Her CEO Stalker and Her Second Chance Mate Chapter 39

Briar

Carter’s arms wrapped around me as he coached me through the shot. Joke was on him, I just let him because I enjoyed the comfort his touch gave me. I was a bit selfish but the look on his face when he started counting back from three and I shot before he got to two landing the mark was worth it.

I just stepped back and admired the place where the ruined can of beans once lived three seconds ago. 

Carter shook his head. “I should have known,” he mumbled, then grinned. His smile was infectious as I beamed back. “You let me go through all that just to show me up?” I shrugged and blew on the end of the hand gun before handing it to him and walking away.

“You forgot who my uncle was!” I yelled over my shoulder, heading back to the house.

When I got to the house, I made my way upstairs to my room for a moment, and rummaged for something suitable to wear. I heard Carter come in, comforted by the wag of Rosie’s tail as the door opened, then heard him stomp up the stairs. I had what little I owned, spread across the quilt, racking my brain as to what to wear to town. He leaned in the doorway and cocked his head as I turned to him.

“Normally, I’d say, typical girl with nothing to wear, but it seems you fit the bill. Don’t think too hard about it, people around here won’t mind your dark mysterious style, most of them shift modes on weekends anyway. It’s when we all pull out our bikes and enjoy the weather when it’s favorable,” Carter tried to assure.

“You ride? I asked, surprised.

He snorted. “Of course, I do!”

“Will you teach me? Uncle Jake never got the chance to teach me fully. I know the basics, but I’ve never ridden on my own.” I asked.

He smiled kindly. “When you're all healed up, but for now, pick the tee-shirt and jeans and stop worrying about ‘aesthetics’,” he insisted, giving me a knowing look. I felt like a school girl who hadn’t completed her homework and part of me wanted to challenge that, but not today. It  was very much feeling the relief of the brace around my ribs, and didn’t want to spoil it, so I grabbed the oil stained jeans and the oversized boxy tee, and slipped past his smug face on my way to the bathroom to put on my face.

My reflection looked different from yesterday. Most of the purple bruises had faded considerably, to an angry yellow, the worst of it deep purple-red creases, and blotches where the blood had settled. Maybe Beck was right, real food was important. Once my face was healed and the house sorted, maybe I’d look into this business he left me, which I knew nothing about, or I’d start an online marketing business, catered twoards small businesses and keep my head low in the real world. Being among people made me nervous right now. I went fresh and simple using a soft smokey eye to hide most of the damage that concentrated around my eyes, and found I liked the look. At the office, my makeup was always crisp and clean; plain, simple, and non distracting. Whenever I went out with Misty, I always fell into the dark harsh eyeliner, and the dark lips. Today, I went with a soft peach gloss. I wasn’t trying to stand out and I didn’t want to scare people off either. I wanted to be accepted here. This artistic expression was a blend of who I was. The finger prints around my neck, now almost nonexistent. I let out a breath of relief. I left my hair down but wrapped a scrunchie around my wrist. I sighed as I heard Carter meandering down the hall towards me and opened the door.

“I’m ready!” I said, turning to face him. Carter stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes roving over me from head to toe, his eyes lingering. “What, does this not work? I don’t have much to work with here,” I stammered. His mouth opened and no words came out. An awkward silence passed between us before he found his voice.

“No, it’s perfect, you will fit right in,” he bit his lip. “Hold on, you need one more thing,” he said, jogging back to his room and returning with a worn baseball cap. It was grey, and the white writing said, ‘nobody’s property.’  I looked at him questioningly, as I took the hat from his hands. 

“It was a statement piece of my youth,” was all that he said in explanation. “Don’t wear the hood, it will draw too much attention; a ball cap, however, will hide enough without you looking out of place,” he offered.

I couldn’t deny Carter was a magnificent specimen of a man. My fingers played with the bill of the hat before I placed it on my head shifting the forward strands to tuck behind my ears.

“Let me guess, in high school, you had all the girls swooning and you didn’t like the attention?” I guessed.

Carter shrugged, “I guess you could say that. Let’s get going, we are burning daylight,” he deflected. So I had hit the nail on the head. Strange, most boys in high school would have envied being the center of all the girl’s attention. He walked past me and I followed. The statement on the hat had meant something to him then. I smiled to myself, I suppose it was fitting for me now. I chose to lift my head a little higher and wear it with a false sense of dignity.