“Is this about what that FBI guy said to you before? You believe that Muhammad would actually have anything to do with that?” Carlie’s hands shook as her own anger rose. “I thought you were becoming friends with him. How could you think that?”
“Carlie, I know he’s doing something and you know about it. I won’t be mad, just tell me.”
“I’m so glad you won’t be mad, but I’m pissed.” Standing from the couch, she glared down at him. “I clearly made a mistake telling you how I feel. I take it all back.” She shook her head, wishing her heart didn’t hurt so badly. “If you actually loved me, you’d trust me. You know I’m not a terrorist and neither is Muhammad. This is obviously an excuse so you don’t have to commit.”
“Carlie, that’s not what—”
“Don’t feel like you need to stay here and protect me. I’m not your responsibility. I refuse to be with someone who doesn’t believe in me.”
Turning on her heel, Carlie raced to the bedroom. She grabbed his suitcase from the closet, went to the dresser, and opened the drawer with his clothes. Not caring about wrinkles or folding things properly, Carlie shoved everything inside the bag and threw it into the hallway before slamming and locking the door.
The house was silent. Nick’s footsteps never sounded in the hallway to indicate he came to get his bag and she never heard the front door close. Apparently, he waited in the living room, though Carlie didn’t know why. She couldn’t face him.
Slowly, her anger burned itself out and horrible grief took over. She buried herself under the comforter, trying to muffle the sobs wracking her body. Carlie couldn’t understand what had happened to them the last few days. It seemed everything provoked a fight, and now this. Did he truly think she and Muhammad were terrorists? That was crazy. It had to be because he didn’t want her, and was using that as an excuse to get away.
It was worse than finding out the truth about Ryan. She let herself care deeply for Nick, and that had been a mistake. Why didn’t he trust her? And worse, why had he pretended to love her?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nick opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling when Carlie’s alarm went off back in the bedroom. Pain twinges raced along the muscles in his neck from sleeping crammed on the couch. Not that he’d done much sleeping.
Once Carlie’s heartbreaking sobs had finally quieted, Nick stayed awake a long time, torn about what to do. Though he knew she wanted him out of her house, he hadn’t moved from the living room. Aside from Paul’s orders to stay with her and the bracelet, Nick hadn’t wanted to leave.
Her reactions truly seemed like those of a woman hurt and confused. If it wasn’t for the bracelet, the wedding pictures, and how defensive she was about Muhammad, Nick would believe she was innocent and completely ignorant of the terrorist organization. He wished he could believe her. If Carlie were what she appeared to be, he wouldn’t have laid here all night contemplating whether it would be possible to kill her—and how much it would crush his soul if he did.
He heard her moving around in the bathroom and then the hall light turned on. Her footsteps sounded on the hallway floor and she poked her head into the living room. “Nick? Are you sleeping?”
He sat up and rolled his head around, trying to ease the stiffness. “No.”
She already had her work clothes on and her hair pulled back in a clip. The bruises on her face had faded enough that she didn’t need much makeup, but the night of crying left her eyes puffy. Nick felt awful all over again, seeing the evidence of how he’d hurt her.
“I thought you’d be gone,” she said.
“Even though we fought, I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”
She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m going to make coffee and cereal. Do you want any?”
Her offer surprised him, though her tone was cool. She obviously wasn’t ready to forgive and forget, but breakfast was a start.
“I’d like that.” He stood and took a few steps toward her. “Can we talk before you leave for work?”
“For a few minutes. I have a busy day. People ordered lots of rolls for Thanksgiving tomorrow.” Sighing, she looked down at the floor. “This was supposed to be such a happy holiday for us.”
“It still can be.”
She shook her head. “I’ll have breakfast ready soon.”
Nick hurried to use the bathroom and brushed his teeth, not taking the time to shave or shower. His bag sat on the hallway floor, items haphazardly hanging out of it. He took it back into Carlie’s room and set it on the bed, quickly pulling on clean clothes. Rushing back out, he entered the dining room just as Carlie set cereal bowls on the table.
She glanced up, her eyes shadowy and unreadable. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes, but we may as well eat while we wait.”
Nick sat next to her and spooned up a bite of the healthy fiber cereal she liked so much. He hoped she’d say something and give him a clue how to proceed, but she ate without comment. Looked like it would be up to him.
“I want to apologize for last night. I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s fine.” She stared at her cereal bowl. “A purely physical relationship would have been okay with me. I wish you’d been honest from the start.”
“I never said I only wanted a physical relationship. You misunderstood what I was trying to say.” Reaching across the table, he grabbed her hand.
She yanked away from him. “So, what? You actually think I’m a terrorist? It wasn’t an excuse to get out of a relationship with me?” Finally meeting his eyes, confusion was clear in hers.
He wasn’t sure how to get himself out of this situation. Last night, for some reason, he figured if he could get her to confide in him, maybe there was a chance he could talk her out of working with Muhammad. They could still run away together if she would give up the terrorist organization for him. Despite her flaws and the fact Nick should hate her, he was in love with her. It seemed nothing could change that.
And maybe that was his answer—to be honest. “Carlie, this is all screwed up. There’s one thing I know for sure.” He took her hand again, cupping it between both of his. “I am in love with you.”
Her eyebrows narrowed and she blinked rapidly. “How could you be? If you think I’m a terrorist, you obviously don’t even know who I am.”
“I do know who you are.” Not entirely true, but he knew his feelings for her were real. “What the FBI agent said got to me, that’s all. If you were involved in something illegal, I wanted you to confide in me. I wanted to be a part of your life, but I needed to know what I was getting into.”
She stood abruptly and grabbed her half-eaten cereal. “I suddenly don’t have an appetite.”
Carlie walked into the kitchen. The water came on and the garbage disposal whirled for a few seconds before both things shut off. She walked through the kitchen archway, staring at him.
“Please, Carlie, you have to forgive me.”
“I always thought involving feelings deeper than friendship would make things so much more satisfying than what I had with Bradley.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I thought that. I should have learned my lesson with Ryan.”
Nick ground his teeth together, his frustration level rising. Why persist with the Ryan lie? She had to know he was on to her and didn’t believe that story anymore. Perhaps she didn’t care about him at all, so it didn’t matter if her lies were too thin to be plausible. “Good to know where I stack up in regard to all the men of your life.”
She snorted. “Yeah? Well, I wanted you to be the top one, but you aren’t the man I thought you were.” Crossing to the end table where she kept her purse, Carlie picked it up and slung the strap across her shoulder. “I’m going to work. Please turn the coffee pot off before you leave.”
“I take it I’m not invited to come with you.”
Her lower lip trembled slightly, but she shook her head. “Take your stuff when you leave. You can stop by the shop to drop off the key, and th
en I don’t think we should see each other again.”
It was hard to catch his breath as waves of pain knifed through his body. He stood up and held his hand out, praying she’d change her mind. “You can’t mean that. Don’t throw me out of your life.”
“Goodbye, Nick.”
She brushed past him, her vanilla scent wafting in the air between them as she strode toward the door. She didn’t even turn around for one last look before leaving the house.
***
One batch of bread was in the oven and Carlie worked on dough for the dinner roll orders an hour later. Though she tried to tell herself to be strong, tears worked their way steadily down her cheeks. Shelley would arrive for work in a half hour and likely ask too many questions. Carlie didn’t want to face that, but she couldn’t get her grief under control.
She leaned against the wall and sank to the ground, wiping her tears helplessly. It was foolish to cry over him. Super hunk, complete jerk, her chivalrous hero—Carlie couldn’t decide exactly who Nick Kendall was. Definitely not who she thought.
The sounds of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony interrupted the silence, signaling a call from an unknown number coming in on her phone. Half hoping it was Nick from his hotel room calling to make up, she slipped it out of her pocket.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” a man’s voice said—not Nick. “Is this Carlie?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, but who is this?”
“Donovan Andrews. Edward’s friend.”
Carlie scrubbed at the tears on her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any Edward.”
“Er... Did I say Edward?” He laughed. “Weird. I meant Nick. I’m Nick’s friend.”
Crap. It sunk in who was on the other end of the line, Donovan—as in Donovan and Madeline—who planned to share Thanksgiving dinner at her house tomorrow. She totally forgot about them. “Did Nick call you and tell you about the change in plans?”
“Change in plans? No. I’ve been trying to reach him. He’s not answering his phone and I got worried. Nothing’s happened to him, has it?”
Strange question. What did Donovan expect to happen? “He was fine when I left this morning.”
A female voice rumbled in the background, though Carlie couldn’t make out the words.
“I’m getting there, darling,” Donovan said, though Carlie could tell the words weren’t directed at her. “We wanted to let you know we’re more than halfway there. We started out yesterday, because Maddie wanted to stop at all the lighthouses along the route, and we’re taking the kids to get ice cream at the dairy. We’ll be there around dinnertime and wondered if we could treat you guys tonight before you cook for us tomorrow.”
Shoot. They were already on their way. How could she say no? Nick told her they lived in northern California, a town about ten hours away. She couldn’t cancel now, not when they already traveled so far.
Forcing a smile on her face in the hopes her voice would sound cheerful, she said, “Dinner sounds great. I’ll let Nick know. He’s looking forward to seeing you.”
***
Nick stared at the damn bracelet, wishing Carlie hadn’t shown it to him. It made absolutely no sense that it was still sitting here. If it was such a dangerous little jewel and so important to the terrorists’ plots, why leave it?
Carlie knew he was on to her. He supposed it was possible she didn’t think he knew the significance of the bracelet, but that seemed unlikely. Carlie wasn’t stupid. She could connect the dots and realize he knew about the bracelet too, since he questioned her about everything else.
But she left it, right where it had been all along. His for the taking. At least he could lock it at the safe in his hotel room, but he didn’t understand why a terrorist wasn’t more suspicious of leaving her prized possession where he could get it. It didn’t make any sense.
The burner cell buzzed yet again. Donovan was the only person who had that number, and Nick knew he should pick it up and talk to his friend. The problem was, he didn’t know what to tell him. It seemed doubtful Carlie would still agree to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. Plus, if they planned an attack for this weekend, he really needed to let Donovan know so he could protect his family. They should be home stockpiling food just in case S.A.T.O. couldn’t stop Muhammad.
He raced to the living room to answer it, but the call disconnected before he could. Almost immediately, his normal cell phone rang. Nick glanced at the screen, shocked to see Carlie’s name come up on the caller ID.
Heart pounding, he answered it, almost afraid to hear from her. “Carlie? What’s wrong? Are you safe?”
Her sigh came over the line. “You’ve had to rescue me way too many times, I take it, if you expect me to be in trouble.”
He relaxed slightly. “That’s okay. I like being your hero.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Say you’ll forgive me.” He hoped she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Ever since she walked out the door, Nick had questioned his wisdom at confronting her. He had felt betrayed and wanted to force her into the truth. Losing time with her wasn’t worth it, though. He didn’t need the truth—he needed her to choose him.
“Whether I forgive you or you believe me is not the issue right now.” She paused and sniffed. Nick could tell she’d been crying. After how cold she acted this morning, he had worried that maybe she truly didn’t care. Relief flooded through him upon hearing her emotion. She did care, even if she was angry.
“What’s the issue?”
“Your friends are already over halfway here. They decided to start out yesterday. They’ll be here tonight and want to take us to dinner.”
“You talked to them?”
“Donovan said you weren’t answering your phone.”
Donovan must have saved Carlie’s number when Nick called him from it the first time. “I didn’t know what to tell him.”
“Neither did I,” she admitted. “We’re going to have to get along, at least through the holiday. They’ve already traveled a long way. We can’t just ditch the plans now.”
“We can’t?” Nick wondered if he sounded as shocked as he felt. If Carlie really wanted to end their relationship, she’d cancel. Maybe this was her way of making up with him.
“I already bought food for tomorrow and they expect a nice holiday,” she replied. “What else could you do? Order room service at the hotel?”
“We could, actually,” he said softly, “but I’d rather be with you.”
“I’m not saying everything is fine between us,” she cautioned. “Let’s just get through the next few days and see where we stand.”
After the next few days, he was supposed to kill her. Nick closed his eyes and ran his hand across his face, wondering how he could sort all this out. He didn’t know what to do. “I’d really like that. I do love you, Carlie.”
“I have a lot to get done today at the shop,” she said. “You should call Donovan and finalize the plans. I’ll be ready around seven tonight and you can pick me up at my house then.”
Which meant she still expected him to be out of it. “I can’t wait to see you. I’ll do whatever I can to make things up to you.”
“I can’t talk about that right now. I’m still too angry. Goodbye.”
The phone went dead and Nick lowered it. Although he’d planned to cancel on Donovan, he was happy his friend was almost to town. He needed advice in the worst way.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carlie finished applying lipstick right as the doorbell rang. She took one last look at her reflection, deciding the fading bruises on her neck and cheek weren’t noticeable enough to upset Nick’s friends or their children. Part of her wished she’d just told them plans had changed and she wouldn’t be joining them for the holiday, but that was the part always running scared.
While she didn’t understand how Nick could ever think she was a terrorist, especially based on what a stranger told him, it didn’t stop her from loving him. She wanted to work t
hings out. Maybe she had been a little too hard on him. After all, he had never had a deep, meaningful relationship by his own admission. Yet, he persisted in saying he loved her. Maybe he really meant that. Maybe he just let the FBI guy get to him because he was looking for reasons to end the relationship, but having a hard time finding any, and that scared him.
Sighing, she made her way to the front door, checking out the peephole to make sure it was Nick before opening the door. He looked extremely handsome, dressed in black slacks and a deep purple dress shirt beneath his suit jacket.
“You look beautiful,” he said, though he didn’t make any moves to touch her or enter the house. “Donovan and Madeline are meeting us at the restaurant. That waffle house down on Fifth.”
She nodded. “Great. I’ll grab my coat.”
Carlie pulled it from the front closet and slipped into it. It was a shame to cover up the beautiful white silk blouse Shelley lent her, but she’d freeze in the drizzling rain that started up a few hours earlier. Nick’s friends probably wouldn’t judge her on fashion anyway since they picked a waffle house. At least, she hoped not.
Grabbing her purse, she stepped out onto the porch and locked the door. “Okay, let’s go.”
Nick offered his arm, but Carlie started down the stairs without taking it. Blindly forgiving him and pretending nothing changed wasn’t something she wanted either.
He opened her car door and then went to the driver’s side, sliding behind the wheel and fastening his seat belt. He put the keys in the ignition, but glanced at her before starting the car. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to spend the evening fighting with you.” Reaching across the console, he ran gentle fingers down her cheek. “Especially not when all I want is to kiss you.”
Carlie closed her eyes, melting at his touch and craving more of it. “I promise not to make a scene in front of your friends, but I’m not sure kissing is a good idea.”
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