Noah is working on unlocking the door now. He pushes it open and Meredith goes in first. She gets Leo and his leash and promises to be back soon.
“I got a date with her,” I tell him. “But I have no idea how it’s going to go. I didn’t even know it was her until she was getting out of my truck and I saw the dove tattoo. I noticed there was something familiar about her, but she kept saying we hadn’t met before. I’m wondering if I should ask Sylvia what’s up with her or discover it on my own.”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked her why she ran and she ended up saying because it was wrong. I honestly thought she was going to not go, but then she gave me her phone number and told me to make it sort of last-minute so she’s less likely to come up with an excuse to cancel on me.”
Noah laughs. “I still say she’s crazy, but that is probably right up your alley.”
“Now I have to figure out where to take her on a date.”
I do as Elizabeth requested and give her short notice. When I arrive at her front door, I knock. It swings open after what seems like forever, but really only thirty seconds or so. She seems tense, but she gives me a smile anyway.
“Hey, Marc.”
“Hey, Elizabeth.”
Her frown deepens. “Am I dressed okay?” I’m surprised she has apparently given up on correcting me already.
I let my eyes roam over her body; jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt. “You’re dressed just fine. Ready?”
“I guess.”
That’s not encouraging, but it’s okay. Elizabeth lets me open the door for her, but she’s quicker to haul herself into the passenger seat than before. I close the door and walk around. My truck isn’t really that big. I mean, it is, but it’s not like some trucks I’ve seen while living in the South. It hits me that her hesitation before was probably because of what happened the last time she was in my truck.
“How was your day?” I ask once we’re on the highway.
“It was fine. Yours?”
“Hoping it gets better.”
“Do you usually have sex with strangers in your truck?” she blurts out.
I chuckle. “No. That was a first for me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Do you usually have sex in a stranger’s truck?”
“No.”
She seems to clam up at that, so I leave her be. When I pull into a local ice rink, park, and look at Elizabeth, she’s pale.
“I figured we could go skating.”
It’s not creative, but I didn’t want to be overthinking aspects of the date while I was with her, and I knew I wouldn’t do that if I had skates on my feet. Her head begins to shake, and I notice her hands are trembling. She’s staring at the building, though.
“Elizabeth?”
Her chest rises and falls with her labored breathing. “I...can’t.” Finally, she looks at me. I’ve never seen such terror in someone’s eyes before. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Get me away from here. Please, Marc.”
I crank the ignition and back out of my parking space. She was fine and then she wasn’t. I drive to my Plan B, which is just up the road. I felt like I needed to be prepared in case Elizabeth didn’t like what I had planned. A quick glance at Elizabeth shows her eyes closed as she tries to regulate her shaky breaths. Whether I should or not, I reach over to take her hand, give it a squeeze, and stroke my thumb over her knuckles, hoping it helps. Elizabeth’s grip is strong, but it slowly relaxes.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
“It’s fine,” I reply as I pull into the parking lot.
“What is this place?” Elizabeth frowns.
“A place where we’re going to have fun.”
“Fun? Have you been talking to Sylvia?”
What does that have to do with Sylvia?
Noting my confusion, she shakes her head. “Never mind. Let’s go.” She’s opening the door and jumping out before I can unbuckle my seatbelt.
We’re at an indoor trampoline park. Elizabeth seems uneasy, but she doesn’t say much as I buy our tickets and a locker. We remove our shoes and wait a few minutes before we’re allowed in as you essentially pay for time slots.
“Marc.” Elizabeth grabs my hand, but her voice is what stops me. She’s watching all the people, young and older, jumping around on the dozens of trampolines. The pause between songs is gone and another starts.
When those unsure hazel eyes land on me, a quick tug of my hand pulls her closer. “Do you trust me?”
“No,” she immediately answers, causing me to laugh.
“Then trust Sylvia. We’re just going to jump around and have fun.” I don’t give her a chance to back out before I’m pulling her into the room. I release her hand and take the first jump.
There’s a huge grin on my face when I turn and see that Elizabeth has taken her first jump with me.
OKAY.
I’m woman enough to admit it.
This.
Is.
Fun.
There! I said it! Not aloud, of course. I’m surprised I’m here. There was something about the way Marc was giving me an out the other night that led me to getting a wild hair and giving him my phone number. He’s unfortunately right. There is chemistry between us, even if I don’t want there to be. It’s also hard to believe that he meant what he said when he claimed he wanted a date with me more than his next breath.
Come on!
That can’t be true.
Marc must have a way with words. After all, it’s because of those words that I’m on a date. The first date I’ve sort of wanted to be on in nearly six years. It was an almost disastrous one too. An ugly panic attack reared its head when he pulled into the ice rink. No way could I even get out of the truck. Marc didn’t ask any questions. He simply left and brought us here. Where we’ve been jumping on the various trampolines like we’re kids.
Marc reaches for my hands, making me move closer to him as we jump. He starts making silly, funny faces while we’re in the air before making his expression completely bleak as we fall back down.
I can’t help it.
I laugh.
I giggle.
It’s a bit disturbing. I try my hardest to stop, but it’s almost impossible. Marc releases my hands, takes a few jumps back since we’re on a rectangular one and have the space. He does a back flip followed by a front flip.
What a damn show-off. I roll my eyes to show I’m not impressed, but I kind of am. I can’t do it. Or, I won’t attempt it. It’s taken me fifteen minutes to even be comfortable jumping. My breasts aren’t small, but they aren’t huge either. Yet it still feels like they’re going to slap me in the face with all the bouncing around going on. It’s taking all my willpower not to cross my arms or hold them in place.
I can’t believe I’m here. That I’m allowing Marc to take me out. This will probably go nowhere. How can I date when I don’t know if I’m capable, much less whether I want to? My mind, heart, and soul have been in a precariously fragile state for a long time. I’m to believe it can be healed?
Impossible.
I’ve seen too much, done too much, and lost too much.
“You look like you’re thinking too much, Elizabeth.”
“Are you ever going to call me Lizzy?” I ask, unable to grumble because he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the music.
Marc grins. “No.”
“Why not?” I’m genuinely curious.
“Because it fits you. Elizabeth sounds like the name for a complicated, uptight, piece of work woman who would give a guy a hard time.”
I lied.
Marc doesn’t have a way with words.
He’s a jackass.
I stop jumping and hop onto the walkway. He has no idea that his words hurt, even if they are true. Thankfully, he’s reminded me I’m this way for a reason. I seem to have trouble remembering why I don’t want to be here when he’s around and close and smiling. If only he’d leave me alone instead of following me, grabbing my elbow once a
gain, and twirling me to face him.
“That was a compliment,” he says.
I scoff. Yeah, right. Tell me I’m ugly while you’re at it, Marc.
“Want to know why?” His hand moves to my lower back. It’s a struggle to stare in return because no way am I asking why. Marc leans forward, stealing my breath at the thought that he’s going to kiss me, and his breath hits my ear instead. “Because I know and like Elizabeth. I don’t know Lizzy.”
He’s out of his ever-loving mind. Everyone around me has lost their mind! He “likes” me? What’s to like about me? He doesn’t even know me!
Marc grabs my hand and drags me back to the trampolines. The argument that was about to fly out of my mouth dies and is all but forgotten. He’s a devious beautiful man. How can one not have fun while listening to great music and jumping on trampolines when a guy like Marc is smiling at you? I even do a back flip. I stumble on my landing and have to suppress my smile while ignoring Marc’s. Once we hit the hour mark, I’m so relieved. I may be twenty-five, but I’m not in any kind of shape. How did I even last this long?
“You need food,” Marc says as we put our shoes back on.
“You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Marc starts chuckling to himself.
“What?”
“You have an accent, but I really heard it when you said ‘right.’” He says it with much emphasis on the I. “Are you from here or further south?”
I clear my throat, saying my words carefully to keep my accent from coming out. “I’m from here, and my accent is just fine, thank you very much.”
“I think it’s cute.” He stands and holds his hand out for me to take. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a Southern belle on my hands.”
“You have an accent, too,” I point out to keep from thinking about what he said. It makes sense that he was wearing a Canadian flag Speedo; he’s from Canada. His accent is nothing like mine, nowhere near as pronounced except for when he says a few words slightly different than how I’m used to hearing them.
“Say y’all for me,” he says as we walk outside. “Oh, wait. No. Say all y’all.”
I giggle at hearing him saying it with a poorly exaggerated attempt at a Southern accent.
“Ah, I get to hear another lovely laugh from the lady.”
I roll my eyes as he opens the truck door for me. For some reason, I find myself doing as he asks. With a straight face, I infuse some anger into my tone and say, “All y’all need to sit down and shut up.”
Marc’s eyes widen for a moment before he bursts out laughing. I can’t help the small smile on my face.
Until he cups my face and kisses me hard just once.
“You’re cute.”
Why does he have to keep kissing me?
Oh god.
Why do I like it?
This is so wrong.
Just like that my breathing becomes rapid and I take a step back from Marc. I need to go home where I’m safe and alone. This is a stupid idea. He’s a hockey player! I can’t do it. I can’t do this to Roger.
I’m startled when Marc cups my face, his eyes now concerned instead of carefree. “Elizabeth,” he says softly. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to do this.” That’s wrong; I kinda want to do this. “I can’t do this, Marc. Take me home. This...this...is crazy!” My voice raises to nearly a shrill. Tears begin to fall and Marc pulls me into a hug. Closing my eyes is a very bad idea. Memories assault me, coloring my vision red. Marc’s embrace feels good and comforting and that’s very bad, too.
“Elizabeth, deep breaths.” He starts taking slow, long breaths so I can match him. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Before, he asked me. Now, he’s demanding me. Aside from the difference in the words, there’s a slight difference in tone. His voice is sturdy and definitely firmer.
“Where do you want me to start? I’m not like you. I am an uptight, no fun, piece of work woman with so much baggage I feel like I’m being buried alive. I don’t want to be here on a date with someone who can actually make me have fun because on top of all of that, I’m scared out of my mind!”
His arms tighten around me. “I only want to get to know you, Elizabeth.”
Yeah, that’s all he wants now. He already said he likes me. What about when he wants more? I don’t know if I want to give someone more of me. Why couldn’t Sylvia just leave this alone? Who cares if I never fall in love again and I die a lonely woman? I don’t think this stress and anxiety and complicated emotions bouncing around like a pinball inside of me is worth it.
“Let’s get to know each other while we eat. How does that sound?”
“Like I don’t have a choice,” I mumble, making him laugh. I pull away from him and finally get into the truck. Marc has officially seen my crazy. He’ll be a gentleman, feed me, and then I probably won’t ever hear from him again.
Lucky for me, it’s margarita night at the casual restaurant he chose to take me to. I order two to start because I’m definitely going to need something to get me through this. We are quiet as we look over the menu while I steadily sip my first margarita. My eyes keep straying to Marc. He’s so beautiful and even more so since I know he’s good in bed, er, a truck, and know there’s a kindness to him. Otherwise, we would be halfway to my house by now.
Our silence comes to an end after we order and Marc asks, “So, how do you know Scott and Sylvia?”
“Truth or white lie?” I ask after a large swallow of my margarita. Might as well go all in. Maybe if I tell him some of my issues upfront, he’ll decide I’m carrying too much weight and walk away.
There’s no hesitation. “Truth.”
Well, he asked for it. “I’m Scott’s sister-in-law.”
“Sylvia is your sister?”
“No. I’m married,” I stop, swallow hard, and correct myself. “I was married to his brother.” God, I need more alcohol. Marc is just staring at me. “He died.”
“I’m so sorry,” he immediately replies. The sincerity in his tone is overwhelming.
Might as well go whole hog. Or at least, half hog. There are some things he shouldn’t know about. “We got married right out of high school. He died almost six years ago.” Okay, maybe I can’t do this. I focus on something else. “Sylvia has been pushing me to date because according to her, it’s time. Maybe it is. I don’t know.” My eyes water, so I pause to drink more. “I...” My voice cracks and the words vanish from the tip of my tongue.
“You don’t have to say more,” Marc tells me softly.
For some reason, that pisses Tipsy Elizabeth off. “You want to get to know me, don’t you?” He nods. “He’s part of me. You can’t know me without knowing him, Marco.”
“Then tell me.”
He’s serious. I don’t understand. Any other time I mention a dead husband, the guys gladly cut me loose, and here this oddball is wanting me to tell him all about it?
“He loved hockey,” I find myself saying. “It’s how he died, and why I struggle to be around the ice. He wasn’t a pro like Scott. He always told me that while he loved the game, he didn’t have Scott’s work ethic. When I went to the game the night we formally met, I sat outside the box because I couldn’t handle sitting with everyone else and watching.
“So, I hope you’re not looking for someone who can go to games to cheer you on because I can’t. I don’t know why Sylvia thought we’d hit it off because that seems like such a huge thing. I mean, she tries to go to at least one game a week because she loves being there to support Scott, and I know he loves it.
“I like my life. It’s unfulfilling, but it’s working for me. You already know I’m a bank teller. I quit school when Roger died. Never went back. I’m starting to think Sylvia set me up with a lot of bad dates, hoping I’d see you and be glad she finally set me up with a good one. Pretty sure you’re why she insisted I go to that Halloween party, too. All she said was that one of Scott’s friends was hosting it. I didn’t know it was the team
. I guess I should apologize for that night. I’d been drinking and well, I stopped thinking.”
“I tried finding out who you were,” Marc interrupts.
“Why?” I bluntly ask. Food has arrived so I’m alternating between eating and drinking.
“Because there was just something about you that I couldn’t stop thinking about.”
I snort. “Sure that wasn’t just Ivy?”
“It was you,” he says pointedly. His gaze is unsettling.
I clear my throat. “I want to know about you and your life.”
“I like to have fun, to laugh, and to play hockey. You were my one and only hookup. I’m a guy built to be a hockey player, a friend, and a boyfriend. Noah Ramsey is my best friend and Meredith is like a sister to me. I’m an only child.”
“You must have been a handful for your parents.”
Marc shrugs. “My dad raised me. What about your parents? What are they like?”
“I don’t want to talk about them,” I quickly answer.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You want to ask me about my parents, but don’t want me to ask you about yours?”
“Right.” I nod.
“That’s not fair.”
I sigh. “My parents don’t speak to me anymore. I did something unforgivable, which I’m never going to talk about, so don’t ask.”
Marc seems to nod in understanding. What’s up with that?
“Don’t you have bad traits?”
Marc laughs. “Of course. I joke too much and don’t always know when to stop. Noah can attest to that.”
“Why him?”
“Because I’ll scream and rush to Meredith when I see her. I’ll pick her up, twirl her around while I hug her, and give her a big kiss on the cheek just because I know it irks him, especially since I’m her favorite among his friends. I used to joke about sharing her, but he’s a little more testy now that they’re engaged.”
“Have you ever been married or engaged?”
Marc shakes his head. “No.”
“Why?”
Because It's You (Carolina Rebels Book 2) Page 3
