Chapter Eight
Billie
The rest of our hike and the ride to dinner was spent with Carter shooting me nervous glances out of the corner of his eye and me trying desperately not to make things awkward by admitting that he doesn’t need help with dating because I volunteer as tribute. I would be thrilled to spend my days dating a man who said such beautiful things to me as he had during our hike. He called me thoughtful, caring, and said so many other nice things that I almost melted into a puddle at his feet, wanting him to scoop me up and keep me forever. Compliments about anything other than my looks or taste in clothing are few and far between, and to hear them from such an amazingly selfless and warmhearted person made them even more meaningful. If someone like Carter can see those things in me, maybe they’re in there after all and not just a figment of my imagination.
The fact that he sees all of those qualities and was brave enough to confess his trouble with dating had me feeling all warm and squishy inside, like one of the overheated granola bars he passed me halfway through our hike. I wanted nothing more than to give him a great big hug when I saw how nervous he was. I refrained from doing so because I nearly giggled like a schoolgirl when he slung his arm over my shoulder at one point, so there was no way to predict just how crazy I might come off if we actually had our bodies pressed up against one another.
Peeking over at him as he peruses the large menu hanging from the ceiling of the fast food restaurant we’re currently standing in, I can’t imagine anyone not having the same reaction I did. How has no one snapped up such a great guy already? The women in this town must be blind or dumb to not want a catch like Carter Johansen. He might not look much like a Viking as his Scandinavian name implies, but I know that when it comes to his family, he fights as fearlessly as one. To me, that is far better than any combination of blond hair, blue eyes, and big muscles.
Thinking of Carter as a Viking brings up a recurring daydream I have of him plundering my shores for treasure. The dreams happen at night too, and I can’t even count the number of times I’ve woken up hot, sweaty, and needy as hell from one of them where he stalks into my village, drags me back to his ship, and claims me as his all night long. Grateful for the olive skin on my cheeks that will hide the blush there, I shake my head to try and clear the unhelpful thoughts. Save those for later, Billie.
“What looks good?” Carter asks as we step up to order. You , immediately comes to mind, but I don’t think he would appreciate the flirty remark right now when he’s feeling vulnerable. He does look good though. His shirt and jeans cling to his frame nicely, but I need to focus on the matter at hand and not on how badly I wouldn’t mind stripping the clothes from his body and cleaning the hike off of him in our shower later.
Clearing the huskiness from my throat, I glance at the menu I have been ignoring and order the first thing I see. “I’ll have the mustard dog and the chocolate shake, please.” The cashier types in the order and looks impatiently at Carter. The kid can’t be more than sixteen years old, so I can’t blame him for the look of irritation on his face. When I was sixteen I was driving around with friends, not slinging hot dogs. Part of growing up with that privilege is why I try to be nothing but friendly to everyone. You never know someone’s story and I want to put nothing but good energy out into the world if I can.
“I’ll have the kraut dog and a chocolate shake as well.” After splitting the bill, we head to one of the few red vinyl booths that are in the small space and sit across from each other. Carter taps the table nervously before meeting my gaze. “What do you think you want your business plan to look like?”
I wave off his question. “I don’t need a lot of help with that. Jake can whip one up with me in no time and I’m not even sure I’m going to want to plan parties anyway,” I explain. When I catch the disappointed expression on Carter’s face, I’m quick to back pedal. I should have known he would want to help me no matter what. “You can be a sounding board for my ideas though. Jake is so not creative, and your pieces are basically works of art, so you can help me out by listening to my ideas for JJ’s party.”
Carter narrows his eyes momentarily, but nods his agreement. “All right,” he says. Another teen drops off our food and he passes me my dog and shake. “As long as I still get to help you out.”
“Of course.” Taking a sip of my own ice cold drink, I try to figure out the best way to broach the subject of my helping him. Carter seemed pretty uncomfortable when we were talking about the whole dating thing, so I need to tread lightly. “So, about me helping you—”
“You don’t have to,” he interrupts. Suddenly his hot dog has become the most interesting object in the room and his eyes won’t meet mine. “It’s pretty ridiculous, anyway. What thirty-year-old guy asks for dating help, right?”
When he does finally look at me, I can see the vulnerability in his gaze and my heart aches for him. He looks so defeated, and I can’t have my Viking looking like that. He should only ever look happy and victorious, and I can’t help but want to be the one to help him get there. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all,” I confess, my voice and gaze steady. “If I’m not ridiculous for needing help ‘finding myself,’ then you aren’t for needing help finding your person.” My heart aches a little more at the thought of him actually finding that person and me getting left behind, but I want to see him happy, so I can do this for him. “Now, why don’t you tell me the problem and I’ll see what I can do to help.”
Carter rubs the back of his neck and shifts in the booth. “I don’t know what the problem is exactly. ” He looks over at me and sighs. “But nowadays you have to be on an app if you want to meet anyone, and I hate the apps. It’s all so superficial and it seems like the women on them either don’t want this,” he says, waving a hand over his face and body. “Or they’re disappointed when my job turns out to be just making furniture and not felling trees in the woods while shirtless.”
“Ah, I see.” I take a bite of my hot dog and let the salty taste take my mind off of just how hard his comments hit home for me too. Carter was honest with me, so I can be honest with him in return. We won’t be able to help one another if we don’t know everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly, so I might as well start by getting it all out in the open. “Well, I am no stranger to the fantasy not living up to the reality for the people I date, so you’re not alone.”
Carter looks shocked. He drops his hot dog and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time believing that. There is no way that anyone could be disappointed with the reality of you.”
His confession has butterflies taking flight in my stomach, and with the earnest expression on his face, I fully believe he can’t fathom someone not liking what they get when it comes to me. Huffing a laugh, I smile at him. “Well, you are certainly good for my ego, but it’s true. Most of the time people see a pretty, party girl and they’re more than a little bummed when they find out that I would rather stay at home with pizza and a movie, or a glass of wine and a good book than hit another nightclub.” Thinking back on all the guys I’ve been with in the past, I can’t believe I ever dated them for more than one night. “I still like to go out, but only if I have an actual friend there with me, someone who cares about who I am as a person and not just where I can take them or how good I look on their arm.”
Carter nods and leans back in the booth. “Wow,” he breathes out. His forest green eyes meet mine and I feel like I could happily get lost in those woods for hours if he would let me. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”
Nodding my head in agreement, I try to remember that this is about helping Carter, not making myself feel better. “It does, but my point was that it happens to a lot of people, not just you.” Tapping my fingers on the counter again, I come up with an idea. “I think I have a way to help you get more dates, but before I share it with you, I want you to know something.”
Carter leans forward, and I follow, helpless against getting caught up in the pull of him anytime he draws nearer to me. “What is it?”
While there are a lot of ways I could be playful, coy, or tease him to keep things light, I need him to at least know how great I think he is before I divulge my plan. With a genuine smile, I reach over and grab his hand. His palms are a little rough, probably from all the woodworking, but I love the feel of the tough callouses against my soft skin. It’s a physical reminder of just how solid a person he is, and I love it. “You are a kind, caring, generous, selfless, and all around amazing guy, Carter.” I can’t help but smirk at him. “You are also incredibly attractive and sexy.” He starts to protest that last fact, but I stop him with a shake of my head. “The fact that you don’t see it makes you all the more sexy, believe me. Ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that you are pretty awesome, and if the women on the apps don’t take the time to linger on your photo or look a little deeper at the man in front of them, well, that’s their loss, not yours.”
Squeezing his hand one last time, I release it and lean back in the booth. Confessing all of those things and not immediately planting a kiss on him to convince him it’s true afterward is difficult enough without the skin to skin contact. Carter looks slightly shell-shocked, but the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. “Thank you for saying that.”
“You’re welcome, but you might want to save the thanks for later because it’s time for some harsh truths,” I wince. The possibility of hurting his feelings is very real and definitely something I don’t want to happen, but I want to be completely honest with him. “Are you ready for that?”
Carter rubs his hands together and nods curtly. “Hit me with it.”
Nodding, I gaze at him, my expression serious. “All right, here it comes. Whether we like it or not, the app world is the one you’re going to have to live in. Unless of course you feel comfortable walking up to and hitting on a woman at a bar or something?” At Carter’s horrified look that confirms my suspicions that he is not into that idea, I move on. “So, that means dealing with the fact that people are visual creatures and are going to judge you based on your appearance. I’m not saying it’s right, but it is what it is.” Reaching into my purse, I grab my phone and open the social media page for Hodgepodge and navigate to one of the pictures that includes an almost full body shot of Carter. “Take a look at yourself and tell me what you see.”
Carter studies the shot for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe I could do something better with my hair?” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not joining a gym or going on a diet. I hate fitness centers and like eating what I want.”
A choking sound gets stuck in my throat. “I would never suggest that and would be pissed if you tried. I like your body the way it is.” When I see Carter’s eyes widen at that confession, I plow forward, determined not to make any more embarrassing confessions. “What I was going to suggest was that we punch up your wardrobe a little, or at least get you clothes that fit your frame and show off your body a little better. I mean, your flannel shirts are like two sizes too large.”
When Carter’s face falls, I get the feeling I’ve stepped in something I shouldn’t have, and as he starts playing with the tattered hem of the flannel that has been tied around his waist all evening, I know I have. When his eyes meet mine, they’re filled with sadness and my stomach drops as if the hot dog I ate weighed fifty pounds. “They were my dad’s,” he says hoarsely. He clears his throat and looks around the mostly empty restaurant before speaking again. “I know they don’t fit, but I feel a little more connected to him when I wear them. Flannel was his thing and I know it’s dumb—”
“It’s not dumb.” Grabbing his hand again, I give it a reassuring squeeze and flash a knowing smile. “I get it. It’s not quite the same, but the perfume bottles I had you make were something my grandma had in her house in Bulgaria. They got lost a long time ago, so that’s why I had you make a set for me and my mom, to help us remember and stay connected to her.”
Carter squeezes my hand and we sit for a moment, hands clasped as the weighted blanket of our shared experiences settles over us. “Maybe we can do something like that for you.”
An eyebrow quirks in question. “I’m not sure I need a perfume bottle,” he smirks.
Shaking my head, I mock glare at him. “Such a smart ass,” I sass. I love getting to see this more playful side to him, especially as he seems happier after the tough confession about his dad’s flannels. “I meant the clothes. What if we went and got you some plaid flannels of your own that actually fit? You’ll still be honoring and remembering your dad while making it your own. Wearing something that you can feel comfortable and confident in can do wonders for your self-esteem. Trust me.” I wiggle in my seat and Carter tracks the movement, licking his lips as he does.
His eyes meet mine, and if I didn’t know better, I would say they were filled with a little bit of heat. “I do trust you,” he admits. His gaze moves away from me, but I can see the smile on his face.
As much as I would love to convince myself that he was attracted to me, I’m too busy reveling at his confession that he trusts me. Carter’s trust means a lot to me, I just hope that I don’t ever give him a reason to doubt it. Thinking about how flaky everyone thinks I am has me wondering if that’s possible. “Great.” My voice is tight with emotion and it feels like there’s a weight on my chest, but I move past it. “Then let’s finish dinner and then we can go through your closet.”
Carter’s eyes shoot to mine. “What’s that?”
My cheeks drift upward as my lips pull into a mischievous smile. “You really didn’t think you were going to get through this whole thing without me looking at your current wardrobe and taking you on a shopping spree, did you? Have you never seen a movie makeover montage?”
Carter huffs a breath and shakes his head. “I’ve seen one, just never thought I would be a willing participant in my own.” He wipes a hand down his face, but his expression is more amused than resigned, bolstering my resolve to help him.
Twenty minutes later, we’ve returned to the apartment and are walking into Carter’s room. I’ve seen bits and pieces of it from the doorway, but I have never been inside until now. “Wow.” The exclamation comes as I take a look around the room, my hand running along some wood paneling that has to have been done by the man himself. Instead of the old style where it looks like clapboard pasted onto drywall, the different sized panels are laid out more like bricks, creating a beautiful tapestry of different grain patterns. My hand falls as I take in the rest of the room. It’s pretty sparse, and aside from the large bed, dresser, and nightstand, there’s not much else in the room. “Where’s all your furniture? I figured your room would be wall to wall wood.”
He gestures to the wall I was just admiring. “Well, it kind of is, but other than that I don’t have a lot of time to make pieces for myself.”
My jaw drops as I walk over to his closet. “You literally made a bed frame that doubles as a fort for JJ,” I remind him. “You could have been a little less extra with that and done something nice for yourself.”
Carter’s hands get stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders bounce. “I would rather do nice things for other people.”
Sighing, I smile indulgently at him. Of course he would have an inability to be selfish. “Well, if you won’t do something nice for yourself, it’s a good thing I’m here to do nice things to you.” My eyes widen as I realize words just popped out of my mouth. “For you. Do nice things for you,” I gulp. Burying my head in the closet is a great way to both hide my beet red face and to avoid looking at Carter after my little Freudian slip. As I rifle through his clothes, I see a lot of the same thing—jeans, oversized flannels, and the occasional faded button down. Popping my head back out, I gape at my roommate. “This is pretty dire, Carter. I don’t see a single pair of slacks in here.”
He plops down on his bed, looking completely unbothered by my declaration. “I don’t really have much occasion to dress up,” he admits.
I hum a reply as I move over to his dresser. I don’t want to think about Carter being lonely, mostly because it reminds me of my own desire for companionship. Nor do I want to think about him having more occasions to dress up, like going on dates with women who aren’t me, but I can’t be selfish, at least not with someone like him. He deserves someone as great as he is, not someone who barely has any direction for her life. As I search through his drawers, coming across a lot of t-shirts, sweatpants, and the occasional long sleeved Henley, something niggles at my mind until I finally realize what I’ve been looking for and haven’t found. Spinning around, I look at Carter’s expectant face. “Where are your boxers?”
Carter shakes his head. “I don’t have any,” he replies. He offers up no other information, so I’m forced to drag the conversation along on my own.
“Okay. Well, then where are your briefs?” He shakes his head again. “Boxer briefs?” Another head shake. “Panties?” I hedge. Not for nothing, but I definitely don’t hate the image of Carter in a pair of my lacy black underwear. He could definitely pull off the look.
Carter coughs and gives me a pointed look. “I don’t really own any underwear.”
“Oh,” I reply. Then his words hit me with the force of a Mack truck and I nearly swallow my tongue. “ Oh .” Carter goes commando, so the other day when he was doing his little striptease, if I hadn’t spoken up I would have gotten a lot more than a peek at some underpants. My mind floods with all kinds of images of what I might have seen and how differently that afternoon could have played out had I seen it, and suddenly I need to be anywhere other than in this room with him. The air is stifling, my skin feels hot, and tight, and there is a steady ache between my legs that needs to go away before I straddle the man in front of me and ask him for a helping hand. “I can work with that. I mean, we can work with the whole no undies thing. Your wardrobe definitely needs updating, so we’ll go shopping this weekend and get a capsule wardrobe for you. Don’t worry about not knowing what that means, I can explain that later.” I cringe at the speed of my words and overall awkwardness as I back toward the doorway. “I’m going to go for a walk. Just for a bit.”
Carter coughs again, shifting on the bed. When I see the move, I start thinking about how broken in the denim of his pants is and that it probably feels very soft against his bare skin. This is not helpful thinking. “Sounds good,” he says, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Be safe.”
My head moves up and down like an out of control bobble figure as I back out of the door. “Yup, totally. I’ll see you later.” As soon as I’m free, I bolt out of the apartment and head down the stairs. My feet hit the sidewalk hard as I run from all the feelings that my very interesting discovery from minutes ago has stirred up.
The night air does little to cool me as I make the short walk over to the town square. Spying the fountain that is fabled to have brought magic into the lives of some of the townspeople as well as Jake and Maya, I take a seat at the edge, hoping the mist coming off the running water will help squash my desire. When sitting there doesn’t help, I remember that I promised to call my parents. Speaking with them is a sure fire way to get my hormones in check, so I pull out my phone and dial up my dad. I shot off a text when I arrived in town to let them know I was safe, but other than that, he and my mom have left me to my own devices, much like when I was younger.
On the third ring, he finally answers, his loud voice booming Bulgarian greetings through the speaker. “Biliyana! It is good to hear from you, my treasure.” The nickname he has called me since birth brings a smile to my face and helps to calm my stormy emotions. “You are on speaker and your mother is here as well. Now, how has your time with Jake been?”
“Good,” I answer honestly. What little time I have spent with my best friend has been great, though to be honest I have preferred the time I’ve been spending with my new roommate. “We haven’t had a lot of time to hang out since I just got here and him being so busy with work and JJ, but I’m keeping myself busy in other ways.” After filling my parents in on my time at the store today and my hiking adventure with Carter, I explain how I am thinking about moving into party planning starting with my nephew’s birthday. When no reply comes across, I pull back and check to see if my phone is still on. “Mom, Dad? Are you there?”
A heavy sigh comes through and I frown at it before I hear the softer tones of my mother’s voice. “If that is something you want to do, then your father and I will support you in that, of course, but you sounded so excited when you talked about the store you are working at now or your new friend.” I don’t miss her emphasis on the word friend and make a mental note to not mention Carter anymore so she doesn’t get any wild ideas that I haven’t already had and dismissed a million times myself. “When you speak about planning parties, it doesn’t sound like the idea lights you up,” she tells me.
My eyes roll a bit at that because what job lights anyone up? My mind also conjures up images of Jake smiling as he shakes hands with a small business owner, Maya getting all giddy when she finishes one of her crocheted animal buddies for a small child, or Carter’s look of pride when he runs his hands over one of his wood pieces. They all seem to have found the thing that lights them up, and I want that for myself. Sure, the idea of planning parties for the rest of my life doesn’t sound amazing, but I won’t know until I take that first step. Besides, not everyone can love what they do for a living.
Shrugging a shoulder, I focus my attention back on my call. “It might not light me up yet, but we’ll just have to see how I feel after the party.”
“This is true, I suppose,” my mother tells me.
We move on from the topic of my not-so-put-together life over to their very established ones that include the latest win my father had in a seniors’ boxing tournament and gossip about my mother’s friends. We pointedly avoid talking about my dad’s company, and that’s fine with me. That part of my dad’s life is important to him, so I hope we can speak about it eventually, and there are honestly no hard feelings on my part. It speaks to just how much I had started to detach myself from the job, and I wonder why it took me getting fired for me to finally do something about it.
After we say our goodbyes and promise to talk soon, I hang up and turn to look at the fountain behind me, the light from nearby businesses playing on the water. Wistfully, I gaze at the statue of the two doves in flight, wondering if I will ever be at peace like that with someone next to me as I make my way through life. Jake told me about how he came to Starlight Lake on a whim and wished for something incredible. He got Maya and JJ in return, and while I would love to believe something similar could happen to me, maybe even with a certain woodworker I know, I’m just not sure that’s the case. Still, as I pull a dime from my pocket, close my hand around it and shut my eyes, I hope that maybe there’s enough magic left here for me.