Carter kicked back in a chair in the hotel lobby around ten that evening and watched the sliding doors leading out to the sand open and close for the millionth time with no signs of Eliza's return.
She'd gone a hundred miles an hour the entire night, first with the wedding outside and then with the reception inside. Dance music pulsed from the other side of the closed ballroom doors, and Carter spotted the two musicians from the wedding hitting on bridesmaids across the room. By all measures, Eliza had pulled off a beautiful and successful event. Again.
"This has got to be the worst bachelor party ever," Mac said, sending Carter a glare.
"It's fine," Lincoln said, staring at his cards so hard Carter wondered if he was trying to memorize them. "I didn't need a party anyway."
"Will you stop looking for Eliza?" Mac demanded. "It's annoying."
Carter locked gazes with the other man and realized Mac knew exactly why they were there. "Did you take a look at her? A real look? She hasn't eaten all day, she's exhausted, and she has another wedding here tomorrow."
"And just how do you know that?" Mac asked, gaze narrowing.
"Gentlemen, can we stop bickering and play cards?" Lincoln asked.
"No," Mac stated. "I thought I warned you off of Eliza?"
"You can't warn me off of her," Carter said. "She isn't your toy."
"She isn't yours, either."
"Trying to win here," Lincoln muttered.
"Yeah, well, you'd better watch it. The last thing she needs is you messing with her when she's still getting over the last guy."
"Best way to get over someone is to—"
"Seriously? You're going to go there?" Mac said, glaring at Carter. "She's practically—"
"Your sister?" Carter asked, hammering home Eliza's brotherly kiss comment.
Mac glared at him. Carter glared back. "Look, I have no intention of hurting Eliza. Besides, I can't make a move until after Linc's wedding, so chill."
"It's true," Lincoln murmured. "I axed his plans until Amelia and I are on our honeymoon."
"Which means once Linc and Amelia are gone, you're going to do what?" Mac asked.
"Dude, you had your chance. Actually, as Marsali's big brother, you've had lots of chances with Eliza over the years, and it didn't work." Mac all but growled at him and Carter shrugged. "Just stating facts."
"Yeah, well, fact is if you hurt her, I will hurt you. Got it?"
"Or you could let Eliza take care of herself and stay out of her business," Eliza said, her tone cold as ice.
Carter stilled and turned to face Eliza, her expression filled with feminine ire.
"Really? Are you three seriously sitting here discussing me like… that?"
Carter glanced around and noted all of them had sat back in their seats and now stared at Eliza as though eyeing a tiger suddenly loosed in the lobby.
Carter cleared his throat, brain scrambling to soothe. "We meant no offense, sweetheart."
"I'm only looking out for you," Mac said.
"I was told there was a bachelor party," Lincoln grumbled under his breath.
Eliza's arms were loaded with an elaborately wrapped wedding present and Carter stood. "Let me carry that for you."
"I've got it," she bit out, fingers white.
"Eliza—"
"I have work to do. Please leave me out of future conversations—and plans."
He followed her as she walked away from them. "Hey. Hey, wait a second. Eliza, I just want to be your friend."
A huff left her, and the look she shot him blew his statement to bits.
"Friend?"
"Fine. I admit I'd like more—to get to know you."
"Why?"
He blinked at her question. Drew back from the intensity behind it. Why? "Because you're you and I like what I see."
"Yeah, well, you're you and… I don't. Bad boys are just… bad."
Eliza turned on her heel and stalked away as quietly as she'd approached.
"Ohhh, yeah," Mac said, chuckling hard. "Okay, I think I've seen what I needed to see, brother."
Lincoln tossed his cards onto the table. "I'm going to go call my fiancée."
"I'm going to the bar to drink to Carter's epic shutdown," Mac said, standing.
Carter swiped his drink from the table, glared at Mac's back, and decided he had a wedding reception to crash. His conversation with Eliza wasn't finished.
The inside of the hotel ballroom was lit by massive amounts of carefully placed lanterns, string lights, and table candles. As he took it all in, he wondered how Eliza had managed to pull it off without working herself into the ground the last several days straight.
He scanned the carefully lit interior and found Eliza by the gift table. She looked perfectly put together in a strapless knee-length dress, her long hair pulled up with tendrils framing her face, and sparkling earrings that swung as she turned her head and spotted him approaching her.
He moved toward her, holding her gaze the entire time.
"What are you doing?" she asked the moment he stood close enough to hear her. "This is a private event."
"I thought you could use some help as things wind down."
"Carter—"
"Have you slept at all the last couple of days?"
Her mouth firmed before she took a breath, and no amount of money or willpower could keep his gaze off the act in that dress.
"Not much," she admitted. "But you need to leave."
"How did you get all of this put up?"
"I hired a couple of the hotel's maintenance guys to set up after hours. Thankfully the room wasn't booked beforehand so they allowed me to get in last night."
"Well, I'll help you take it down and you don't have to pay me."
She blinked at him and shook her head. "Carter, why are you doing this?"
"Maybe I'm trying to prove to you I'm not as bad," he said, quoting her, "as you think I am."
She winced. "I'm sorry I said that. It was rude."
"It was honest. But you're wrong about me, Eliza."
"Am I?"
He inhaled. "I have a history. Everyone does. But who I was isn't who I am now. Why won't you let me help you?"
"I don't… want to owe you."
"You won't. You shouldn't feel that way. Ever. Like I told you outside on the beach, I have a business I started from scratch, and I know what it's like when help doesn't show or gets lured away by the competition. Or," he added, lowering his voice, "costs more than you might be able to afford while trying to regroup."
She crossed her arms over her front. "So you're only here asking to help because you feel sorry for me?"
"I suppose that's… part of it."
"And the rest?"
He chuckled softly. "Maybe I'm a little interested in getting to know you better."
"Oh, yeah? I heard your discussion with Mac outside."
"Mac and I talk smack all the time."
"Yeah, well, smack talk or not, men don't typically help women without ulterior motives."
"My only motive is to get to know you. Look, you've obviously been burned. So have I," he said, taking a step closer and getting a whiff of her perfume. "But right now, I'm just trying to prove to you I'm a nice guy so that when you're ready, you'll give me a chance."
One of the couples carried their dance off the plank floor and bumped into Eliza, shoving her into him.
Eliza's hands unlocked from her front and braced against his chest as she caught herself. Carter tucked her closer still and stared down at her, a fire sweeping through him at the feel of her pressed against him.
Her gaze lowered to his mouth and her lips parted. He watched it all, wondering if she felt the same chemistry firing his blood. "Eliza?"
"Eliza?"
Her name echoed as the male of the couple who'd bumped her turned toward them.
Carter glanced at the guy but felt Eliza's nails dig sharply into his shirt and skin as she stiffened up like a board. She held on to him, hesitating a moment, before she simply turned her head. Carter watched as Eliza struggled to maintain her composure when she faced the man—couple—now standing a few feet away.
"James…"
James? Ex-boyfriend/business partner/cheater James? Carter wrapped his arm around Eliza's shoulders and cuddled her close while he held the man's gaze and kissed the top of her head. "Sweetheart, aren't you going to introduce me?"