Page 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

arden

I’m not sure how I got here, and I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Carter and I are sprawled out on the couch in his condo.

Beautiful place, by the way. Ridiculously nice.

I felt inferior the second that I walked through the door.

Then, I went to use the bathroom and there was a tub big enough for four and a shower the size of my whole apartment.

I wanted to drown myself for ever letting him step foot in my house.

This man is rich.

Empty take-out containers are scattered around the coffee table.

I’m sitting upright, eyes glued to the screen, with Carter fast asleep beside me.

He’s not vertical, but not horizontal either.

At some point, he drifted to sleep and his head fell to my shoulder.

Like when a dog passes out with their head or a paw on your body, you stay still until they wake.

I keep checking the time. We’re on our second movie. It’s late. I don’t work tomorrow, so it’s not a huge deal, but I do worry if this man is going to be able to wake up and be conscious enough to drive me across the city .

An explosion happens on the screen and Carter jolts awake. He scans the room, blue eyes rimmed red. When they finally land on me, he looks a bit confused for a second, before he blinks a few times and relaxes.

“I fell asleep on you.”

“Literally.”

He chuckles under his breath and balls his fist in his sleeve, pressing it to his eye. It’s such an endearing moment. For a second, he looks like a sweet little boy who's just woken from a nap, and damnit , it might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“What time is it?”

“One in the morning.”

He drops his hand, eyes widening. “Shit. You probably want to get home.”

I just shrug. Honestly, I’ve had a good time. Just hanging out with him, no eyes on us, no pressure to be the best fake girlfriend on earth… It was nice. We ate, we watched some movies, and when I get awkward and quiet, he fills that silence with ease.

A big yawn wracks through him. He blinks some more sleep from his eyes. “Would you stay?”

I stare at him, but don’t answer. That feels like a loaded question.

“I have guest rooms,” he clarifies quickly. “You don’t have to stay in my bed or anything. I’m just really fucking tired, Red.”

“I can get a rideshare,” I offer.

His face falls. He gives me that look that I’ve grown to know well. “Sometimes, I swear you want to get murdered.”

I roll my eyes. We’ve all had bad experiences with rideshares, but they’re just as safe as a taxi. Safer, probably. Easier to track if something goes wrong.

“No, honestly. Your true crime episode would be highly rated because they’d interview me and the whole world would fall in love with this face.

The viewers would be horribly confused, though.

They’d be incredibly attracted to me, but they’d also be convinced that I’m the number one suspect since I was the last one to see you. ”

“Carter,” I say, breathing out a laugh.

He yawns again, reaching forward to place his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll take you home if you want to go.”

He blinks sleepily and acceptance floods through me.

I’m staying here tonight. He’s exhausted, and making him drive in this state would be painfully cruel of me.

Plus, he’s offering me a guest room. My own space.

This night could remain PG like it was intended to.

He’s not insinuating or pressuring me to do anything, he’s just… asking me to stay.

I shake my head. “I’ll take the spare room.”

He smiles sleepily with gratitude and shakes me a bit by the shoulder. “I won’t let this happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, and it is. It’s not the end of the world. “Can I borrow a shirt or something to sleep in?”

He shoots me a look, dropping his hand from my body. “Really?”

“What?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You’re the clothing bandit. You enter my teammates' homes and rob them of their clothing. Don’t think I didn’t do my own background check on you.”

I choke on my laugh, but he’s already standing and holding out his hand for me.

I slap my palm into his and let him hoist me to my feet. We’re suddenly really close, and as much as I hate to admit this, I’m pretty sure I hold my breath. He peers down at me, all sleepy and adorable, and those twinkly eyes flicker back and forth between mine.

“C’mon, girlfriend. Bedtime.”

He leads me down the hall, and that’s when I realize there is more than one guest room where I can choose to lay my head tonight.

I’m suddenly flooded with jealousy. He has all of this space that is going unused, while I’m stuck in my little hellhole he barely fits in.

I dream of places like this, rooms where Anya and Serena could sleep if they ever came to visit, rooms they can have if they want to move here after our father passes.

Carter gestures to the three doors. “Pick what one you want, Goldilocks.”

I sigh. “Your pet names really need some work. Most of them offend me. I’m not even blonde.”

“I’ll study hard before I think of the next one.”

“Any room is fine, Carter. I’m not moving in.”

“No, pick.”

I find this a bit ridiculous, but appease him anyway.

I peer into each room, one by one, and while all nice—I settle on the one with gray and yellow accents.

It's cozy. Inviting. Right across the hall from his. It feels like sitting on a warm patio in the sun, sipping a good cup of tea. The yellow really pops throughout the room. It’s warm.

I pick it because it’s the most colourful, and I’ve been deprived of colour for way too long.

There’s a king-sized bed and an ensuite, too.

That might have played a factor in my choice.

It’s ridiculous. Nice, luxurious furniture, much nicer than my second-hand Ikea set.

A huge chest of drawers, a television mounted on the wall, and a cute little reading corner tucked into the space between the window and bookshelf.

He smiles, leaning against the doorway as I walk inside and take it all in. For a guest room that belongs to a bachelor, there is much more life in this space than I could have imagined.

“What?” I ask, feeling his eyes on me .

He shrugs again. “I figured this would be the one you picked.”

“Why?”

“It’s the room Ariana decorated for herself,” he tells me, glancing around the room. “She always told me I needed one room with a woman’s touch if I ever wanted to be taken seriously. I wanted to test that theory.”

I smile, dropping myself onto the foot of the bed. “Smart girl.”

“Brilliant,” he confirms with a nod. His eyes skim my body, and his tongue sweeps over his pink bottom lip.

After a moment, he clears his throat and pushes himself off the wall, gently thumping his fist on the doorframe.

“I’ll grab you some clothes. Hang tight, alright?

Feel free to shower. Ari keeps all of that shit stocked, too. ”

He leaves, so I take that time to study the room.

Ariana has a good eye, and she’s right, this room feels like it was curated for a woman.

I slip into the bathroom, and my god. There’s a gorgeous clawfoot tub with shelves built right into the walls, and so many bath products that I almost want to curl up and live right here.

Bubble baths, Epsom salts, bath oils. All the perfect ingredients that one would dream about if they ever wanted to simply relax.

“Have a bath if you want.”

I glance at him. “It’s one in the morning.”

Carter shrugs. “You don’t work tomorrow.”

He’s got me there.

He holds out the shirt he brought me. It’s a vintage T-shirt, all muted blues and purples, that’ll probably go to my thighs. There’s some rap group on the front of it, one I’m unfamiliar with. He doesn’t let go of it right away, which forces me to look up at him .

“Have one tomorrow. You don’t have to rush home, you know? It’s nice having someone else here.”

I breathe a laugh, and he lets the shirt go. “I’d move my whole apartment into this room if you’d let me.”

He smiles, pleased by that answer. “We’re dating, Red. If you want to stay here, you can. If you want to sleep here on my nights only, you’re more than welcome to.”

That goes well beyond our rules.

“I’m not kidding,” he tells me, bending a bit to meet me eye-to-eye. “To further incentivise you. I have an early practice tomorrow. You can enjoy this tub, this room—hell, this whole place, all on your own.”

“Carter,” I mumble, but then I glance at the bathtub and dream. I’m certain one dip inside of that thing could wash away one hundred of my mounting problems.

“Stay. I’ll bring you home breakfast.”

I slide my gaze to his, unable to hide my smile. Apparently, I fall victim to Carter Forkerro when he begs. “Fine.”

He smiles, thumping his fist against the doorframe again. “Have a good sleep, snookems.”

My body physically recoils at that. I aim the shirt at his head, but don’t throw it. “Oh, absolutely not!”

His laughter slips under the crack in the door as he closes it behind him, crawls right up my body, and etches itself on my heart.