All Your Fault

Chapter Eleven

Carter sat across from the counter, his chin in his hand, watching me bake a cake. His jade eyes were focused amiably on me as I beat together the ingredients, I wordlessly handed him the spoon when I was done pouring the batter into the tins. His face lit up and I suppressed a smile that had the corners of my mouth curling.

"Where did you learn to bake?" he asked, his tongue dragging a tantalizing trail through the chocolate, I swallowed as I watched him.

"I didn't." I answered truthfully, "I'm doing this completely on a whim here."

His eyes widened, staring at me, "what?" I asked, wiping the back of my hand nervously over my face.

"You aren't even doing this from a recipe?" he asked.

I shook my head, "No, I saw it on the TV once, and decided to give it a go. How is the batter?"

He grinned, licking his lips, "delicious."

I nodded my head wordlessly and slid the cakes onto the oven racks. I washing out the bowls when two tanned hands grabbed mine, ceasing their motion. I cocked an eyebrow and looked hesitantly up into Carters eyes. A light sprinkle of freckles splayed across his strong aristocratic nose, his bottom lip slightly fuller than the top.

"I like you Kasey." He said softly, my eyes secured on watching his mouth form the words.

I blinked, "oh," I felt like an idiot for not being able to say more.

"Would you go on a date with me? Tomorrow night?" he asked offhandedly.

I looked up in surprise, "y-you want to go on a date with me?" I choked.

He rolled his eyes, "no Kasey I want to go on a date with your cake. Yes you. Tomorrow at seven? Okay I'll pick you up." His head cocked to the side, his eyes vacant.

"Carter?" I nudged his shoulder, he jerked back, suddenly agitated.

"Sorry I have to go. See you tomorrow." He grinned and pecked my cheek.

I flushed, the spot where his lips had been tingled, I stared down at my soapy hands—I, the socially inept loser, had a date. I silently was jumping up and down in my head; the doorbell rang and destroyed my thoughts.

"Jace?" his angry face surprised me.

"Who was just here?" he growled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"None of your business." I snapped, I went to slam the door shut, but his hand shoved it open.

"Was that Carter McAllister?" he asked tonelessly, his arm taught against my futile shoving of the door.

"Again none of your business, what are you doing here? Where's Andrea?" I gave up trying to shut the door.

He ignored my question, "You do know Dorian is going to be furious when he finds this out."

"I don't care about Dorian," I sneered, everything came back to him; as if he didn't have all the money in the world and a first-rate job, "he now has to invade my life for some sick personal satisfaction of ruining it."

He chuckled darkly, "Oh I think otherwise, watch your back girl…you never know who's going to want to take a bite." He turned and strode quickly down the front path.

I watched him go, my lips pressed together, my skin paled—sudden tingles trailed down my spine.

"You never know who's going to want to take a bite."

I wouldn't admit that I was shaken, that the thought of the empty house surrounding me made me shudder. I sat at the counter sipping on a glass of V8 Splash, waiting for the oven to go off. I stared down in my cup, I had a date tomorrow, I've never been on a date.