Page 82 of Maid of Dishonor

“Hmm,” I say, tilting my head and pretending to consider. “Except you haven’t actually asked me out yet, so you didn’t really get anywhere.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes widening. “That’s right.” He clears his throat. “In that case, would you like to come on a date with me early tomorrow morning to a secret location where we can see a secret view?”

“Will there be blindfolding involved?” I say.

Carter’s eyes twinkle wickedly as he grins. “I think it’s a little early for that.”

My cheeks heat as I give him a goodwhackon the chest. “Carter!” I say. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

He’s laughing too hard to answer, and I just shake my head, rolling my eyes.

“It’s like you’re still twelve years old,” I mutter. I step out of his embrace and give his arm a tug, leading him toward the living room where Maya is presumably not eavesdropping.

“Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head when we come into view. “I’m not going to sit here if you two are just going to make out—”

“We can make out somewhere else,” Carter says.

“We’re not going to make out,” I say at the same time.

We look at each other, grinning, as Maya stares at us. Then we look back to her.

She looks at us some more, her eyes darting between us.

Then her lower lip trembles…

…And then one, fat tear falls.

“I can’t do it,” she says as more tears come. We rush over to her. I sit on her left and Carter sits on her right, and we both begin rubbing her back.

“I can’t marry someone who doesn’t smile at me like that,” she goes on, still crying.

Unbidden, my eyes seek Carter, and a jolt of warmth goes through me when I find that his gaze is already on me. He gives me a little smile before turning back to Maya.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, wrapping one arm around Maya’s shoulders and pulling her to his side. “You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to marry, Maya.”

“You would never ask Yolanda out if you had Sam waiting for you at home,” she says, looking over at Carter, her voice still thick with tears.

Carter nods his head solemnly. “This is true. I am not at all interested in Yolanda.”

I sniffle, and it’s only partly because of the sympathetic crying.

“And there have been omens,” she goes on. “The horoscope, and throwing up all over the banker’s desk.”

And then—and then—Carter has to go and talk. As soon as he opens his mouth to speak, I’m hit with a flash of premonition—that everything is about to crumble before our eyes.

“And don’t forget the creepy tarot cards,” he says, and I want to yank the words from his mouth and hide them before they can get anywhere, but I can’t. I can’t do anything except watch as Maya’s brow furrows, as the gears in her mind start visibly turning.

She pulls away from him, and the silence is suddenly deafening as she looks at him with narrowed eyes. “What did you say?” she says slowly.

Crap.

He’s busted—we’rebusted. Maya never mentioned the tarot cards.

Carter has apparently come to the same conclusion, because he doesn’t answer.

“Carter,” she says, more loudly now. “How did you know about those? I didn’t tell anyone about that.”

Silence. Pure, guilty silence.

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