She wasn’t going to fool herself into believing a relationship that wasn’t real. She wasn’t going to get needy or clingy. She was going to remain who she really was. Independent. Strong. Mature.
Despite her mental gymnastics, she was feeling far too soft and tender when they got up to leave, and no self-warnings about the danger of those feelings were making a dent in them. Carter casually put his hand on the small of her back as they walked through the parking lot to his car. The move surprised her, but a quick glance at his face proved he wasn’t even aware of doing it.
He wasn’t intentionally touching her. It must just be natural to him, which meant it didn’t mean what she might want it to mean. It still felt nice. Protective. She didn’t like how her back felt without his hand when he walked around to the other side of the car.
When they returned to the house, he got out and walked Kayla to her front door, a gesture that obviously thrilled the girl. Ruth was smiling like a sap—like a dope—when he came back and climbed behind the steering wheel.
He arched his eyebrows. “What?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being so good to Kayla. It meant a lot to her.”
A slow frown lowered on his face. “What did I do?”
“Are you serious? You talked to her. Listened to her. Treated her special. Acted like she was a human being with value. She hasn’t had a lot of that in her life.”
Carter was still frowning, but it was different now. More dangerous. He hadn’t yet taken the car out of park, and his eyes were focused on the small house in the dark of the evening. “Her father and brothers don’t—”
“They don’t hurt her. I promise they don’t. I know you’re worried about the situation. So am I. But it’s like I told you before. They love her as much as they...” Ruth shook her head and tried again. “They’re not bad people. They’re just kind of selfish and lazy. But the sad truth is a lot of people are like that. When my mom was alive, things were better. She sort of held the household together and made sure Brent made more of an effort. But since she’s died...”
Carter didn’t say anything, but he was clearly listening.
“Kayla is okay. She’s not abused or neglected in anything except attention. But she’s not used to anyone but me making a real effort with her. And you did tonight.” As ridiculous as it was, Ruth’s voice cracked with emotion. “You made an effort with her. It meant something to her. And to me.”
She wished she hadn’t said that last thing. It was too much. Too obvious. She couldn’t take it back now so she added hurried, “So thank you. That’s all I wanted to say.”
“You’re welcome.”
She smiled at him and tried to subdue the flutters when he smiled back.
THEY MADE A STOP AT her apartment so she could get some stuff for tonight and clothes for tomorrow, and then they returned to the house. Mrs. Wilson had made up a room for Ruth. As Carter had predicted, she was given her own room but one that connected to Carter’s. There was fancy miniature shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and body wash in a cute basket in the attached bathroom and clean, fluffy towels in a stack on the counter. A bouquet of fresh tulips was in a vase on the dresser.
“It’s wonderful,” Ruth said, looking around at the fresh, pretty room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Wilson replied. She appeared quite pleased with herself. “Just let me know if you need anything. Or Carter can get it for you.” The older woman leaned over to give Ruth a kiss on the cheek. “Have a good night, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”
When she left the room, Carter was still there, still looking handsome and expensive in his sweater, tan trousers, and brown leather shoes.
Ruth was suddenly terrified.
This wasn’t right. They were treating her like family. She felt like family, and she loved it so much. She wanted it. So much more of it.
But she wasn’t. This was nothing more than a silly fake-engagement plan.
It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t going to last.
“You okay?” Carter asked softly, his eyes searching her face in that careful way he had.
She forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
“You’ll be okay in here? You don’t feel weird or anything, do you?”
She opened her mouth to try to answer, but her throat had closed around a painful lump. Instead, she made what she hoped was an affirmative noise and nodded again.
Carter frowned, still peering at her face.
It was unnerving. He needed to stop. If he kept it up, he’d see how she was feeling—how stupid she was being—and she’d be humiliated again.
And maybe worse.
She turned away and put her overnight bag on the bed, reaching into it to pull out her hairbrush, mostly for something to do.
“Ruth?” Carter murmured.
Shit. Shit. Shit. “I’m really tired,” she managed to say. “I think I’ll get ready for bed.”
He was far too polite to argue with that even if he’d wanted to. She’d known that about him, so she’d used it to her advantage to get him out of there before she completely lost it.
“Okay. I’ll let you go to bed. I’m just next door if you need anything.”
She puttered around with her bag and didn’t look back at him. “Okay. Thanks. Good night.” She thought she’d sounded okay. Maybe a bit stretched but not on the verge of frightened tears.
There was a too long pause before Carter replied softly, “Good night, Ruth.”
She still wasn’t looking at him, but she heard the connecting door between their rooms click a few moments later.
Releasing her pent-up breath, Ruth sat down on the edge of the bed and cried silently into her hands for a minute. She didn’t indulge in the emotion for long, and she was careful not to make any sound that Carter might hear through the door.
It was fine. This was all fine.
It was natural that she’d enjoy the sense of intimacy and connection. She’d had very little of that in her life and even less of it since her mother died. The Wilsons were good people. Kind people. And they seemed to care about her.
But they weren’t her people.
She didn’t really have any people, and she was used to it. As soon as this little interlude was over, she’d get used to it again. This wasn’t going to change her.
She wouldn’t let it.
That resolved in her mind, she straightened up and dried her tears. Then she went to take a long, hot shower, brush her teeth, and put on her pajamas. She’d discovered a tiny beverage cooler built into the bookcase against the wall. Inside was bottled water, so she grabbed a bottle before she climbed into bed.
Needing to distract herself, she turned on the television before she turned off the light. She found the same half-hour comedy on the streaming service she and Carter had been watching the night before, flipped to the episode they’d left it on, and pressed Play.
She’d watched about fifteen minutes when she heard a knock.
She sat up, confused and self-conscious. She wasn’t even sure where the knock had come from. “Yes?”
“Can I come in for a minute, Ruth?” It was Carter’s voice, slightly muffled by the connecting door between their rooms.