?”
I shrug, hoping he won’t see me blush in the dim lamplight.
“Okay, since you shared, I have something for you,” he says. “Do you remember your senior year, when you went to homecoming with that dorky kid—”
“Aaron was not a dork,” I correct. “He was a football player.”
He waves my argument away. “You came over to the house to meet Jessa, and you wore that black strapless dress—remember? Your hair was up, and you were…gorgeous.”
Carter was home that night. I’d completely forgotten about that. He stood with his parents as they took pictures, teasing us the entire time, and all I could think about was how badly I wished I could go with him instead. (Sorry, Aaron.)
“You remember that?” I breathe.
“Yeah.”
“Why do you remember that?”
“Because you walked through that door, and for the first time, I saw you without the filter. You weren’t just Jessa’s friend—you were you. It would be an understatement to say I was jealous of your date.”
I stand on my toes and press a quick peck to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re kind of romantic when you want to be.”
“Shhh.” He pretends to look around as if someone will hear. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”
“Who’s Cocoa going to tell?”
Laughing, he coaxes me closer. “Who isn’t Cocoa going to tell?”
He kisses me then, and I lean into him, reveling in the moment. It’s late; he should go. But what will one more minute hurt?
The kiss goes from sweet to something wanting, and I pull back just enough to graze my teeth over his bottom lip. “Just because it’s the middle of the night, and we’re completely and totally alone, doesn’t mean you should be getting any ideas.”
Feigning innocence, he says, “Who’s getting ideas?”
Laughing, I yank him back. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“Mmm,” he hums in agreement. “But the best kind.”
After another few minutes, he groans. “I really do need to go.”
“Not yet.”
I pull him back when he tries to step away. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, face to the ceiling, looking very much like he’s wrestling with indecision. After a few long heartbeats, he meets my eyes and twines his hand in the hair at the nape of my neck. “Very soon, I’m going to have a conversation with your father, and when I tell him I have nothing but noble intentions for his daughter, I don’t want it to be a lie. So I’m going to have to resist temptation.”
“Aw, Carter,” I tease. “That’s very chivalrous of you.”
His thumb brushes my neck. “You’re worth waiting for.”
“You really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why?” he asks, looking like he’s trying not to grin.
“Because then I’ll have to admit I love you, and then where will we be?” I whisper.
It just comes out, and then there’s no taking it back. I blame it on the late hour, the conversation, the darn sweet thing he just said.
A smirk flickers across his face, and he rests his forehead against mine. “I was going to say it first.”
“Competitive much?”
“I love you, Addison.”
Without a second thought, I wrap my arms around his neck. His mouth meets mine, almost as if we’re sealing the declaration. His hands are on my waist, my back, my hips, searing me as they move, his touch a little less gentle than usual. I sigh against him—okay, it might be a moan—and he groans in response.
Before I know it, my palms are on his chest, and his hand twines in my hair. We bump into the couch…and then an end table.
It’s the tumbling of a picture frame and the lamp
that brings us back to our senses—Carter manages to catch both.
After placing everything back in its spot, Carter takes two abrupt steps back, looking about as sexy-flustered as I’ve ever seen him. “I really should go.”
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He steps in to kiss me one last time—barely brushing his lips over mine. “Absolutely.”
And then he’s out the door, and I’m left floating somewhere on cloud nine.
27
“I can’t just leave him,” I say to Jessa, feeling slightly panicky. How is this going to work?
“He’ll be fine—he’ll get over it.” My friend doesn’t seem to understand my heartbreak, not that I’m surprised.
“But he’s just a baby—he won’t understand.”
“We’ve been over this. He’s a dog, Addison, not a child. He’ll have fun with—” She pauses, wrinkling her nose. “Whatever your neighbor’s name is.”
Austin is puppy-sitting Cocoa while I’m in Georgia. They just left, and Cocoa trotted out the door with a big, dumb smile on his puppy face. He has no idea I’m abandoning him for the next several days.
“Stop worrying about it—you get to go to a big, fancy event with lots of rich, famous people.” Her expression morphs from exasperated to smug. “And my brother.”
Carter’s going to have to wear a tux to the museum’s grand opening. Is it sad that I’m looking forward to that more than the event?
It’s Thursday, and the opening is tomorrow night. Our flight leaves soon. Jessa is taking me and my luggage to the airport. I thought I could manage with a carry on—but Jessa showed me the error of my ways. Five pairs of shoes, two summer dresses, two curling irons, and a bunch more clothes later…
“Have fun,” she commands when she drops me off. “Take lots of pictures.”
I wrestle with my suitcase’s handle. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“No problem.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “Have fun.”
Dad and Lydia are already at the airport, and I sit with them as soon as I make it through security. I keep glancing at my phone, wondering where my boyfriend is. (And yes, I get a little thrill every time I call Carter that, even if it’s only in my head.)
“Carter is running late, isn’t he?” Dad frowns at his phone.
I shift in my seat, resisting the urge to send him another text.
Just as we’re about to board the plane, Carter comes waltzing down the hall, carrying nothing but a small bag. His light brown hair is newly trimmed, and he even bothered to shave this morning. He looks fresh and handsome. I have no doubt that if I got close enough, he’d smell like laundry detergent and soap.
The pretty attendant at the counter eyes him with a small smile that I don’t particularly care for, but he gives me his full attention.
“Hey.” He flashes us an apologetic smile. “Sorry I’m late.”
Lydia assures Carter it’s all right, and Dad grunts. Then we take our place at the end of the growing line.
“Cutting it a little close?” I say when Carter falls into step next to me. Dad is ahead of us, and for now, he and Lydia aren’t paying us too much attention.
“I forgot to take my utility knife out of my pocket before I left the house.” He grins. “Security wasn’t impressed.”
“What did you do?”
“I mailed it to my house at the kiosk—I had to stand in line for thirty minutes.”
“Why not just relinquish it?” I ask. It certainly seems smarter to give up a twenty-dollar knife than miss a flight.
“It’s the one my grandpa gave me for my eighteenth birthday.”
“Well, you made it,” I say, letting it drop since his grandfather passed last year. “So all’s well.”
He leans a smidgen closer. “And the morning is looking up. I get to sit next to you the entire flight, and there’s nothing your father can do about it.”
But he’s wrong about that.
“Lydia, do you mind sitting with Addison?” Dad says when we reach our first set of seats. “I have some stuff to discuss with Carter about the opening.”
I open my mouth, trying to figure out how to object in a way that won’t raise suspicions.
Lydia glances at me, silently telling me that she’s got this, and then sets her hands on her hips and looks at Dad. “You’re not pawning me off on your daughter just because I get a little nervous flying.”
Dad frowns. “I wasn’t saying…”
“Oh, I know what you were saying.”
Wow, she’s pretty good.
We’re holding up traffic, and the people behind us are getting antsy. My father glances between Carter and me, betraying the real reason he’s so keen to talk shop with Carter for the next several hours.
“All right,” Dad finally says to my stepmother, gesturing her along. “Lead the way.”
I suck in my bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and scoot into my seat.
“Do you mind that I took the window?” I ask Carter when he sits next to me.
“The only thing I mind is that your Dad is somewhere behind us, and you know he’ll watch us the entire time.”
I hum under my breath and hook my seat belt. “I shouldn’t kiss you then?”
He cranes his neck to look over the back of the seat and then turns back to me, grinning as he leans in. “We best make it quick.”
His lips brush mine, and I sigh to myself when we have to part. This is getting ridiculous, especially now that we’re officially together. Carter’s right—we have to tell Dad when we get back home.
Maybe it will work out; maybe it won’t. But we can’t keep this up.
The flight is uneventful, and Carter keeps his hand on my knee the entire time. We check into the hotel, and the four of us make plans for lunch. Then we’re off to check out our individual rooms. Carter’s is on the fourteenth floor, and Dad, Lydia, and I are on the ninth—Dad booked the three of us adjoining rooms. Yay.
“See you downstairs in fifteen,” Carter says when we exit the elevator. He’s speaking to all of us, but his eyes flicker to me as the doors close.
“Come on, pumpkin,” Dad says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders like I’m five years old. “Let’s see if there’s a vending machine. I’ll buy you a soda.”
Just as I’m questioning how I got to this point in my life, Dad’s phone vibrates with a text. He looks at it and then announces, “Change of plans. Trevor wants to take us out to an early dinner.”
* * *
“So glad you could make it,” Trevor says, shaking my dad’s hand.
We’re at a restaurant that makes me happy Jessa talked me into bringing a few extra dresses. This place is all fine china and cloth napkins. There’s even a piano in the corner, and the pianist plays a song that sounds faintly familiar.
Trevor is looking sharp tonight in a pair of dark slacks, a pressed shirt, and an expensive-looking tie. The baseball player cleans up nice. He leans in to give Lydia a quick hello hug, and then he turns to me.
“Addison,” he says, his eyes flickering over my outfit. He gives me the smoothest of smiles and leans in to hug me, holding me a wee bit longer than he did my stepmother. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I glance at Carter and try not to laugh at the less-than-impressed looks on his and my father’s faces.
Trevor then turns to Carter and extends his hand. “How are you, Carter? Good to see you.”
“Great.” The two men shake, and I’m not entirely positive, but it looks like it’s a little firmer than the occasion calls for—which is flattering as all get-out, but sort of ridiculous.
Trevor is undoubtedly “a catch,” as Isaac says, but Carter has nothing to worry about. First of all, I’m certain Trevor is like this with everyone. Second, I have Carter.
“The roadster is…” Trevor shakes his head as if at a loss for words. “Exceptionally done. Better than I imagined.”
I haven’t seen it finished. The night
before the truck came to transport it back here to Atlanta, the guys worked through the night. I went home well before they did.
“Thank you,” Carter says, his expression softening marginally. “It was my pleasure.”
Trevor then turns back to me and pulls out my chair. “How do you like Georgia, Addison?”
“It’s lovely—very hospitable.”
He takes the seat next to me. “Good ole southern hospitality.”
Carter rolls his eyes as he takes a seat on the other side of Trevor. He didn’t bring a suit—I don’t even know if he owned a tie before tonight—so he ended up going for a quick shopping trip when he learned Trevor wanted to take us out.
I can tell he hates it. The minute we leave here, he’ll rip it off and unbutton those top two shirt buttons. Maybe I’ll do it for him.
“Would you like that?” Trevor asks, looking right at me.
I blink at our host, giving him my full attention. “I’m sorry. What?”
Trevor grins, probably thinking I’m flustered to be sitting next to him. Judging from the dozen people who have looked his way since we got here, it’s probably something he contends with daily. “Carter and your dad have to spend the day at the museum, and I hate the idea of leaving you to explore the city by yourself. I was hoping you’d let me take you on a little tour in the morning.”
My eyes fly to Carter. He scowls at his menu, looking like he’s comparing the price of crab and lobster. Quickly, I look back at Trevor. “You know, I thought I’d take it easy tomorrow. Rest a bit before the grand opening.”
“That would be a shame,” Trevor says, turning his charm up another notch. “Atlanta is a beautiful city—there’s a lot to see here.”
It’s not Carter who ends up interrupting us—it’s my father. For once, however, I’m glad for his assistance.
“I think resting is a good idea,” Dad says. “You don’t want to overdo it—we’ll have a pretty late night, after all.”
I could point out that a late night on the eastern coast isn’t that late when your body is still operating on Arizona time, but there’s no reason to shoot myself in the foot.
“I’ll probably just hang out by the pool,” I tell Trevor. “Catch up on some reading.”
27 Ways to Find a Boyfriend Page 17
