Page 95 of Trusting You

24

Locke

I’m ready faster than a pigskin being thrown at fifty-nine miles per hour at my chest.

I figure, the quicker Carter and I get out of here, the more time I’ll have alone with her, so I can show her how much better I am than whatever’s in her head.

The boys are meeting us around six, an hour before Easton hits the stage. The bar’s within walking distance, but if Carter and I stroll really slow, maybe get there around 5:30, there could be some good time put in to put Lachlan Hayes the Charmer to the test.

A quick peek through my window, and I let out a curse. There’s definitely a storm brewing, but water hasn’t broken on pavement yet. I’ll swipe an umbrella on the way out, and I’m grinning at an idea. Both of us, under an umbrella, Carter tucked against my side, raindrops splashing against our arms, our legs, as we make a break to hide under scaffolding half a block away.

Could be a moment, making out with her under a storm.

If Carter still allows that kind of thing to happen.

Sounds reach my ears, of two women laughing and a baby playing, and I rush through the smoothing back of my hair, the spritzing of cologne, so I can go out and be part of the action.

Carter and Astor are on the floor with Lily, playing hide-the-blocks. Lily’s screeching and clapping her hands, finding some behind their legs but missing most because she’s too distracted by…anything and everything.

“You ready?” I say to Carter as she looks up at my arrival. Again, I’m grounded by those pale gold eyes. More primal than human, they’re a color I don’t think I’ve seen on any other woman, and probably won’t again.

“Sure.” She stands, smoothing out her dress and picking off a few crumbs of a teething cookie. “This is how I go out most days.” She laughs as she brushes her hands together. “Be thankful I don’t smell like spit-up this time.”

I return the smile, but it seems to scare her since hers winks out. I contain a growl of frustration.

I fought against the crushing depression of losing my dream. I battle the allure of painkillers and smack down any remaining cravings for alcohol on a daily basis. I took on an eleven-month-old before ever meeting her, never mind becoming aware of her existence before she was almost a year old.

I could make a girl trust me again.

So why does it feel so damn impossible?

“Be good. And I mean you,” I say to my sister.

Astor rolls her eyes from where she’s curled up on the floor. “Carter’s given me detailed instructions; don’t you worry. This kid will be taken care of to the minute. Your girl’s ensured it.”

Astor’s gaze widens at her last sentence in typical pretend oops, did I say that? flair, a trait she acquired long before becoming a lawyer, so I give her an eye roll right back.

Carter remains uncomfortably silent.

“We’re off,” I say to her and offer my arm. It’s a relief when she takes it, and I grab an umbrella from the line of hooks on the wall by the door.

I hold the door open for Carter both times, and soon we’re out on the sidewalk and into the humidity, the wind too quiet to be normal.

“It’s going to rain soon,” Carter says as she looks up to the sky.

I nod and shake the umbrella as assurance. “We’ll be fine. It’s four blocks away.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Carter says as she, unfortunately, picks up the pace. She untangles her arm from mine and puts a good amount of space between us.

“Yeah?”

“At the coffee shop, there’s a cork board.”

“Huh.” I have no idea where the fuck she’s going with this.

“And it’s got a list of classifieds on it sometimes,” she continues.

My chin lifts. Ah, there it is.