Chapter 20 #2
Then I take pity on the poor man. "For future reference, when someone spends ten minutes confessing they missed you, the odds are generally in your favor."
A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. "Good to know."
"You're lucky you're pretty."
"Pretty? I thought you liked my personality."
Carter? Personality? Ha! "Let's not get carried away."
His eyes snap to mine, and something in his expression shifts. The frustration. The nerves. The overthinking. It all burns away, leaving something far more dangerous.
Determination.
Before I can make another joke, he's moving. One hand catches my wrist. The other cups my jaw. And then he kisses me.
Not careful this time or soft like last night. Because a man can only spend so many days arguing with himself before he snaps. I make a surprised sound against his mouth, but it quickly dissolves into a grin because, wow, apparently Carter Reed's breaking point is aggressively attractive.
His grip tightens, and he reaches for the buttons on my shirt.
Or—he almost does.
The doorbell rings. A sustained, authoritative ding-dong that screams clipboard energy.
We freeze.
Another ring. Longer this time, with a hint of pettiness.
Carter closes his eyes like a man being personally betrayed by the universe.
"I swear to God," he mutters.
"Go away," I mumble.
Carter huffs a laugh against my lips. The sound does absolutely nothing helpful to my internal organs.
The doorbell rings again, followed immediately by a voice through the door.
"BENJI? HOA CHECK-IN. JUST A QUICK THING."
Eunice. Of course, it’s Eunice.
Carter drops his hand, straightens, and resets his face into Neutral Professional Man Who Definitely Wasn’t About to Make Out.
I smooth my shirt, entirely unbothered. "She has a sixth sense," I tease. "Shows up whenever joy exceeds acceptable levels."
Another knock. Firmer. "BENJAMIN."
I sigh. "She used my government name. It’s serious."
Carter huffs a quiet laugh despite himself. Then he looks at me, and there’s frustration there, but also something resolved. Something settled.
"This isn’t over," he says under his breath.
My smile is soft but certain. "No," I agree. "It’s just getting delayed by bureaucracy."
I move toward the door. Behind me, Carter murmurs, "I’m going to hate this neighborhood."
I pause, hand on the knob. "You already do."
I open the door to see Eunice standing there with a folder and the righteous glow of a woman about to ruin someone’s afternoon.
"Benji," she says crisply. "We need to discuss unauthorized signage."
I beam. "Eunice. You have impeccable timing."
Behind me, Carter exhales, long, slow, and undone. And when I glance back at him over my shoulder, his eyes meet mine. Still dark. Still wanting.
Let the HOA wait. We’re not done.
Eunice steps in exactly one inch, as if proximity alone might establish dominance.
"I won’t take much of your time," she says, which is always a lie. "There’s been a concern raised about the signage you placed near the community pool."
I blink. "The welcome sign?"
"The flamingo-adjacent welcome sign," she corrects. "Some residents feel it sets an… expectation."
Carter shifts behind me. Eunice clocks him immediately.
"Oh. You have company."
"Yes, I do."
Carter clears his throat. "I was just—"
"Carter Reed," Eunice says, pleased. "Good. This concerns you as well, actually."
His spine goes rigid. I bite my cheek.
She flips open the folder. Papers rustle ominously. "As Block Captain, you’ll want to be aware that social gatherings near shared amenities must remain clearly recreational and not—" she squints at the page, "—suggestive in tone."
Carter’s jaw tightens. "The sign says ‘Welcome to the Pool.’"
"With flamingos," Eunice reminds him.
"They’re birds," he says evenly.
I adore him.
Eunice sniffs. "Regardless. We’ll need the sign removed by end of day."
"Of course. How tragic."
She turns to leave, then pauses. "Also, Benji—your blinds."
My smile doesn’t falter. "My blinds?"
"They’ve been… expressive," she says. "Please ensure they remain neutral."
Carter chokes, catches it, and turns it into a cough.
"Neutral blinds," I repeat solemnly. "I’ll have a word with them."
Satisfied, Eunice departs. The door clicks shut.
The silence that follows is not calm. It’s electric. Charged with everything we didn’t get to finish.
Carter exhales slowly. "I can’t believe that just happened."
I turn to see he’s still close. Too close for sanity, but not close enough for relief.
"You handled her well. Very authoritative. I almost swooned."
"What’s she got against flamingos, anyhow?"
"Let’s see." I tick items off my fingers. "They’re pink, not beige. That should be obvious. They stand on one leg, which implies imbalance in the universe. Eunice likes her universe balanced. They signal fun, which is HOA code for things we cannot regulate yet but desperately want to. And worst of all, she may be harboring false notions that flamingos are some sort of gay mascot. Basically, they’re threatening to people who believe lawn neutrality is a lifestyle. "
He huffs a laugh, then sobers. His gaze drops to my mouth, my collarbone, the space between us, and lingers.
"We were interrupted," he says unnecessarily.
"Yes. Rudely."
Another beat passes. He doesn’t step back. Neither do I.
"I meant what I said," he adds. "About not doing things halfway."
My chest tightens pleasantly. "Then you should probably leave."
His brow furrows. "Why?"
"Because, if you stay, I’m going to stop being patient."
That does it. His breath catches. He nods once, like a man accepting a difficult truth.
"Tomorrow," he promises.
"Tomorrow."
Carter turns, opens the door, and pauses. "Benji?"
"Yes?"
"We’re removing the sign together."
I glow with anticipation. "Hot."
He groans and leaves. I lock the door, lean back against it, and let myself breathe for the first time in twenty minutes.
Weaponized patience is exhausting.
But God—it’s working.