So Wrong It Must Be Right

by Nicole Helm

  “Stay.”

  When he rolled off the bed to get rid of the condom, he wasn’t all that sure she would listen. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to listen. He only knew that . . . that . . . Scratch that. He knew nothing. He knew nothing at all.

  When he came back from the little bathroom, she was still lying naked on his bed. Still staring at the ceiling, clearly not quite certain this was what she should be doing.

  But still here, doing it anyway.

  He slid next to her on the bed, and this time he wrapped an arm around her. She curled into him. It was a mistake on every level, but neither of them made a move to fix it.

  Chapter 7

  Dinah woke up in a bed that was not her own and cursed herself silly. Of all the epic mistakes in her life, this really topped the list. Sleeping with him . . . It had been excusable the first time. She might’ve even been able to rationalize it the second time.

  There was nothing excusable or able to be rationalized about spending the night in Carter Trask’s bed. So many things could go wrong here, and why was she risking what she loved above all else? Just because the man knew how to give her a couple of orgasms?

  On the plus side, Carter was not in bed next to her. She woke up in his bed completely alone.

  How that was the plus side, she had no idea. Clearly she had no idea about anything if she was, you know, here. She was tempted to roll face-first into the pillow and scream until something in her life made sense. Instead, she got out of bed and looked around and realized none of her clothes were in the room.

  Damn it. She would have to find something of Carter’s to put on so she could get her clothes from the living room. Carter’s living room. In the morning. Morning with a man who didn’t drink coffee and wouldn’t sell her his land, which she needed in order to save not just her dream, but her cousin’s as well.

  She’d certainly picked a hell of a time to have whatever quarter-life crisis this was.

  The bedroom door squeaked open and Carter stuck his head in.

  “Good. You’re up.” He stepped forward, a bundle of clothes in his arms. “I’ve got your clothes.”

  His eyes drifted to her naked breasts and she was stupid enough to get a little tingly over that. Stupid enough to remember and wonder if she had time to indulge herself in—no.

  “What time is it?” she asked, reaching out for her clothes.

  He didn’t hand them over. “Five thirty,” he returned, definitely not making eye contact.

  “In the morning?”

  He smiled even as he rolled his eyes. There was something kind of sweet about the smile, the eye roll.

  She didn’t want to dwell on that.

  “My workday begins at four thirty. I figured you’d want to get back to your place and shower before you have to go to work, but maybe not quite that early.”

  He finally offered the clothes, though not without one last glance up and down. She took the outstretched garments, looking at him helplessly. She felt helpless and kind of silly, actually. Two things she hadn’t allowed herself to feel possibly ever.

  But recently life kept shoving these experiences at her as if it was determined she had to feel them.

  “Thank you feels weird to say about sex, but I . . . wanted to thank you about the overall gesture last night,” Carter offered somberly.

  “You don’t thank someone for a gesture,” she returned. It hadn’t been an obligation or even a gesture exactly. It had been . . .

  “Even your work enemy?”

  “You think there are rules about work enemies? I could probably use a few. I think I’m doing it terribly wrong.” Which was very annoying when it felt so damn right.

  Again he smiled, his gaze missing nothing as it swept over her still naked body. “Well, work enemy, if you want to remain enemies in the daylight hours, you’re going to have to get dressed.”

  Why was he so tempting? She pressed the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth, feeling more than gratified when he groaned. “Not today. Not during the day. That’s the rule. That needs to be a rule.” She said it aloud, but it was far more to herself than to him.

  “Does that mean that at night . . .”

  No. She couldn’t allow it. She had to make this the end of whatever weird personal thing they were to each other. There was too much at stake. “Carter . . .”

  It was the fact he was struggling with it too that perhaps broke her brain a little bit. When she’d look back on this moment later, she’d definitely think her brain had broken. “Maybe . . . at night, we’re C and D, and if they happen to run into each other, who are Dinah and Carter to . . . complicate matters?”

  “You mean aside from the fact they’re work enemies and not actually separate people from C and D?”

  “Possibly.”

  He shook his head. “It’s amazing what sex makes people do.” But he had that smile, that lightness to him. A warmth she didn’t know how to resist.

  She had to laugh. It was so absurd and he was so . . . charming, somehow, in this weird, gruff way of his. He made her laugh and feel special and kind of weirdly warm and squirmy.

  “You should get out of here.”

  Yes, staying a second longer was ludicrous. It was foolish. She had work to do and it was all she could possibly care about.

  “If C and D made plans to see each other at night, would Carter and Dinah have an issue with that?” she blurted instead.

  He blinked and his expression shuttered a little bit. Enough so that she wished she hadn’t said it. She wished she could get her head on straight around him, but she was naked. She needed to fix that. She started pulling on her clothes and tried to ignore the fact that Carter still hadn’t answered her.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  She whipped her head up to stare at him, all deer-caught-in-headlights like. She knew she should say no. She should say she was busy and they couldn’t do this and there had to be a boundary.

  Not this whole day-and-night boundary nonsense, but like a real all-the-time boundary, because this was like playing with fire. Somehow. . . somehow everyone was going to get burned in the process, and she didn’t want any part of that.

  “D’s got no plans,” she said despite all the rational thoughts in her head. Because Carter was right, it was amazing what sex could make people do. “Maybe she could go for a walk outside of Gallagher’s, say, around eight?”

  Carter seemed to consider this very, very seriously. He was putting far too much thought into an answer. Or maybe it was exactly the right amount of thought. The thought she wasn’t giving this situation, clearly. Maybe he would be sensible enough to stop this insanity.

  “Maybe I’ll take a walk around there myself.”

  “You mean C will.”

  Again there was that odd expression on his face, something unreadable. Something she was glad she couldn’t read.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, C.”

  “Well then I will say goodbye as D. Because these are two separate lives that we’re leading. Dinah and Carter don’t exist here.”

  Surprisingly, he smiled. “Look, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I mean, how long does this reasonably last? Eventually it’ll get confusing, or too complicated or something, but for now why not just keep enjoying it until it’s impossible to enjoy? I’m not sure there are a lot of things in my life I’ve ever just sort of let go and enjoyed.”

  Enjoy? Let go? Haha. Yeah, no. “Me neither.”

  “Then why not be hopelessly stupid motherfuckers who will live to regret this very decision?”

  She laughed outright, and he smiled and laughed too and . . . damn it. Why not? Well, actually she wouldn’t ask herself that question because she knew the many, many why-nots. “All right, C. I think, in this arena, we have a deal. Would you like to seal it with a handshake?”

  He glanced at the watch on his wrist and then grinned at her. A full-on grin, and she knew what he was g
oing say, and she knew she should avoid it and not at all be turned on by it.

  “Shaking hands is not what I want to do on it.”

  “Responsible, business-minded Dinah Gallagher would flat-out refuse that horrible attempt at innuendo.”

  “And D?”

  She glanced through the crack between the curtains and the window and noticed the world outside was still dusky. She grinned back at him.

  “D rules the dark hours, and it appears it’s still dark.” She dropped her clothes, and in seconds they were tangled on the bed, kissing and laughing, and the Dinah voice of reason in her head was incredibly silent on the matter.

  * * *

  Carter made it through the day feeling surprisingly upbeat. There were some moments of grief definitely, things that snuck up on him—like the death of a basil plant, or thinking he smelled his grandmother’s perfume.

  But there was a lightness to him today that hadn’t been there yesterday. He didn’t feel quite so weighed down. Sad, yes, but not broken by it.

  He knew exactly why that was, and he knew exactly why that made him a fucking idiot. And possibly certifiable.

  “Hey, Carter.”

  Carter stood up from behind his bean plants to find Jordan standing at his fence. “Hey, Jordan. What’s up, man?”

  Jordan opened the gate and entered Carter’s yard. He made his way to Carter through the rows of produce. It wasn’t unusual for Jordan to stop by unannounced since his grandmother was Carter’s neighbor; they’d become friends and had worked together on their summer urban-farming-for-kids program. But the next words out of his friend’s mouth were not what Carter expected.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the Gallaghers.”

  Carter tensed, and not for all the reasons he should have tensed. It should be all about hating the Gallaghers, and not about . . . Dinah. “What about them?”

  “I’ve got some ideas on how we can fight them,” Jordan said with a little too much fervor. Enough so that Carter laughed.

  “We?”

  “Yeah, man. I got your back. This is my neighborhood too. If they get you, they’ll go after my grandma next,” Jordan said, jerking his chin toward Carter’s neighbor. “I’m not going to let them bulldoze you. For your sake, and hers, and mine. Not to even mention how important our summer program is. It’s necessary, man. I’m in. I’m on your side, and I’m gonna help.”

  Carter could only stand there, somewhat stunned. Though he and Jordan had become friends over the course of Carter’s building up the place here and Jordan’s visiting his grandmother, Carter never would’ve expected someone to stand with him. Fight with him. He wouldn’t have asked anyone to. He wouldn’t have dreamed of it.

  His whole adolescence he’d asked people to fight with him—to not sell, to not give in—but no one had. He’d been brushed off or, worse, ridiculed. He’d been told he was irrational or a dreamer or whatever else.

  No one had ever, ever said Yes, you’re right, Carter. We have to fight. We have to make a stand. No one had ever, ever had his damn back.

  “Thanks, man,” Carter forced himself to say, surprised at the depth of emotion he felt at Jordan’s easy offer of help—no, not even offer. Jordan was standing there saying he had his back.

  It was a big thing. Big enough he had to clear his throat to say more. “I appreciate the offer, I do, but I don’t need help on this. My no isn’t changing. I’m not selling to Gallagher. Ever.”

  “You don’t know Gallagher if you think you don’t need help,” Jordan said, pacing the little brick pathway along the rows of beans. “They’re the thing that has endured in this neighborhood, and you know why? Because they’re shady as fuck. We’re not going to let them take any more of this block.”

  “This place means too much to me, and it always has. There’s nothing Gallagher can do. They can throw millions at me, they can be shady as whatever, but I’m not leaving. Money doesn’t matter to me. Not anymore.” He’d struggle through whatever for this land, no matter what. If he had to go into debt up to his eyeballs, if he had to beg his family to chip in, he’d do anything to keep this place.

  “Okay, but keep your eyes open. Sometimes with people like that, you can’t just say no. You’ve got to fight dirty.”

  “There’s no fight, Jordan. No one’s threatening me. No one’s . . . I said no to them—to many of them—and that’s that. They can’t force my hand.”

  Jordan shrugged as he looked off in the direction of Gallagher’s. “For now,” he muttered, clearly unconvinced. “I’m starting to think it’s better to go offensive than defensive with people like that. They’re not just going to stop with this farmers’ market. They’re going to make this whole neighborhood hipster nonsense.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Jordan, but you’re standing in a little bit of hipster nonsense as we speak.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Okay, fair, but you know what I mean. Cafés and apartments and yuppie bullshit they’ll abandon at the first shooting. They don’t want community, they want . . . Instagram shit.” Jordan jerked a chin toward Gallagher’s this time. “And they’ll make money off it either way.”

  Carter looked over at the looming brick form of Gallagher’s too. He knew Dinah wasn’t sleeping with him to “play dirty,” because it wasn’t going to work. Whatever her reason was, it was separate.

  Even so, Jordan’s insinuation that they needed to fight the Gallaghers bothered him, more than it should. He shouldn’t think about Dinah or what fighting dirty would mean to her, because he could only care about his own interests.

  He only did care about his own interests. Any prick of guilt over Dinah was just some weird sex side-effect that would go away soon enough.

  He wasn’t caving. This thing with Dinah and/or D wasn’t caving or giving in. It was separate. “Look, Jordan, I really appreciate your offer to help. If I get to the point where I feel like I have to fight to survive, I’ll definitely give you a call. I can’t lose this place, no matter what, but I don’t think we have to stoop to fighting dirty.”

  Because he didn’t want to fight. He just wanted to be. Raise his plants and sell his produce and live in this last place his family had roots.

  It had absolutely zero to do with any pretty Gallaghers with ridiculously dirty fantasies.

  Jordan shrugged again, still glaring toward Gallagher’s. “I get it. Long as you know that I’m here and want to fight for you. This neighborhood’s got to stand for something again. You’re part of that.”

  “I take it seriously,” Carter said gravely, because suddenly he was feeling grave. Grave and a bunch of other things he couldn’t untangle. He’d never been a part of something. He’d always been the lone voice of opposition, the only one fighting to save his world.

  “Good.” Jordan clapped him on the back. “Come out with us tonight, huh?”

  Carter’s gaze drifted to Gallagher’s. He couldn’t help himself. He definitely should take the offer of friendship that was being handed to him instead of thinking that he had agreed to be walking around Gallagher’s parking lot later. To meet D.

  Dinah Gallagher.

  But no amount of sense or reason was going to prevail today. It didn’t stand a chance after last night. “I’ve got plans tonight, but Saturday? At Stars?”

  “You got it. I’ll see you later. Hey, you got anything I can bring to my grandma so she doesn’t smack me for skipping out on church last week?”

  Carter smiled and pointed toward his late-season melons in the back. “Yeah. Come with me.”

  Chapter 8

  Dinah had felt strange all day. Distracted. Confused. Daydreamy. All things she almost never was. Though if Craig or Grandmother noticed, they didn’t say anything, which in Dinah’s estimation meant they didn’t notice.

  But she noticed, and it was irritating the hell out of her that she could be distracted at the worst possible moment.

  She raked her fingers through her hair, sitting at Kayla’s desk, scowling at Craig’s list o
f bitch chores for her, and far too often drifting off into memories of this morning. It was so much better than calling some distributor to turn the screws, or running to the post office.

  This morning Carter had made her beg for release. She was pretty sure she had a bite mark on her shoulder. She knew she’d left a few marks on him. She tried to fight away a smile. She was at work. She could not be smiling over sex. Especially not over sex with that partner.

  “This is the last thing you can be thinking about, Dinah Gallagher,” she muttered aloud, trying to kick her brain into full-focused gear.

  “What is?”

  Dinah jerked in her seat and made a little screech of surprise. “Kayla. You scared me.”

  “I gathered,” Kayla said with a smile as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. “You don’t usually mutter to yourself so much unless Dad’s been by, and I know he’s been off-site all afternoon. What on earth has you so worked up?”

  Oh, just fucking Carter Trask. No, not as an adjective. As a verb. No big deal. We’re two separate personalities. Dinah barely resisted the urge to groan again. “I’m . . .”

  “Worried?” Kayla asked, her eyebrows drawing together, her fingers linking, everything about her expression and posture radiating concern—and something Dinah couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  “No.” Which was a lie, and she did hate to lie to Kayla, but Kayla was . . . softer. She needed someone very certain and strong to hold her up. That had always been Dinah’s role.

  “You don’t need to worry about my welfare, because I’ve decided to start looking for other jobs.”

  “Kayla!” Dinah pushed away from Kayla’s desk, sputtering and advancing on her cousin.

  But Kayla straightened her shoulders and didn’t cower at all. “This place is making me miserable, and—”

  “But we’re Gallagher’s!”

  “No, Dinah. I’m . . . me. I’m tired of all this business. I’m tired of Gallagher’s and the restaurant and I’m tired of the way our family gives everything to this pile of brick and metal without ever giving anything to each other.”