Falling For My Nemesis

“Because I want to be your friend.”

The air rushed out of my lungs, and for a moment, I wanted to argue with him. To ask him what all those moments at his party were about. Why he seemed particularly interested in whether or not Ethan and I had anything beyond friendship. Why he said he wanted to kiss me, then seemed angry at the thought of me kissing Ethan. I didn’t imagine what happened between us in the kitchen. I couldn’t have. Yet, I couldn’t trust myself where Carson was concerned. Our past indicated that all those things didn’t matter. Of course he wanted to be friends.

When his sharp blue eyes met mine, I felt like an idiot for even thinking otherwise. I hated myself for it because that was just one more way Carson Brooks had won.

Reaching across me, Carson opened the glovebox and pulled out a piece of paper I recognized as the list I made.

His hand brushed my arm for the briefest of moments, and I suppressed the shiver it caused.

“Ready?” he asked.

???

We took our third cartful of items to the car. Stuffed inside the back of Carson’s Jeep was everything to make Christmas special. Toys for the kids, clothes, new pajamas, books. We even found a fantastic deal on towels and sheets for each family.

All in all, it had been a good trip. The added donations Carson procured went a long way. If one good thing came out of our punishment, it was that these adopted families of Sweet Water would have an amazing Christmas.

At least someone would. This knowledge made the sting of my own crappy holiday somewhat bearable.

“Last stop,” Carson said.

“Yes. Let’s do this.” My feet ached, and I was starving.

As we headed toward the perfume shop, I said, “I think it’s kind of cute that some of the people from the nursing home requested perfume and cologne.”

“It just goes to show that you’re never too old to take pride in yourself. Why shouldn’t they smell good, too? When I’m an old geezer, I plan on rocking some Oakleys and the latest Gucci scent. I’ll be pimpin’ it till the day I die. All the old ladies will be swooning at my feet.”

I snorted. “Dropping like flies at the bottom of your wheelchair’s more like it.”

Carson grinned. “Hey, whatever works. I’ll have my own private room. I’ll scoop ‘em up and wheel them back to my pad.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “You’re sick, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse things,” he said with a wink. No doubt those things had been uttered by yours truly.

After entering the shop, we headed towards the displays of perfume. “What all do we have to get?” I asked.

Carson consulted his paper. “Four bottles of perfume and two bottles of cologne.”

“Perfume is such an individualized thing. I wish they had written down specifics. What if we get something they hate?” I asked.

“We’ll have to choose wisely, but I have impeccable taste, so. . .”

I arched a brow at him. “Full of ourselves, are we?”

Carson shrugged and glanced at me, grinning. “Hey, can’t fight the truth, baby. Besides, you always smell terrific, so I’m sure that won’t happen.”

My pulse skipped. The words left his lips so smoothly, and so quickly, I wasn’t sure I really heard them. “You think I smell good?” I wanted to shove the question back in, but it was too late. They were out there in all my insecure glory for him to hear.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Yeah, of course.” He scanned the perfume selections. Picking one up, he sniffed it and grimaced, then set it back down. “Your scent. . .it’s amazing, like a combination of coconut, vanilla frosting, and something floral, but I don’t know what.”

Freesia. The floral is freesia.

I inhaled a ragged breath. Carson Brooks thinks I smell good.

Needing something to do with my hands, I reached for the nearest bottle of perfume and handed it to him. “What about this one?”

He took a step closer and leaned in, smelling it before he broke out into a fit of coughing. “Oh, my gosh. I think my sinuses might be bleeding.”