As he headed up around the side of her house, she lost all confidence. The adult meeting was a few hours away. How was she supposed to bring up her and Oliver with the clan? It felt so arrogant to assume she was the only reason he’d protected them all these years. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. And yet…
…possible.
She would have kept staring after him all day if she hadn’t noticed that it had grown quiet behind her. No shovels clanking. No grunts as mud was lifted from the hole. Turning, she saw the six men watching her steadily.
Dylan elbowed Greg. “See. I told you. Oliver’s hooked.”
“No thanks to her,” Jeff added, wiping his muddy hands on his jeans. “That guy’s shy as an ox, CC. Couldn’t you at least give him a little encouragement? Bat your eyelashes, swing your hips, or something? No sense making the guy sweat bullets all the time.”
“No wonder he’s still single,” Dylan added with a smirk.
“Yeah,” Jeff added. “Carrie’s going to have to do all the work, and even then, he’ll probably still drop dead first.”
“Excuse me?” she said.
No one heard her over the bursts of laughter. And with that came a sudden onslaught of words. “She’ll have to ease him into the idea of being with a girl.” “She could twirl what’s left of his hair.” “Oooh, Oliver,” Dylan crooned, “Take me for a ride, take me away from this awful place.” Someone added something about a back seat, and from there it went downhill. All of it was hurled at her with alarming speed, and her cheeks burned with mortification. Ironically, the only ones not joining in were the single men, Greg and Braden.
It took three times of her saying “Stop!” before she could project her voice loud enough to carry. Then she had their full attention.
“How can you…?” She couldn’t bring herself to meet their eyes. “What right do you have to butt into my life?”
“Plenty,” Jeff barked, amusement long gone. “My kids’ lives are riding on your relationship. Whether you like it or not, this isn’t just about you anymore. Oliver knows too much.”
Greg leaned against his shovel. “She’s doin’ fine. Like Dylan said, Oliver’s hooked.”
Jeff spun around. “Then it’s your job not to screw it up!”
“I won’t!” Carrie snapped.
She realized a second too late that Jeff hadn’t said it to her. He said it to Greg.
It was too much. Her eyes burned.
“Excuse me,” she whispered. Then she darted up the stairs.
twenty-eight
SOMEONE KNOCKED THE CLAN SIGNAL on Carrie’s back door a short while later. Carrie kept reading. Jonah didn’t want to be bothered by visitors, and neither did she. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with a male who could barely say five words. Unfortunately, Amber felt differently. She flew down the stairs and slid open the kitchen door.
“Hi, Braden,” Amber said in her drippy, flirty voice.
“Hey, can I talk to Carrie?” Braden said.
There was a brief pause in which Carrie imagined her sister glaring before she said, “Carrie’s in the living room.”
“Uh, I don’t think I should go inside. I’m pretty muddy.”
Carrie set Jonah down. “That’s okay, Braden. I’ll come over there.”
She hesitated to round the corner, but Braden stood alone on her deck. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
“I came to apologize for the group,” Braden said. “We were a bunch of jerks. We were just horsing around, but we were way out of line, so we’re sorry.”
“What happened?” Amber said, looking between them.
Carrie didn’t answer. “Thanks, Braden. Although I didn’t hear you saying anything.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t stop it either,” he said. “I feel bad. We all do.”
All? She doubted that. At eighteen, Braden was more mature than all those men combined—as was proof right now. Greg might as well have tied puppet strings on the others and fed them their lines. “My kids’ lives are riding on your relationship.” Greg had turned her clan against her.
Her clan. Not his.
“What happened?” Amber asked again.
Braden glanced at her but still spoke to Carrie. “I also wanted to let you know that we’ll behave from now on. So if you have stuff to do outside—plants, laundry, or whatever—we’ll leave you alone. Jeff and Dylan even promised to quit calling you CC.”
That was something.
Amber’s hands went to her hips. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
“Thanks, Braden,” Carrie said, even though she knew she wouldn’t be spending any time in her yard until her well was finished.
Braden gave her a last apologetic smile, and then his gaze shifted from one sister to another, and Carrie was completely forgotten. Amber stepped in front of Carrie and threw her a Get lost look. Carrie wandered back to Jonah, happy to know there was at least one gentleman left in the world.
She spent the rest of the day sweeping her carpets, watering her one tomato plant—the only plant that had survived—and making flat noodles. She avoided all the windows even though the men left shortly after the encounter. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Even with Braden’s apology, she was too humiliated. And angry. And confused, upset, and all around unsociable. So when someone knocked on her door again—the front door this time—she still refused to answer.
“Carrie!” Zach shouted from upstairs. “Get the door!”
She rolled the noodle dough with extra gusto, pretending not to hear Zach or the second knock. Zach flew out of his bedroom and ran downstairs as fast as his legs could take him.
“Carrie,” he whined, spotting her in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you get the—Hey, it’s Greg!”
Carrie groaned. Greg was the absolute last man on earth she wanted to see. As Zach opened the front door, she set down the rolling pin and slid to the floor behind the kitchen island, hiding.
“Hey, Zach,” she heard Greg say. “Is Carrie here?”
“Yeah. She’s in the kitchen.”
Traitor.
Zach ran back upstairs and left Greg standing at the door. Carrie didn’t move. She hunched low behind the island and took a quick accounting of her clothes: rolled-up sweat pants and her dad’s old t-shirt which hung to her thighs. It wasn’t even sundown and she was in her pajamas. Pajamas covered in flour. She crouched further.
The door shut, and she heard Greg’s footsteps as he ushered himself in.
“I can see your feet, Carrie,” he said.
She pulled her feet in.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
Greg didn’t leave, but neither did he invade her little corner of the kitchen. After a full minute, she realized he would just wait her out, so she finally stood. He’d cleaned up from before, unlike her with crusted, floured hands, but she didn’t let that intimidate her. She borrowed his usual greeting of folded arms, planted feet, and narrowed eyes in what she hoped was a convincing glare.
Unaffected, he threw two more ugly fish on her counter. “I’m here to get you for the meeting,” he said.
Not a, Hello. Not an, I’m sorry, Carrie. Not even a, Please forgive me for bein’ a jerk and turnin’ everybody against you. Just…I’m here to get you for the meeting.
Normally she would have thought up a polite response, but Greg had pushed her personality well outside of its civil borders.
“Why bother,” she said coolly. “I’m not going.”
He gave her ratty sweats a quick once over. “Why not?”
“I’m not levelheaded enough to talk about Oliver right now.”
“Understandable. I’ll wait for you to change.”
She stared at him. “Didn’t you hear me, Greg? I said I’m not going.”
With a sigh, he scratched his clean-shaven cheek. “I suppose I should apologize first then. I planned on apologizing on the way to the meeting, but I came early just in case.”
/> Just in case?
An apology from Greg was unexpected. His method was not.
She motioned for him to sit on their couch until she remembered that Jeff and Jenna Kovach had it now. Refusing to be derailed, she motioned to the kitchen chairs. He didn’t sit though. He continued to stare at her ratty sweats.
“Don’t you wanna change first?”
“Do my clothes bother you, Greg?” she snapped.
“Not at all. They’re actually kinda…” His voice trailed off before he redirected. “I’m just worried that if I bomb the apology, you still won’t come.”
“Well at least you’re perceptive.”
She was starting to sound snarky like Amber. Good, she thought. Amber didn’t let people walk all over her. Amber didn’t let other people decide her fate or her love life.
Greg pulled out a folding chair and sat. She stayed on the opposite end of the kitchen, refusing to speak first. It was an interesting wait. For the first few seconds, he traced the new scar in his palm, apparently gathering his thoughts. But to no avail. In the end, he just blurted it out.
“I’m sorry, Carrie.”
Her brows rose. She waited for more explanation or some sign of true remorse, but he just sat back and looked at her as if it was her turn to speak. After every rude thing he’d done, after every insensitive, uncivil word he’d said, she was surprised. And then she was surprised that she was surprised.
“Well that was a little anticlimactic,” she noted dryly.
“Sorry. That’s the only part I practiced,” he said. “I gotta get the next sentence figured out before I say somethin’ stupid.”
She leaned against the counter. This should be interesting.
“I realized somethin’ outside today,” he started again, “when all the guys were mouthin’ off.” But for a second time he stopped, seeming to really struggle with whatever he wanted to say. If she hadn’t been so upset, she might have felt sorry for him. Greg never had a hard time saying anything.
He sighed. “I realized that I was doin’ to you what my grandma’s been doin’ to me.”
“What, Greg?” she said, patience worn thin.
His eyes finally lifted to hers. “Forcin’ you into a relationship you don’t wanna be in.”
It took a second for his words to sink in. Then she stared down at her floured hands. Leave it to Greg to throw a barb into the middle of an apology. May’s matchmaking had backfired big time. Instead of letting it hurt, Carrie focused on her newly acquired Amber skills.
“Well, you had your little posse nicely orchestrated,” she said. “Did you feed Jeff that line about his kids?”
“Actually, Carrie, what I told you at lunch is what everybody’s been sayin’ for months behind your back. I was just the first one with the decency to say it to your face. They’re real concerned about what’ll happen if things end badly with you and Oliver. Real concerned. But…” He blew out his breath. “It’s your life. I’m not gonna bug you about Oliver anymore.”
She eyed him, leery. “What about my duties to the clan? To my family? Your little guilt trip worked. It’s not like I want to force everyone into a life of fear. It’s a one in a million chance Oliver will turn on us, but what if he does? I don’t want to go back to how things were that first year. It was awful.”
“Then let’s hope Oliver’s the kinda guy you say he is,” Greg said. “Let’s hope he’s doin’ all this outta the goodness of his heart, and not just ‘cause he’s in love with you.”
There it was again.
Love.
She played with a corner of her dad’s old shirt. Oliver had started helping their clan long before he knew who Carrie was. But…his visits had changed since then. He no longer stopped by May and CJ’s unless she was there, and then he only spoke to her anyway. And the way he had looked at Greg earlier…and the way he looked at her sometimes…and the shoes…and the clothes he left for her…
Oliver loves me.
The words felt unbearably heavy.
“I don’t deserve his attention,” she said softly.
“You do,” Greg said, “but it’s your choice what you wanna do about it—even though I strongly suggest you find a way to fall head over heels for that guy. But”—he held up his hands—“it’s your choice. I’m stayin’ outta your love life from now on.”
“What about the meeting?” she asked skeptically.
“I’ll keep my big mouth shut. I swear.”
She shook her head. “Who are you, and what have you done with Greg?”
He flashed a crooked smile. “Yeah, about that. I suppose I’ve got a bit more apologizing to do. I’ve been a real jerk to you, Carrie, baiting you at times and purposely bugging you at others, knowin’ full well I was drivin’ you nuts. From what Amber told me, it worked well. Real well.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Annoying me comes easily for you, and I don’t usually get annoyed.”
“So I’ve been told.” He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “I think that’s why I was doin’ it—besides the obvious reason of not wantin’ to attract your attention in any way. I was just plain sick of hearin’ about how sweet Carrie Ashworth was. ‘She’s just the sweetest person you’ll ever meet,’” he said in his old lady voice. “‘Just a sweetie sweetheart filled with all the sweetness in the world.’ Bleh. It wasn’t just my grandma, either. Every person I met said, ‘Oh, Greg, have you met Carrie? She is sooo sweet.’ So, while I’m not proud to admit it, it became a game of mine to sour some of that sweetness.”
“What kind of person does that?” She hadn’t meant to let the thought slip out, but he didn’t seem to mind her candidness.
“Me. Only it worked too well. I haven’t seen you smilin’ much lately, so again, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve my abuse.”
Shocked, she stared at him. He really was apologizing.
“I don’t know what to think, Greg.”
“I’m sure you don’t. I just wanted to let you know that I’m done bein’ a jerk—at least consciously. Some of it comes naturally,” he added with another smile, “but there’s not much I can do about that. So what do you say? Truce?”
Truce? With the guy who admitted to being a jerk, deliberately baiting her, but then turned around and apologized for it. Quite sincerely. She studied the fish on her counter, and in an instant Greg went from being the rudest man alive to the strangest.
Truce.
She hoped he meant it. It certainly seemed like he did, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Truce,” she agreed.
Standing, he crossed the room and reached out his hand. “Hi. I’m Greg Pierce. It’s nice to meet you Miss…?”
She studied his outstretched hand, a month in coming. With a slow smile, she shook it. “Carrie Ashworth. I’ve heard a lot about you, Greg.”
“And I you.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve heard about you.”
She winced. “I really am sorry about that.”
He smiled again a third time—which she shouldn’t have been counting. “Don’t be. So…you comin’ to the meeting?”
She glanced outside. The sun was lowering in the western sky which meant they’d be starting any minute. “Yeah. I guess I will.”
“Good. I’ll wait for you to change, unless you wanna come like that, which I’d totally understand.”
She inspected her flour-crusted pajamas and felt herself blush. “No. I’ll be right back.”
Carrie took the stairs two at a time, washed up, and threw on her dingy yellow work shirt. Then she ran a brush through her hair, refusing to analyze what had just happened downstairs. Sixty seconds wasn’t even close to enough time to figure out Greg Pierce.
She cracked open Amber’s bedroom door. Amber was in her room with Lindsey and Maddie, flipping through their magazines.
“Hey,” Carrie said, “I’m going to the meeting after all. I need you to clean up the noodle mess. Oh, and Jeff might drop off the
boys if Jenna isn’t feeling well. And there are more fish downstairs. You need to cook them up or give them away, okay?”
“Fish?” Amber sat up. “I told you that was Greg’s voice.”
Maddie lit up. “Oooh. Is he still here?”
Carrie wasn’t about to answer that—or any other questions that were sure to follow. “Don’t forget, Amber.”
She closed the door and ran lightly downstairs. Greg waited by the front door, and the two of them stepped out into a cool spring evening. She kept a safe but friendly distance as they headed down the sidewalk to May’s. The silence gave her time to think.
Truce with Greg.
Was it possible he was done hating her?
Desperate for a distraction, she glanced up at the sky. Large altostratus clouds formed above the orange sunset. The temperature was pleasant, maybe a five on her makeshift scale, but with the stiff breeze sending goose bumps down her arms and the smell of earth in the air, she guessed it would be raining by the end of the meeting. She hadn’t brought her coat either.
“What is it?” Greg asked, following her gaze upward.
“Nothing.” She refused to let him poke fun of her obsession and ruin his apology. “I was just thinking that I still better talk to the clan about Oliver. I don’t want to, but I know I should. Like you said, they should know my intentions.”
“Good. Just know that I can’t back you up. If I start sidin’ with you now, people will get the wrong idea about us, and I already get enough grief.”
For as often as it happened, she should have been used to it. I’m not interested. At least this time, she recovered quickly. “Right.”
They crossed the street and her hair blew wildly in the breeze. She twisted it away from her face. “So what else is on the agenda for tonight?” she asked.
“Follow up mostly,” he said. “Your well. Consolidation. Nothin’ too exciting.”
“I don’t know, Greg. Considering how bad last week was, you have everyone feeling pretty excited right now. You would have made a good businessman.”
Greg stopped and looked at her. “Thanks.”
He looked genuinely surprised by her words, making her feel stupid. A compliment went further than a simple truce. Yet, as he looked at her, she couldn’t seem to look away. It was the first time she noticed the color of his eyes. They were green like his mom’s, only less emerald and speckled with gold. As he looked down at her, they almost seemed—
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 21
