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Carter doesn’t so much as look in my direction as he cuts into his meal. In fact, he doesn’t say anything until he finishes all five pieces I made him. Then he is back up, washing his dishes and utensils. Not that I’m complaining. In fact, with him turned away from me, I am able to enjoy my meal and the view all at the same time.
He’d taken his uniform jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The way his forearms flex while he cleans does weird things to me. Things I need some alone time to take care of later. Plus, his ass looks amazing in the tight-fitting uniform pants.
When he turns around and catches me looking, I try my best not to let it slip that I’ve been watching him. Though the smirk on his face gives me away.
“Everything has a place,” he says quietly. When he crosses his arms over his chest, I swear I think I hear the fabric of his shirt giving out.
Suddenly, my mind is filled with thoughts of him tearing that shirt off, and I have to shift on my stool to keep from passing out with need.
“Huh?” I can’t even formulate words.
“You called me a neat freak.” Carter’s eyebrows bunch together momentarily, trying to figure out what is wrong with me.
Good luck with that, buddy.
I am not telling him shit about what he does to me… Or my panties.
“I’m not a neat freak,” he finally goes on. “Everything has a place. The dishes, the cleaning supplies, all of it.”
I actually forgot my statement from earlier. “I bet your room is the same way,” I challenge. “Or your living room. Your truck. I mean, Casey’s is a mess. But I think yours will still look brand new if I check it out.”
He doesn’t even flinch at the hidden accusation in my words.
“So?” His jaw ticks. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” I tell him playfully. “My life is nothing but chaos. And even when I’m organized, I end up a scattered mess. The life of a teacher.” I shrug. “I gave up trying to be perfect a long time ago.” Idly, I run a hand on my stomach at the thoughts of what trying to be perfect have done to me. Thankfully, I’ve had practice disguising the move with a rub. “Man, am I full.”
Carter watches me, and I’m struck with the feeling that he sees right through me. He sees every flinch, every hesitating movement, and every time I pause before speaking.
“Who are you really, Avery?”
He catches me off guard. Standing there in his kitchen, watching me with an intensity I’ve never experienced in my life before. I have absolutely no idea how to respond.
“Wha—” I stutter, covering it up with a cough. “What do you mean?” To distract myself, I push back from the island and grab my plate, walking by him to wash it.
Only he grabs them out of my hands. “Guests don’t wash the dishes,” he says quietly. “Besides, I asked you a question.”
“I’m me,” I tell him bluntly. “That’s who I am.”
“But you’re not the fuck-up you pretend to be. I see it in your eyes. You’re more than that.”
That is when shit goes south, and I can’t even blame it on alcohol.
Not this time.
9
CARTER
As soon as I open my mouth, I regret the words that come out of it. Avery, who’s been enjoying herself, immediately clams up and glares at me.
“What did you say?” Her voice is calm and deceptively quiet.
Unfortunately, I don’t think before I speak… Again.
“I said you’re pretending to be a fuck-up, Avery. You put on a show for the world, but I don’t think that’s you. Fighting, which is for children. Making impulsive decisions. I don’t think that’s what you’re really like.”
Avery moves, and I don’t know what I think will happen. But when her fist comes flying toward my face, I react without thinking.
