Page 11 of Practice Makes Perfect

I wave off his question. “I don’t need a lot of help with that. Jake can whip one up with me in no time and I’m not even sure I’m going to want to plan parties anyway,” I explain. When I catch the disappointed expression on Carter’s face, I’m quick to back pedal. I should have known he would want to help me no matter what. “You can be a sounding board for my ideas though. Jake is so not creative, and your pieces are basically works of art, so you can help me out by listening to my ideas for JJ’s party.”

Carter narrows his eyes momentarily, but nods his agreement. “All right,” he says. Another teen drops off our food and he passes me my dog and shake. “As long as I still get to help you out.”

“Of course.” Taking a sip of my own ice cold drink, I try to figure out the best way to broach the subject of my helping him. Carter seemed pretty uncomfortable when we were talking about the whole dating thing, so I need to tread lightly. “So, about me helping you—”

“You don’t have to,” he interrupts. Suddenly his hot dog has become the most interesting object in the room and his eyes won’t meet mine. “It’s pretty ridiculous, anyway. What thirty-year-old guy asks for dating help, right?”

When he does finally look at me, I can see the vulnerability in his gaze and my heart aches for him. He looks so defeated, and I can’t have my Viking looking like that. He should only ever look happy and victorious, and I can’t help but want to be the one to help him get there. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all,” I confess, my voice and gaze steady. “If I’m not ridiculous for needing help ‘finding myself,’ then you aren’t for needing help finding your person.” My heart aches a little more at the thought of him actually finding that person and me getting left behind, but I want to see him happy, so I can do this for him. “Now, why don’t you tell me the problem and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Carter rubs the back of his neck and shifts in the booth. “I don’t know what the problem is exactly.” He looks over at me and sighs. “But nowadays you have to be on an app if you want to meet anyone, and I hate the apps. It’s all so superficial and it seems like the women on them either don’t want this,” he says, waving a hand over his face and body. “Or they’re disappointed when my job turns out to be just making furniture and not felling trees in the woods while shirtless.”

“Ah, I see.” I take a bite of my hot dog and let the salty taste take my mind off of just how hard his comments hit home for me too. Carter was honest with me, so I can be honest with him in return. We won’t be able to help one another if we don’t know everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly, so I might as well start by getting it all out in the open. “Well, I am no stranger to the fantasy not living up to the reality for the people I date, so you’re not alone.”

Carter looks shocked. He drops his hot dog and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time believing that. There is no way that anyone could be disappointed with the reality of you.”

His confession has butterflies taking flight in my stomach, and with the earnest expression on his face, I fully believe he can’t fathom someone not liking what they get when it comes to me. Huffing a laugh, I smile at him. “Well, you are certainly good for my ego, but it’s true. Most of the time people see a pretty, party girl and they’re more than a little bummed when they find out that I would rather stay at home with pizza and a movie, or a glass of wine and a good book than hit another nightclub.” Thinking back on all the guys I’ve been with in the past, I can’t believe I ever dated them for more than one night. “I still like to go out, but only if I have an actual friend there with me, someone who cares about who I am as a person and not just where I can take them or how good I look on their arm.”

Carter nods and leans back in the booth. “Wow,” he breathes out. His forest green eyes meet mine and I feel like I could happily get lost in those woods for hours if he would let me. “I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

Nodding my head in agreement, I try to remember that this is about helping Carter, not making myself feel better. “It does, but my point was that it happens to a lot of people, not just you.” Tapping my fingers on the counter again, I come up with an idea. “I think I have a way to help you get more dates, but before I share it with you, I want you to know something.”

Carter leans forward, and I follow, helpless against getting caught up in the pull of him anytime he draws nearer to me. “What is it?”

While there are a lot of ways I could be playful, coy, or tease him to keep things light, I need him to at least know how great I think he is before I divulge my plan. With a genuine smile, I reach over and grab his hand. His palms are a little rough, probably from all the woodworking, but I love the feel of the tough callouses against my soft skin. It’s a physical reminder of just how solid a person he is, and I love it. “You are a kind, caring, generous, selfless, and all around amazing guy, Carter.” I can’t help but smirk at him. “You are also incredibly attractive and sexy.” He starts to protest that last fact, but I stop him with a shake of my head. “The fact that you don’t see it makes you all the more sexy, believe me. Ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that you are pretty awesome, and if the women on the apps don’t take the time to linger on your photo or look a little deeper at the man in front of them, well, that’s their loss, not yours.”

Squeezing his hand one last time, I release it and lean back in the booth. Confessing all of those things and not immediately planting a kiss on him to convince him it’s true afterward is difficult enough without the skin to skin contact. Carter looks slightly shell-shocked, but the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. “Thank you for saying that.”

“You’re welcome, but you might want to save the thanks for later because it’s time for some harsh truths,” I wince. The possibility of hurting his feelings is very real and definitely something I don’t want to happen, but I want to be completely honest with him. “Are you ready for that?”

Carter rubs his hands together and nods curtly. “Hit me with it.”

Nodding, I gaze at him, my expression serious. “All right, here it comes. Whether we like it or not, the app world is the one you’re going to have to live in. Unless of course you feel comfortable walking up to and hitting on a woman at a bar or something?” At Carter’s horrified look that confirms my suspicions that he is not into that idea, I move on. “So, that means dealing with the fact that people are visual creatures and are going to judge you based on your appearance. I’m not saying it’s right, but it is what it is.” Reaching into my purse, I grab my phone and open the social media page for Hodgepodge and navigate to one of the pictures that includes an almost full body shot of Carter. “Take a look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

Carter studies the shot for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe I could do something better with my hair?” He sits back and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not joining a gym or going on a diet. I hate fitness centers and like eating what I want.”

A choking sound gets stuck in my throat. “I would never suggest that and would be pissed if you tried. I like your body the way it is.” When I see Carter’s eyes widen at that confession, I plow forward, determined not to make any more embarrassing confessions. “What I was going to suggest was that we punch up your wardrobe a little, or at least get you clothes that fit your frame and show off your body a little better. I mean, your flannel shirts are like two sizes too large.”

When Carter’s face falls, I get the feeling I’ve stepped in something I shouldn’t have, and as he starts playing with the tattered hem of the flannel that has been tied around his waist all evening, I know I have. When his eyes meet mine, they’re filled with sadness and my stomach drops as if the hot dog I ate weighed fifty pounds. “They were my dad’s,” he says hoarsely. He clears his throat and looks around the mostly empty restaurant before speaking again. “I know they don’t fit, but I feel a little more connected to him when I wear them. Flannel was his thing and I know it’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb.” Grabbing his hand again, I give it a reassuring squeeze and flash a knowing smile. “I get it. It’s not quite the same, but the perfume bottles I had you make were something my grandma had in her house in Bulgaria. They got lost a long time ago, so that’s why I had you make a set for me and my mom, to help us remember and stay connected to her.”

Carter squeezes my hand and we sit for a moment, hands clasped as the weighted blanket of our shared experiences settles over us. “Maybe we can do something like that for you.”

An eyebrow quirks in question. “I’m not sure I need a perfume bottle,” he smirks.

Shaking my head, I mock glare at him. “Such a smart ass,” I sass. I love getting to see this more playful side to him, especially as he seems happier after the tough confession about his dad’s flannels. “I meant the clothes. What if we went and got you some plaid flannels of your own that actually fit? You’ll still be honoring and remembering your dad while making it your own. Wearing something that you can feel comfortable and confident in can do wonders for your self-esteem. Trust me.” I wiggle in my seat and Carter tracks the movement, licking his lips as he does.

His eyes meet mine, and if I didn’t know better, I would say they were filled with a little bit of heat. “I do trust you,” he admits. His gaze moves away from me, but I can see the smile on his face.

As much as I would love to convince myself that he was attracted to me, I’m too busy reveling at his confession that he trusts me. Carter’s trust means a lot to me, I just hope that I don’t ever give him a reason to doubt it. Thinking about how flaky everyone thinks I am has me wondering if that’s possible. “Great.” My voice is tight with emotion and it feels like there’s a weight on my chest, but I move past it. “Then let’s finish dinner and then we can go through your closet.”

Carter’s eyes shoot to mine. “What’s that?”

My cheeks drift upward as my lips pull into a mischievous smile. “You really didn’t think you were going to get through this whole thing without me looking at your current wardrobe and taking you on a shopping spree, did you? Have you never seen a movie makeover montage?”

Carter huffs a breath and shakes his head. “I’ve seen one, just never thought I would be a willing participant in my own.” He wipes a hand down his face, but his expression is more amused than resigned, bolstering my resolve to help him.

Twenty minutes later, we’ve returned to the apartment and are walking into Carter’s room. I’ve seen bits and pieces of it from the doorway, but I have never been inside until now. “Wow.” The exclamation comes as I take a look around the room, my hand running along some wood paneling that has to have been done by the man himself. Instead of the old style where it looks like clapboard pasted onto drywall, the different sized panels are laid out more like bricks, creating a beautiful tapestry of different grain patterns. My hand falls as I take in the rest of the room. It’s pretty sparse, and aside from the large bed, dresser, and nightstand, there’s not much else in the room. “Where’s all your furniture? I figured your room would be wall to wall wood.”

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