Page 2 of Falling for Keeps

Why have I kept tabs on the most popular guy in the grade above mine when high school was more than a decade ago? His mom is my only neighbor. I have no choice.

He’s watching me expectantly, so I smile. “About an hour. We had dinner earlier, so karaoke is the only natural conclusion for our night.”

Carson’s brow puckers. “Where’s Todd, then?”

“Who’s Todd?”

He sits back, observing me through unblinking lush, earthy eyes. Like orbs of rainforest packaged in his angular face. “Are you not…sorry, I thought you were Todd’s sister.”

My stomach sinks. No, he doesn’t recognize me. He has no idea who I am. He’s probably not friends with Dom, either. That year of being office assistants together as a sophomore and junior hasn’t served me whatsoever.

“Nope.”

Carson rubs his short beard, his bright smile flashing in self-deprecation. “He sent me a picture…and you look like her. This is embarrassing.”

Except the way he’s smiling at me like we’re both in on the joke and the confident way he’s leaning in the booth are sending the opposite signals.

I lift my sash an inch. “Bachelorette party.”

His smile actually grows wider. Someone else is taking the stage to sing “Party in the U.S.A.” and everyone from my group is wooing—both men included—like we were offered decent overtime for event work.

Carson follows my gaze to the group of sashed, drunk librarians letting loose. “Context clues. Man, I was blind.” He returns his attention to my eyes, holding them for a beat in a way that makes me feel rooted in place. “Which one’s the bride?”

“Head Librarian,” I say, pointing.

“Good.” He nods. “I don’t want to be that guy hitting on a woman while she celebrates her impending marriage.”

A smile breaks over my lips. I can read between the lines, and it sounds like he’s planning on flirting with me. This isn’t very me, but I won’t pretend it’s not some kind of fantasy coming to life. Besides, I’ll probably never see this guy in person again. The most interaction we’re going to have is me watching from my window as he drives up to have Thanksgiving dinner with his mom.

Even that is rare.

“No fiancé,” I tell him.

“Boyfriend?”

My gaze flicks to the dance floor, where Seth is watching us while he continues to dance with Demi’s sister. Her long dark hair swings as she moves around him. “Nope.”

Carson must clock this. “But that guy wants to be?”

“No, nothing like that. We have some history, but…it’ll never go anywhere.”

“Poor guy.”

I glance up, and Carson is looking down at me. My throat is thick with nerves. Does Carson Price think I’m pretty? Because that’s what he’s implying, and I don’t know what to do with that information. It ties my tongue into knots.

He leans closer, sending me a whiff of cologne that’s hard to describe, except I’m sure there’s some sort of sage or something equally manly and confusing. “So, if your entire party is out on the dance floor, why are you keeping the bench warm?”

“Designated driver.” I shrug, wishing my glass was full so I’d have something to sip.

“Being sober doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. I know plenty of people who don’t drink but still sing.”

My cheeks warm at the very thought. “Karaoke isn’t really my thing. I’m more of a sit-back-in-the-shadows-and-film-my-friends kind of party girl.”

“Funny. I pegged you as a read-in-the-corner type.” He reaches over and taps the paperback on my lap.

Busted. “It’s a work thing.”

“Reading a novel?”