Page 42 of Loving Carter

“Yeah. Good. Renting the tables sounds like a great idea,” I say, closing my notebook and ending my doodle-a-thon.

“Can you rent the tables?” Bill asks.

My mouth drops open. He cannot be serious. Normally, I would be nice. I’d say sure, I’ll do it. But somewhere, deep inside of me, a little sliver of gumption breaks free. I’m always trying to make people like me by doing things I don’t want to do. Maybe I think it will keep them from deciding I’m a failure.

But the last few weeks have taught me that I don’t have to be a doormat. I don’t always have to be a people pleaser.

“No, sorry,” I say. “I’m already checking on the food situation and handling the bands. I think someone else should handle this.”

The room goes silent. Everyone is looking at me. You’d think I just said all babies should have purple hair.

Bill clears his throat. “I don’t understand.” He fiddles with his pen and looks around the room, probably hoping for support. “It’s only one task.”

He has a smooth, soothing tone, which more than likely is how he became mayor. It’s the kind of tone that encourages you to do whatever he’s asking you to do. But today, I don’t feel like it.

“I have my hands full with the tasks I’ve already agreed to handle.” I smile at the group, but not one of them smiles back.

“But, Skylar,” Bill starts.

I keep smiling at him. It’s a benign smile, one created to match his soothing tone. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m through. I have my own business to run, and I can’t spend all my time every day working on the expo. I’ve gotten several more cake orders, one of which is an iguana, which should prove challenging.

I stand. “I’m sorry, but I need to hurry off. I’ve already covered what we learned about the food truck and the first band. I’ll let you know about the second band in a few days.” I deliberately add, “I’ll send an email, so we don’t have to have another meeting.”

Then, while they’re all still staring at me, I scurry outside and head down the street to where my car is parked on the side of my store. I know what’s happening in the meeting now that I’ve left. They are dissecting my behavior like a ninth-grade science class hovering over a deceased frog. Like said frog, I don’t care what they think. I was right to turn down more work. This expo wasn’t my idea. I’m just one more participant in it. I’m not responsible for every aspect. Technically, Bill should be in charge since he’s the mayor and the town decided to have this event.

I feel pretty good about myself when I reach my car. I can’t remember the last time I was completely honest with other people about what I truly felt. I’ve always been someone who tries to keep the peace. And even though it may seem like I’m being a jerk tonight, I’m serious when I say other people should pitch in. Just because I’m nice and usually willing to do more than my share doesn’t mean it’s fair to dump everything on me.

Well, me and Carter.

As I drive home, I consider heading out to the ranch. I could surprise him, but then I’d have to face his aunts and his brother and possibly even the guests. Considering I don’t know where Carter and I go from here, that plan sounds awful.

So instead, I head home. I can flop on the couch, pat my dogs, and watch whichever reality TV show is on tonight.

When I reach my house, I see Carter’s truck parked in front. I’m not sure why he didn’t come to the meeting tonight, but I sure am glad to see him.

I pull in the driveway and turn off the car. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him. I’m also not sure how far I want this relationship to go.

But before I can overthink this, I throw open the car door and head toward his truck. He gets out and starts walking toward me. When he gets close, we don’t say anything. He just gathers me into his arms and kisses me. Like before, it’s the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and little tingles of desire dance across your skin.

I cup his face, my fingers rubbing against the stubble of his beard. Then I slide my arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss. I want this kiss to go on forever.

We’re in my front yard, where anyone who drives by can see us. But I don’t care. I feel like I’ve waited for this kiss from this man my whole life, which I guess I have. I want to ask him inside the house, but that means I’d have to stop kissing him, and I’m not willing to do that at the moment.

I love the taste of him, the feel of his body next to mine, the sexy smell of his sandalwood soap. This situation makes no sense, but nothing does these days. How can kissing someone make you lose all sense of time and place?

But that’s what happens.

“Come inside the house,” I say, my mouth still lightly brushing his.

I know what I’m saying to him, and so does he. He loosens his arms around me so he can look at me. There’s enough moonlight for me to see his face clearly. I can see the want, the need on his face, and it makes me smile.

“Come inside the house,” I say again. I feel like I’m on fire from his touch, and I’m hungry for more.

“Skylar,” he says, but before he can say anything else, his phone rings.

For a second, he does nothing. Then, muttering a quiet curse, he answers it.

I know it’s bad news before he even says anything. I can tell from the change in his expression.

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