Page 11 of Fall For You

“What? Yes! Of course, I do. Don’t you?”

“Yes! Obviously! I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t—right?”

“You live here, Carter. Where else would you be?”

But you know what they say: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. We played at being married and ended up getting caught in our own lies.

CHAPTER

FOUR

Carter

“You knowhow they say that no good deed goes unpunished?” Jo asks, smiling wryly. “Well, apparently it’s true.”

It’s three days later, and she’s just strolled into my restaurant, taken a seat at the bar and ordered a Spicy Texas Paloma—sparking all sorts of memories for me of other times and other places. Or do I mean other bars and other evenings? Same drink, different day?

Well, you get the picture.

I was on the brink of pointing out that this is not the type of bar where people drop in to get their drink on. It’s the kind of bar where maybe, if you show up early for your reservation, my hostess might suggest you take a seat, and maybe order a drink while you wait for your table. And since we’re close enough to the end of the dinner service that we’re no longer seating anyone, they’re not going to be doing that now, either.

In short, there’s no earthly reason for Jo to be here. But, just as I’m about to mention that, she sidetracks me with that line about good deeds.

“I’m not even sure what that means,” I tell her. Weirdly, just minutes before she got here, I’d been congratulating myself at having successfully navigated her return to Heartwood. By which I mean I’ve been conferring with Ms. Vi’s nurses on the phone and have thus managed to avoid having to see or speak to Jo since the day she arrived. So clearly, I have no psychic ability whatsoever.

“It means that you went out of your way to be kind to my aunt,” Jo explains. “And now she wants to reciprocate. And, apparently she’s decided the best way to accomplish that is for me to help you plan your event.”

“I thought she’d forgotten about that by now,” I admit. I was relieved (because that was another bullet dodged) but also somewhat disappointed. I’m not saying I’ve taken to stalking Jo on social media in the past few days, but I might have seen the pictures she’d posted of various events she’s put on.

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that magical touch for this dinner—I do. I want it as much as I wanted my first truck, as much as I’d wantedher, back in the day. There’s no chance I can do as good a job on my own, which means I guess I need her help.

I’m just not sure I can afford the emotional price I’ll end up paying. Being around her, even a little bit, is hell on my heart.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Jo says taking a big sip of her drink. “Which you would have known if you’d hung around at all these last couple of days. She’s been nonstop talking my ears off about it. So, here I am, offering my services.”

I shake my head. “That’s not necessary. I did little enough to help—and I was glad to do it. I wasn’t expecting anything back. I owe Ms. Vi a lot. A handful of meals is nothing in comparison. You know how much she helped me in the past.” Actually, she doesn’t know the half of it—which is probably for the best.

“I think we both know it’s more than just the meals.” Jo’s wearing that stubborn expression that makes my heart sink. I don’t think I’ve ever managed to sway her about anything once she’s dug in her heels. “But also, it’s not ‘nothing’ to her—or to me, either, for that matter.”

“Jo…”

“It means a lot to me, Carter. You had every right to be mad at me, what with the way things went down between us. No one would have blamed you if you’d wanted to wash your hands of me and my aunt after that.”

“I’dhave blamed me.” I’m so angry that I grab a rag from beneath the bar and start scrubbing at the bar top that doesn’t need cleaning. I don’t need to be back behind the bar here, either, by the way, and Miguel, the bartender on duty tonight is shooting me curious side-long looks that I ignore. After a moment, even cleaning isn’t helping. So, I abandon the rag, fist my hands on my hips and glare at her. “Fucks sake, Jocelyn. After everything we’ve been through? I can’t believe you think I’d do something like that.”

“I don’t!” she replies, looking startled. “That’s not what I’m saying. But…look, my aunt ismyresponsibility, all right? She doesn’t have to be yours—even if she is still claiming you as family.”

“I think of her as family, too,” I reply, covertly scanning Jo’s expression. She doesn’t seem angry, so I’m guessing she doesn’t know all the ways in which Vi and I have used that supposed family connection to our advantage over the years. “My relationship with your aunt has nothing to do with you, Jo. You don’t need to concern yourself with it.”

“C’mon, Carter,” she says, in placating tones. “I’m just trying to make things easy for you. So cut me a break, okay? I think I can help you with this dinner thing; I know I can. And…and I want to. All I’m trying to say is that it’s your call. If you tell methat you’ve got everything under control, that you don’t need or want my help with your dinner, I promise I won’t say another word about it. And I’ll do my best to channel Vi’s appreciation into a more acceptable venue. I should warn you though; if that’s the case then you should probably prepare for an onslaught of Texas Trash Pies, if I know my aunt.”

“Yeah, well. You can never have too many of those, can you?” The thing is though, I know her aunt, too. In fact, I know her a damn sight better than Jo does, at the moment. And I seriously doubt she’ll be up for bakinganythingat any point in the foreseeable future. Which is a damn shame, if you must know. It’s the end of an era. Ms. Vi’s red velvet cinnamon rolls and Dr. Pepper brownies were legendary here in Heartwood.

Unfortunately, however, unless I’m willing to either cut my nose off in spite, or tell a bald-face lie, Ican’tsay that I don’t need help. And I especially can’t say itnow; what with Miguel shootingAre-you-crazy? Take-the-assist!looks at me.

I drop my head back and stare, for a moment, at the pressed tin ceiling—original to the building, painstakingly stripped and repainted. I’ve put too much into this project. Too many people are depending on it to succeed. I can’t let it fail due to a bruised ego or hurt feelings. Or the potential for new heartbreak.

It’s time to man up and start adulting. “Fine,” I say, sighing heavily as I bow to the inevitable. “Thank you. I guess I… I guess Icoulduse your help, if you’re willing. What did you have in mind?”

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