Page 70 of Hometown Hottie

“No, I have been. In the past, which is behind me. As it should be. He’s the one who doesn’t seem to be over it.”

“Maybe that’s because he knows you,” I retorted. “He knows that you’re going to leave again. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You leave.”

“That’s not fair,” he said incredulously. “I left once, Nova. One time. To play in the fucking NFL and you both knew that was the plan. I didn’t blindside anyone or make any promises I didn’t keep, and it’s not like I kept coming and going. I left to go do what I was always going to do, and now I’m back in the place I was always going to come back to.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. Carson, however, seemed to be on a roll. “I really hoped you knew me better than that, Nova. For a minute there, I even thought that you were one of the people who knew me best.”

Annoyed flames flickered in those eyes, but it was all underscored by the hurt that was still there. “Have you forgotten that I offered to buy your portion of your family property to save your bakery and, hopefully, the whole ranch with it? Do you honestly think I would do that just to get into your pants?”

So many responses swirled through my head, but I swallowed them all and my cheeks burned with shame. Had I forgotten that? Did I think he would?

Yes and no.

I had forgotten, but I really didn’t think he’d done it to get into my pants. We were talking about a great deal of money and a guy like Carson didn’t have to spend a penny to get into a girl’s pants if that was all he wanted.

The truth was that I had let Ryan get to me, and then my thoughts had spun out from there. I didn’t say anything, just standing there staring and trying to figure out how to even begin to respond in a way that made sense. Carson started moving toward his truck.

“I’m coming to your place later.” He pointed right at my chest, the muscles in his forearm and bicep rippling with the movement. “You better be there, Nova.”

It was then that I realized he was leaving. In the middle of all this, he was walking away. I frowned, wanting to go after him but not knowing if that was fair considering that I’d been the one trying to run away just a couple minutes ago.

“Where are you going?”

He shook his head and climbed into his truck, driving away without another word. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I knew I’d made a mistake in thinking that our hookup hadn’t meant anything to him.

While it did all kinds of amazing things to my insides to know it had meant more to him too, it also made me that much more worried. Falling in love with my brother’s best friend wasn’t my style. Or at least, I’d never have thought it was.

Crushing on him as a teenager had been different. In a way, it was kind of expected that a younger sister would, at some point, develop feelings for her older brother’s hot friend, but we weren’t teenagers anymore and this wasn’t just a crush.

Whatever it was, it felt like it had wormed itself into my soul in just a few short weeks, and I had no idea what to do with that. Because from here on, it wasn’t innocent anymore. We’d crossed a line on the weekend, and with Carson coming over tonight to talk, I knew we were about to cross another.

If he could forgive me for my momentary lapse in judgment—and, of course, if he actually wanted me for some unfathomable reason—then we were about to be something. Something that we would have to tell Ryan about.

I was a little dazed as I drove home and wondered what he had in store for me tonight. There would be talking. I knew that. Talking about what had happened, what I’d thought until just a few minutes ago, and then, there would be the talk.

The one about what we were going to do now, and I had no idea how to have that talk. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard and winced. I didn’t know what time he’d be coming, but I probably had no more than six hours before he’d be there.

Which meant I had no more than six hours to figure out if I was going to risk Ryan’s wrath or if I was going to say goodbye to Carson for good. Shit, that’s not nearly enough time.

Sixty hours wouldn’t have been enough, but six?

I drove straight to the bakery and started baking, churning out more pastries in one afternoon than I ever had, but when I finally headed home, I still had no idea what I was going to do—and I had a lot less than six hours now to decide.