Page 28 of Loving Carter

“Really?”

“Sure. I’ll cover each band and not only post articles on my blog but also sell articles to several magazines. Then I’ll sell an article or two about the expo and how bands can look for exposure by participating in local events. You’d be surprised how many ways I can work this. Blogs, magazines, even podcasts are always scrambling for content.”

He grins at me, and I have to admit, that grin probably works well on most women. But I can’t help comparing it to Carter’s grin. When Carter grins, it makes me smile. Something about it makes me happy. Which is dumb, I know. But that’s what happens.

“I’m glad you’ll get something out of this,” I say, standing and gathering the dirty dishes off the table. “Apparently Carter has no plans on returning.”

Gabe holds up his phone and turns it so I can read the text message he received. “Carter sent me a text a few minutes ago saying that. He also suggests I ask you out.”

I stare at the phone, then at Gabe. I’m dumbfounded. Gabe was right. Carter is trying to fix us up.

I clear my throat. “Look, Gabe, you’re a nice guy—”

He holds up both hands to stop me. “Don’t feel bad. I had no idea what Carter had in mind, and my feelings aren’t hurt in the least if you’d rather not go out.”

I’m not sure what I’m thinking. I feel frustrated that my friend put me in this position. Really frustrated.

Okay, make that hacked off.

“Are you mad at him?” Gabe asks, helping me carry the plates and glasses into the back room.

“Yes,” I admit. “He shouldn’t have done this.”

Gabe doesn’t seem the least upset. “These things happen.”

I rinse the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “You should be mad,” I tell him as I work. “Here you’re doing a favor for Carter, and he sets you up this way.”

Gabe hands me another glass, and I rinse it and put it in the dishwasher.

“Life’s too short to get wound up about something like this,” he says. “You shouldn’t let it upset you.”

I turn and look at Gabe. He’s nice. Too nice if you ask me. What I can’t figure out is why I don’t want to go out with him. We had fun discussing the bands. I like talking with him.

But I don’t feel a thing, and to go out with someone, I want to feel at least a little tingle of excitement.

“I’m sorry.” I’m unsure what else to say.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

He leans against the counter. He really is a very handsome man. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt and jeans, but they’re much more upscale than what the people around here wear.

I start the dishwasher and then lead the way to the back door. “It was so nice of you to go over the band information with me.”

“My pleasure.”

A new thought pops into my mind. “Do you need a ride, or did you drive here?”

“I drove and met Carter here.” At the door, he turns toward me. “Are you leaving now too?”

“Yes,” I say, taking another quick look around.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he offers.

I set the alarm and follow him outside. The night air is cooler, or at least, a little cooler than it had been during the day. Even once the sun sets, it’s still pretty hot in Texas during the summer.

While I’m locking the back door, he says, “Want to get Carter back?”

“Yes,” I admit. “What did you have in mind?”

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