On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) (19 page)

“You’ll let me know if things don’t go well tonight?” he asked. Her cheeks heated at the implication of what might happen if the date wasn’t successful. Then Carter leaned in and whispered, “Never mind. I’ll watch for you to come home.”

And then he kissed her.

His mouth slanted over hers, hot and possessive, and just as it had the first time, it made her toes curl. She wound her fingers into his shirt, capable only of hanging on.

He stroked her with his tongue. His hands roamed over her body. He filled every single one of her senses, and in the span of a few seconds, he seemed to touch her everywhere. It was as if he’d branded her. She shivered when he let her go.

Seconds passed as they watched each other, both waiting for the other to make the next move, both breathing hard. Then he nodded, cupped a hand briefly over his mouth, and slowly backed away. “Don’t have too much fun tonight.” His voice was scratchy and raw, and held promises that heated her all over again.

He turned to go, rapping a quick knuckle against the glass of the door as he passed it, and causing Cookie and Mrs. Rylander to jump back. “Nice meeting you, ladies,” he tossed out.

Carter got into his car, and sped away, and the distant chime of the store’s bell sounded once again. Then Cookie and Mrs. R. were standing on the porch next to her.

“What was that?” Cookie asked.

“That,”
Mrs. Rylander began, her voice all knowing, “was dessert.”

“How about going with me to pick out Mom and Dad’s new kitchen table?” Carter suggested to his sister. She’d gotten home from work fifteen minutes earlier, and they were sitting on the porch enjoying the end of the day—and Carter was
not
watching for Ginger to exit her house on her way to her date.

“When?” Julie was in one of the two metal gliders her parents had owned forever, her head resting against the back, and both hands atop her burgeoning stomach. Her eyes were closed.

“I was thinking tomorrow.”

“You know I work tomorrow.” She peeked one eye open to look at him.

He still thought she worked too much. “We could go Saturday.”

“Actually”—she yawned behind one hand—“my Saturday person needed the day off, so I have to work then, too.”

Carter kept his retort inside. At least she seemed to be doing better these days. She ate more, and she slept more peacefully. In the last two weeks she’d even plumped up and looked like a “normal” pregnant woman. She also didn’t seem to be crying as much lately. Which helped him to not lose his mind.

“I’m not big into shopping right now anyway,” she told him. “Not after being on my feet all week.” She held her feet out in front of her, the long black-and-white dress she wore dropping away from her calves, and he could see her swollen ankles beneath. “You’ll have to go without me.”

A Volvo pulled up next door, and instead of continuing the conversation, Carter stopped the motions of his glider and turned his attention to the man getting out of the car.

He was tall, blond, and dressed in creased slacks, a button-down, and a blazer. He looked like he belonged on a runway.

“She dates a lot,” Julie pointed out.

“That she does.”

The man strolled to the front door, but Ginger came out before he reached it. She’d toned her image down tonight. Dark-washed jeans, a dark green top, and sandals. No heels. No dress. And the makeup was minimal.

Carter didn’t like it.

“You have the hots for her,” Julie said.

He didn’t acknowledge the comment.

“That’s got to sting. Seeing a different man pick her up so often.” She slid from her seat onto his, hunched in close, and began speaking conspiratorially as they both watched the action next door. “Take
her
shopping with you,” she suggested.

That was a good idea, actually. Ginger had things she needed to pick out for her house, too.

He’d given her a week last Friday night to settle on the major kitchen decisions or he’d choose them for her. Tomorrow was Friday. It made sense to take her shopping. Or maybe he was simply letting his hormones get the best of him.

Julie jabbed him in the side as Ginger’s breezy laughter rang through the night before she slid into the passenger seat of the other man’s car. And again, Carter ignored his sister.

Because yes. He definitely had the hots for Ginger. He was jealous as hell right now.

And yes, he wanted her spending time with him instead of some other man.

But that was only because he wanted to bed her. He wasn’t about to fool himself that he desired anything more. He might be a bit better than when he’d first shown up, but that didn’t mean he was cured. He was still angry. He would still go home in little more than a week. And he had zero intentions of ever considering anything more than a fun, easy time with a woman again.

Uncomplicated. That was the new game plan.

But my god, he did like to kiss that particular woman.

As the Volvo sped off, he relived the feeling of her mouth under his from earlier that day. The touch of her body in his hands.

Julie’s phone rang, and Carter pulled his brain back to the present and watched his sister from the corner of his eye. She’d cried less in the last week. Her phone had also rung less.

She looked at it and stopped the ringing. She didn’t answer.

But the color washed from her face.

“It’s him?” he asked. “The baby’s father?”

It was her turn to ignore him, so he held out his hand.

“Hand it over. I’ll make sure he never calls again.”

She shoved his arm out of the way. “Stop it. This is my mess to clean up.”

“I’m your big brother. I get to fix your messes for you.”

“Carter . . .” The phone buzzed with a voice mail, and he saw her hand shake.

“Talk to me, Julie.” He didn’t take her phone from her, but he closed his hand over hers. “It’s time. Dammit, you’re breaking my heart with all this moping around.”

She smiled sadly at his words.

Now that he’d experienced a bit of renewed energy for life—at least for writing . . . and sex—simply by sharing a portion of his burden with Ginger, he understand the importance of talking. Of having someone there to listen.

“You need to talk, Sis, and I’m what you’ve got. So tell me. What happened?”

“You’ll only get mad.” She looked away from him. “You’ll call me stupid.”

She moved to get up, but he pulled her back. Ginger hadn’t judged him. And that had helped more than anything. He could do that for Julie. Even if it killed him.

“I won’t judge,” he said. “I swear.”

She shot him a scowl similar to his own. “You’re still my big brother.”

“I am. And I’ll always be.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “But I can temper that for one night if I have to. Tell me what happened. Why are you here alone? Why will you be raising my sweet little niece alone?”

She shook her head, and he didn’t think she would give in, but then tears slowly slipped over her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered. “Because he’s married,” she whispered.

Carter closed his eyes. He had to. To keep her from seeing his thoughts.

And he did his best not to let the tension grow in the arm that was around her.

“I feel your anger,” she told him.

“Of course you do, but I’m not saying anything.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me the rest.”

She turned on the seat so she could look at him, and for the first time, he saw a kernel of hope in her eyes. “Do you really want me to?”

“I do.” He nodded. “Talking helps.”

“Is that what helped you this week? You talked to someone?”

She’d noticed? “I did.”

“To Ginger?”

He chuckled. “Yes, brat. To Ginger.”

“You’ve been sneaking out of the house with her every morning,” she accused. “I’m not an idiot. I know that’s going on.”

“I’ve not been sneaking. Want me to start waking you to let you know I’m leaving?”

She’d taken to sleeping later the last few days. “No.”

“Want me to tell you what we’re doing?” He wiggled his brows, and her eyes rounded.

“Really?”

“No.” He laughed. “Not really. I’m teasing. We’re watching the sunrise together. That’s all. And talking.”

Her eyes were more blue than green tonight as she studied him in the quiet night. He could hear a car pass on the main street, a block over from the house, but couldn’t see it from his seat. “You used to do that with her when you were in high school,” she said. “Meet up with her. Almost every morning.”

“I did.”

“That’s really nice. To have a friend like that. Someone to talk to.”

He took her hand. “It is.”

“I never had a friend like that.”

“And I’m sorry about that. I wish I could fix it for you.” Because having Ginger in his life had been a big deal, then and now. “I’m your friend tonight, though. I’m your friend forever. Now tell me the rest of it.”

She slowly nodded, and apology touched her face. “He was my teacher.”

“Julie—”

“You promised.”

He had promised. But he now wanted to find the man and beat the shit out of him. He gave a quick nod. “Go on.”

“I thought they were getting divorced. He
told
me they were.”

“How old is he?”

Humiliation washed over her. “Not that old.” Her eyes pleaded with him not to yell.

“How
ol
d
?”

She gulped. “Thirty-eight.”

The man who’d gotten his baby sister pregnant was older than
him
?

Instead of expressing his thoughts out loud, Carter forced himself not to look fierce. Then he motioned for her to keep going.

“He might
still
get divorced,” she said. “Or so he says. That’s up in the air. But when confronted with the decision of whether to file the papers or not, he didn’t do it.” She sniffled and scrubbed the back of her hand under her nose. “He’d loved her once, and he wanted to try again. He wants it to work.”

“Even though you’re pregnant?”

She nodded, the move intensely sad. “I’m a nonissue.”

“Then why does he keep calling?”

She didn’t answer, so he asked another question. “What does his wife think about the baby?”

She lowered her gaze. “He didn’t tell her.”

“For fuck’s sake, Julie. He’s an asshole.”

“I know. And I messed up. Bad. I know that.” She swallowed. “But you can’t tell Mom and Dad, Carter. Please. I’ve learned a lot from this.”

“I have no doubt. But just so you know, if he thinks he can simply waltz back into your life if it doesn’t work out with his wife, then I’ll have to put myself in the middle whether you like it or not.”

She smiled wanly. “No need, big brother. I’ve made that fact clear. He’s out. He made his choice. My baby girl is mine alone.”

“Then why does he keep calling?”

“We were working out the legal details,” she told him. “To give up paternity rights.”

“Oh, Julie. I’m so sorry.” He hugged her tight. “Life can suck, can’t it?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “A lot.”

He peered down at her. “For me, too. Lisa married someone else.
Before
she divorced me.”

Horror filled her eyes. “She’s a bigamist?”

“Yep.”

“I hope she’s sitting in jail.”

That had been his first instinct. To report her. Throw away the key. But before he’d even left her apartment, he’d realized he hadn’t cared that much.

“I don’t actually know what she’s doing,” he began. “She’s out of my life, and that’s enough.” He wanted to tell Julie the rest of the story. The worst of it. But he wanted to tell Ginger first. She would know what to say. How to help.

Only,
she
was out on a date.

“At least you’re giving Mom and Dad a grandchild before writing off the other sex,” he added. He dropped his head to the glider and stared at the sky. “I’d hate for them to never have one.”

Julie pulled out of his arms. “No, I’m not.”

He looked at her in question. Surely she didn’t mean—

“I’m not writing off the other sex.”

“How could you not? After what this jerk did to you.”

“I’m only twenty-two, Carter.” She shook her head as if he were missing the whole point. “Why would I chop off a huge part of my life before I can ever live it?”

“I don’t know why you
wouldn’t
.” He sat up straighter on the seat. “I’m not saying never go out with a man again, just—”

“Just have sex?”

Her words made him flinch. “I’m not saying that, either.”

“Well, you can’t have it both ways.”

Before he could come up with a reply, she leaned back into him. And she kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry Lisa did that to you. Really, I am. It bites. And I understand why it hurt so much. Why you’re scared. But you’re still young, too.” She suddenly seemed a hell of a lot older than her years. “Don’t write off that part of your life, either. You deserve more.”

She meant well, he knew. But he didn’t have a choice. Handing his heart over to someone—a second time? It wasn’t worth the risk.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

T
he cab slowed to a stop outside the house, and Ginger took a moment to sit in the dark staring out at the night, before straight
ening her shoulders and pulling herself together. The driver gave her the
total as she opened the door, and that’s when the next road bump of the
evening hit. She’d forgotten her purse.

She held in a groan. “Do you mind waiting for just a minute? I need to run in and get some money.”

“I’ll have to keep the meter running.”

“I know.” A sigh slipped out. This wasn’t the first time she’d been caught in a similar situation. She slid from the car and stood. Only to gasp when she turned and immediately bumped into someone. “Crap, Carter. You scared me to death.” She shoved away his hand, where it had landed on her elbow. “What are you doing out here?”

“Why are you in a cab?” he bit out. “Where’s your date?”

It was midnight, and every house on the street was dark. Carter’s included. He should be in bed. Or at least not out here witnessing her humiliation.

“The date’s over,” she said. She tried to push past him so she could go in for money, but he didn’t budge. He had her trapped between the car and the open door. So she gave up. She was too tired for a battle. She peered up at him. “I didn’t want him to bring me home, okay? I shouldn’t have gone out with him to begin with.” She motioned to the cabbie. “Do you have money on you? I’ll pay you back.”

Carter moved her out of the way and leaned into the open back door. He spoke to the driver, pulled a wallet from his back pocket, and passed over enough money to cover fare plus tip. When he straightened, the car sped away, and he turned to her. He returned the wallet to his jeans, his expression hard and calculating as he studied her. “No need to pay me back. Just tell me what happened.”

“Everything,” she mumbled, but at the immediate stiffening of his spine, she quickly amended it to “Nothing.”

The clench in his jaw didn’t release.

“Seriously,” she added. “
Nothing.
He was a jerk. I wanted none of it. So I called a cab.”

That was a rushed version, but it would suffice. Or so she thought. But instead of accepting her at her word and letting her slink into the house to lick her wounds in private, he folded his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “Do I need to go kill him?”

That made her laugh. Drily.

“You’re a good guy, Carter.” She gave up on the idea of going in and dropped to the cracked sidewalk where she stood. She wiggled her butt around until she wasn’t sitting on any sticks or pebbles, stretched her legs out in front of her, and slumped as if the wind had been sucked from her lungs. “Too good,” she added. “I wouldn’t let you kill anyone on my behalf.”

He lowered to sit beside her, and she tilted sideways until she bumped into his shoulder.

“I’d do it for you.”

“I know you would.” She patted his arm. “Like I said, you’re a good
guy. But no jail time for you. You’d lose your prettiness in the big house.”

He chuckled at that, and the tension that had been in his shoulders finally eased. His arm went around her, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Tell me about it?” he requested softly.

“Dating sucks.” She sniffled. “And I hate it.”

His hand stroked her bare arm.

“And really, I just don’t get it,” she said after a few minutes. She snuggled in closer. “What’s so wrong with me?”

“Sweetheart.” He tilted her face up to his. There were no streetlights
in the area, but the moon was bright tonight. It lit the tenderness on
Carter’s face. A tenderness directed at her. “
Nothing
is wrong with you.”

She wanted to kiss him when he looked at her like that.

He remained quiet and went back to stroking her arm, and she told him about her night. Pricey dinner, nice meal, superior wine. There’d even been a romantic walk on the beach.

“And then I let him kiss me,” she said, as if that summed it up.

A muscle flexed in Carter’s bicep. “And how was that?”

She peeked up at him again. Did he really want her to tell him about the kiss?

“I’m just saying . . .” He glanced at her mouth. “Was it as good as . . .”

“Carter Ridley!” She pulled out of his arms, turning so she faced him. “This conversation is about me and my pathetic inability to date. We are not talking about
that
.”

He nodded like a properly schooled child. “Probably a good idea. Talking about it might lead to . . .
more
of it.”

She forced herself not to look at his mouth. Because she wanted to.

“So he kissed you,” Carter prompted her to continue. His glance dipped once again, but only briefly. “And it wasn’t good?”

“It was fine.”

“Fine.” He nodded. “Fine can be good.” But the Devil danced in his eyes.

“Carter,” she ground out.

He blinked innocently. “What?”

“Stop it.” She scooted back in, bumping his shoulder with hers. “I’m crushed here. I’m upset.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He fell silent. But three seconds later added, “Bad kisses can do that to a person.”

Her snort of laughter caught her off guard.

He picked her hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Then he wrapped his arm around her once again, and as before, tucked her in tight to his side. She liked it there. “Tell me the rest,” he directed. “Moonlight walk on the beach, wine, bad kiss . . .”

She smiled easily. This was what she’d wished the date tonight had been. Easy and comfortable. Without having to try. “There’s not much more to say. I misjudged him. He wanted to get laid. I didn’t.”

“I
am
going to kill him.”

“No need. I can take care of myself.” She pulled her knees to her chest then, and thought about how she kept choosing wrong. She was
attracted to jerks, apparently. Except Carter. The memory of Carter kiss
ing her played through her mind. The memory of him touching her.

He was different than other men. But then, he also wasn’t emotionally available.

Not that all the men she went out with were, either.

She dropped her chin to her raised knees and replayed man after man in her head. How could she possibly screw up so many times? All the dresses. All the freaking fakeness. She just wanted to be her. She just wanted to be happy.

“I’m sad, Carter. And lonely.” She turned her face, resting her cheek on her knees, and watched him. “I was supposed to be married with kids by now. I
really
want to be married with kids.”

“Me, too.”

At his softly spoken words, she became still.

“I mean . . . I
did
. A long time ago. I thought I would be by now, too.”

She nodded in understanding. “It sucks. Not being able to reach out and take something you want so badly. I feel like all I’ve done for the last few years is put my life on hold. And for what? Something I can’t control?” She hugged her legs tighter. “I’ve wasted so much time. My house should have been completed weeks ago, yet I’ve dragged my feet on it. I’ve romanticized my entire life, and for nothing. Not a single thing has turned out as I’d planned it.”

“Come on.” He stood, and held a hand down for her. “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?” She let him pull her to her feet. “No. I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“You’re not going to bed. And anyway, if I let you go inside, you’d just take your pants off and go out the back door.”

A smile broke over her face.

“No reading tonight,” he commanded. “We’re going out to your house. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” She shot him a curious look. “Don’t tell me you have some other secret identity I don’t know about. I still can’t believe you’re Jules Bradley.” And again, she smiled. “That is seriously the coolest thing ever. Did I tell you that?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You did
not
tell me that. But you’re cute when you go all fangirl on me.”

She shoved at him and they began moving toward her mother’s place together. “Why do you want to go out to the house?”

“Gene finished a few things today that I think you’re going to like. Plus . . .” He captured her hand. “I want to be with you right now. I think you need a friend tonight. And to tell you the truth, I do, too.”

His gaze shifted to her mouth once again, and she swallowed the attraction that bubbled to the top. It darn near reached out of her and dragged his mouth to hers.

“We’re not going out there to have sex,” she told him.

“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me, too.” He kissed her on the nose. “I just want to talk. There’s more about Lisa that I could stand to get off my chest.”

This was about him, too?

She stared up at him. “Okay.” She touched his cheek, pleased that he would talk with her about his ex. “I’ll see you in ten.”

They arrived at the house twenty minutes later. True to her word, Ginger had exited the house a mere ten minutes after she’d gone in. And he wasn’t certain she hadn’t come out without pants. She’d changed into a flowing white blouse, canvas tennis shoes . . . and not much else.

Of course, the blouse covered her hips, so what was underneath remained to be discovered.

He pulled out the key he’d taken from Gene as they climbed the steps, and opened the door for her, then swept his heavy-duty flashlight into the room. “You really have to pick out fixtures soon.”

“I know.” She scanned the empty space as they entered, her head sweeping back and forth. “I need to pick out a lot of things. I did bring over some lamps the other day, though. One of them is down here somewhere.”

The beam landed on a bare-bulb lamp in the corner of the kitchen, and Ginger turned it on. The room filled with warm light.

“Want to go shopping with me tomorrow?” Carter asked.

When Ginger turned back to him, he continued. “Or if you have to work, we could go Saturday. I need to get a kitchen table, and you need to choose tile, flooring—”

“Countertops, fixtures.” She nodded. “I know. My week for deciding is up.”

“So . . .” He watched her warily. He was afraid to get his hopes up. “Saturday?”

“Tomorrow. I have plans for Saturday, but I can take tomorrow off.” She twirled in a circle, as if being there had erased the disappointment from earlier in the evening. “I’m so excited to focus on getting the house finished. I even picked out the interior colors tonight.”

“Tonight?”

She laughed. “Right before we came over here.”

She reached behind her and her hand disappeared up under her shirt—and his heart skipped a beat. Then she produced several paint cards. They’d apparently been tucked into a back pocket. Meaning there
were
shorts on under that shirt.

Damn.

“I had these at the house,” she told him. “I looked at them before I walked out the door, and I just knew.”

He shone his light on the cards in her hands, and she pointed to a pale blue green. It was almost an aqua. “This one for the kitchen. With white cabinets. I love the airiness about it.” She dealt out the other cards one at a time. “And this for the rest of the house, these three for the guest baths, and this for my bedroom. What do you think?”

He thought her excitement was contagious. “I think it’s going to be magnificent.”

She glowed under his praise.
She
was magnificent.

“So what’s this big surprise?” she asked. She turned in a circle once again, taking in the shadows cast over the room, and Carter grabbed her shoulders and pointed her toward the dining room.

He nudged her chin up and shone the light on the ceiling, and she gasped.

“My coffered ceiling is done.”

“The one in your bedroom, too.”

“It’s amazing.”

She took the flashlight and walked the perimeter of the room, studying the yet-to-be-painted custom trim. Gene’s guys really had done a fantastic job.

“He also got two of your bathrooms done.”