OLIVIA
I’M sure countless women would love to be on the other end of Carter Beckett’s undivided attention, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little intimidating without that shot of boozy confidence I normally have when we’re together.
It was easy on Friday when he was a hot mess, but I think I’m the hot mess today.
Also, he’s watching every single bite of food I put in my mouth, which is kind of uncomfortable.
“Uh, excuse me.”
Carter’s eyes flick over my shoulder at the interruption. I glance over it to find a group of college boys standing there fumbling with their phones.
“Can we get a picture?”
This is the fourth group to ask. Carter’s response has been the same every time.
“Absolutely. I’m having lunch with my girl right now, so I’ll catch you on the way out.” He finishes with a wink and covers my hand with his. The hand-covering is new. I suspect it’s because they’re young enough that Carter feels the need to claim me, which is ridiculous. They want him, not me.
Also, I’m still reeling over the my girl. Four times he’s said it and four times my heart has free-fallen from my chest and settled between my thighs. If this man doesn’t get inside me at some point today, I’m going to implode. I’m halfway through my meal which means our date is almost over. The impending implosion is starting to seem fairly likely.
I try not to blush as the boys walk away murmuring about Carter Beckett having a girlfriend. I’m not his girlfriend. We’re…dating. And if it goes well, maybe we’ll put an official label on it soon. No pressure, though. None at all. If he wants, or whatever.
“Stop blushing,” Carter mumbles around the last bite of his giant burger. He shovels a forkful of poutine into his mouth before pointing his fork at me. “And whatever conversation you’re having with yourself in your head, cut it out.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
He grins, leaning forward and crooking his finger at me, and I meet him in the middle because there’s no stronger magnet than Carter Beckett.
“If you’re trying to get me riled up so I’ll take you home and fuck you, it’s not gonna work.” He kisses my surprised pout before sitting back and draining his beer. “You gonna finish that?” The pump of his brows is aimed at my plate.
I tug my plate closer. “You think you can tease me and then steal my food? You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Beckett.”
He hums, wiping his hands off on his napkin before they disappear beneath the table, and I yelp when he tugs my foot into his lap. His fingers do a torturous coast up the inside of my thigh, and I stop breathing when one of them runs up the seam of my leggings.
There may be a tablecloth hiding his indecency, but that’s not going to stop me from hoofing this man in the junk if he takes me any further right now, especially when he softly strokes me and whispers, “So warm down here.”
I wriggle free of his hold and shove my plate over to him, trying to quell the flutter in my belly. It dies quickly when I spot that irritatingly sexy and self-righteous smirk as he starts devouring the rest of my meal.
By the time he’s forced dessert down my throat and taken pictures with everyone in the restaurant, I’m thoroughly stuffed and uncomfortable, and maybe ready for a postlunch nap.
I place two palms over my stomach and groan once we step outside. “My belly hurts.”
Carter spins me into him, one hand on my lower back as he dips me. “Guess we’ll have to work off all that food.” His words dissolve on my tongue like sugar, and I hang onto him for dear life.
“Olivia!”
My eyes crank open at my name, and Carter hoists me back up, his head swiveling.
“Fuck.” One long arm sweeps out, tucking me behind him as several cameras are shoved in our faces.
“It is Olivia! She’s back!”
“Where has she been?”
“Carter! Is Olivia your girlfriend?”
“Are you officially off the market, Mr. Beckett? No more late-night romps in the bunny patch?”
“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”
“Fuck off.” Carter’s growl is a warning that makes the skin on the back of my neck pebble. “You don’t get her last name. You don’t get shit.” His fingers lace harshly through mine as he tugs me into his side and starts traipsing us down the street, my face aimed at the ground.
The cameras follow, and when Carter’s car comes into view, I scramble toward it, tripping over the curb. He catches me around the waist before I can face-plant on the asphalt, and my feet don’t touch the ground as he hauls me toward the passenger side, stuffing me inside.
Carter is in the front seat and has us around the corner before I can count to five. He pulls over down the street and turns to me, pulling my mitts off my hands and bringing my knuckles to his lips.
“I’m so sorry. Somebody must’ve posted a picture at the restaurant.” He takes my face between his hands, looking me over as if I might be injured. I’m not, I’m just…embarrassed? I don’t even know. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I don’t…” I don’t know how to say it without hurting his feelings.
“You don’t want to be a girl in pictures with Carter Beckett.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Ollie. But it will happen. As long as we’re together there’s going to be pictures. There’s a bright side to it all, though. Now there’s photographic evidence that I’m dating the world’s hottest teacher.”
I snort a laugh, only because he seems so sincere.
“Eventually it’ll be old news. The more we are together, the more boring I’ll be to them. I can see it now.” He swipes a hand through the air in an arc. “‘Carter Beckett, seen for the tenth night in a row with hot-as-hell high school teacher.’” He squeezes my hands. “Trust me, princess, it’ll get boring fast.”
My nose scrunches. “I’m not a princess.”
He hits me with a wink, shifting the car back into gear. “You’re my princess.”
I roll my eyes to distract from the fact that I might like that ridiculous nickname.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” It’s my not-so-subtle way of asking if our date is over.
“You. I’m not taking you home until bedtime.” His playful gaze slides my way. “That okay with you, princess?”
I lift a lazy shoulder. “I guess.”
A grin ignites across his face, but before he can call me out on my bullshit indifference, a shrill ring fills the car, and the screen on the dashboard lights up with the name Hank.
Carter’s brow furrows before he accepts. “Hank? What’s up, buddy? Miss me already?”
“Carter.” Poor Hank sounds old and possibly in distress. “You still on your date?”
“Just heading to our second destination.” Carter flashes me a devilish smile and winks again. “What’s going on? You okay?”
Hank sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt your date. Hi, Olivia.”
“Hi, Hank,” I push out after a moment of stunned silence. He knows my name.
“Carter, I took a little tumble getting out of the shower.”
“Shit.” Carter looks over his shoulder, hits his blinker, and turns left from the right-hand lane. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think it’s anything serious but I’m having some trouble getting up on my own. Could you maybe—”
“Already on the way. We’ll be there in ten.”
We get there in seven because Carter drives a shit ton on the erratic side. He enters the five-flight apartment building with a key, and once we ride the elevator up to the top floor, he uses another key to enter the suite.
“Hank?” Carter doesn’t bother removing his shoes as he storms through the small apartment. I follow him, crashing into his back when he comes to a sudden stop. “Are you fucking kidding me, old man?”
A man—Hank, I presume—with a full head of fluffy white hair and weathered blue eyes grins up at us from where he appears to be entirely too relaxed, a whole lot amused, and awfully proud in his easy chair, the cutest dog I’ve ever seen curled up at his side.
“Tricked ya. You’re too damn gullible.” Hank rights the chair, carefully climbing to his feet. The golden retriever jumps down to his side, and Hank reaches for a long stick with one hand, holding the other out toward Carter, who steps forward and takes it in his own, but not before giving the man a playful punch to the shoulder. It’s at this moment I realize that Hank is visually impaired.
“Wanted to meet the beautiful Miss Olivia before you have a chance to mess it all up and scare her away.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring.” Carter rolls his eyes, leading Hank over to me. “I hoped to hold off on introducing you to him, Ollie. I didn’t want you to know I keep such terrible company. But Hank likes to do whatever the hell he wants.”
I arch a brow. “Like someone else I know.”
“Ha! I like her already!” Hank elbows Carter’s hands away and reaches forward. I slip my hands into his and he squeezes, stepping into me. “I had to meet the girl who’s made my friend here a miserable dud for a few weeks while she kept him on his toes, made him work for it.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Hank. This has turned into the best date I’ve ever had.”
“Because of me?” he asks with a megawatt grin while Carter grumbles.
“Why else?” The dog at his feet whines, staring up at me with melty chocolate eyes. “May I pet your dog, or is he working?”
Hank waves me off. “Dublin’s never really working. Laziest guide dog you’ve ever met. Go ahead, Dubs. Get your kisses.”
Dublin drops to my feet, rolling around, that pink belly begging for rubs, and I sink to my butt so I can give him all the loving.
“Dublin? Like Ireland?”
“Yeah,” Hank says with a wistful smile, running his hand down his chest. “Reminds me of my sweetheart.”
Carter hands me a frame with a black and white wedding picture. The bride and groom couldn’t be more in love, that much is obvious by the way they’re laughing, the laugh lines around their eyes. He plops another photo in my lap, this one colored. I recognize Hank’s face, his fluffy hair, though it was light brown back then.
Carter taps on the beautiful redhead tucked into Hank’s side in the photograph. “This is Hank’s high school sweetheart.”
“Ireland?”
Hank nods proudly, eyes misty. “Beautiful, ain’t she? She saved my life.”
“And mine.” Carter’s hands are in his pocket as he toes at the floor with his shoe. He gives me a sheepish smile, one I’m not used to seeing on this man, and I hope one day he’ll feel safe enough to share his story with me.
I trail a fingertip down Ireland’s long, ginger waves. “She’s got the most gorgeous smile.”
“I remember the exact shape of her lips, and the tiny dimple she had just off to the right of her mouth.” He touches the spot on his own face, then claps his hands and shakes his head. “Can I feel your face, Olivia?”
“No, no, no.” Carter shakes his head. “Don’t fall for it, Ollie. I did, and when he was done, he told me it was all bullshit. Just wanted to see how gullible I was, which, as it turns out, is very.”
“You’re no fun,” Hank grumbles as Carter helps me off the ground, and then directs Hank down beside me on the couch. “It’s fine though, because I already know you’re five foot one, have tiny freckles on your nose, brown eyes the color of chocolate, and tiny hands that fit perfectly in his, always warm.”
Carter’s cheeks burn bright. He’s so cute it hurts.
Hank’s fingers find my braid, twirling the end of it. He twists to Carter. “What color? Describe it to me.”
Carter’s emerald eyes shines with a soft smile as he drinks me in. “Dark brown, like rich, smooth coffee. The kind that wakes you the hell up, that you crave in the morning and all day long.” His gaze drifts down my face before coasting to a loose curl that brushes my cheek, and eventually lingering on my lips. “With a little bit of caramel drizzle that leaves you licking your lips, begging for another taste.”
Oh crap. I’m horny. My lady bits are tingling.
“Hmm. Good description.” Hank lays my braid back over my shoulder. “Smells like banana bread.”
“Right?” Carter throws his arms out in front of him. “Thank you!”
“Well, can you squeeze some time with this old man into your date? I made snacks.” He gestures to the coffee table where a bowl of Doritos and a platter of Oreos sit. I like Hank.
Carter checks his watch. “Well, we’re already too late to make the movie.”
“Movie?” I question. “We watched it on Friday.”
The grin he wears has my heat crawling up my neck. “Trust me, gorgeous; we weren’t gonna watch it this time.”
“A-ha!” Hank claps a hand to Carter’s knee. “That’s my boy!” He sinks back against the cushions, throwing his arms around our shoulders. “Guess you’re stuck with me this afternoon. I’ve never been a cockblock until now.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Carter mumbles around the Oreo he’s licking the icing off. How he’s managing to shove more food into his mouth right now is beyond me. I still feel like I’m going to explode. “Never again will you get in the way of my cock and my woman.”
My woman. My woman. I’m dying here. I’m in withdrawal and the only fix is the six-foot-four wall of rippling muscles on the other end of the couch.
Carter’s smug smirk says he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Isn’t that right, princess?”
Quite frankly, I’ve never heard anything more accurate. Instead of saying that though, I cross my arms and flip him the bird.
