Page 25 of I've Got You

“What?” I placed the knife on the chopping board, pressing both palms on the countertop, preparing myself.

Carter released a deep breath and slowly blinked. “Okay.”

I waited for a beat and then five, but he remained silent.

“Okay?”

“Yep, okay.”

“Really, that’s it? No smartass remark, no pulling my reasons apart and dissecting them for deeper meaning? No clapping your hands in glee—”

“I don’t ever clap my hands in glee.”

This time I raised my brows at him, a smirk quickly finding a place on my lips.

Carter huffed. “That was one time, and I was teasing.”

“Uh-huh” was my noncommittal response. When he squinted at me and gave his version of a scowl, I laughed.

“And no, to all of the above,” he said, ignoring my laughter. “Simply okay.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out his game plan. Carter rarely held back. I should have been relieved, should have felt my shoulders relax, but I’d come here to… hell, to offload maybe, be reassured I was doing the right thing, or maybe even have some sense talked into me. An “okay” was not what I expected.

Fuck it. “So you think I’m doing the right thing?”

He leaned back on his stool and picked up his wineglass. “Do you think you’re doing the right thing?” He had the audacity to quirk a brow and take a sip from his glass and looked far too damn happy with himself doing so.

The asshole thought he was funny. I clamped my mouth shut, worried I’d overshare Davis’s effect on me. He had me in knots, had me believing in the possibility of a world and a future that wasn’t quite so shitty. Not only that, but he made me so hot and needy I struggled to know how to behave. My jaw twitched in discomfort, and I quickly eased the tension before I strained myself.

“I think you’ve massacred the tomato. Let me take over.”

I glanced down, and he was right. If I carried on, the salad wouldn’t survive.

“How about you set the table?”

It was probably a safer option. “Will do.” I headed to grab the utensils. As I set the table, Carter’s voice stopped me short.

“You need to set for four, and an extra space with the plastic utensils, please.”

My eyes widened and I flicked my head up so damn fast to look at Carter I was sure I got whiplash. He snort-laughed. I made to speak but was cut short.

“Holy Stitzel, are you cooking Moroccan?” Davis.

His voiced washed over me. Goose bumps scattered over my skin, lifting the hairs there. I fought hard not to close my eyes. There was no chance in hell I’d be caught mooning over a guy. I never mooned, ever. I didn’t even know what the hell it really meant, other than my mom had used it a time or two when describing her friend’s daughter and how she apparently “mooned” over me.

“We’re in here.”

My gaze snapped to Carter, who’d just spoken and whose eyes were already on me. The bastard was amused, focusing solely on my reaction. Standing a little straighter, I shot him the finger before gripping the fork in my hand more tightly. I would not react other than the usual greeting to someone I knew… to my boss. My stomach dipped.

I was so screwed.

“It smells so damn good in here I could—”

It was inevitable that my eyes flew to the doorway when Davis entered. My gaze traveled to his mouth, which was slightly open before it lifted into a smile. Then it moved lower to the child on his hip. Soft wisps of hair framed her pretty face, her eyes wide and alert, taking everything in. When they landed on Carter, she grinned and wriggled.

Davis bent, his eyes still on me. “Hey,” he said in my direction, his smile still wide.

I grinned back, my heart hitting my rib cage hard. “Hey.” I followed his movements and watched as he placed his daughter on the floor. Once her knees were on the tile, she whizzed off in the fastest crawl I’d ever seen. My grin stretched impossibly wide, amusement bubbling in my chest. She was cute as hell as she raced to Carter. When she reached his legs, she clambered up to her feet, using him as a crutch, babbling away.

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