Chapter 14 #2
Carson lifted an eyebrow at her and pressed down on the gas again. “I meant, ouch, you seem to really want to get rid of me.”
“Oh.”
He sighed. “Look. I get it. This whole tour situation is awkward as shit. I’m sorry my uncle roped you into it. You want me gone. I don’t blame you.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Let’s get through this. Show everyone we can be adults, then we can each retreat to our own corners and figure out how to help Uncle Arnold from there. Capiche?”
Liz let his words roll through her head for a few moments then nodded. “Capiche. And he didn’t rope me into it.” Liz wasn’t sure why she said it. The words just fell out of her mouth.
Carson darted his eyes to her again. “You’re telling me your idea of a good time is taking me on a tour around town in a golf cart?”
“Well, I didn’t say that. But I do love Etta May’s golf cart.”
“Sweet ride, isn’t it?”
She reached over and squeezed the rubber-duck horn again. “That’s my favorite.” She waved when the driver of a passing car did a double take.
Carson snorted and shook his head as he stopped at another intersection. When they were up to speed again, he said, “So, Arnold said you’re on some committee. Downtown something something?”
“Downtown Improvement Committee.”
“Sounds fancy. I don’t think they had that when we were growing up.”
“Nope. It’s relatively new. They started it six or seven years ago. I joined three years ago.”
“I’m guessing you like it if you’re still on after three years.”
“I love it. Don’t get me wrong, it can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but that’s true of committees in general. But it seems that every year we see more new cool things happen. Especially now that Davis is on board. Have you met Davis?”
Carson jerked his thumb back to the crutches. “Yep. They’re his hand-me-downs.”
Liz winced. “Oh. Right. Poor guy had a rough introduction to Cloverfield.”
“Yeah, he said.”
“Did he tell you about the whole goat thing?”
“And the fish.”
Liz clamped her lips together, but a laugh snuck through. “I shouldn’t laugh, but between him and you…”
“I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I heard Janice put Dennis in time out to make him think about what he’d done.”
Carson shook his head. “It really doesn’t.”
Poor guy. Now that she wasn’t hell-bent on hating his guts, Liz felt a pang of empathy. He probably hadn’t been looking forward to coming back to Cloverfield. Then he gets injured on his first night in town? Talk about unlucky.
Shoving those thoughts aside, she gestured to the upcoming intersection. “Okay. Hang a right here.”
Carson slowed the cart, but as he took the curve Liz tightened her grip on the handlebar anyway. Despite their turtle-like speed, their shoulders brushed together. Liz had a flash of memory. The two of them cuddled together. Sitting hip to hip. His arm draped around her shoulders. Laughing. Happy.
The memory bubble burst at the sound of a sharp inhale. “Fuck.”
“I’m so sorry.” Shit. Had she hurt him? Liz leaned away, breaking their connection and putting space between them again.
“Not your fault. I moved my foot when I was bracing for the turn. Not a good idea, for the record.”
“See? I should be the one driving.”
“Never gonna happen.”
Ugh. Why were men so stubborn? With a roll of her eyes, Liz huffed. “Fine. Pull over here.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. But this is where the tour starts.” Dumbass.
With another side-eye, Carson eased into the motorcycle parking space she indicated.
“Everything okay over there?” she asked.
“Perfect.”
“Great.” She didn’t believe him for a second. His jaw was clenched and he looked slightly pale. But short of wrestling him out of the driver’s seat, there wasn’t a lot she could do. Except call him a dumbass. And definitely not think about wrestling with him.
Shoving that thought back into the deep, dark hole of her mind, she pointed to the building on the corner opposite them. “That’s still town hall and the post office.”
“Please at least tell me Annie and Frannie have retired.”
“Nope. They’re still going strong.”
“I don’t think they were going strong when we were growing up.”
Liz felt her lips twitch. Dammit. Why was his snark so entertaining? “Well, they’re both still going. You should definitely ask Davis about his experience with them.” It was one of Liz’s favorite stories. The way he still got worked up about it drove her to near hysterics every time.
Turning her attention to the building next to it, she continued. “Of course there’s the theater. Hopefully on schedule for renovations in the near future.”
“Let me know if there are any more murder mysteries scheduled. I’m happy to play dead again.”
“You did make a fabulous dead person.” The image of him lying on the couch popped into her head. Loathe as she was to admit it, she’d been ogling the body on the couch. The way he filled out his jeans. The way his shirt accentuated his chest.
Then he’d shown his face.
And she’d been horrified.
“You say the nicest things.”
Liz barely contained her snort. Shit. Get it together! If she wasn’t careful, she was going to let her guard down altogether before the day was done. Then where would she be?
Gathering herself yet again, she pointed to the buildings next to them. “Larissa’s baked goods are to die for. She’s on the committee with me, and it’s a miracle I haven’t gained fifty pounds. Gwen has her stuff at the coffee shop, too.”
“How is Gwen?”
“Great.” The thought of just how good her best friend was warmed her. “Really great. I’ll point out her place in a bit. You should stop in. It’s fabulous.”
“I’ll do that.”
Wow. He seemed sincere. Something Liz never thought she’d see from him again. “Next to Larissa’s is the newspaper—”
“They still have those?”
“For now.” Liz’s good mood took a slight downturn.
She’d been talking with the owners on and off for several years.
It was a toss-up whether they would finally go completely digital or if it would continue to be a slow and painful death.
But it wasn’t her decision to make. It was her job to help where she could.
For now, she had to sit on the sidelines and wait.
“I’m sensing there might be a nondisclosure somewhere in there?”
“No comment.”
“Got it.”
Damn. There was something comforting about being around someone who truly did get it.
Who got that she wasn’t keeping things secret because she wanted to.
Got that there were things in the business world that she wasn’t able to discuss.
Deep down she knew her friends knew that, but it didn’t stop them from trying to dig anyway.
“Are you ready to let me drive now?” she asked.
“I’m ready to let you tell me where to drive now.”
Liz glowered at him, and he glowered right back.
Damn. Was it getting warm in this cart? She suddenly felt like she might need to unzip her coat and maybe fan her face.
And there was a suspicious pulsing in certain parts that definitely shouldn’t be pulsing right now.
Not while sitting with Carson in a golf cart on a tour of Cloverfield.
She shifted in her seat, partly to break eye contact with him and partly to remind her nether regions to behave, and cleared her throat. “Fine. Then drive.”
She caught the tiny smirk that played on his lips as he started the cart again.
It did nothing to help whatever the hell was going on with her misbehaving body parts.
Doing her best to get back into tour-guide mode, she pointed out the second-hand bookstore and consignment art gallery, waving at several people on the sidewalk, before instructing him to pull into a space on the next block.
Pointing to the store next to her, she said, “Bea Kim is on the committee with me too. She’s got all sorts of lotions and potions. Pretty good online presence, too.”
“Oh, yeah. The Bruise Balm.”
“Yeah.” She gave him a curious look.
“Davis may or may not have dropped some off with the crutches.”
“Oh. Did you use it yet?”
“Yeah”
“Well, good. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen what it did for his fish-slap face.”
“I still cannot believe a fish did that.”
“Well, it was Larry.” Biggest and oldest fish in Etta May’s pond. He was locally famous even before jumping out of the water and slapping Davis with reckless abandon. Now he was practically a legend.
“Oh. Well, in that case…”
“Over there,” Liz said, pointing across the street, “is Cloverfield Common. It’s relatively new but beating all of its profit projections.
It’s a shared area for smaller shops not ready for their own store fronts yet.
Or not wanting one. Abram Tillman is the brainchild behind that. He’s on the committee too.”
“Huh. That does sound interesting. Especially in this day and age of increasing online sales and decreasing brick-and-mortar shops.”
“Exactly.” Liz wasn’t sure why she was so glad Carson got the concept, but she was. Directing him to drive again, she pointed out The Busted Gut and the library before telling him to pull into the parking lot at the end of the street. “And this is The Percolation Station. Gwen’s coffee shop.”
Intrigue and surprise registered on Carson’s face. “It’s the old train station.”
Pride welled within her as she marveled again at what Gwen had done with the place. “With a lot of hard work, elbow grease, and outside funding, it’s now the coolest coffee shop I’ve ever been to.”
“I will definitely check it out.”
“You should.” It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that they check it out right now. Go in together. After all, wasn’t that why she was here in the first place? To be seen with him?
Carson pointed to the large open space nearby before she verbalized her thoughts. “Weren’t there a couple of old, condemned houses over there?”
Liz followed his pointed finger. “Oh. Yeah. The town tore them down years ago. Made it dedicated open space. Now it’s where the festivals happen.”
“Festivals?”