We left Vegas at two thirty, and we landed at four thirty, so we made good time. And, now, I have three days off, which also means three days alone with Charly at my house. I can’t deny that I’m looking forward to being free about our relationship here.
“Hey, Dad.” I walk over to him.
He’s standing by my car. He puts out his cigar. He thinks my mom doesn’t know he smokes them.
I put my bag down and hug him. It’s been a while since I last saw him. A few months at least.
“Good to see you, son.” He hugs me, patting my back. “How was your flight?”
“Good.” I smile, stepping back. “Dad, this is Charly.”
She’s lingering back a little and steps forward when I introduce her.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” She waves.
God, she’s cute.
My dad smiles at her. “Call me Anthony. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Charly. You’ve stopped my daughter from canceling her wedding, which has cost me thousands of dollars, so you’re my new favorite person.”
“Oh.” She blushes. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” He opens up the trunk of my car and picks my bag up, putting it in.
I take Charly’s bag and the garment bag containing my sister’s wedding dress from her. She didn’t let me carry it at all on the way here. I kid you not; it had its own seat on the plane, next to her. I was relegated to sitting across from her the whole way here, which wasn’t too bad, because the view was pretty as hell.
“It was real good of you to fix Sasha’s dress on such short notice.”
“Oh, it was no problem.” She waves him off, her face reddening further.
I open the back passenger door for her, and she climbs inside.
“You driving or me?” Dad asks, closing the trunk as I shut Charly’s door.
“I’ll drive.”
He tosses me the keys, and I go around to the driver’s side. Climbing in, I buckle up.
“Nice car,” Charly muses as my dad climbs in. “Yours?”
“Yep,” I answer, smiling, as I start my car. She purrs like a kitten.
My Range Rover Sport is top of the line. She cost a pretty penny. I bought her a year ago when my Dodge pickup had seen her final days. I love this car, and I don’t get to drive her too often.
“So, your mom’s stocked up your fridge. Steaks, chicken breasts, pork chops, sausages, and God knows what else,” he tells me. “She went a little crazy at the store.”
“She does realize I’m home for only three days, right?” I chuckle, pulling out of the parking space and heading for the exit.
“You know your mother. She likes to make sure you’re well fed when you’re home.”
“Well, considering I eat mostly at your house, Jester’s gonna be in meat for weeks. How is Jester? Still in the doghouse?”
“Sasha still hasn’t forgiven him, but hopefully, when she sees her dress—thanks to Charly here—it will put him back in her good graces.”
I glance at Charly in my rearview mirror to see her blushing again.
She’s being oddly quiet.
Maybe she’s just nervous about meeting my dad. Feeling a little out of her element. Once she gets to my parents’ house, she won’t have time to feel shy. Not with the women in my family.
I drive the usual route on the OR 66, heading west, soaking up the greenery of home.
I can feel the dirt of Hollywood falling away from me and the clean of Oregon seeping into my pores.
Charly starts to chat a little more on the drive, asking questions about the place I call home.
She seems enthralled by the roaming fields and greenery that sit off the highway.
We cross the bridge over Klamath River into Keno, and I’m home.
I drive past my old elementary school.
“Is that where you went?” Charly asks.
“Yeah.” I smile.
“Looks like a nice school,” she observes.
I wonder what her school was like back in Philadelphia.
“So, where are you from, Charly?” my dad asks.
“Philadelphia originally. But New York is home now.”
I know the question is coming, but I can’t stop it.
“And your family? They still back in Philly?”
“No, sir.” She clears her throat. “I was raised by my grandma, but she passed years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” my dad says.
“Thank you,” she says politely.
I glance back at her in my rearview, but she’s not looking my way, her eyes on the window. Something pulls in my chest for her. Protectiveness. I feel like I should’ve protected her from my dad’s innocent questioning.
I’ve never felt this protective over a woman before.
Maybe it’s because Charly was dealt such a bad hand in life, and I was raised with a great family.
Or maybe it’s just because I’m crazy about her.
I turn on the long drive, taking me up to my parents’ house.
When I pull up outside, Jester, the dress destroyer, comes bounding up to the car, attacking me the moment I step out of the car.
“Hey, buddy.” I crouch down, picking him up, and he covers my face in sloppy licks.
Charly comes over, scratching Jester’s ear. “So, this is the little man who caused all the problems.”
The moment he sees her, I’m totally forgotten about. He all but leaps into her arms and starts smothering her in doggie kisses.
She laughs, scratching his ear, and he’s putty in her hands.
I know how you feel, bud.
“I’ll get the dress,” Dad says.
“Oh, can I?” Charly says, putting Jester down. He’s at her feet, following her to the trunk of the car. “No offense,” she says to my dad, “but I wanted to give this to Sasha. When I do a job, I like to be the one to deliver it.”
“No worries.” My dad winks at her, handing the garment bag over.
He shuts the trunk, leaving our bags in there, as we’ll be driving over to my house soon.
“Now, Jester, no chewing on this dress again, do you hear me? It took me a long time to fix it after your last playtime with it,” she chats away to Jester as we walk up the steps of the porch, making me smile.
Jester is just trailing along behind her, gazing up at her, like a puppy in love.
“We’re home,” Dad calls out as we step through the door.
My mom comes bustling out of the kitchen. “Vaughn!” she calls, walking toward me, arms outstretched for a hug.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, stepping into her hug.
“Missed you.” She kisses my cheek and then cups it, leaning back to look me in the face.
“Missed you, too,” I tell her.
“You look good, baby. Really good.”
That’s a change from what I get every time I come home. I usually get the spiel that moms generally give once you’ve left home. You look tired. Are you eating properly? Sleeping enough? It’s probably thanks to all the sex I’ve been having with that little vixen back there, but I’m not going to say that to my mom.
Her eyes move past me to Charly.
“Charly!” my mom greets her like a long-lost friend. “I’m Everly, Vaughn’s mom, but everyone calls me Evie. Is this it?”
Charly looks down at the garment bag hanging over her arm. “Oh, yeah,” she says almost shyly.
“Oh, wonderful! You’re our lifesaver, Charly! Come here.” My mom bundles Charly into a hug.
I see Charly freeze the instant my mom’s arms go around her, and then she slowly puts her one free arm around my mom, hugging her back.
I know Charly has issues with hugging. I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s from a lack of affection growing up; she told me her grandmother wasn’t that loving. I’m not going to question her about it. She’ll tell me if she wants to. But that’s why I make sure to hug her as often as possible—for all the years she wasn’t hugged.
“W
here are Gran, Meg, and Sasha?” I ask Mom.
“Meg’s in town, running some errands. She’ll be back soon. Sasha’s out back, and your gran is in the kitchen.”
“No, I’m not. I’m here.”
I turn at the sound of my grandma’s voice.
I love all of my family, but my gran is just that little bit more special. She’s impossible not to adore. She’s outspoken, a bit crazy, and fucking awesome. Kind of like Charly.
“Hey, Gran.” I go over and kiss her cheek.
“I’ll go let Sasha know you’re here,” my mom says before disappearing off.
“I’m going back to work,” my dad tells us.
I watch him go out the front door, and I’m just about to introduce Charly to my grandma, but I don’t get a chance.
“So, Charly, are you sleeping with my grandson?”
My head snaps back to Gran. “Jesus Christ, Gran!”
“Don’t curse, Vaughn Anthony West.” She directs a look my way. “And how many times have I told you to call me Phoebe? Calling me Gran makes me sound old.”
“You are old. You’re eighty. You’ve got three grandkids and four great-grandkids.”
“And I would have five great-grandkids if you’d get your ass in gear and give me a grandson who’ll carry on your granddaddy’s name.”
I groan, rolling my eyes. Like I haven’t heard that before.
“And,” she emphasizes, “you’re as old as the man you’re feeling, so according to that, I’m seventy.”
“Jesus.” I groan briefly, closing my eyes in disgust. “I just threw up in my mouth.”
She rolls her eyes at me. My eighty-year-old grandmother rolls her eyes at me.
Charly laughs.
“So, are you sleeping with my grandson?” she asks Charly again.
Charly glances at me and then looks at my grandma. “Define sleeping,” she says with a curve of her lips.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Just when I think I’ve got Charly pegged, she does something to surprise me.
My grandma hoots out a laugh. “I like this girl, Vaughn. I think we should keep her. Now, come get a drink with me, honey. Do you like Long Island iced teas? Because I just learned how to make them. I bought this cocktail-making kit, and I’ve been making all the cocktails from the book that came with it.”
“How far through the book are you?” Charly asks her.
“Oh, I’ve already made them all. I’m on my second trip through it.”
Charly giggles, and my gran laughs.
And I watch them walk away. Charly tosses me a smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with Gran and Jester at her heel. I’m left wondering what the hell just happened and why exactly I am turned on right now.
You’re a sick man, West. A sick, sick man.
I follow them into the kitchen. Gran already has a cocktail in Charly’s hand, and she’s finally put the garment bag down, hanging it over the back of one of the kitchen stools at the breakfast bar.
I watch her take a sip.
“Ooh, this is really good,” she tells my gran. “Try this, Vaughn. It’s delicious.”
She hands me the glass, and I take a sip. She’s right; it’s good.
“You’ll have to get a job as a bartender, Gran,” I tell her.
She pours me out a glass and hands it over. Apparently, we’re drinking early today in the West household.
“You’re here! Can I see?” Sasha comes bursting into the kitchen from the back door, advancing on Charly like she’s known her forever.
My family is a friendly bunch.
“Sasha?” Charly checks.
“And you’re Charly! God, Mom was right. You’re gorgeous! What are you doing with my little dweeb of a brother?”
“Dweeb? Um, what the fuck?” I frown.
“Language!” my mom and gran scold at the same time.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “But, um, Glamour’s Hottest Guy of 2016 right here,” I say to Sasha, pointing a finger at myself.
She ignores me and turns back to Charly. “A stunner like you could pull Brad Pitt.”
“Brad Pitt’s old!” I scoff. “He’s well over fifty.”
Amazing actor though.
Sasha throws me a dirty look. “Brad Pitt is hot. He’s a hot older man. No way will you look that good when you’re fifty.”
“Love you, too, sis.” I scratch my forehead with my middle finger.
“Right back at you, bro.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and then she comes over and hugs me. “I missed your ugly face,” she tells me, patting my cheek as she lets me go.
Then, she’s back to Charly, who looks like she’s just been hit by a whirlwind. Well, she has. Whirlwind Sasha. Wait until she meets Meg. Meg is like Santa on ecstasy.
“My dress is in here?”
“It is.” Charly smiles. “Do you want to try it on now and make sure everything is okay for you? And, if any more alterations are needed, I can do them tonight.”
“You’re the best.” Sasha picks up the garment bag. “Will you come upstairs with me? Help me get into it?”
“Sure,” Charly says, following her out of the kitchen, giving me a smile before she goes.
“I love your hair,” I hear Sasha saying to her. “I’ve been thinking about getting some color put in my hair, but I don’t know if I’m too old.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” I hear Charly ask.
“Thirty-five,” Sasha groans, her voice trailing off as they head upstairs.
A cell phone starts to ring.
“Ooh, that’s me,” Gran says, picking up her phone and disappearing out of the kitchen.
I suspiciously eye her. I wonder if that’s her boy toy on the phone.
It’s weird, Gran having a boyfriend. She’s not had anyone since my granddad passed ten years ago.
“Charly seems really nice,” my mom says.
“Yeah, she is.” I sit up on a stool and start picking at the grapes in the fruit bowl. I pop one in my mouth and chew.
“And so damn pretty,” my mom adds.
“Yeah.” I smile.
She’s more than pretty. She’s beautiful. Stunning.
“So, you guys are dating?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Well, she must be good for you. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. You look happy.”
My mom…well, my whole family was worried about how I was dealing with Cain’s betrayal, which obviously wasn’t well.
“I was hurting back than. I needed to get it out of my system.”
“And it’s out now?” she checks.
“Yep.” I put another grape in my mouth.
“Good.”
I watch my mother move around the kitchen, chopping up vegetables, which I’m assuming are for tonight’s dinner.
“So, you brought Charly home; that’s a first,” she says.
I was wondering how long it was going to take her.
“She must be special.”
“She is. But don’t go getting carried away, Mom.”
“What? I’m not,” she protests innocently.
“Sure you’re not.” I laugh. “Charly and I are having fun together. I like her a lot. But I’m not looking to get married anytime soon.”
“That’s good. But you don’t fool me, Vaughn.” She points her chopping knife in my direction.
I put my hands up in surrender. “I have no clue what you mean.”
“I was watching the way you looked at her.”
“And how do I look at her?”
“The way your father looks at me. And the way your grandpa used to look at your gran. The way Greg looks at Sasha. And Vic looks at Meg. Like there’s no one else in the room when they’re there.”
My mother is too damn observant for her own good.
“Did you know that Gran has a boy toy?”
“Nice subject change. And he’s hardly a boy toy.” She laughs.
“Gran is ten ye
ars older than him!”
“How old is Charly?”
“Nice switch back.”
“Thanks.” She grins.
“She’s twenty-five,” I tell her.
“You’re nearly five years older than her, Vaughn. You’ll be thirty soon. Does that make you her sugar daddy?”
“What the hell, Mom?” I groan. This conversation is seriously going in entirely the wrong direction. “I’m twenty-nine, for crying out loud, not fifty-nine. I’m not old enough to be anyone’s sugar daddy.”
My mom is doubled over, laughing, at this point. She thinks she’s hilarious.
“It’s not funny,” I grumble.
“It kind of is.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “And be happy for your gran. This is the first man she’s shown any interest in since your granddad passed. It’s been ten years, Vaughn.”
“God, it has, hasn’t it?”
I was away, working on my first movie, when he passed. He never even got to see my first film. I’ve always regretted not being there when he died. My granddad was the best kind of man. His family was everything to him.
He was the kind of man I aspire to be. Just like my dad is.
“Your granddad was and always will be the love of your gran’s life. She’s just having some fun in the time she has left. We can’t begrudge her that.”
“Yeah, I get it.” I sigh. “Is Dad okay with it?”
Gran is my dad’s mom. I can only imagine it’d be weird for him.
“Well, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. You know your gran.” She chuckles. “But he wants her to be happy. And Ed’s a good guy.”
Ed. So, that’s his name.
“And where is Ed from?”
“Over in Klamath Falls.”
“Mmhmm,” I say. “Well, I want to meet him before I leave.”
“You will, at the wedding. He’s your gran’s date.”
Well, thank God I did bring Charly with me; otherwise, I would have been the only one flying solo at this wedding.
Chapter 27
Charly
“Your family is awesome,” I tell Vaughn as we drive the few minutes over to his house, which is on the same land as his parents’ place. They have a heck of a lot of land.
“Yeah, and they love you,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I helped with Sasha’s dress.” I lift my shoulder.
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