Love Me: The Complete Series (8 page)

“No. It means—you should tell him. Tell him about the messages, only do it in person so you can spend a little more time with him before he realizes you’ve been spying on him all this time.”

“I wasn’t spying.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. No words needed in that expression.

“I wasn’t!
He
texted
me,
remember? I didn’t start it. Nor did I run over him with a dog. If you ask me, he’s the one that started it all. Besides—”

Caroline snipped ribbon loose and tied up a yellow bow for the funeral arrangement. “Let’s don’t forget you still haven’t told him about his girlfriend either.”

Abby huffed. “Ex-girlfriend. And seems to me, the person that should tell him is her. Or maybe his best friend.”

“Who happens to be you at the moment.”

“No, not me.”

“You’re answering his texts as if you’re him.”

“OKAY. I won’t answer them anymore. Besides, his real friend is a jerk.”

“And you’ll tell him?”

“Tell him what? About me
not
being Jackson—or at least not the Jackson he thinks he’s texting? Or about his ex-girlfriend’s reaction to the flowers? Or maybe the reason why she broke up with him is because of
Jackson
. The friend, not me. Or maybe that the blind date I thought I was meeting actually was him, which is why he never showed. Only he did. Which one? And remember, I
tried
to tell him about the texting.” Abby’s voice had risen to almost a yell by the time she stopped for a breath. She gulped a couple mouthfuls of air.

Caroline patted the flower arrangement, nodded her head, and shrugged. “Hey, ease up before you pop a blood vessel. I don’t know. Pick one. I wouldn’t throw it all at him at once. He might pass out. Or deck you.”

Badeep deep.

The store phone jumped into action, ringing simultaneous to her text message. Abby groaned and surveyed her phone’s screen again, which gave Caroline just the break needed to grab it and run to the back of the shop.

She pointed at the desk. “Answer that.”

Abby checked the store phone, recognized her parents’ number, and silently thanked her decision to put the added expense of caller ID on the bill. She wasn’t ready to face the music yet—she still wanted to bask in the fairy tale idea of business ownership.

“Holy shit!” Caroline’s head was glued to the texts. “Did you see these group messages?”

“Some of them. Hey, I thought you said I needed to stop spying and set him straight.”

Caroline’s voice was mockingly low and masculine. “There really is a running chick? Yeah, nearly killed her with the neighbor’s dog. You weren’t with the neighbor? No, just helping with the dog. Good. No warts? No, she’s nice. Seeing her again? Already did. Twice. Damn, that was fast.” Caroline giggled. “You know one of these guys is a real jerk. He said, ‘So the tits
are
real?’”

“What! He did not!” Abby ran to her side and peered over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes at the words. “I thought you were joking.”

“Nope. It gets worse. Look.” Caroline handed over the phone and Abby read the others.

Carter: Not answering

Is that I’m sleeping w her so can’t tell or don’t know ’cause she ditched me 2?

Carter: Screw you

Oh, well good luck w her. You’ll get there

Carter: Should I repeat?

Lunch at Fadi’s. Who’s in?

Me

Me but can’t go til 12:30

Me too

Carter: U just want the details

Damn straight

12:30 then

Carter: I’m busy

Rog, drag him w u

No problem

“That’s it,” Abby huffed. “I’m calling him right now and getting out of this.”

Caroline yanked the phone away. “You’re just mad because he thought your boobs were fake. Think about it this way—they’re so perfect, he didn’t think they could possibly be real. From a guy, that’s a compliment. Besides, you’re so upset if you call him now, you’ll bite his head off. No, I have a better idea. I think we should crash this lunch party. Grab your purse.”

Abby dropped her hands to her hips and shook her head. “No.”

“Why not? We could pretend we were just in the neighborhood.”

“Who’d watch the shop while we’re gone? I’m not closing just so we can continue this horrible charade.”

“I know! I’ll go talk to him and tell him about the phone mess-up, and you can stay here.”

“You’d do that for me?” Abby didn’t believe a word.

“No, but I’d eavesdrop and see what he’s saying about you. How’s that for a friend?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “And you tell me
I’m
bad.”

The door jangled as Caroline yanked it open. “Oh, honey—you haven’t
seen
bad yet. This is better than any damned reality show! Be back in an hour.” She waved fingers and rushed out before Abby could stop her.

Abby wanted to laugh. Abby hadn’t described Carter, and Caroline had yet to meet him. So Caroline had no idea who she was looking for.

• • •

A shadow appeared in Carter’s doorway and he checked the time. It had taken all of three minutes for Roger Freeman to walk down the hall to his office.

“You ready?” Roger leaned against the door, catching his shirtsleeve on the latch.

Roger had worked with him since college and been a friend throughout. Carter used that term loosely because Roger had a lot of frustrating quirks. Still, there was very little about him that Carter didn’t know, and vice versa. Neither could run away from their pasts. Fortunately, there’d only been a few times when he wished it possible. Roger had fallen off the radar for a while during their senior year and just after. Carter knew little other than there was a girl and he gave up asking after the first attempt. Roger nearly bit his head off when he pried.

Whatever his friend’s problems or past, not too many men in his world were reliable enough to recommend for a job. Roger had been one then—and still was. He was a real ass around women, but when it came to work, there weren’t many Carter trusted as much as Rog. It didn’t make sense, the women thing, to a lot of people.

Carter knew it was an act, a front. Roger hadn’t a clue how to behave because he’d never had a girlfriend—except maybe that one time—and very likely never had many second dates. The guy had the most horrific manners around women. It had to be nerves because he was great around clients. Or maybe it was intentional. Who knew?

“I said I was busy. I meant it.” Carter buried his head behind his laptop screen.

“You’re always busy. Whatever it is, it can wait until after lunch. You haven’t gone with us in over a month.” Roger untangled himself from the door latch and dropped into the chair across from Carter’s desk.

“We’re meeting with the bank at three and I haven’t looked at—”

“The lease for the property on Bellaire? I have it memorized.” Roger leaned over and closed the folder Carter had splayed open. “Let’s go.”

Carter sighed. Roger was right. Amanda had been demanding, to say the least, which was ironic, considering the situation. How had she found the time to monopolize his time as well as someone else’s? He’d all but given up his friends after dating her a month, not something he was proud of. He owed it to the guys to mend the fences and make sure he wasn’t that stupid again. No girl was worth it.

He grabbed his keys and followed Roger out.

Fifteen minutes later they were seated at a table near the window of Fadi’s, gulping down iced tea and Mediterranean food. The place was famous throughout the city. Not just for the taste of the food but for the quantity. No one left hungry.

• • •

It came as no surprise when Abby’s phone beckoned only minutes after Caroline left. She debated answering, but her curiosity interfered.

“Okay, tall, dark, and handsome? Or blond, blue-eyed, and short?” Her voice was matter-of-fact and hushed.

“Not playing this game, Caroline. It’s bad enough to answer the messages, but a recon mission? That’s over the top. Get back here.”

“No can do. I think I can figure it out, anyway. There’re three or four of them, right? So that rules out a few tables. All the ones full of women can be crossed off also.” Caroline mumbled something and Abby assumed she was paying for her lunch based on the sound. “You’re really not going to help me?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, you leave me no choice. I’ll just have to go around and ask them.”

“No! Don’t you dare!” Her last word was silenced when Caroline cut her off. She dialed back but no answer. When the phone lit up with texts, she breathed a sigh of relief. And laughed herself into the flowerpots.

The first message from Caroline had a picture of an older man with silver white hair that curled over his shirt collar. He wore a tie and had a napkin tucked into his neck to protect his clothing—a smart move since a deluge of drips soaked into it. Her message read:

A second later, there was a picture of the man sitting with him, a bald crown over his dark side locks. Bushy eyebrows and moustache suggested the only spot he didn’t grow hair was on top. The man was talking with food in his cheek in the picture.

Abby giggled. As
if.
She tapped a brief
no
to each. Caroline was obviously enjoying this way too much—three more pictures of similar men came through. The man with the shaved head and eyebrow tattoos was interesting, and answering
yes
was tempting
.
The response would have been wasted, since she had no way to see Caroline’s reaction.

Abby’s stomach rumbled, reminding her
she
wasn’t eating and she added a few keys to the last response.

Another picture came of four men at a table, mid-twenties and up, with the caption

Abby panicked. The fun screeched to a halt. Caroline had taken the picture of herself in a booth—and the men were behind her in the adjacent one. Carter was one of them. Her mouth fell open. Dammit!

Caroline texted again.

Fortunately the door jangled and Abby was saved from answering. She dropped the phone into her purse and went back to work. She decided it was time to set a company policy regarding phone usage during work hours. One that included no texting or calling that harassed the owner. Since they were both owners, it would be critical they set the standard for future staffers.

“Where the hell is Jackson?” Roger asked their other two friends when he slid into the booth. David Fender and Garth Satrose exchanged looks and shrugged. Carter thought the lengthy silence odd.

“I asked him,” Carter said, albeit it was in the same message everyone else had.

“No idea.” David tore off a hunk of pita bread and scooped hummus. He shoveled the entire thing into his mouth and tore another. “I haven’t talked to him in a while. Was he joining us?”

Carter glanced around the restaurant. The place always smelled of garlic. The hum of voices during the lunch hour made it difficult to talk. “He never answered.”

David concentrated on the hummus and spoke through a mouthful. “He’s been pretty busy lately. Some big thing at work.”

Carter shrugged. “He’s texted several times but hasn’t said much about work. He was supposed to meet me at the game last weekend and skipped. Glad to hear business is picking up for him.”

Roger stared over his tea glass as he sipped. “He’s texted? What’d he say?”

David and Garth exchanged another look. David nodded at a girl sitting behind Carter in the booth. “Check that.”

The girl was taking pictures of herself. Carter glanced over his shoulder just as she snapped.
Click.
He wondered if she’d be surprised at having a guest in the photo.

Roger leaned in over Carter and made his famous pig face—the camera clicked again. A quick gasp told him the girl responded as Roger hoped … the thud of the camera hitting the table meant she’d grown tired of her self-portraits. Or didn’t like the background.

Carter shoved Roger’s arm. “Back off, Rog. You’ve already photo-bombed enough.”

“Hey, just trying to make it interesting. Come on, tell us.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know—tell us about runner girl.”

“Nothing to tell.”

Roger sniffed at something he’d pulled from the food line. “Not sure what this is but thought I’d try it. So, no warts, no moles, real boobs, and she has all her teeth. Does she speak English?”

The two men across from them coughed and Carter sighed. “That’s your idea of the perfect girl? A foreign born person who doesn’t understand you but has a great rack?”

Roger shrugged and popped an olive in his mouth. He bit down then frowned and pulled out the pit. “I didn’t say that. It’s just—I mean, we all saw her at the park, remember? She’s out of your league, man. There has to be something wrong. If she has trouble understanding you, maybe you won’t blow it as fast.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I blew it with Amanda?”

“No, actually—it sounds like she was the one blowing—”

Carter coughed. “Don’t even say it, gutter slave.”

David finally swallowed his mouthful and spoke. “You didn’t waste any time changing gears.”

“Damn. You’re like a revolving door. Maybe you should take it a little slower next time.”

“Slow wasn’t the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t listen to Jackson’s advice. The guy was full of shit.”

Garth glanced at David then cleared his throat. “What do you expect from a guy who talked us all into buying season tickets so he could use them?”

“Huh?” Carter stopped chewing. “You bought Astros tickets too?”

“No, mine are for basketball. And David bought football tickets. What about you, Rog? What did you get?”

Roger sighed. “Soccer. Well, the guy’s no idiot. Why spend the money if someone else will?”

Carter shook his head. “That’s rich since he’s the loaded one in our group. Why’d he stand me up last weekend?”

David laughed. “Because he’s—”

Garth slugged him in the arm and furrowed his brows. “Shut up.”