I was never the casual type. Jared was my first real boyfriend. Maybe it’s time I stopped obsessing over building my fantasy family and have some fun until I get my life on track.
“Consider it. If you’re not comfortable with the idea, we can go back to business as usual.”
His mask of nonchalance is firmly in place, but I catch the hopeful pitch of his suggestion. Despite the needles of anxiety prickling my fingertips, I still want to get more of Carter. Last night he didn’t let me touch him and the want creeps back with every whiff of his expensive cologne and the way his muscles coil when he pivots in his seat.
“Do you have anywhere else to be?” He interrupts my fall into X-rated fantasies.
“No,” I answer, unsure of his intentions. “I have to be at the shop after lunch.” The small windowless office and the endless rows of orders and product series are mind-numbing. But there will be a check at the end of the week.
“Can we sit together for a while?”
His request catches me off guard. My body is tense and alert in the silence.
Carter hooks his palm behind my ankle and I nearly jump out of my skin. “What’re you doing?”
“Relax.” He’s dragging his finger over my ankle in soothing circles.
The warmth of his hand seeps into my body with each stroke. I finally relax into the soft cushion and close my eyes. As crazy as it sounds, I trust Carter.
“Did you get this scar climbing trees like the wilding I imagine you were?”
My drowsiness evaporates and I realize what he’s been looking at for the past five minutes. Most of the time I forget about it and I’m not too fond of remembering how I got it—another mark in the tally of Eliza’s history of doing stupid things to be accepted and loved.
“I was a wilding on a bike. Kids’ stuff.” I brush it off.
His fingertips dig a little deeper around the red mark. Not enough to hurt, but it takes me back to last night and to the way he pressed his thumb between my legs. I have to swallow a small sigh.
“You could indulge me. My childhood was pretty sterile,” Carter says, giving me a charming smile capable of altering my brain chemistry.
Why is he interested in stories about my crappy childhood?
“Fine. It was one summer when I was seven. The family had an older son and he used to pull the other kids on a rickety bike with his truck. One time he let me ride it and I crashed into the gate.” That’s the short and least sad version.
The older kids always messed with me, but I couldn’t say anything.
Carter tilts his head and clasps my ankle. The heat of his palm squeezing goes straight to my core.
“You have a terrible poker face.” He smirks when I gasp, offended. “I’d appreciate the whole story please.”
How the hell does he know there’s more to it? The way he pays such close attention unnerves me and the truth spills out.
“I wasn’t usually invited to join in, so when he asked, I was so happy they’d finally warmed up to me. And it looked so fun.” I focus on the hem of my shirt.
I remember how fast joy turned into pure terror when Terry kept going faster on the dirt road. “He didn’t slow down this time, raced faster toward the farm’s gate.” I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me. “He swerved before the old metal gate, and I crashed into it. I don’t remember much because I hit my head and passed out.”
I do remember the blinding pain. I was sure I’d lose my leg.
Carter is silent and I brace for thepoor Elizaspeech.His face has a gray sheen to it and he looks in pain.
“Tell me they didn’t leave you with them after that,” he says, placing his other hand on my foot.
“They didn’t have to.” I smile bitterly. “The first thing I heard when I woke up in the hospital was thefather yelling at me for damaging the gate.” I don’t know why but I laugh. It’s preposterous now, but Carter doesn’t join in. “They were the ones who sent me way.” Again.
Carter’s frown deepens. I’m sorry for him. This isn’t the funny childhood story he was looking for.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t that bad.” I laugh it off. “The sad thing is I was left with a crippling fear of riding bikes,” I huff. “I can’t get on one to save my life.”
Such a shame. There are so many bike routes around the coast and the forest that it would be lovely to ride along during the off-season.
