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Carter: It’s a surprise.
Darcy: I love surprises. ?
He grinned and steered out of the driveway. For now, he would forget about the past and his current problems. All he wanted to focus on was Darcy.
***
The loud rumbling of an engine drew Darcy’s attention to her driveway. She opened the door just as Carter jogged up the front steps, looking gorgeous in shorts and a gray t-shirt. The mid-May air was warm, and the sun was bright in the cloudless blue sky.
He stopped at the top step, and his dark eyes scanned her townhouse. “Nice place.” He pivoted and took in the surrounding neighborhood. “How long have you lived here?”
“A little over two years. My parents bought it for me.”
Carter’s eyes widened with surprise.
She jammed a thumb toward the foyer. “I just need to grab my purse. Would you like to come in?”
“Sure.”
Carter stood by the front door while she gathered up her purse and her phone. She walked over to him as he rocked back on his heels and took in the family room and the kitchen.
An unreadable expression tinged his face before he smiled. “It’s a beautiful home.”
“Thanks.” She hesitated, and her lips twisted.
He pointed toward the door. “We should get going.”
“Right,” she said, following him to the door.
***
Carter hummed along with the Blake Shelton song serenading him and Darcy through the truck speakers. She angled her body toward Carter’s and studied his profile while he drove. She took in the scruff-lined jaw and those dark roast–colored eyes.
Her stomach tightened as she recalled the surprise on Carter’s face when she mentioned that her parents had gifted her the townhouse. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Carter thought she was entitled. She had to explain the situation with the house. But first she had to find the courage...
Carter began singing the words to the song, and Darcy joined in. Together they were just slightly off-key. She met his gaze, and they both started laughing.
“We sound awful,” she said.
“Speak for yourself.” He chuckled. “Do you like country music?”
“I do. I like all kinds of music. I guess it depends on my mood. Sometimes I listen to country in the car. I especially love country from the nineties and early aughts. You know, old Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, and Shania Twain.”
“I love country from the nineties. Tracy Byrd is one of my favorites,” he said. “Do you sing in the car too?”
“Yes, but I do my best singing in the shower.”
He laughed again.
“When do you do your best singing, Carter?”
“Well, I can tell you about when I did my worst.”
She angled her body toward him. “I’m listening.”
“When I was in the seventh grade, I remember my voice dropping in the middle of a choir concert. I wanted to melt into the auditorium risers.”
“Oh no.” She covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stop her laughter.
