Page 90 of A Better Place

“I’m sorry for making you question that. I’m sorry for making you wait.”

“Worth every single moment of wait, Carly. Every single one.”

“You really are all kinds of wonderful. You know that?”

“You make it easy.”

“James…”

I catch whatever she’s about to say with a kiss. A kiss meant to quiet the vicious lies her dick of an ex-husband could have possibly told her. A kiss meant to promise her a future that looks nothing like her past.

My fingers thread through her hair; my teeth nip at her bottom lip. Her breath hitches; her moan is quiet. I wish I could rip the damn center console out so we aren’t separated by it.

“Coming inside?” she asks me when we finally pull apart, resting her forehead against mine.

“For a bit. Not to stay.”

Her eyes take on a hint of sadness and look away. I take her face in my hand and turn her back to face me. “Hey. It’s not that I don’t want to stay. You have no idea how badly I want to stay. But I’m a gentleman. Don’t you know this?” I tease, and it hits the mark I want it to.

She smiles gently.

“You needed to take this slow. And Jack’s inside. One day we’ll get there, together. At a pace we’re both comfortable with, yeah?”

“Maybe Lauren’s right. I am a hussy,” she says as she widens her eyes.

“Two things very wrong with that sentence. But never — and I mean never — start anything by saying Lauren’s right.”

She laughs lightly. “She’s not so bad.”

“No? Who thought of the idea of margarita madness?”

“Point taken.”

“And you’re the furthest thing from a hussy.”

I slide out of the driver’s seat, walk around and open her door. I take her hand in mine as we walk toward the house. I look around, my senses now on high alert at all times wondering if Vince the dick will be lurking in the shadows. I’ve never held hatred for a man I’ve never met before. Admittedly, I don’t know the whole story. But I know my Carly. And that’s enough for me.

“I appreciate you getting her home before curfew,” Jack says, opening the door widely and crossing his arms over his chest, stance wide.

I reach out and pull him to me by the neck, giving him a playful side hug. “Punk.”

“You love it,” he tells me.

He’s not wrong.

We all walk to the living room. Jack sits on the oversized chair while Carly and I take the couch.

“So, what’d you two lovebirds do tonight?”

“James took me to a shooting range!” Carly shouts excitedly, arms up in the air as if she just won a gold medal, and bounces up and down, making the cushion of the couch move with her.

He jerks his head in my direction. “No way. That’s so cool. You shot an actual gun?” he asks her.

As opposed to what… a Nerf gun?

“I did! It was so cool. We’re definitely going back.”

“I’m comin’ with,” he tells me with raised eyebrows. I have a feeling he’s challenging me to argue.

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