“It must be nice to have this figured out,” I encourage him. The sturdier the wall he builds around himself, the more I want to scrape at it until I get a peek at the other side. “I’d probably have an anxiety attack if I ever attended a fancy party. Always afraid to do or say the wrong thing,” I tell him, focused on taking in any small tell to help me figure out Carter Rawlings.
He already knows enough about me, but I can’t help giving him more ammunition if it means he won’t clam up again. I’m not a threat if people think less of me. It tempers any conflict before it escalates.
He’s still silent, and the intensity of his searching gaze makes me squirm in my seat. My skin itches uncomfortably when I’m under scrutiny and he’s had time to catalog every flaw by now.
“The only reason you wouldn’t fit in is because you don’t see the world in the same way as them. You’re toocaring and genuine,” he says casually, raising his fork. He goes back to his aristocratic eating, while I don’t know how to digest his statement that sounded like a compliment.
Carter’s olive branch binds us to a tentative truce and we each go about our days.
I desperately send job applications and spend the rest of the time sorting through the fishing cabin with Sam. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s been hiding his hoarding tendencies here, far from Martha’s cleaning-obsessed radar.
Carter goes on his jog in the mornings after breakfast and I do my best not to be in the house when he barges in, his running clothes sticking to every muscle and ridge of his body.
There’s no point in denying I find the man attractive. Too bad about his personality that sometimes irritates me to the point I want to smother him. Preferably with my lips. It’s useless to entertain this idea anyway. I’m still shaken about Jared and haven’t even talked to him yet. My life is a mess and I’m about to start renovating my future little home.
Not to mention I’m far from Carter’s type. I might have searched his name again and taken a better look at the gossip articles. I’d stand a chance if we were stranded in this cabin for the rest of our lives after an apocalypse.
Today he insisted…No. Hedemandedwe go grocery shopping together.
“I’m driving,” Carter tells me over his shoulder while grabbing his keys. He opens the front door and waves for me to pass.
I stare at him, speechless at the audacity to boss me around.
“I know you have no way of knowing this, but this is the way a gentleman opens the door so you can go first. So if you could hurry, please.”
I’m fond of any activity that gives me time away from him. Going to the supermarket today isn’t going to be one of those times.
“It’s too late to deal with your insanity. Everybody shops around this time,” I grumble and walk out.
“It’s called manners,” he says in that posh nasal tone he uses to drive me up the wall. And I stop in my tracks, a legion of fire ants marching under my skin. Until Carter places his hand gently on my lower back and opens the passenger door.
“It’s what you should expect,” he whispers in my ear, and his breath dances along the side of my neck. I’m thankful for the cardigan I grabbed on my way out. My thin top can’t hide the effect of his proximity.
He’s at my door in the blink of an eye after he parks. This is how he was raised. The boy who had ahigh society coach.
I’m nothing special, just a small-town girl who gets turned on by basic manners.
I’m about to pull out the shopping list when a painfully familiar voice echoes through the aisles.
“Eliza!” I hear the metallic grind of his cart and turn on my heels in the opposite direction. Black fog tunnels my vision as the faraway sound of my name tells me I’m safe for now.
I spot a small space between a fridge and a shelf, and I slip in there instinctively, my pulse thundering in myears.
“Are you also a fugitive?” Carter’s low voice alarms me and I bump my head against the cold metal. I want to smack that annoying smirk off his face.
“What? No! Just—” I forgot about Carter the moment Jared called my name. Rising on my toes I take a peek over his shoulders. Damn it. Jared is getting closer. “Cover me!”
I pull him closer, as a protective wall, and Carter ends up crowding me against the shelf. He’s stiff, but his arms and back muscles slowly relax. I now realize I can feel everything. The light pressure of his body works like a heat pad, and I melt into him.
My eyes travel from the last button of his dark shirt to the bump of his Adam’s apple, following its movements. His chin is not as clean-shaven as the night he stormed into my life.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he demands, his voice a harsh whisper.
Carter’s rumble makes my heart drum frantically. He must feel it given the way our chests are pressed together.
I muster the courage to look up at him and he’s pining me to the metallic wall with eyes dark as old silver. “Like what?” I gulp.
His hand grazes my arm and I think he might cup my face, but he threads his fingers through my hair, lightly touching the tender spot.
