Chapter 10 Carter #2
We both freeze for a second too long.
Then we pull away like the pot is about to explode.
She clears her throat, wiping her hands on a towel. “It’s so odd. Being… here. With you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “With me?”
“You know what I mean.”
She gestures vaguely between us. “We barely knew each other three days ago. And now, we’re sharing dish duty like a married couple in a Hallmark movie.”
I snort. “Bold of you to assume I’d be the one doing the drying if we were married. I’d be sitting on the couch. I’ll take the blue jobs.”
She laughs. “You’re not bad at the dishes. You can do them.”
“High praise.”
“It is,” she teases. “I don’t give out compliments lightly.”
I lean against the counter, studying her. “So what compliments do you give out lightly? About me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I’m curious.”
“No, you’re fishing.”
“Am I catching anything?”
She tries—and fails—to hide her smile. “You’re unbearable.”
“Again,” I say, “high praise.”
She drops her gaze, running a thumb over a drip of water on the counter. “I mean… you’re not completely horrible to be stuck with. Even if you do hog the fire and snore.”
“I do not snore.”
“You do.”
I step closer. “Pretty sure I’d know if I snored.”
“Maybe you’d know if you were a deep sleeper… but you aren’t.” She flicks her eyes up. “You toss and turn.”
“That’s probably because someone keeps reading with the flashlight on.”
Her cheeks light up. “Sorry. Bad habit. I have trouble getting to sleep sometimes. Romance novels relax me.”
“I know a few ways to help relax you, Rhiannon Pierce.”
She stiffens a little at that, and I know I surprised her. Hell, I surprised myself.
“Carter,” she says softly, “don’t joke.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Her breath catches. Just slightly. Enough to punch the air out of my lungs.
She turns away fast, busying herself with stacking plates. “Anyway. I— I’m not… I’m not good at stuff like that.”
“Stuff like what?”
“Stuff like… you know.” She waves her hand vaguely. “Flirting. Kissing. All the… things. I was with my ex for a long time, and we were friends first. I can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or if this is just you messing with me.”
“Oh, I’m definitely flirting. And, kissing,” I echo, stepping closer. “You’re not good at kissing?”
“No,” she says quickly. “Well—I don’t know. I’ve never… I just don’t think I’m good at it.”
“That,” I say quietly, “is objectively false information. I refuse to believe it.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I pause, studying her. “You want to know why?”
She narrows her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’ve been around you four days and you make absolutely everything else look easy.”
She goes still. Entire body still.
“That’s ridiculous,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I agree lightly. “So ridiculous I’m pretty sure you’re trying to escape from the conversation because you know it’s true.”
“I’m not trying to escape.”
“You are.”
Her back hits the wooden counter as she tries to sidestep me, and I follow—not trapping, just blocking. Watching her eyes widen half a millimeter.
She swallows. “Carter—”
“If you were bad at kissing,” I murmur, “you wouldn’t have reacted like that when I brought it up.”
“Reacted like what?”
“Like you want to be kissed.”
“I do not—”
“You do.”
“Matthew used to say he didn’t like kissing.” Rhi’s voice is so small I almost miss it. “Said I wanted it too much.”
My blood turns to ice. No—to FIRE.
“He said what?”
“It’s fine. He just—” She shrugs. “He didn’t like it. So we didn’t do it much. And I never knew if it was me, you know? If I was bad at it, or—”
“Stop.” I step closer. “That says everything about him and absolutely nothing about you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” I tilt my head, studying her. “You want to know what I think?”
“What?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I think you’re an excellent kisser.”
“You’ve never kissed me.”
“True.” I lean in slightly, watching her breath catch. “So let’s test the theory.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
“We’re scientists, Rhi. We test hypotheses. Gather data.” I hold her gaze, and…this is completely insane, but I commit anyway. “My hypothesis is that you’re good at kissing. Your ex was the problem, not you. And there’s only one way to prove it.”
“Carter—”
“Can I kiss you?” My voice is low and rough. “Just to test the theory.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yes.”
I cup her face gently. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Okay,” she says breathily.
“Just so you know”—I brush my thumb across her cheekbone—“I think your hypothesis is about to be thoroughly disproven.”
And then I kiss her.
And oh, fuck.
The moment my lips touch hers, I know I was right. I know Matthew was full of shit.
Because kissing Rhi is—
It’s everything.
She’s shy at first, careful, like she’s waiting for me to pull away or criticize or confirm her worst fears. But I don’t pull away. I kiss her slowly, thoroughly, trying to erase every lie that asshole ever told her.
She’s soft and tastes like coffee and something sweet, and when she makes this small surprised sound against my mouth, I forget how to think entirely.
I was going for gentle. Reassuring. A simple kiss to prove a point.
But then her hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens. My hand slides into her hair while the other finds her waist, and she presses against me, and—
We break apart suddenly, both breathing hard.
For a second, we just stare at each other.
Her lips are swollen, her cheeks flushed bright red. My heart is hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears.
“So,” I say, and my voice comes out rough. “Um. Data collected.”
“Right. Yes.” She’s not looking at me. She’s looking at a point somewhere past my shoulder, her face getting redder by the second.
“Hypothesis confirmed. You’re good at kissing. Definitely not the problem.”
“Great. Good to know.” She steps back, and I drop my hands immediately. “So that’s... that’s settled then.”
“Completely settled.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
We stand there in excruciating silence. She’s fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. I’m very aware that my hands don’t know what to do anymore.
“We should—” she starts.
“Yeah, we should—” I say at the same time.
We both stop. The silence gets worse.
“We have that data to collect today,” she says, speaking slightly too fast. “Site four. It’s supposed to be the big one. The important readings for the testimony thing.”
“Right. Yes. The thermal spring. Very important.” I’m nodding too much. “We should get ready for that.”
“We should definitely do that.”
“Get our equipment together.”
“Check the weather.”
“Make sure we have enough sample containers.”
“Right. Yes. Containers.” She’s already moving toward the table where we left our gear last night, moving too quickly, like she’s fleeing a crime scene.
I follow, but we’re both being too careful now. When she reaches for a thermometer, I reach for my field notebook on the opposite side of the table, maintaining maximum distance.
“I’ll double-check the protocols,” she says, her voice artificially bright.
“And I’ll... I’ll check the map. For the route. To site four.”
“Good. That’s good.”
She makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh, then immediately busies herself with reorganizing sample vials that are already perfectly organized.
I pretend to study the map intensely even though I’ve memorized the route.
The tension in the cabin is so thick I could cut it with a knife.
“Carter?” she says after a minute, still not looking at me.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t...Um…” She trails off, her hands still on the vials.
“Yeah,” I manage. “I know.”
Another silence.
“But we have work to do,” she says firmly, like she’s convincing herself.
“So much work.”
“Important work.”
“Critical data collection.”
“Right.” She finally looks at me, and her face is still flushed. “So we should... focus on that.”
“Absolutely. One hundred percent focused on the science.”
“The science.”
“Nothing but science.”
“Great.” She grabs her field notebook and holds it in front of her like a shield. “I’m going to... I’m going to go get changed. Into my field clothes. For the fieldwork. That we’re doing.”
She’s already in her field clothes.
“I’ll... I’ll be down here. Checking things.”
She practically flees up the ladder to the loft.
The second she disappears, I drop my head into my hands and try to remember how to breathe normally.
What the hell was that?
I kissed her. I actually kissed her. And she kissed me back, and it was incredible, and now we’re both acting like we’ve never spoken to another human being before.
From the loft, I hear a muffled sound that might be her screaming into a pillow.