Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Liz pulled her focus from the explosion of Crawford’s Manufacturing paperwork spread out on her desk and glanced at the phone vibrating next to her. Speak of the devil. She slid her finger across the screen and leaned back in her chair. “Hey, Arnold. How’s it going?”
“Fine. Fine. I should ask you the same.”
“Okay. Just trying to get all your ducks lined up in a row.” Although at this point, she’d be lucky to get his ducks in any kind of formation whatsoever.
His numbers were a mess. His strategic planning was nearly nonexistent.
How the hell had he managed to hold on this long?
And why had he waited so long to contact her?
“Great. Can’t wait to see how you make out with them. I knew I hired the right person.” He paused. “So…I have Carson with me.”
Her brain momentarily short-circuited at hearing his name. Glitched for a moment. Like it wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do now when it heard his name.
“And we,” Arnold grunted like something poked him, “fine, I was wondering if you’re free to act as a kind of chaperone. Take him around town. Show him the sights.”
Did Cloverfield have sights?
“I don’t know if you heard,” Arnold barreled on, “but Davis is trying to put together a Cloverfield Now and Then comparison project. He’s hoping Carson can help as someone who’s from here but hasn’t been back in a while. Get his input on the way things have changed.”
“Oh.” Huh. Yeah, Liz did kind of remember Davis mentioning that. Something he was trying to put together for one of his grants. Which the town did desperately need.
But if she said yes, that would mean spending more time with Carson. Something she didn’t think was in her best interest.
Unless it was.
Between Clem and Maya harping on her about the whole soul-mate thing and Gwen’s not-so-subtle thoughts of a second-chance romance, Liz needed to do something to show those busybodies that there were absolutely zero sparks flying between her and Carson.
What better way to do that than to show them they could coexist peacefully before going their separate ways?
Before she was able to second-guess the wisdom of her words, she heard herself say, “Sure! Sounds good.”
Hmm. Good was a stretch. More like a necessary evil. But beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers, and right now, she needed to get a whole lot of people out of her personal business. If hauling Carson around and letting the town see them together was what it took, so be it.
She’d been in worse situations. Besides, she was a professional, dammit. She could totally do this.
“Great! I’ll call Etta May and see if she’ll loan the two of you her golf cart. She owes me a few favors, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Oh. Right. His leg. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Arnold if Carson should be tooling around town with his injury, but then she figured it wasn’t any of her business. Carson was a grown man. He could take care of himself.
An image of exactly how much he’d grown flashed through her brain. The muscles. The facial hair. The smile.
She shifted in her chair as a not uncomfortable sensation rolled through her lower body.
Come on, Liz. Pull yourself together!
“Liz?” Arnold asked. “You still there?”
“Oh. Yep. Still here.” Not thinking about your nephew’s physique at all. “Let me know what Etta May says.”
“Will do! Thanks, Liz. You’re a real life saver,” he said before hanging up.
Yeah. She was something all right.
Liz glared down at her lap in disappointment. “Seriously, what is your deal? I thought you were better than that. Do I need to put you in time out?”
She would, too. There was no room for any funny business right now. The goals were simple—play tour guide for Carson, let everyone see there were no sparks remaining between them, and close that chapter of her life for good.
And she was nothing if not motivated to achieve her goals.
Liz sighed in frustration as she read through her emails a couple hours later.
On the plus side, several of Arnold’s previous Digit Defender contract holders already got back to her. On the minus side, none of the responders wanted to renew their contracts. They all cited similar factors—budget cutbacks and lack of necessity.
Not surprising, but definitely not what she was hoping for. That didn’t mean it was a lost cause, however. It just meant she needed to branch out. Possibly do more out-of-the-box brainstorming.
And move around and do some stretching before her ass grew roots and she became a permanent part of her office chair.
Standing up, she rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. You’ll figure this out. You always do.
As if punctuating her thought, her phone buzzed with a text notification from an unknown number. Your chariot awaits.
Chariot?
The unmistakable rubber-duck horn honk of Etta May’s golf cart sounded outside her house.
Right. Shit. Etta May’s golf cart. For Carson. And her. Out around town.
Her gut tightened. What the hell was she thinking? In what world was it a good idea for the two of them to be seen out and about? Together?
Another honk interrupted her swirl of thoughts.
Geez, Etta May. Get a grip. Be right there, she texted back.
Inhaling another deep breath, she straightened her spine. Woman up. The sooner you take Carson around town, the sooner you show everyone there is nothing to gossip about.
Nodding to herself, she shut down her computer, gathered her jacket and bag, and headed out the door.
Outside she took a deep breath, grateful for the surprisingly mild temperature.
While it was sometimes brutally cold and dismally depressing in the middle of winter, Cloverfield was also lucky enough to score the occasional streak of balmy weather.
She loved living in a place that experienced all the seasons, but Liz always felt better when the sun was shining brightly and her feet weren’t freezing.
Her moment of bliss ground to a halt when she got a look at who was sitting in the driver’s seat of Etta May’s golf cart. Because it wasn’t Etta May.
Her gut clenched again when one corner of Carson’s mouth lifted. This time in a not-unpleasant way.
“Hey.”
Parts slightly farther south clenched at the deep rumble of his voice.
Shit. What was with her today? This was Carson. Not some guy she was attracted to, for fuck’s sake. Get it together!
Sucking in what she hoped was a system-rebooting breath, she let it out steadily and nodded in return. “Hey.” She frowned as a thought popped into her head. “How do you know where I live?”
“Uncle Arnold.”
Oh. Right. “I take it he gave you my number, too?”
“Yep. You ready?”
Ready to get this over with and prove the two of them had nothing between them? “Yep.” With a final deep breath, she crossed to the golf cart and shooed him over to the passenger side. “Scoot over.”
“What? No.”
“Yes. I’m driving.”
“Uh, no, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. It’s my tour. I’m driving.”
“But I’m already here.”
“So? You can just as easily be over there.” She aimed the full force of her glare at him.
“Two words. Torn. Groin.” He pointed at the crutches in the back of the cart for emphasis.
Liz winced. “Ouch. Really?”
“Does that sound like something I’d admit to if it wasn’t true?”
Definitely not. “Should you be driving?”
Liz saw a moment of uncertainty flit across Carson’s face before it was replaced with a mask of nonchalance.
He shrugged. “The doctor said it was fine.”
Her bullshit alarm rang loud and clear. “You sure that’s what he said?”
“Yep. He said I should practice driving locally as much as possible to make sure I can handle the drive back to D.C.”
Liz gave him her best you’d better not be bullshitting me stare.
He gave it right back to her.
“Fine. You win.” Liz rolled her eyes. She had better things to do than argue with Carson about how bad his injury truly was. “But don’t think I won’t hesitate to take over if I don’t like your driving.”
“Duly noted.” He waited for her to tuck herself in beside him and grinned. “Alright. Where to?”
“See? It would be soooo much easier if I was driving.”
Carson leveled her with a stare until she held her hands up in surrender. “Fine. Go straight until we hit Main Street.”
“Thank you. Was that so hard?”
The smirk on his face told Liz he knew exactly how hard it was.
What was worse, however, was how close they were sitting.
Liz hadn’t thought about it in the past. She’d ridden in the cart with Etta May before, but there had been plenty of room then.
Now, however, it was all she could do to keep her thigh from resting against his.
Or maybe it was the way he was sitting. “Would you stop manspreading?”
“Believe me,” Carson said as he eased his foot onto the gas pedal. “If there was a more comfortable way to sit, I would.”
Right. Groin tear.
With a barely contained sigh of exasperation, she shifted further toward the edge of her seat. So help her if he took the corners at more than a snail’s crawl. She was likely to fall out unless she held on to the handle near the roof.
“So, groin tear, huh?” she asked in an effort to break up the awkward silence stretching between them.
“Yep. Got checked out at urgent care this morning.”
“Good.”
Carson side-eyed her, and she grimaced. “Not good, I’m glad you have a groin tear. Good, I’m glad you got it checked out.” Smooth, Liz. Real smooth. Another thought hit her. “Wait. If driving this cart goes well, does that mean you’re still leaving today?”
The angle of his mouth curved up again. “Ready to get rid of me already?”
“No. Yes.” She clamped her lips shut. What the hell, woman?
He swallowed and nodded. “Honestly, I’m still hoping for today, but it might be tomorrow. We’ll see how it goes.”
“You can always call an Uber.” Under other circumstances, she’d offer to drive him back to D.C. herself. But five hours in a car with him wasn’t on her to-do list right now.
He slowed to a stop at the intersection. “Ouch.”
“I knew you shouldn’t be driving. Move.”