Chapter 8 Carter #3
I nod, trying to shake myself back to reality. “It’s delicious, did you make the pesto too?”
“Yeah, it’s not hard, just a bunch of basil with oil and pine nuts,” he explains, his mouth twitching.
Does it mean that he’s kind of smiling when he does that?
He never does, but I could almost tell when he’s smiling, not because of his lips, but because the corners of his eyes crease a bit.
Maybe I need to learn how to read him, too.
“Well, it’s delicious. Thank you so much,” I say, taking another bite. He nods, then swallows. “Have you, um, have you been living here a long time?”
“Bought it two years ago, I had another flat before but it was smaller. I needed more space.”
“I see,” I say, taking in the size of the room again, “you definitely have a lot of space here, I mean, this place is huge.”
“Do you like it?”
“Your flat?”
“Yes.” He’s looking at me with intensity, like my answer will decide his next course of action.
“I do. It’s really nice. Even if I could never live in a place like this and keep it tidy like you do,” I admit, shaking my head.
“I got a housekeeper,” he mutters, turning his body slightly to mine, making us face each other.
“Even without one, I bet you’d still keep it in order.” I smile and take a glance at him.
“Yeah, maybe.” He nods, his gaze disappearing far away.
“What about my house, you’ve been there once, but what’d you think of it?” Now that I know what his place looks like, I can’t imagine the shock it was for him to see mine.
“There were a lot of colors,” he delivers blankly, and I can’t suppress my laugh.
“I love colors. I couldn’t always choose what I wanted in my home back then…so I made it exactly the way I wanted it now.”
“Make sense,” he grunts, pouring more water in my glass from the jug. “I liked your home. Felt homey. Here it’s…a bit clinical.” Somehow, his answer makes my chest tighten.
“Perhaps you could add a bit of color, you know, a cushion or some drapes here and there,” I offer, studying his face, and my eyes drift to his golden stubble and how rough yet soft they seem to feel. If only I could…
No.
Stay focused.
This is a date, not a how-does-his-stubble-feels-like kind of lunch.
“Maybe you could help me with that.” He shrugs and I swear his eyes are smiling at me.
“Are you smiling, like right now?” I ask without caring if I’m being too direct. He’s honest with me so I might as well play cards on the table too.
“What?”
“Your eyes, sometimes I feel like you’re smiling with them, like a second ago.”
“Maybe.” His pupils dilate as he stares at me.
“Maybe?”
“I’m not always sure about how to display emotions, but perhaps my body chooses for me, so yeah, maybe I’m smiling with my eyes like you said.” I smile and bite my lip, kind of proud of myself for figuring out this man.
“Tell me about you,” he rasps, “I want to know more about you.”
“Oh,” I twirl my fork mindlessly on my plate, “like what?”
“I don’t know, anything you’re okay sharing with me,” he says, finishing his plate and putting down his fork, his attention fully focused on me while I stare at my glass of water.
“I like watching rom-coms,” I admit with a chuckle. “After putting Noah to bed, I fix myself a quick chocolate snack and then I snuggle on my sofa and watch 2000s rom-coms and it's just, I don’t know… I just like to do that.”
Carter raises an eyebrow, his usual stoic expression showing a hint of curiosity. He shifts in his seat, leaning slightly forward. “Nothing wrong with liking rom-coms.”
I let a small laugh escape me, my shoulders relaxing. “It’s silly, but they’re comforting. They’re easy, predictable, you know?”
He nods, attentive. “Yeah, I understand.” Carter’s gaze softens for a second before he clears his throat. “Haven’t seen one though. I mostly watch action movies and blockbusters. Sometimes I pump myself up to watch independent films, but most of the time, there isn’t a lot of romance in them.”
“I, um… If you want to watch one someday…” I let my words hang in the air.
“Definitely yeah,” he states without a second of hesitation. I smile and glance at him, wondering how two people so different can understand each other so well.
“And besides movies, what else do you do?” he asks again, as if he’s genuinely interested in my life. Maybe he is. Maybe I can learn to trust again. To trust him.
“I don’t know, I've got a simple life. I go to work, spend time with Noah, and I see my sister and my nieces pretty much once a week, but other than that, nothing much.” I shrug, talking about my life and knowing I wouldn’t change it for the world.
I love it this way. Simple, cozy, predictable.
Well, as predictable as it can be when Ben doesn’t barge back into it uninvited.
“Simple is good,” he says calmly, before rising from his stool. He brushes my arm with his as he takes our plates and puts them in the dishwasher. Then, he opens the fridge again and takes out an adorable pie with cream and strawberries.
“My housekeeper made it this morning. Do you want some?” My lips part as I wonder how the hell a huge Viking like him asked his housekeeper for such a lovely dessert, but I guess I need to see behind the surface with Carter.
He’s softer than he looks, not in a “I’m going to fix him” kind of way, but in a richer way.
He’s complex, but in a good way. Full of good surprises, my gut tells me.
“I’d love to,” I say with excitement. This lunch date is going even better than I thought. We finish our dessert in comfortable silence, which is surprisingly hard to achieve with people I don’t know, but I guess it’s a good sign.
“Are you going back to work now?” I ask, glancing at my watch and reminding myself that I’ve only got fifteen minutes left before I'll need to head back to the hospital.
“Yeah, pretty calm today. My boss’s wife is going to her showroom, then she’ll go back home.”
“So you follow her all day and make sure she’s not attacked, isn’t it…dangerous?” I furrow my brows, the sudden idea of him being in harm's way unsettling me.
“Not really, it depends.” He tilts his head to the side.
“We get pretty clear threats on her sometimes, especially from other clubs who want to overtake us and target families to hit where it hurts, but lately it’s been calmer.
But you never know, there’s a lot at stake,” he declares with seriousness, his tone heavy and measured.
“My boss would literally burn the world to the ground for her, and our enemies know that, so we keep her close, make sure she’s safe. ”
“We?”
“Ash and I.”
“Is he a…coworker?” I’ve never heard of such a name.
“Kind of, brother, coworker, friend.” He shakes his head.
“What?” I frown with a half-smile.
“He’s a piece of work, that’s all.” His eyes are creasing a bit.
“You like him.” I smile. That Ash must be really nice to get Carter to talk about him as a friend. Even with the little knowledge I have about him, I can tell he doesn’t open up to everyone.
“He…” he clears his throat, “never mind.”
“Tell me,” I insist, fidgeting with my hand on the counter.
Carter looks at them, then puts his palm slowly on it, closing his hand on my fingers, encapsulating them in his large palm. The heat under his skin soothing me. How did he know I needed that?
“Just thinking ‘bout something Ash said earlier.” He looks up and meets my eyes, his face wincing slightly.
What is it?
“It’s nothing. My boss hosts this party each year.
It’s, um, we can bring families and friends if we want to.
” He shrugs, but the hold of his hand on mine tightens, and I pull my hands away before taking his hand into mine and lacing my fingers with his.
Both of us remain silent for a minute, processing his words with the contact of our hands filling the space with electricity.
He’s inviting you to meet all his friends. He’s asking you out in three weeks. Three weeks. To show you his world. It’s… It’s huge.
Does he really like me?
Do I really like him?
Are things going too fast?
Am I ready for this?
“I…” I mutter, hypnotized by the way his thumb strokes the back of my hand.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now.
Take your time, there’s no rush,” he reassures me calmly, and I don’t know if I am mistaken, but I think I hear a tiny bit of warmth in his tone.
I like that he’s giving me time as if he can tell I’m not one hundred percent sure about this.
If this were my first relationship, I would head straight into it without asking myself too many questions.
But I’m a freshly divorced, single mom, recovering from years of abuse.
I am glad he understands that being cautious isn’t all about him.
It’s mostly about starting something new and figuring out if I’m ready for this.
“Okay, thank you,” I say, heat coursing through my veins, loving the contact of his touch and his reassuring words. Carter might be five years younger than me, but he definitely does not lack any maturity.
“I like when you blush,” he tells me, his voice low and hoarse. I look up, meeting his blue eyes that I could drown in if I’m not too careful.
“I like when you touch my hand like that,” I answer back, and we remain like this for a minute before the buzz of my phone breaks the moment. I stand as gracefully as I can, trying to find it in my bag.
“It’s work,” I tell him, realizing I wish I could have stayed longer. “Thank you again, I really liked it…”.
“I really liked it too,” he declares, standing and making me feel so small all of a sudden.
Damn, he’s so tall. “I’ll walk you back,” he says, staring at me in a way I know most people would feel uncomfortable with, but somehow I’m getting used to.
Carter’s a bit intense, but, well, I think I kind of like this about him.
It’s better than indifference. It’s better than punches.
It’s just…overwhelmingly satisfying. Like removing a strip of tape after painting a wall.
It just feels right. He walks me back to the elevator, but I end up insisting on getting down by myself.
I’m already late and I need to freak out properly in the elevator.
Alone. Just shake my hands and take deep breaths because what the hell was that?
I came in for lunch and I’m going out my belly full of butterflies and my mind filled with what-if’s.
The ping of the door sounds and I pull a strain of brown hair behind my ear.
“Thank you for coming,” he utters, tone controlled, “I really like having you here.” His words catch me off guard. I smile shyly and blush like a fourteen-year-old.
“Thank you, it was really nice. I had a great time,” I say, stepping back into the elevator. His chest rises, and for a second, I wonder if he’ll follow me inside too but he clenches his fist and remains where he is.
“Can I see you again?” His voice is almost flinching, his blue eyes turning darker by the second.
I nod. “Just…call me.” Then I press the zero button and watch him disappear behind the sliding doors. Once it’s closed, I sigh and let my back rest on the wall. I feel like I’ve just ran a marathon, and somehow, all I want is to go back to him.
But am I ready to fall in love again?