by Jaci Burton
She wasn't even going to ask, because right now, she needed him. So when he came back with a small duffel bag in his hand, she smiled.
"Thanks for doing this."
"Not a problem. I was going to clean the house this weekend. I'd rather take a road trip."
She looked around. The place was spotless. And nicely decorated, too. For a guy, he had pretty good taste in furnishing and decor. She almost wished they could take a moment so he could show her his place.
But that would be a really bad idea, and again, there was the lack of time thing.
"You ready to go?" he asked.
She nodded, so he led her out through the garage and to the driveway. He had a nice black Chevy truck she hadn't even noticed when they'd pulled up. "Is this new?"
"I bought it last year. I needed something for hauling and towing. Rhonda's not exactly good for things like that."
She climbed in and settled in the ample seat. "Understandable."
She fished her phone out of her purse. "I'm going to call my dad and let him know you're driving me. He was worried about George's current state."
"I can see why."
Ignoring him, she pushed the button and her dad answered after three rings. "Hey, Dad. How's Mom doing?"
"She's fine. Propped up on multiple pillows in the living room and giving me orders. And a list."
That made her smile because it sounded normal for her mother. "Good."
"How's the car?"
"Really broken. A fuel pump and injector thing that's going to require parts and a few days to repair. But Carter offered to drive me to Austin in his truck."
"I'm glad to hear that. So you're set, then?"
"Yes, I'm set. I should be back sometime tomorrow. I'll give you a call when we're on the way back home."
"Okay, honey. Don't worry about anything here. The nurse has already been by, and your mom's doing fine."
"All right. Love you, Dad."
"Love you, too."
She hung up, feeling a lot better about things. She tucked her phone back in her purse.
"Everything okay at home? How's your mom feeling?"
"She's doing fine. Thanks for asking."
He hit the turnpike and headed south. Now she just had to endure the miles and what she was certain was going to be endless, uncomfortable silence.
"Tell me about your job, Molly."
She turned her head. "My job?"
"The one you have to leave in Austin."
"Oh. I work . . . or I worked . . . for a music company."
"What kind of a music company?"
"It was an independent label."
"Oh, so a record company."
"Yes."
The sun had moved out from behind the clouds, so he grabbed his sunglasses and slid them on. They made him look sexy. If she were honest with herself, Carter always looked sexy. He wore his hair short, except the top was a little long. Her fingers ached to tangle through the thickness of it, to find out if it was still as soft as she remembered.
"What kind of music?"
She pulled out her sunglasses and put them on. "They're a pretty eclectic label. Rock, pop, folk, some R&B. They had some great artists."
"And what did you do for them?"
"A little accounting. A lot of marketing. I was just getting started, really. Delia--that's who I worked for--she's great and gave me a lot of latitude on the marketing side of things. Unfortunately, since I don't know how long I'll be gone, she has to replace me."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. But I'll just find something else when it's time to hit the road again."
She thought he'd say something about her staying in Hope, but he didn't, which was good. Because she wasn't going to.
"By the way," he said, "I talked to the committee and rescheduled the meeting for next week."
"That's great. Thanks."
"The meeting is Wednesday night. Hopefully you'll be able to make it. Several people expressed concern about your mom having to drop out for now." He changed lanes, then gave her a quick look. "She's been the one who's been getting things done."
"I'll be there."
"Okay, good."
He went quiet then, and so did she. He turned on the radio, setting the station.
She shot him a look. "You still listen to the Beach Boys? Really?"
"What's wrong with that?"
"They're a little . . . seventies."
"Again, what's wrong with that?"
She shook her head. "There's been a lot of great music made in the last forty years, you know."
He cranked up the volume and shot her a half smile. "Not like this."
No wonder he named his car Rhonda.
She took out her phone and made a note about the meeting on Wednesday so she wouldn't forget. Emma would be back next weekend, and she'd have to call her as soon as she got back and fill her in about Mom. She wasn't looking forward to that conversation, but she was sleeping better at night knowing Emma and Luke were having a great honeymoon. Besides, there wasn't anything Emma could have done if they'd cut their honeymoon short. Her sister deserved this. Molly had been the one to stay away all these years. Emma had been gone several years as well, attending school and working out of town, but for the past couple of years she'd been home. And if it hadn't been lousy timing, Emma would have been the one at home dealing with this.
Molly wondered if she would have come back from Austin if Emma had called her to tell her Mom had had an accident. She hadn't come home for anything in the past. She'd like to think she would have for this, but every time she'd thought about a visit home, panic had set in.
And now she sat in Carter's truck, about to spend two days with him. She was tolerating it, and so was he.
Actually, she was more than tolerating it. They seemed to have reached a sort of peace between them. Maybe she'd said what needed to be said, and now that it was out of her system, she could move on. It didn't mean she was going to move home or anything, but maybe now that she could be in his company, she didn't have to be so afraid to be around Hope again. Around Carter again.
Though as she took a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice the way his jeans fit to his muscular thighs, how he'd rolled up his long-sleeved shirt to his elbows, and the crisp dark hairs on his forearms. She even noticed the way he gripped the steering wheel, her gaze gravitating toward his hands.
He'd always had great hands. She could still recall the way they'd glided over her naked skin. He had learned every secret to her body, knew how to elicit a response from her.
She let out a sigh.
"Okay over there? You need me to stop?"
She needed to stop remembering what it felt like to be touched by him. "No. I'm fine."
She wasn't fine. She was decidedly un-fine, fantasizing about the last man on earth she should be fantasizing about, and stuck in the car with him for the next--she glanced at the clock in the truck--six and a half hours.
Great.
"Why don't you pick a radio station you like?" he asked.
Finally.
She found them some tunes from this decade and settled back. They made a stop for lunch at a great burger joint, and she discovered Carter didn't seem at all uncomfortable with her. In fact, he was a good conversationalist. He talked about the town square project, which piqued her interest quite a bit. She actually couldn't wait to go to the meeting next week.
But there was still this invisible wall between them, and she was the one who'd put it there by dredging up the nightmare of the past. It was uncomfortable, at least for her. If they were going to endure this trip--and work on the committee together--she had to do something about taking it down.
"About the night of the wedding."
He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. "We don't have to talk about that, Molly."
"I think we do. Look, about the things I said . . ."
He gave her a quick glance. "Don't."
S
he stilled, waiting for him to blow up at her.
"You said what you needed to say. You were hurt. I get it. And I wasn't the most supportive person back then. For that, I'm really sorry. There are a lot of things I'd like a chance to do over--do them right the second time, but I can't. And I'm sorry about that, too. You told me how you felt, so you don't have to apologize for that. You never have to apologize for the way you feel, Molly."
The only thing she could do was stare at him, unprepared for what he'd said.
"Okay."
"We're going to be in each other's orbit for the foreseeable future. We're both going to have to learn to live with that. I can if you can," he said.
She felt the wall crack a little. She kept expecting the same Carter she'd known all those years ago, and this wasn't the same guy. There was a maturity to him she'd never known before.
If she could just tuck the past away and live in the now, if she and Carter could somehow learn to become friends, then she could get through this.
"I think we both can," she said.
He gave her a half smile. "Good."
The rest of the trip passed by with some decent music, and she even relaxed enough to take a short nap. She woke when they entered the city limits, and she gave him directions to her apartment. He pulled into the parking area, and she grabbed her keys out of her purse.
She opened the door to her apartment, conscious of the fact Carter was going to see her personal space. She wasn't sure why that idea concerned her.
"This is nice," he said as he walked into the living room.
"It came furnished."
"That'll make it easier to move out then, won't it?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then. Let's get started packing you up."
Chapter 11
IT WAS OBVIOUS from the efficient, orderly way Molly approached this whole packing thing that she was used to moving. She already had boxes folded up in the back of her closet, and several rolls of packing tape. Well-organized, which made it easy, but a little sad, too.
He opened the boxes and she put him in the kitchen to start clearing out cabinets. She kept her inventory small--only a couple of plates and glasses and pots and pans. She didn't seem to have a full set of anything, so it didn't take long to box up everything in there. She didn't keep knickknacks like a lot of women did. In fact, after he did the kitchen he moved into the living room, but there wasn't much other than a couple of photos of her parents and her sister with Luke and their dogs. He packed those up in one of the open kitchen boxes and headed into the bathroom.
Same thing here. Essentials, and nothing more. No plants, no pets, and other than those couple of photos, nothing personal. Nothing that said, "Molly Burnett lives here."
His place was littered with touches of his past. His baseball trophies, photos, pictures on the walls, memorabilia. Everything that was part of his past was in his house. With her place?
Nothing.
They had more or less fully packed her up in a few hours.
Was this what her life was like? When she got tired of living in one place, she could pack up in a day and move her entire life to the next city?
Molly surfaced from the bedroom, where she'd finished packing up boxes. "So, I guess we'll stay here tonight. It's too late to make that drive back to Hope."
"That works." He looked over at the sofa. "This looks comfortable enough to sleep on."
"We should get dinner. There's a great pizza place a couple of blocks away that delivers. I'll give them a call, unless you have something else in mind."
"Actually, I do. Let's go out."
She frowned. "Out? Out where?"
"This is Austin, Molly. Home of great music. We'll grab something to eat, and you can show me around."
She shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Oh . . . uh . . . well, I haven't been here that long so I don't know where everything is as far as entertainment."
Which meant she didn't go out all that often.
"That's okay. We'll just wander around together and figure it out."
"It's kind of late."
"It's not that late. And I'll bet things are open. Let's go check it out."
She hesitated, and for a minute Carter wondered if she was going to insist on staying in. But finally, she nodded.
"I'll go change clothes."
"Great."
He got out his phone while Molly was in her bedroom. When she came back, he had a grin on his face.
"What?" she asked.
"Did you know this was one of the weekends for the Austin City Limits music festival?"
She rubbed her temple with her fingers. "I might have known that."
"But you didn't mention it."
"I've kind of had a few things on my mind."
"Oh, right. Sure you did. Anyway, wanna go?"
She shrugged. "Sure. If you don't think it's too late."
"I'll bet they're rocking late into the night. Besides, it's not that late. Let's check it out."
"All right." She grabbed her jacket and they were out the door.
Carter was going to make her smile and take her mind off her worries, at least for a couple of hours.
Chapter 12
AS MOLLY HAD suspected, the festival closed up at ten p.m., and it was ten thirty by the time they got there.
"Not a problem," Carter said. "I checked my phone and there are some late-night venues continuing on at some of the clubs. We'll go to one of those, grab something to eat, and listen to some music."
"Providing we can get in. Some of those events are sold out in advance."
"Then we'll find one we can get into."
She took a deep breath. "Hang on. Let me make a call."
She grabbed her phone and punched in Delia's number. "Hey, Dee, it's Molly. I'm in Austin to pick up my things, and a friend of mine and I would like to check out the music here for the festival. Do you think you can get us in somewhere?"
She smiled at Delia's rapid-fire voice, then smiled. "You're great. Thanks so much."
She hung up and gave him directions to Lambert's. "We can also eat barbecue there."
"Perfect."
They had to park a couple of blocks away, but it was a nice night so the walk wasn't bad. There were a lot of people out and about because of the festival. Molly couldn't believe she'd totally blanked on the musical festival this weekend. Then again, her head had been filled with details about her mom, and rushing back here to get her things, not hanging out and listening to music.
She gave her name to the hostess when they got inside.
The woman smiled at her. "Delia said you'd be coming. Head on up to the bar."
"Thanks," Molly said.
They got a table and a waitress came by.
"Drinks only, or do you want food as well?" the woman asked.
"We're starving," Carter said, so the waitress produced a menu.
They ordered and the waitress dashed off.
"It helps to know music people, doesn't it?" Carter asked.
The seats they'd gotten were good. Not so far up front that they'd be blasted by the music and not be able to hear themselves think. Delia knew where to seat them. "I guess so. Delia's a pretty great boss. I'll miss working with her."
The music was outstanding as well, and the food was great. Molly had to admit this was much better than grabbing fast food and hiding out in the apartment the rest of the night.
Carter seemed to enjoy the music, relaxing after he'd consumed his ribs and getting into the band that was playing. Since he wasn't focused entirely on her, she could watch him, the way the corners of his mouth tilted up when he smiled, the easy way he sat back in his chair. He always seemed so comfortable in his own skin, so at ease no matter the situation.
While she was profoundly uncomfortable--especially around him.
She was going to have to get over it.
He finally shifted his gaze toward her, giving her a smile that rocked her all the way to her toes. It wa
sn't a heated smile, just an enjoying-the-band-together kind of thing. Yet to Molly, the connection between them was still there, and it disturbed her greatly.
She'd really let him have it the night of the wedding, pouring out her anguish and anger. She'd all but slapped him and told him she hated him.
Yet here he was. He'd driven her all the way down here and hadn't expected an apology. And now he was relaxed and smiling.
What kind of guy did that? Most men would have shut her out of their lives completely, left her sitting on the side of the road to fend for herself.
Not Carter though. Yes, he'd dropped the ball all those years ago, but they'd both been so young. Was she wrong to still blame him for that when there were so many other honorable things about him?
"Are you enjoying the band?" he asked over the loud music.
She nodded. "Yes. They're great."
He grinned. "I'm glad we decided to go out."
"Me, too."
He turned away to watch the band again, giving her more time to watch him.
She didn't want to still be attracted to him. She wanted to feel nothing at all for him. Yet, after all these years, there it was. The smoking-hot chemistry she'd felt for him when she was fifteen still lingered. Despite all the baggage and trauma she'd suffered because of her relationship with Carter, the bottom line was, she was still attracted to him and there was no point denying it.
When the band took a break, she stood. "It's getting kind of late, and we have a long drive tomorrow."
He looked up at her. "Are you tired?"
"Kind of." She wasn't tired at all. She was keyed up, confused, all too aware of Carter, and she wanted to go hide in her bedroom.
"Sure. We can leave." He got up and she grabbed her jacket. Carter was right there to hold it for her so she could slip her arms into it.
Why couldn't he be a giant douchebag? Why couldn't he have turned into some arrogant ass she couldn't stand? Instead, he was courteous and nice and, if it was at all possible, he'd become even better-looking with the passage of time.
So unfair.
He drove them back to her apartment. "I'll wait while you use the bathroom first."
"Okay. Thanks."
She went in and washed her face and brushed her teeth, then came out. Carter had a book in his lap and was lounging on the sofa. She went into the bedroom and grabbed a pillow and blanket.
"Here you go."
He took it from her, and their fingers brushed, sending lightning strikes to every part of her. She quickly pulled her hand away, but she could tell from the look he gave her that he must have felt it, too.