Chapter 10
Carly paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, dissecting every event that had taken place in the last hour. Her mind jumped from one detail to the next.
The kiss. Christian’s accusing glare. That stupid text from Gage canceling their plans tonight. More disturbing was the fact that it came just after Gage and Christian marched off to talk in private.
What had Christian intended to do—explain to his friend just how broken Carly was?
Heat crept up her neck at the mere thought.
A few years back, she’d opened up to Christian about the day she lost Ava.
It had started when he asked her about her necklace.
Carly didn’t make a habit of going into that part of her past, even more so back then, but Christian seemed like a safe person to open up to about it.
So what, now he planned to go behind her back and use it against her?
She could just hear it now: Dude, don’t get involved with Carly. She’s got a messed up past.
With a quick hop over the back of the couch, Carly plunked onto the sofa and sighed. That didn’t exactly sound like Christian. He’d been very good to her over the years. But then why else would Gage have canceled their date tonight?
“A rain check?” she blurted into the vaulted space in her bungalow. She shook her head. She’d been planning to spend the afternoon with him. Like she had the last few wonderful days.
An errant thought of Jimmy floated to her mind, attempting to add to the mounding heap of confusion and shame, but Carly wasn’t having it.
No. She’d given Jimmy McGraw enough years of her life.
She wouldn’t feel bad for kissing Gage. Not on that count, anyway.
The fact that Gage was her student—that was a different topic altogether.
Carly had rolled her eyes more than once at the way Christian fell for the women he trained in dance.
She’d been certain such a thing would never happen to her.
So was that what Gage was apologizing for—kissing her on the job?
She hoped so. Carly didn’t want him to regret kissing her altogether.
So what if they had to avoid public affection?
They could do that. Heck, the most they’d done is flirt anyway, until their kiss on the beach.
Carly groaned and flung herself flat onto her back along the couch. “This is making me crazy.” This being stuck in a place between thrilling excitement and hope, and that spot of insecurity that had multiplied enough to make her ill.
A series of taps sounded from her door at the thought. Carly sat up fast and put a hand over her suddenly thumping heart. Maybe Gage had come after all. Maybe he’d only sent her that text to throw her off her game.
Yet as she climbed off the couch and set her gaze on the glass storm door, Carly realized it was just the man she wanted to talk to. A quick twist of the lever, a fast shove of the door, and she was face-to-face with Christian Lopez, America’s golden boy turned Latin lover of the Royal Palm Resort.
Carly folded her arms, propping the door open with the lean of one hip.
“Hi.” Christian ran a hand over the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “I’d, um…how about joining me for dinner tonight. My place. I’ll cook.”
Her eyes widened in response to the nerve of him, but then something struck her. “A few minutes ago you heard me ask Gage that same thing. Aren’t you worried that I have other plans?”
Christian tipped his head to one side. He surrendered his hands. “You caught me. But, c’mon, Carly. As far as I’m concerned, you and I have unfinished business. I’ve held back all this time, not knowing if you were ready.”
Anger burned through her, but if she were honest, it was mingled with hints of relief. Perhaps Gage was playing the honorable friend role. But what if he’d been turned off by the idea of being with her? “You had him cancel?”
Christian put his hands down. “Look, I’m sorry. I just…I like you, and I haven’t pushed it because of your past, but if you’re ready to move forward, I want to be a contender.”
The words brought a recollection to mind.
Of a weak moment in her life where she’d kissed Christian.
It had been short, sweet, and quickly soured when Carly broke into a rash of excuses as to why she shouldn’t have allowed it.
She’d done a decent job of burying the incident and maintaining a platonic friendship with him since then.
But Christian’s response to all of that could be summed up with one word: patient.
He was a decent guy, and she could, at very least, put his hope for a connection with her to rest.
“Okay,” she finally said. Besides, maybe she could ask him about Gage. Hopefully she could find out what Christian had said to make him back down from their date for the night. “What time?”
Christian’s posture straightened. He tipped his head to the other side and glanced down at the watch on his arm. “How’s five o’clock?”
She took a moment to resign herself to the shift in plans. “Five o’clock works.”
“Hey,” he said, glancing to something beside her, “looks like you’ve got a few more of those protein bars for me, eh?”
Carly glanced at the small table beside the door. A large wooden bowl held two more peanut butter bars. “Yeah,” she said, snatching them up and handing them over.
He grinned. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Gage. On second thought,” she added in a rush. “Don’t do that. I’ll tell him so that he’ll stop buying them already.”
Christian tore open the package, broke off a hunk of the chocolate-covered bar, and popped it into his mouth. “I just did.”
Carly lifted a brow. “You did?”
“Yep,” he said over a bite. “But I probably shouldn’t have.” He lifted both arms and flexed, causing his biceps—and whatever other muscles were in those arms of his—to bulge. “Now how am I going to keep feeding these bad boys?” He gave each bicep a kiss before glancing back at her.
There was the Christian she knew. Exuding confidence with that arrogant poise and cocky grin. He shot her a wink. “See you soon?”
Carly nodded as a sigh escaped her lips. “All right,” she said, still feeling uneasy about her standing with Gage. “I’ll be there.”
If Carly had thought that every bungalow at the resort was similar, she’d been wrong.
Since coming to work at The Royal Palm, she’d stayed at a handful of different suites ranging from one to twenty-three.
But this one, number nineteen, belonged to Christian no matter the season.
Made sense, since the resort kept Christian coming back throughout the entire year.
Special occasions, holidays, those types of things.
The well-known dancer had decked the place out with all sorts of bachelor pad additions. An extra refrigerator beside the couch, a wet bar in the loft, and a screen, hanging along one wall, big enough for the entire beach to enjoy the Super Bowl.
The added touches didn’t exactly flow with the minimalistic design, but they suited Christian perfectly. She glanced down at the placemat beneath her plate, the NY Giants logo taking up its surface. Another touch that was purely him.
“Thanks for agreeing to come over,” Christian said as he carried a pot from the kitchen to the dining area where she sat.
“Of course,” she said, eyeing what was inside the pot. It smelled good enough, but what did it look like? Once he rested it on the NY Giants hot pad centered on the table, Carly saw that it was macaroni and cheese. Not the boxed kind; these shells were much bigger.
“This is my mama’s special recipe,” he said. “You bake it with a bunch of smashed up Ritz crackers on top. Ah, so good.”
She grinned. “Looks good. Smells good too. Thanks, um, for having me over.” Awkward.
Hints of smoke wafted through the air. Not like campfire, more like that waxy scent that lingered after someone blew out candles on a birthday cake.
She glanced over the table and came up empty, but a quick look toward the counter caused her to lift a brow.
Two brass candlesticks held skinny, white candles with black wicks.
Had he set this up for a romantic dinner and changed his mind? Probably, she realized.
“I know this is kind of awkward,” Christian said as he reached for her plate.
The fact that he could acknowledge that eased her nerves. Carly handed it over and watched the way he piled two massive scoops of the homemade mac onto the center. Her tummy growled at the sight, letting her know just how hungry she was. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He piled a few scoops onto his own plate and sat back down across from her. “I didn’t realize that you ditched your poet boyfriend,” he said. “Guess we haven’t had a lot of time to catch up.”
Carly sank her fork into the cheesy mound, brought a bite to her mouth, and blew on it.
“True,” she said. “I guess you could say that my feelings for Gage sort of helped me see things differently.” Yes, she wanted to ask about what he’d told Gage, but she’d bide her time.
Also nagging at her was the whole job conflict.
Would it really be a problem or not? She had no intention of taking that question to Cyree; it would only shine a light on the very thing Carly might have to hide.
She fought to block out the ramblings in her head and focus on her food. It was good. Very good. In fact, as she took her next bite, she groaned slightly from the rich, savory flavor. “Are there onions in this too?”
He grinned. “The tiniest little pieces, yeah. You’ve got to chop them real small so they don’t interfere with the texture.”
An apron rested on the counter beside the abandoned candles. She reached for the ice water beside her plate. “I didn’t realize you liked to cook.”
Christian shrugged. “There’s a lot about me you probably don’t know yet. But there’s one question I’ve got to ask you, I guess, so that I don’t beat myself up when Gage comes asking me to be his best man.”