Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)

by Cheri Allan

  Someday, somehow, inevitably… where love was concerned… someone would get hurt.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  ____________________

  AFTER CARTER LEFT, Liz threw herself into punch-list tasks. It made it easier to deny she’d been making one whopper of a mistake after another. Eddie joined her as if sensing she needed him. He sat on her extension cord.

  What had happened to her since she’d come home? She’d gone from having everything clicking along like clockwork to spiraling out of control and falling in love with a man who was not even her boyfriend!

  As if on cue, her cell phone rang. She contemplated letting it go to messages, but then decided she wasn’t a coward. She could always pretend she’d lost cell service if things got dicey.

  “Grant!”

  “Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

  “I’m… okay.” Crazy. In love with another man. Horribly unfaithful. “You?”

  “Good. Good. Things are good. Really good, in fact.”

  “Good.” She swiped her hand on her forehead and waited.

  “You sound tired,” he said.

  She grimaced. “I am.” In so many ways.

  “That’s probably my fault.”

  “Not entirely,” she admitted. “But some.”

  He chuckled softly. It was strange to hear his laugh. It seemed a lifetime ago she’d been with him. “I deserve that,” he said. “I know I’ve leaned on you more heavily than I’d planned to since you’ve been away. It’s been crazy on this end. I’ve been pulling together a lot of loose ends, and I know I’ve been short with you, but things are coming together now. I’m sorry I made things stressful.”

  “Me, too. Crazy on this end, I mean. Too.”

  He paused. “Andy says thanks for the, ah, wedding gift.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad he liked it. I’m sorry you felt awkward about it.”

  Silence.

  “Liz? I…” Grant lowered his voice. “I know I said we should take a siesta… to give you time to think about us, but I have to admit… I miss you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” he chuckled again, warmer this time, “of course I do.”

  “But, I thought… I thought you were trying to tell me you needed a break. I thought that’s what ‘siesta’ meant.”

  “A break? No! Is that why you’ve—?” He half-laughed then sighed. “No.” She could hear him moving around, the click of a door. He was probably at work. He was nearly whispering now. “I didn’t want a break, Liz, I thought you did! Even though we talked about it, planned for it, it seemed like you weren’t really ready to move things forward, if you know what I mean.” He sighed again. “And when we never talked about what happened that night… or didn’t happen…”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  He let out another sigh. “Maybe I’m just being a guy, but if you’re not into me enough to want sex this far into a relationship, I’ve got to wonder if you’re having second thoughts. Hell, maybe you were never into me…”

  “Of course I was into you! I spent days planning for that night!”

  Liz blew out a breath. That probably wasn’t a tack she wanted to take right now, considering. “I’m sorry. I am. I know that night was a disaster. Sometimes… sometimes I work so hard to make things perfect, I forget to live in the moment.

  “But, that’s changing,” she said. “I’m changing. Coming home has forced me to lower my expectations.” She thought of how that might sound. “Of myself! I meant of myself.”

  “It’s okay. I got it.” He paused. “So, where do we go from here?”

  Liz couldn’t answer. She thought about what she’d been doing over the last couple of weeks and how this man had been nothing but understanding, supportive and good to her. He truly was the man she should have chosen, and yet she’d gone and fallen for the heartbreaker who would only make her cry in the end.

  Hadn’t she known that twelve years ago?

  “You deserve better than what I’ve given you,” she finally said.

  “I’ll accept your best efforts at improving that in the future,” he chuckled awkwardly. Paused. “That was a joke.”

  “I know.” God, did all men have dorky senses of humor? “But, to be honest, I don’t know what the future holds. Coming home has been very emotional for me. I don’t think I can explain it over the phone. I still need to process it all.” Plus, there’s the little matter of being in love with someone else.

  “Sure. I understand. I’m glad you’re working through it. It seemed we hit a plateau a few weeks back, and it threw me off. I thought we were on a good course.”

  He blew out a breath and continued. “I know working together has made things complicated, but, I promise, that’s going to change. I don’t want to go into it over the phone, but I want you to know, I want to move forward with you, Liz. I think I’ve been patient enough. Don’t you agree?”

  Liz teared up at the hopeful tone in his voice. Now this was a good man. This was a man who understood that major life decisions require careful consideration, balancing of pros and cons. You can’t just leap without looking. People have to make compromises and adjustments. This was a man who wanted to talk about their future!

  “I’d love to—”

  “Great!”

  She’d been about to say, but I don’t know if I can, but the relief in his voice stopped her.

  “We’ll talk when you get home?” he said.

  “Yeah. We’ll talk,” the cowardly part of her agreed.

  “Great. Take good care of yourself, Liz.”

  “You, too.”

  She hung up, her hand shaking.

  Lovely. She couldn’t wait to get back to Chicago to tell the man who’d waited months to make love to her that she’d jumped into bed with another guy after mere days. He probably wouldn’t be so eager to take things to the next level with her then.

  In the meantime, he still thought they were nearly engaged.

  Which meant, until she talked to him and set him straight, she was, too.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  ____________________

  “I HAVE SERIOUSLY underestimated you.” Trish ran an admiring hand across a cabinet door as she pulled down a coffee mug. “These are gorgeous!”

  Liz looked at the cabinets wistfully. They were bright, beautiful and brought a calming cheer to a cool, cloudy Tuesday afternoon. Exactly as she’d always pictured them. She bit her lip. “I’m having them repainted as soon as Carter’s done with the walkway,” she said, hoping he was well out of earshot.

  Carter had been hard at work for nearly two days straight on the walkways. He and Liz had only shared casual pleasantries, dancing around one another, not talking about the monumental shift in their relationship, as if the elephant in the corner of the room were a natural part of the décor.

  Trish whirled, coffee slurping from the pot. “Repainted? Why?”

  “The color won’t appeal to most buyers. It’s better to keep things neutral. Isn’t that the mantra of all those shows you watch?”

  Trish waved a dismissive hand. “To hell with them. I like it. At some point you have to do what you damn well please. Besides, it looks a hundred times better than it did.” She leaned forward. “But, if you’re looking for an excuse to keep Carter hanging around, I certainly understand.”

  Liz stirred her coffee. “I’m not looking—”

  “Please. It’s obvious something is going on between you two.”

  “It is?”

  “It is now,” Trish grinned, dropping onto a seat at the table. “I was just fishing a moment ago. So, when? Tell me everything! This is so much better than TV.”

  Liz shook her head and sipped thoughtfully.

  “What? Oh, no. No, no, no, no! Tell me you haven’t.”

  “Haven’t what?” Liz evaded as her mind provided a dozen things she shouldn’t have done where Carter was concerned.

  “You haven’t gone and slid from lusti
ng for the man straight to—? You have! Oh God, it’s written all over your face!”

  There was no use denying it as Trish stared at her pityingly. So she did. “Of course I’m not in love with him! That’s ridiculous!”

  “Not ridiculous. Understandable. I may have a husband, but I have eyes. But, seriously, this isn’t good. He’s never struck me as the settling-down type.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Liz fired back. “He’s already given me the ‘this is just a casual thing’ speech.” She frowned. “Or maybe I did, but it doesn’t matter, because he agreed. And it’s just as well. I mean, I have a job and a life in Chicago…”

  Trish nodded sympathetically. “True. Plus, he’s... you know.” What? Gay? Liz was pretty sure that wasn’t true. Trish shrugged. “Not necessarily an upstanding citizen, if you know what I mean.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t hear?” Trish took a slug of coffee and leaned closer. “Word is he quit the fire department after they found empty beer bottles in his truck and a used joint in the break room at the end of his shift.”

  “He—? Was he arrested?”

  “Not that I know of. Enough buddies at the station I guess. But I know he was asked to leave, and he didn’t fight it, so people are saying they were his.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me before?”

  “I didn’t know you were, um, that involved before. I figured you were just having a little fun.”

  Fun like a funeral. Liz just looked at her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burst your bubble, but I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

  Liz nodded. “Me either.” Her chest felt tight. “It’s just, I’ve had a crush on Carter since forever,” she whispered. “It’s hard to let that go.”

  “Hey, no one said you have to give up your fantasies. But some things are better left that way, you know? I mean, do I seriously think Gerard Butler would be as good in bed as I imagine? Never mind. Don’t answer that. Obviously a bad analogy. My point is…”

  But Liz stopped listening. She knew Trish was trying to make her feel better, but the truth was reality was crashing in, and here she was, over ten years later, still hoping the future with Carter would somehow, miraculously, be different than the facts suggested they would be.

  The fact was, as intoxicating as it was to finally hook up with Carter, that’s all it was—all it could be—a hook up. She had a master’s degree and a good job. Life experience. She was smart enough not to confuse the excitement of these last few days with real feelings that could last in the real world. What she and Carter had wasn’t something lasting, something built purposefully over time on shared values and goals.

  It was nothing like what she had with Grant.

  And Grant still cared for her. He was good-looking and kind and stable. He wanted a future with her, and as much as it hurt, the pain she was feeling was no more than finally growing up and giving up the fantasies of a dreamy-eyed sixteen year-old.

  She knew now what she had to do.

  Carter wasn’t the only one who needed to grow up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ____________________

  CARTER ARRIVED EARLY the next morning to finish the walkways and saw Liz through the window. He hadn’t stopped to chat much since Monday morning, not because he was too busy, but because he still felt a little ridiculous having suggested she buy the house. As if she’d move back to Sugar Falls just because she liked her kitchen cabinetry and they’d had sex a couple of times?

  He approached the back slider and knocked. He held himself stiffly, nervously, unsure how to act around her now that his feelings had overflowed like an ocean of water poured into a pool. He ached to touch her again, hold her, anchor himself somehow. But he feared he might pull them both under if he did.

  “Hi.” He inclined his head as Liz let him in.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He frowned as she turned away. He laid his hand on the back of her nape, a light touch. His fingers flexed, gently kneading, immediately aware of the tension beneath the surface. “Any coffee left?”

  “Sure.” She slipped away from his touch and poured him a cup, avoiding his gaze as she handed it over. She stared at the cabinet behind him.

  Carter took a sip. It scalded. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You do?” Her eyes flew to his.

  “The cabinets. You still want them white, don’t you?”

  “You know I love the color.” Her voice was firm, oddly resigned when she next spoke. “But, yes, I think it would be best to repaint them.”

  “It was a stupid impulse. I thought you’d change your mind once you saw them.” He tried another sip. “But I’ll fix it. As soon as I’m done with the walkway.” He reached out to brush the hair from her face. She stepped away. His stomach clenched, and he let his hand drop.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” she said.

  “I told you I’ll fi—”

  “No. Don’t.” She inhaled. “Carter, I need…” She took another breath. “There’s something I need to say. Something I should have mentioned sooner. And, I’m not sure how to say it.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile despite the shot of unease coursing through him. “Just spit it out.”

  She grimaced and turned to straighten the salt and pepper shakers on the counter. “I want you to know, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you again. I have.”

  “Me, too.” He smiled, but it wasn’t close to genuine this time. He could already see what was coming. He could read it in her eyes when she snuck a glance at him then looked away just as quickly. Good Lord. She was dumping him? It hadn’t happened often, he had to admit, but he knew the signs well enough to recognize them.

  “The thing is... you and I... we’re very different. And...”

  “And?”

  She turned to face him. She blew out a breath. “I’m sort of engaged.”

  “Engaged?” Hell, he hadn’t seen that coming. A flash of hurt, then anger, jolted through him. How could she be engaged and not tell him?

  “Sort of. What I mean is—”

  “Sort of?”

  “We’ve talked about it. Grant and I.”

  “Oh, I see. You’ve talked about it.”

  “Well, yes. Given our shared values and profession and direction in life, it’s a logical step.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Who talks like that? You make it sound like some spreadsheet analysis you’ve done to decide how to spend the rest of your life.”

  “It’s not like that.” She was getting annoyed, he could tell. He didn’t give a crap.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “It’s complicated. We have a history,” she said, “and… feelings for each other.”

  “Wow. You have feelings for each other. My best to both of you.” He knew he sounded mocking. He also didn’t give a flying shit.

  Her hands rose pleadingly then dropped to her sides. “This isn’t productive. I’m sorry you’re hurt, but if you think about it, it’s probably for the best that we—”

  “Does he know about us?” He cut in. “Hell, does he know what we’ve done?” He gestured widely. They both looked at the table.

  Her cheeks flamed. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about that—”

  “Why? Too messy for you? Too complicated? Oh, that’s right, that’s what you feel for him. What, dammit, do you feel for me?”

  He began to pace now, the impotence of the situation nearly overwhelming him, forcing a need for movement. Action.

  She looked at him in disbelief. Well, honey, that made two of them! Here he’d finally gone and fallen for a woman—hard!—and she was dumping him? Ha!

  “Oh, please,’ she said, “I’m not so naïve as to believe you don’t have a string of women lined up ready to succumb to the fabled McIntyre charm.”

  He
stopped in front of her, the irony of the situation forcing his fingers to flex in frustration. He wanted to grab her and shake her for acting so… so… reasonable… when he felt anything but. “Did it occur to you I’m not interested in a string of women? Did it occur to you I might be interested in you?”

  She caught her lip between her teeth and for the first time he saw the glossy sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “We’re not right for each other,” she whispered.

  “Why? Shit, I’m not asking for a life-long commitment, Liz. I’m not trying to force things. I’m just trying to figure out why you’re giving me the heave-ho. I thought we were—” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I don’t know—having fun.”

  God, that sounded lame. Fun? It had gone way beyond fun for him. For the first time in his life, he thought he understood the panic his mom must have felt knowing his dad was still in the house. Shit. If this is what love felt like, maybe he didn’t want any part of it after all.

  “I don’t think we’re looking for the same kind of fun,” she said.

  His mind spun as he tried to make sense of her words. “Seems to me it was a mutual thing.”

  “I’m nearly engaged,” she repeated, as if that meant a damn thing to him.

  “Sort of. What the hell is that anyway? You’re not even wearing a ring.” They both stared at her bare ring finger.

  “It’s not that clear cut.”

  “You either are or you aren’t, Liz. No more complicated than that. Even I know that much.”

  “We’ve discussed it, okay? He wants to take our relationship to the next level, but we’re coworkers, so one of us would need to leave the company.”

  “Next level? What is that? You make it sound like a video game.”

  “The next level,” she ground out, “is getting engaged, getting married!”

  “Did he say that?”

  She blinked, then her forehead furrowed slightly. “Yes. I mean, not in so many words, but the intent was clearly—”

  “Did it ever occur to you he might just want to get laid?”