by Vi Keeland
He looked at me, then the mug, then back to me and tossed his glasses on the desk. “You found me a mug, I see?”
“I did, actually. I went to the dollar store at lunch and picked you up one so you can skip the Styrofoam.”
“That was nice of you.”
I smiled. “No problem. It’s from their off-season seasonal merchandise. Hope you don’t mind a little Christmas spirit in July.” I turned the mug so he could see the picture on the front and focused on his face so I could observe if he had any reaction.
Reed just stared at the caroling boys on the mug for the longest time. Blinking in confusion, it was clear that I’d caught him off guard. Without a hint of laughter coming from him, I knew there was no way that he had planted that list for my amusement. He would’ve gotten the joke if that were the case.
He peered up at me. “Why did you pick this one?”
Uh . . .
Oh no.
I could feel a case of the nervous giggles coming on. Occasionally, when I’m put on the spot, I just laugh. And once it starts creeping in, there is no stopping it from happening.
This was not good.
Rather than answer him, I fell into a fit of laughter that gradually went from slight to hysterical. Tears were forming in my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said as I tried to stop. This went on for almost a minute—me laughing and Reed just watching me incredulously.
He finally asked, “What the hell is so funny about this mug, Charlotte?”
Oh my God.
Either I admit to him that I was snooping and found his bucket list or he’s going to think that I’m making fun of his choir wish.
Never! I would never be so cruel as to laugh at someone’s dreams. I mean, I thought this was a joke on me—that he’d planted that list. Now that I knew it was real, I could never make light of something he truly wished for. My laughter was more about getting caught in a sticky situation. I was laughing at myself . . . but he wouldn’t know that.
There was only one way out. I had to tell the truth.
“I’m sorry. This is a misunderstanding.”
“Care to explain?”
“I . . . stumbled upon your bucket list. The one that you saved on the company server.”
Reed’s expression soured. My heartbeat accelerated in anticipation of his response.
He let out a breath, then said, “It was on the server, yes, but it was in a personal folder, Charlotte.”
“That’s right.”
“You were snooping in my personal files, and this mug is your way of poking fun at what you discovered?”
“No! You have it all wrong. You see . . . I just couldn’t believe that you would be making a bucket list in the first place. You were sort of making fun of me for my own. I didn’t want to have to admit that I’d opened that file, even though I figured that anything on the company server couldn’t be that private, even if marked ‘Personal.’ But I apologize. I was wrong. Anyway, I thought maybe you left the list intentionally for me as a joke. I was trying to gauge your reaction with this mug to see if my suspicions were correct. But it’s become apparent that I was very wrong. I wasn’t laughing because you want to sing—at all. Please know that. I was laughing at the situation I’d gotten myself into. It was nervous laughter. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”
He just sat there staring at me while he took a few sips of coffee from the mug. I caught a hint of a slight smirk. It seemed that he was enjoying watching me sweat.
When he finally spoke, he said, “You’re a real pill, you know that?”
Unleashing the smile I’d been holding back, I said, “So . . . it’s true? You started to make a list because you wanted to? It was real?”
He placed his mug down, then rubbed his temples. His deep brown eyes seared into me when he looked up and said, “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Did I not just say yes?”
Taking a seat in front of him, I crossed my arms and leaned into his desk. “What made you do it?”
“You made some good points, okay? I never said your list was stupid. I never made fun of you for it, either, like you seem to think. So yes, you did motivate me to think about a similar list for myself.”
I got chills. Once again, he was proving that the more sensitive man I’d originally imagined him to be when I’d found the blue note was in there somewhere.
“Wow. That’s so amazing.”
Reed rolled his eyes at my enthusiasm. “The concept of a bucket list is not that amazing.”
“What I mean is . . . I didn’t even think you liked me. Meanwhile . . . I inspired you? That’s so cool.”
He got up out of his seat suddenly, walking to the other side of the room. “Let’s not get carried away.” It looked like he was pretending to sift through files just to avoid this conversation.
“So, I noticed that you only jotted down a few things. Will you tell me why you chose them? Climb a Mountain makes total sense to me. I mean, I would imagine that’s simply exhilarating. But the men’s-choir thing . . . do you sing?”
He let out a deep breath, then turned to me. “I’m not going to get out of this question, am I?”
“Not a chance.”
Reed returned to his seat at the desk and downed the rest of his coffee. “Yes, Charlotte. I sing. Or rather, I sang . . . when I was younger. But my teenage ego stepped in, and I abandoned the hobby. I’d prefer not to get into it in great detail, except to say that the image on this little mug here pretty much sums it up . . . scarily so. If you ever want to hear about my singing, Iris will be happy to tell you all about it. She has quite a few cassette tapes of it as well that she’s been known to threaten me with.”
“Really? I’m definitely going to ask her about it.”
“Great.”
“You know . . .” I smiled. “A bucket list is useless if you don’t actually attempt to take action. Let me help you arrange one or two of these things.”
“I’m all set.”
“Everyone needs motivation. I can help you follow through. We can sort of be like bucket buddies . . . or in my case, fuck-it buddies.”
That sort of sounded bad—like “fuck buddies.” Sweat started to permeate my forehead.
“Why would you even want to bother, Charlotte? What’s the catch here?”
“There is none. Well, I suppose the catch is, you have to help keep me on track with my own goals. We can be each other’s cheer captains.”
He bent his head back in laughter. “Okay, let’s calm down a bit.”
“Will you at least consider letting me help you? I mean, you employ me. Why not take advantage of me?”
His voice lowered, causing my skin to prickle. “You want me to take advantage of you?”
Iris walked in at that inopportune moment.
She clasped her hands together and smiled gleefully. “Ohhh . . . glad to see you two are finally getting along.”
Clearing my throat, I said, “Hello, Iris.”
She addressed Reed. “I just heard about this car accident out in the Hamptons. You never told me about it. What happened, exactly?”
“Charlotte tried to save a squirrel and set off a chain-reaction crash.”
“Well, that was very noble of you, Charlotte.”
“What can I say? Someone needs to look out for them. The squirrels love me for it.” I shrugged, then moved on to a more pressing topic. “Iris, is it true that Reed used to sing?”
My question seemed to surprise her. “Why yes, it is, but I can’t believe he admitted that to you. Reed’s pretty secretive about it.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “He had the most beautiful voice, a perfect tenor. I would have funded any musical education he wanted. Such a shame that he didn’t continue.”
Reed was quick to change the subject. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Grandmother?”
“Actually, I was hoping to catch Charlotte before she left for the day. I’ve decided to move the annual company summer party to the
house in Bedford, so I’ll need her help making some of the arrangements.”
Even though she lived in Manhattan, Iris kept a family home in the suburbs. It was where the Eastwoods and Locklears had large family gatherings, and where they celebrated the holidays. Reed’s parents also lived there part of the year when they weren’t traveling the world. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Eastwood had decided to retire early down in Florida and enjoy their lives a bit, whereas Iris was too much of a workhorse to ever pass off her responsibilities at the company to someone else.
“I thought we were renting a venue in the city for that this year,” Reed said.
“I decided against it. The Bedford estate worked really well the past couple of years. We’ll need to rent some large white tents and work on moving the caterer. Jared will also be in town that weekend, so it’s perfect timing.”
I looked at her. “Jared?”
“My grandnephew from London—my sister’s grandson. He’s only visited the States a couple of times, so I’m going to actually be relying on you quite a bit during his stay, Charlotte, to make sure he’s well cared for.”
Reed didn’t seem to like that idea. He grumbled, “Why does Jared need a babysitter?”
“He doesn’t. I just thought he and Charlotte would get along well. She could show him around the city, take him to the hip places—you know, wherever young people go these days.”
“I’ll be happy to show Jared all of my favorite haunts.”
“Thank you, dear. I’m certain Jared will love that. Don’t you think, Reed?”
I kept waiting for a response from him, but Reed offered nothing but a death stare aimed at Iris.
CHAPTER 13
REED
My grandmother was really pushing it.
Jared Johansen was one of London’s most notorious bachelors; Iris knew that when she decided to pawn him off on Blondie. This was entirely about getting me worked up and had nothing to do with his suitability for Charlotte.
Jared was a commodities broker by day and a playboy by night. With a penchant for fast cars and even faster women, there was no way he was going to let an opportunity to sack a beauty like Charlotte pass. One look at her striking, curious eyes and killer body, and he’d quickly see her as the perfect summer catch. My only hope was that she could see through his façade.
It had been a few years since he’d last visited the United States, but Jared was more than capable of finding his way around New York City. Iris was playing games, trying to once again light a fire under my ass when it came to Charlotte. But I refused to play along.
During the afternoon that Jared arrived, I kept a low profile the entire time he and Charlotte were gallivanting around. And by low profile, I mean following Charlotte’s social media for a virtual map of their whereabouts, which included stops at the Museum of Modern Art’s Pottery Exhibit and Magnolia Bakery for cupcakes.
I hated that I cared, that I was attracted to her. I hated that she made me feel more alive than I had in a long time. But most of all, I hated the fact that Charlotte was probably still better off with that philandering cousin of mine than she would be with me. That hurt to admit. But it was the truth. He’d be able to give her towheaded little children and the life she deserved someday.
As much as I wished I could skip the party, the Eastwood/Locklear summer event wasn’t something I could just blow off. Believe me, I searched for a way out of it, but bailing was kind of hard when you owned the company. I was not only expected to be there and smiling but also to give a speech and pass out employee appreciation awards later in the evening. My grandmother had delegated the latter task to me a few years ago because, in her words, I was the best speaker in the family. It was the one night of the year that I schmoozed with my employees, and that made for one mentally exhausting evening. Add Charlotte and Jared to the mix, and I was definitely eager for the night to be over before it even started.
I lingered in the upstairs master bedroom of my family’s estate for as long as possible, looking down on the festivities. Five gigantic tents were spread about the massive front lawn while a jazz band played live music. Guests mingled at sunset while waiters passed out hors d’oeuvres. Fiddling with my watch, I gave myself a mental kick in the ass and ventured downstairs to face the music.
Charlotte and Jared were at the bar. She was playing with the thin red straw in her cosmo. Jared was using the loud music as an excuse to lean in to her ear while talking. I knew that trick. It was just an excuse to get close to her. He was practically sucking her ear off with every word.
Turning a blind eye, I walked past them and over to a group of employees to make small talk.
After finishing my obligatory speech, I kept moving around the lawn, making the rounds so that I could get to that point where I could just drink without having to worry about talking to anyone else. Every time my eyes would wander over to Charlotte, I’d notice that she was looking right at me. In fact, she didn’t seem very into whatever Jared was saying at all.
Max interrupted my thoughts when he snuck up behind me. “Goldilocks looks bored as fuck.” He handed me a vodka on the rocks.
“Well, she’s not exactly eating up the bullshit porridge Jared is trying to feed her, thankfully.”
“What was Grandmother thinking anyway—sending her out with him today?”
I squinted at my brother. “I’m surprised you even know what’s going on around here. I haven’t seen you in days.”
“I follow her on Insta,” he said.
“I should’ve known.”
“Anyway, it pisses me off.”
I suddenly wanted to punch him. “I didn’t realize you had such a vested interest in Charlotte.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting to know her better.” He must have seen the anger in my eyes. “Why do you look like you’re ready to kill me right now?”
“What are you talking about?”
“As soon as I said I was interested in her, your face did a one-eighty. Is there something you want to tell me?”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you about our nonfraternization policy,” I said, downing the vodka.
“We don’t have a nonfraternization policy.”
“We do now.”
With a smug grin, I handed him my glass and promptly walked away before he could push me any further into an awkward conversation in which I forbade him from going near Charlotte without a rational explanation. My feelings were complex, and Max was beginning to figure out my interest in her. That was a subject I didn’t want to have to get into with him, especially when Charlotte wasn’t someone I could seriously pursue.
It was apparent I was going in the wrong direction because Charlotte was making her way toward me.
“Eastwood, is it just my imagination, or have you said hello to everyone here tonight but me?”
I hadn’t realized my actions were so obvious. “You tell me, since you’ve been watching me all night.”
“Hello, by the way,” she said.
“Hi.” Clearing my throat, I said, “How was your day?”
“Busy.”
“Yeah? Stuffing your face with cupcakes can be pretty tiring.”
“How do you know about that?” She snapped her fingers. “Ah . . . you were on my Instagram page.”
“Well, it’s public, unlike—oh, I don’t know—sifting through someone’s personal files.”
Charlotte laughed. “You’re a stalker.”
“Takes one to know one, I suppose.”
Jared interrupted us. “Cousin! Good to see you.”
With his blond hair, blue eyes, and tall stature, Jared was decent-looking. I wished that weren’t the case.
“Jared.” I spoke through gritted teeth. “Long time no see. How’s your trip so far?”
“Brilliant. Charlotte here took real good care of me today.”
You wish.
Jared turned to her, practically undressing her with his eyes. “Let’s dance, shall we?”
Pissed off, I
started to walk away. “I’ll let you two be.”
She placed her hand on my arm to stop me. “Wait. You said we were going to discuss that business thing.”
Is she winking at me?
Charlotte Darling was apparently trying to use me to get out of dancing with Jared. That pleased me despite understanding that feeling that way would be to my own detriment.
I decided to fuck with her. “Oh yes. Project Squirrel. That’s right. We were going to meet about that.”
Jared looked perplexed. “A business meeting now?”
Charlotte wasted no time elaborating. “Just something we need to discuss before tomorrow. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Iris has been fancying another dance with me anyway. I’ll catch you in a bit, Charl.”
When Jared was out of earshot, she looked at me. “I hate when he calls me ‘Charl.’ Thank you for going along with that. I just needed to get away from him for a bit. I suspect he thinks something’s going to happen between us just because I’ve been nice to him, but he’s sorely mistaken. I don’t want to insult your grandmother, but I don’t date guys whose nails are better manicured than mine. Not to mention, all he does is talk about his cars and his gigantic garage back in England. I couldn’t care less.”
And just like that, Charlotte went up another notch on the respectometer.
Pausing to really take her in, I inhaled deeply to squelch the ache in my chest. Charlotte looked simply breathtaking under the outdoor lighting and starry night sky. She was wearing a pale-pink dress that was not too much darker than her skin. With her hair up, she reminded me of a ballet dancer—with a belly-dancer body. That dress did nothing to hide Charlotte’s killer curves.
I should’ve just walked away. Instead, my eyes fell to her cleavage before the words exited my mouth. “Can I get you another drink?”
“I would love one.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I flashed a mischievous grin that stayed glued to my face the entire walk to the bar.