Charity Case: The Complete Series

by Piper Rayne

  “Dean…”

  His smile only grows.

  “Time’s a-tickin’,” I say.

  He tips his head and sits up, placing his cup on the coffee table and resting his forearms on his thighs. “You’re right.”

  His eyes dip to the rug on the floor. His fingers clasp together. Then having pieced the words together his eyes lock with mine.

  “I know sorry isn’t enough, but I am. I could give you some excuse, but I’m not going to because no matter the shit I was going through you should’ve been my number one priority.”

  “I know what you were going through. I tried to help.” I can’t help it. I sound bitter.

  He shakes his head. “You couldn’t have. It wasn’t you, it was me. Besides you were dealing with your own shit and I wasn’t there for you.”

  He better not want to talk about that because I’m not going there with him.

  “Chels, I fucked this up and I know it’s a shit-ton to ask, but will you give me a second chance?”

  My heart rises in my throat and lodges there. It begs me to let it do the speaking for us. Fuck that. I push it back down, rise to my feet and disappear into the kitchen.

  “Should I not follow you?” he asks without an ounce of sarcasm.

  “Just give me one minute.” My hands grip the counter edge, I lean forward, shutting my eyes, trying to compose myself.

  Why did I let him in? That DVD is getting destroyed as soon as he leaves.

  “Chels?” he calls out after a minute. “I’m coming in.” He’s already at the small opening into my kitchen. That’s how small my place is, but it’s cozy and homey and I love it despite the size. It’s mine and I paid for it. “I’m not trying to upset you,” he says in a soft voice.

  I circle around, my back on the edge of the counter. “I don’t know if I can answer you.”

  “Fair enough.” He steps in and the room shrinks. His one hand lands next to my hip, but he doesn’t break the distance further. Instead, he hovers over me. “Being indecisive is a maybe, right?”

  The one corner of his lips tick up.

  I say nothing because I’m conflicted, but unlike him, I’m not going to give him hope if there really is none.

  “What are you thinking? That we just head to Vegas and get married again? Give this a go around once more?” I break away from him, walking into my family room. “Do you honestly expect me to say yes? It’s been five years. Where the hell have you been?”

  There was a time I would’ve died to hear him say those words to me.

  He follows but stays against the wall to keep his distance. “I had to get myself right.”

  “Why me? Go find some new girl.” I wrap my arms around myself.

  “You’re kidding, right? It’s always been you, Chels. Always. I don’t want anyone else. Never have.”

  “I’m a bitch.”

  “You are.” There’s not one ounce of humor in his tone.

  My head whips around.

  He shrugs. “I’m not gonna lie. You can be difficult sometimes, but it’s something I love about you. I don’t want some woman who’s going to have my favorite dinner on the table at five o’clock when I get home. Someone who lets me watch whatever I want on television without a fight. I want someone with their own dreams, their own thoughts and opinions. Because you’re not really a bitch, Chels, you’re a fighter.”

  I swallow down the words that wanted to go after him.

  “I love our banter, I love the way you don’t let me get away with jack shit.”

  “You didn’t like it once upon a time.” I cock my hip and put a hand on my waist.

  “Once upon a time I was an asshole.”

  “And that’s changed now?”

  He chuckles to himself like he’s living his fucking dream life right now. “It hasn’t. I’m not making a promise of lifting the toilet seat, washing my dishes, and doing laundry. Truth is, I might just let a t-shirt miss the hamper just to piss you off, because when you fight with me Chelsea, it means you care, that you love me.”

  The room grows quiet, me remembering when I lost the will to fight. When I didn’t care about unmade beds or dirty dishes. When I was so mentally exhausted, I gave up. But he’s wrong, the love was still there. Maybe buried really, really deep, but the part of me that would never admit to it was there.

  “I’ll tell you what?” he asks, pushing off the wall. “Hannah’s party next weekend...let me take you.”

  Hannah’s hosting a get together for all the people who are involved, even indirectly, in RISE. As a thank you of sorts.

  When I don’t say anything, he continues to talk. “Just as an escort. Nothing more.”

  “You can meet me there.” I cross my arms again and realize I have no bra on, so I quickly let them hang back down at my sides.

  “Not a chance. You’ll have your friends there, but I want to pick you up and bring you home. You gotta see that’s a small start. I’m not asking for dinner or drinks. Just a car ride together in an Uber.”

  He approaches me, and I step back, needing space to think this through.

  Hannah’s party is at her penthouse in the city and it shouldn’t take long to get there.

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Not exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. Pick you up at six.” He steps toward me one more time, but I place my hand out in front of me.

  “Not happening.”

  He nods. “What about Ann Sathers tomorrow?”

  “We already hashed this out.”

  “I kind of wanted the cinnamon rolls and you know I hate dining alone.”

  “Order it and pick it up.” I walk to my door opening it for him.

  “My time is up I see.”

  “You got more time than you deserve.” Truth is I don’t want him to go, but I can’t let him think he can walk all over me.

  “Kiss?”

  “NO!” I screech.

  He laughs and his hand slides over my hip as he leans in and places his lips on my cheek. Shivers run along my body.

  “Goodnight, Dean.”

  He winks and steps out the door. “Oh, Chels?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you enjoy Rambo?” he winks.

  Shit. I forgot the movie case was sitting on my table.

  I slam the door in his face before he sees how pink mine is.

  Sitting back down on the couch, I pull the box of donuts onto my lap and take a big bite of one, then gulp down the chocolate milk, leaving the McDonalds alone.

  He’s already under my skin. I cannot let him get under my panties.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’m sorry, what?” Victoria asks, sitting next to me at Torrio’s Table, the speakeasy Hannah is a member of.

  “We talked.”

  “In other words, you hashed your shit out?” She’s looking at me like she’s waiting for me to tell her she may have been right.

  “Yeah, and now the bastard wants a second chance.” I run my finger across the condensation on the outside of my drink while Victoria and Hannah exchange a look.

  This is our regular Monday night at Torrio’s that Hannah now insists we have. Usually it keeps me going through the Monday morning gloom, but not when the subject of our conversation is me. Especially when it’s me and Dean.

  “Stop it.” I sip my vesper. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “So, you agreed to a second chance?” Hannah asks, her words poised and elegant. A few men walk by and wave to her.

  She could have her pick of any of these successful men and sometimes I wonder if she comes here by herself and hooks up on nights when we’re not with her. She doesn’t seem the type, but I would if I were her.

  “I agreed to let him take me to your party.” I point a finger in her direction. “Which, by the way, thanks a lot for inviting him.”

  “He’s our tax attorney.” She holds her hands up in the air. “You told me to keep him on. So turn that finger back around and point at yoursel
f.”

  Victoria laughs, sipping her drink, then pulls out her phone and checks it—again.

  “I’m going to take that phone and drop it in your drink,” I say.

  She crinkles her eyes at me. “Reed was getting Jade after school. I just want to make sure everything is all right.”

  “You’re worried that Reed, Mr. Responsible, is going to forget your daughter or what…let her take up knife throwing as a hobby?” My sarcasm is thick. “That’s the least of your worries.”

  She shrugs. “Hey, I’ve been a single mom for a long time, it’s hard to put trust into people where Jade is concerned.” Her voice has an edge. A mama bear edge I’m not going to poke around for fear of getting cut.

  “Fair enough.”

  She straightens her shoulders, leaving her phone in her lap, seemingly pleased with herself for putting me in my place.

  “Don’t try to detour this conversation. You’re in the hot seat, Chelsea.” Hannah smiles, sipping her drink as her gaze slides around the room.

  “I think we should talk about the fact you’re searching for the silver fox,” I say smugly.

  Hannah coughs, almost spitting out her drink. Almost, but she doesn’t. I can’t help but think Hannah attended an etiquette school when she was younger and would never let such a thing happen. She’s always the epitome of poised perfection—unless we’re talking about her ex-husband’s divorce attorney.

  “I just don’t want him to ruin my night.” Flush warms her cheeks and now it’s me and Victoria sharing the look.

  “Don’t you dare.” She waggles her finger between the two of us. “I loathe Roarke Baldwin. He got my husband way more than that cheating asshole deserved.”

  We nod because it’s hard to argue with Hannah, she’s stubborn and defiant and even if she ever sleeps with the silver fox, she’d probably deny it.

  “We know.” Victoria takes on the mother role, patting Hannah’s hand with her own. “That brings us back around to you.” She whips her head in my direction and smiles.

  I narrow my eyes to slits and then roll them to the back of my head.

  “Come on. If you still want him, admit it,” Victoria pries.

  With a sigh, I decide to lay my cards on the table. “Truth is, I do want him. I want him over me and under me and behind me until he’s out of my system. But I do not want a husband, especially the one I threw back into the proverbial sea five years ago.”

  While I sip my drink, I glance over to the men in this place rather than take in the expressions on my friend’s faces. They’re probably sharing that ‘she’s lying to herself’ look, but they don’t understand. How could they when I’ve never told them everything that went down between us?

  “Listen. Our marriage was hot, spontaneous, and reckless. Why do you think I love bad boys? He’s the king of them, but I never wanted to change him. I loved his ragged edges. I loved his sexual thirst that had me in more positions than I knew existed as a college freshman. I loved that every girl wanted him, but he was mine. I loved how protective he was over me. But I was naive. I was young and stupid. I actually believed that I met the man I was destined for at eighteen. The problem with bad boys, they might be protective of you and piss around you like you’re their property, but they don’t put you first. Not really.” I swallow down my emotions that are now a hard lump in my throat before I finish. “The reason this is so hard is because even though a part of me does want him, I will never let him hurt me again, which means I’ll never open up to him and we don’t really stand a chance.”

  Hannah reaches over, placing her hand on mine. Victoria puts hers on top of Hannah’s.

  “Honey, I hate to say this, but I think you still love him. And I think that if you let him in, you’ll fall harder. He could very well have changed. I mean, he sought you out. That’s romantic. He found a way that you’d have to interact with him because he knows you, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy. We don’t know everything you went through and even if you told us we wouldn’t truly understand. It wasn’t us who experienced it, so it’s unfair for us to tell you to put your heart on the line again for a man who hurt you so deeply.” She glances over to Victoria. “Victoria knows how hard it is to trust another man, let alone the same man who caused the damage in the first place.”

  Victoria nods, her eyes telling me it will all be okay, look at how things turned out for her. Hello, am I the only one who realizes she scored the one in a million jackpot in this world?

  Hannah continues, “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that hope hasn’t already sprung inside you. Just protect yourself. Have your eyes wide open.”

  “Protect yourself but try to be optimistic. People do change, Chels,” Victoria adds.

  Where was Miss Optimistic when Reed was trying time and time again to get her to date him? I never told her to give him a chance. Or did I? I don’t remember.

  “Thanks for the therapy session girls, I’ll go home and write in my diary now.” I down the rest of my Vesper.

  Their hands leave mine and they slide their backs to the booth once more.

  Hannah raises her hand to the cute waiter who is probably no more than twenty-one years old.

  “You know I’m surprised they don’t have women as the waitresses. I mean all the patrons are mostly men,” I say.

  Victoria looks around and nods in agreement with me. “Maybe they keep him especially for us.” She smiles, looking him up and down as he approaches the table with a round of shots.

  “Ladies,” he says in that flirtatious tone he’s probably trained to use.

  We thank him, and he places the shots on the table and leaves. Probably something else he was trained to do. Not linger. Women usually like a challenge.

  “Hannah, I think I need Tad’s help again,” I say, referring to her best friend/personal trainer who whipped us into shape when Victoria started seeing Reed.

  She laughs.

  “Are you sure? Remember what happened to me?” Victoria asks.

  Yeah, yeah, but she’s a weakling.

  “I’ll give him a call,” Hannah says. “Do you want to cleanse again or are you going to work out?”

  “Probably a little of both,” I say.

  “Consider it done.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  “We’re really not going to say anything about her getting in shape for Dean to see her naked?” Victoria asks. “I was open about my insecurity.”

  Victoria sounds offended and so I laugh.

  “I’m getting in shape for me.” I pick up my shot.

  “Chelsea, you work out five days a week. It’s all we could do to get you out here.” Victoria raises her newly done eyebrows.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little tender loving care,” I say with a smirk.

  They each pick up their glasses and we raise them.

  “To Chelsea finally getting some.” Hannah smiles and they push their glasses to mine to clink.

  They down their shots while I’m still holding mine out.

  “Oh, just drink it.” Hannah shakes her head. “Who the hell cares? I’m not getting any on the regular, but my pussy is waxed in case the opportunity presents itself.”

  A man who was walking by stops and looks over his shoulder at Hannah.

  “Keep walking. Not interested,” she says, and he does what she instructs and continues to the other side of the bar.

  I’m still getting over the fact that Hannah just said the word pussy out loud.

  “Nothing wrong with looking your best on the off chance,” Victoria says.

  “Off chance there’s a silver fox around?” I ask.

  “Hey now, I’m being nice. If you want to see me angry, keep talking about that man.” Hannah is kind of scary when we bring up the silver fox.

  “Nope. I’m good.” I raise my hands in a placating gesture.

  “Thought so.” She goes back to drinking her Vesper.

  For the rest of the night, we talk about RISE and the gala, Hannah�
�s party and how she hired a planner to take care of most of the details. I swear the woman must roll around in cash. I can’t even imagine living her life.

  It isn’t until my phone chimes that I realize it’s so late.

  Minute Man: Can I swindle lunch with you tomorrow?

  Hannah and Victoria are chatting about the renovations her and Reed are planning for their Barbie dream house.

  Me: No.

  Minute Man: Promise to keep my hands to myself.

  Me: No.

  Minute Man: I remember you being much more accommodating.

  Me: And I remember you being much less irritating.

  Minute Man: Want to make a new Rambo DVD and see how much endurance I really have?

  Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  Minute Man: I’ll keep your secret if you go to lunch with me.

  Me: It’s your secret, too.

  Minute Man: It’s some of my finest work…I’d be happy to show it off.

  Me: You’re bluffing.

  Minute Man: Try me. I keep my copy in a Steel Magnolias case.

  I laugh.

  “Who is that?” Hannah asks.

  I lift my head and they both smile, again sharing that damn look, so I return my attention to my phone.

  Me: When was the last time you watched it?

  Minute Man: Last night.

  An eruption of butterflies fills my stomach.

  Minute Man: I must say, I’m an awesome partner.

  Me: Excuse me?

  Minute Man: Oh, you stole the show, baby. No doubt about that.

  The butterflies slow like they’re flitting through molasses and a wave of warmth runs from my head to my toes.

  Me: I’m not sure I like you having a copy.

  Minute Man: Technically, it’s mine. You have the copy.

  He’s kind of got me there.

  Me: I thought you turned off the camera?

  Minute Man: Aren’t you glad I didn’t ;) Then you would’ve forgotten how I rock your world.

  Me: You’re okay.