Page 30 of Falling for Keeps

“It makes me question your friends.”

“In Tennessee they were all Jen’s friends, really. I was golfing buddies with a few of her friends’ husbands, but I lost them in the separation.”

“No work friends?”

“The dentist I worked with was getting ready to retire.”

“You can hang out with people twice your age.” I give a little flourish to gesture to the house we’re standing in. “I count your mom on my list of friends.”

“As you should. She’s a great person to have in your corner.”

“It sounds like you need more people in yours.”

He shrugs. “I have people, but everyone’s dealing with their own stuff, too. I don’t want to dwell on my failures.”

“Maybe that’s your first problem, Carson. It’s not your failure. It just didn’t work out.”

“I couldn’t keep her happy, so I’d consider that partially my fault. She wanted more than I could give her.”

“Some people will never be happy if they think they need more. Some ambition never dies; it just festers until it spoils.”

There’s silence while he narrows his eyes. “So that’s why you weren’t curious. You already know what happened.”

“I promise I know nothing. The only thing your mom said was that you got divorced, and she hopes you heal from it quickly.”

Carson reaches for my cheek, wiping at what I assume is a paint speckle and leaving a swarm of butterflies in his wake.

“Judging by the bar last week, you’re…healing,” I say, way too breathless to play it cool.

He smirks, more of him leaning into more of my space. The air buzzes between us and his warm finger keeps brushing over the spot on my cheek. “It won’t come off,” he murmurs.

“I’ll shower when I get home.”

Carson’s eyes cut to mine. He swallows, his Adam’s apple moving right in front of me. “That thing that happened the other night was…I don’t do that. It wasn’t normal for me.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I get the feeling it wasn’t normal for you either.”

I shrug. “Bar scenes in general aren’t usually my thing.”

“Introducing women to my daughter isn’t really my thing.”

“You didn’t, though.” My smile widens, and I feel myself being drawn into his space. “I kind of accidentally did that myself—as a friend of your mom’s.”

“We’re back to that.”

“We should be painting,” I whisper, because this is all too messy and we should focus on the task before the paint dries and we have lines around the border. If anyone’s going to give me butterflies, it’s going to be eligible men—not off-limits wounded hot guys. I can smell him stronger than the paint fumes, which are reaching a high level right now, and it’s making it difficult to breathe.

He drops his hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Once he backs off, picking up his roller and getting back to work, I miss him.

Penny sits on the floor in front of the sofa, her hair wet from a spray bottle and meticulously combed out. I’m on the cushion above her, Carson right next to me as he watches my fingers move through her hair and pull tight. The room is finished and drying with the windows open, and we closed the door to keep the paint fumes somewhat contained.

“You aren’t hurting her?” Carson asks, an adorable furrow on his brow.

“Does it hurt, Penny?”