“Why not?” I purred. “You issued the challenge.” I teased, pursing my lips slightly. “Can’t handle it when I give it right back to you?”
“You’ve been drinking, Avery.” Carter offered the excuse up on a silver platter.
The perfect way for me to explain my actions. Just keep my mouth shut and walk away. Even though I’d literally just reminded myself not to get too close to him, I wanted to. All I needed to do was close my mouth. Let him drop me off at Deacon’s. I could sleep it off. I’d already arranged a substitute teacher for the next day at school. I could sleep in, get breakfast, and go home.
But none of that was what I really wanted.
“I haven’t.” The truth slipped out, and Carter’s shoulders tensed.
“You said the vodka made you hit Wheeler.” His words were minced, choppy. The air between us grew tense, and I knew he was waiting for my answer.
“I lied.”
The admission sucked the air out of the cab of the truck. Silence stretched as Carter drove down the main road into Birch. He passed the turnoff that led out of town toward Deacon’s club, and I didn’t have the courage to tell him. When he drove past the road my parents lived on, even though he’d been to their house when we were kids, I knew he wasn’t taking me home.
When I tried to swallow, my throat felt like I’d swallowed sandpaper. I couldn’t seem to concentrate, let alone think.
Carter pulled onto a dirt road, and my heart started to race. We passed through an old iron gate, one I was achingly familiar with.
When he drove right up to the house, the question on my lips was stronger than the tension between us. “You bought the old Johnson farm?”
Right on the edge of Birch, the Johnson family had run a farm for over two hundred years. They were one of the founding families in the county, probably the entire state of Maine. The yellow farmhouse was one of my favorite places in the entire world.
In the summer, thousands of yellow Bellwort flowers bloomed in the field. A sea of my favorite color; even as a little girl, I’d been drawn to it. So much so that the last Mr. Johnson had let me play in those fields every single day. When he got sick after his son died, he even offered to let me buy it, but there was no way I could afford even the taxes on the property with my salary. I heard someone had bought it, but no one ever moved in. At least, not that I knew of. I had even asked around, too.
“Yeah. After LJ died, he got sick. I reached out, and he sold it to me. Said he wanted to keep it in the family, but there was no one else after LJ, and he’d rather see it go to me than the bank.”
“I wanted to buy it,” I admitted as I opened the truck door.
“I know,” Carter laughed. “Mr. Johnson told me about how ‘Little Avery James was so heartbroken she couldn’t get it’ that he made me promise to let you sit in the flowers if you asked. I tried to tell him grown women didn’t sit in flower fields, but he made me promise.”
I scoffed silently. Carter obviously didn’t know shit about women, and I sure as hell would be in that field. Every single day once the flowers bloomed in the spring.
While he stood in the front yard, I left him there. Yeah, I was going into his house. I couldn’t help it. I loved that farmhouse with every fiber of my being. I didn’t even bother waiting for Carter to open the front door. I twisted the copper handle and relished the way it creaked loudly as I walked in like I owned the place. I mean, I tried to get Carter to take me home. He was the one that chose to kidnap me and bring me to his farm on the edge of town.
Carter followed me in, a few feet behind. “I need to have that fixed.” He turned on the entryway light, even though I’d been perfectly happy to stand in the darkness.
“Don’t do it.” Dim yellow lighting reflected off every surface and illuminated the shadows on his face as he waited for me to go on. “Leave it. It’s part of the charm.”
We stood there, staring at each other, for an eternity. Even though only a few seconds passed, it felt like forever.
His hair, slightly disheveled, fell down his forehead as he watched me with shadowed eyes. The little bit of stubble on his cheeks, the side effect of not shaving that morning, made my mouth water. Swallowing almost reflexively, my core clenched when Carter’s eyes darted down to my chest and then back up again before he coughed.
“I’m hungry,” he said suddenly, tearing his eyes away from mine. “I haven’t had anything to eat all day.”
Before I could stop myself, I turned in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on, loser. I’ll make breakfast.”
He didn’t laugh, but he didn’t stop me, either. Instead, he followed me into the renovated kitchen and stepped around me while I marveled at the brand-new appliances. There was enough counter space that I could live on them and still be able to bake a cake.
“You know it’s almost midnight, right?” He sat at the center island, where he had four barstools situated under the ledge.
Ignoring him, I moved to the state-of-the-art fridge and opened the door. “It’s never too late for breakfast.” With a carton of eggs in one hand and a stick of butter in the other, I shut it with my hip and smiled. “Besides, everyone loves French toast.”
Carter sat at the bar while I dug around in his cupboards for what I wanted. Not once did he make a comment or make me feel stupid for puttering around his kitchen in the middle of the night. Rather, he watched me with something that looked a lot like gratitude.
“Nice kitchen,” I told him once the first pieces of bread were soaked in egg, cinnamon, and vanilla, ready to go into the skillet currently heating up.
“It’s really the only thing I’ve done so far,” Carter admitted. “My dad said to fix one room at a time. That way I always have somewhere to live, and can make it mine at my own pace.”
When I was done cooking, Carter was right there handing me a bottle of syrup and powdered sugar.
“Go,” he ordered. “Eat. I’ll wash this up really quick.”
He motioned to the counters and the pan, which I’d left to clean after. Not one to question a gift horse in the mouth, I did. Though first, I made sure his plate was ready, too, and put a plate over the top of it to keep his food hot.
Less than three minutes later, he was sitting next to me and digging in. Yeah, I’d timed him with the clock on the stove. I couldn’t help chuckling at the look of relief on his face while he inspected his kitchen.
“You’re a neat freak, aren’t you?” I shoved a piece of food in my mouth and chewed.
Carter didn’t so much as look in my direction as he cut into his meal. In fact, he didn’t say anything until he’d finished all five pieces I’d made him. Then, he was back up, washing his dishes and utensils. Not that I was complaining. In fact, with him turned away from me, I was able to enjoy my meal, and the view all at the same time.
He’d taken his uniform jacket off, and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The way his forearms flexed while he cleaned did weird things to me. Things I’d need some alone time to take care of later. Plus, his ass looked amazing in the tight-fitting uniform pants.
When he turned around and caught me looking, I tried my best not to let it slip that I’d been watching him. Though the smirk on his face gave me away.