Carter's War - 15. Chapter 15

The rain was hammering down; Marc looked at it as he came out of the shower toweling off his hair, feeling so much better for being clean. He'd had a great lunch, enjoyed the time he had spent with Will; it was exhilarating meeting someone who didn't judge, and didn't seem to care who he was. Even if he was a bit too prim and proper.

Marc slipped on a pair of boxer shorts, hopping a little to get into them as he ducked into the small kitchenette, poking about in the cupboards for something to cook for supper. He shouldn't be feeling hungry after the huge buffet that afternoon, but then he was always hungry.

Mashed potatoes, he thought as he dug some ground beef out of the small bar fridge that was tucked under the counter; banging it out into the pan to brown he grabbed a couple of potatoes and began to peel them.

Maybe he could corrupt Will a little bit; that made him smile, nothing too serious, maybe a smoking habit? Will was just too good, straight-laced and uptight; getting him to relax would be a great challenge and maybe a rewarding one.

Marc plopped another peeled potato into the bowl, staring up at the window with the rain streaking down it.

Maybe if he took Will to a rave? That had so much humour potential there that Marc couldn't help but laugh; small steps. Maybe a nightclub dancing first, or maybe a party, there were always plenty of those in town. Will was handsome--he needed to fix his hair, maybe lose the glasses--but there was no question about how attractive a confident man like that was. It had been those confident eyes that had attracted Marc in the first place. Something about the way he kept his head held high when everyone else looked at the pavement.

Wow, Marc was really over-thinking this; he grinned sheepishly as he reached for the potato masher and began to push down on the potatoes. He looked down at them in disgruntlement at their refusal to mash and wondered what he was doing wrong. Not that he was the world's greatest cook or anything, but even a complete moron could cook mashed potatoes...

"What are you doing?" Libbet startled him as he spun in surprise knocking over the bowl of potatoes as they rolled across the counter.

"I was making mashed potatoes..." Marc said looking at Libbet standing in the doorway to the house, dripping wet. His heart sank and the smile on his face became forced, guilt and a wave of emotion crushing his mood instantly.

She picked up the potato and rapped it on the counter. "You do know you're supposed to cook them first," she said with a smile as she walked to the small bathroom and pulled a towel out to dry her hair. "You looked like you were having fun."

"Oh," he said catching his breath as he turned back to the ground beef that was now so brown it was turning black. "You hungry?" he asked, poking it hopefully.

"Uh-huh," she nodded as she wandered back into the kitchen still towelling off her hair. "Starving."

Marc gave her a weak smile as she looked at him in his underwear cooking, "You caught me...umm..."

"I figured that out myself." She gave him a beautiful smile, "My daddy is hosting a big party at the house a week on Saturday, you'll take me, right?"

Marc nodded slowly as he began to chop vegetables, "Sure, but I don't have anything to wear..."

She smiled, "You can borrow one of my brother's ties and wear that jean jacket of yours..."

"But won't it be all dressy?" he asked.

She shook her head, "No, he's inviting a bunch of his employees and their families; he does it every time he hosts a party. There will be a bunch of people there our age." She looked pleadingly at him.

He sighed, feeling that tightness that always formed in his stomach, "Yeah, I'll go with you." And as she returned to the bathroom, he sat staring at the rain splattering the windowpane mirroring his mood.

He thought back to Will, and closed his eyes, there was no way he could hurt Libbet. Any relationship he tried to start would only end up hurting her. He wandered over to his jacket and pulled out Will's number; screwing it up into a tight ball he tossed it into the garbage and went back to preparing dinner. He didn't deserve happiness anyway.