Page 86 of Hooked On Them

His eyes met mine. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe he needs to see the real you, not the performance.” I moved closer. “The Carter who remembers details about people. The one who thinks about what others need.”

He let out a soft laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s Christmas, and my parents are in Switzerland. Again. They invited me, but it’s just another opportunity for them to lay into me.” He shook his head. “Even over a decade later, they still can’t believe I chose photography and art over taking over the business.”

“That must be tough.” I couldn’t imagine not having the support of my dad. Had he been bummed when I’d decided to leave the Storm and coach with the Titans? Of course, but he’d also been proud of me for doing what I felt was best for my career.

Carter tried to laugh it off, the sound hollow in the quiet room. “Anyway, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’m used to the disappointed looks by now, so your father’s approval shouldn’t bother me.”

The practiced casualness in his voice broke something in me. I moved to stand directly in front of him, close enough that his knees bracketed my legs. I ran my fingers through his hair, fixing what he’d messed up moments before. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, Carter. Not to my dad, not to yours. Not to me.”

His hands came to rest on my hips. “I know.” The way he leaned into my touch told me he needed to hear it anyway.

“I mean it.” I let my fingers trail down to cup his cheek. “The guy who remembered the little bakery I mentioned once and had their croissants delivered to my apartment? That’s the real you. The one who noticed when I was on my feet too much and brought me compression socks? That guy doesn’t need smoke and mirrors.”

Carter’s eyes softened, his usual armor completely down now. “You’re the best part of my year, you know that?” His thumbs traced small circles on my hips. “This whole thing should be a disaster, but somehow it’s brought me exactly where I needed to be.”

He stood up, bringing us chest to chest. My stomach pressed against his, a reminder of what had gotten us to this point. His fingers flexed against my hip, his thumb tracing the curve where it met my waist, leaving trails of warmth that cascaded down my thighs.

I tilted my face up to his, close enough to see how his pupils widened when he looked at me like this. Not with the practiced charm he showed the world, but with something raw and genuine that made my knees weaken.

“I should let you unpack before one of the others tries to steal your attention.” He touched my cheek, his thumb hovering near my bottom lip before he kissed my forehead and stepped away. “Besides, I need to mentally prepare for dinner with your dad. Maybe do some push-ups to seem more impressive.”

I laughed. “Please don’t do push-ups at the dinner table.”

“No promises.” He paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression that made my insides melt. “Thanks, Nora. For bringing me here. For...” He gestured vaguely. “For seeing me, I guess.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the distinct feeling that I was in way over my head.

I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling that had witnessed my teenage angst, my college anxiety, and now my adult relationship chaos. Through the wall, I heard Carter whistling as he unpacked, the cheerful sound at odds with the vulnerability he’d just shown me.

How was I supposed to survive the next few days if a simple conversation with Carter left me this emotionally wrecked, and if I was being perfectly honest, a bit horny? We still had Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow, Christmas morning, and all the awkward family moments in between.

And somewhere downstairs, my father was waiting to corner me about exactly what kind of arrangement I had with these three men.

I covered my face with a pillow and groaned.

Chapter28

Try-Hard Douchebag

Carter

Ithought I’d nailed the dress code. Smart casual, they call it. Not too stuffy, not too casual. My slate blue button-down with the top two buttons strategically undone and tailored chinos had gotten me compliments from actual fashion designers, but under Brett’s scrutiny, I might as well have shown up in a clown suit.

The outdoor patio was objectively perfect with string lights casting a warm glow, heaters warding off the mild night chill, and waves crashing rhythmically against the shore below.

“More wine?” I offered, holding up the bottle of cabernet I’d brought in my carry-on from a vineyard I’d photographed last year. The owner had sent me a case as thanks.

Brett’s glass remained half-full. “I’m good.” Two syllables. Progress.

I filled Mateo’s glass instead, earning a warm smile that felt like finding an ally in enemy territory. Not that this was enemy territory. Technically.

Miles sat to Nora’s left, and I watched as he quietly topped off her water glass without being asked. I’d been noticing the way Miles anticipated Nora’s needs before she voiced them all evening. How he subtly shifted his chair closer when she shivered despite the heaters. The way his hand occasionally brushed hers on the table when he thought no one was looking.

It wasn’t possessive. It was nurturing. Like breathing to him.

“The sea bass is excellent. I’m not normally a fish person, but maybe I need to reconsider.” Miles served himself another filet.

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