A Taste of Sugar

by Marina Adair

  Only looking led to thinking. About how good those tattoos looked peeking out from under that soft shirt. About his incredible, sculpted, “I lift car engines out by hand” chest. Even worse, thinking with that “mood music,” as he called it, led to fantasizing. About him. That kiss. And what might have happened after that kiss if he hadn’t pulled back.

  After four years of missing him, Charlotte had earned a PhD in fantasies, with an emphasis in creativity—especially when it came to a tattooed army of one bad boy. But that kiss had been seven thousand times better than any fantasy she’d ever conjured.

  Crapcrapcrap, she still wanted him. Despite every logical reason for her to hate him, she still wanted him. If not, she wouldn’t have kissed him back. Right?

  At least not the way she did—as though she’d been starved for his touch. God, how embarrassing was that? One little smooch, which was his way of proving a point, and she’d caved. Forgotten that he’d walked away from them. Broken his vows. And her heart.

  Forgot that he’d broken her world.

  Which made her the biggest loser in the history of failed marriages. Because beneath all of the hurt and heartache, Charlotte still wanted him.

  Him. Jace McGraw.

  Instead of being wildly attracted to some normal suit type who lived in Sugar and wanted to get married and have a litter of kids, it was the mysterious, tattooed engine specialist who also specialized in taking it from “I do” to “outta here” in two-point-two seconds that flipped her switch.

  A humiliating fact that she’d rather die than admit. Jace hadn’t just been her husband, he’d been her everything, and if she wasn’t careful he could easily become that again.

  And that terrified Charlotte.

  She’d managed to fool her entire family for the past four years, she reminded herself. She could manage four hours with Jace.

  If she tried really hard.

  “You know what?” Her gaze went to the woman behind the welcome counter, who was managing her cell, Facebook, and Instagram all while sucking down a Slurpee. “I’ll handle this.”

  She’d handled a hell of a lot more in the past few years without him.

  Charlotte waited patiently for Val, at least that was what her name tag said, to finish her text. Only Val must have been transcribing the Bible because her fingers never once left her phone.

  “Excuse me,” Charlotte finally said, going for sweet. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  Val had spiky orange hair, a barbell jammed through her nose, and Slurpee-red lips. She jabbed her finger at the OUT TO LUNCH sign and then went back to her cell. If Charlotte were to hire a gatekeeper she’d hire Val. It would take a master to sweet-talk or BS their way around her.

  Good thing Charlotte aced the BS portion of med school.

  “Right. And I am so sorry to interrupt your meal, but we are in a time crunch, and I was hoping you could help.”

  Val set her phone on the desk and leaned forward—way forward. “Then we’re both sorry, because I can’t answer your question.” Then she speared Charlotte with a look that would have had most women in tears. But Charlotte wasn’t most women. And she didn’t do tears. She might be a former Miss Peach, but her backbone was all steel magnolia. Oh, Charlotte always handled herself with class and decorum, and a friendly smile always helped things along, but she absolutely did not like to take no for an answer.

  And after her week, she wasn’t going to start now.

  “You’re the welcome desk,” Charlotte joked. “Besides, you don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

  “Don’t need to,” Val said, leaning back in her chair, taking a long slurp. “Now, if you ask me in, say, thirty minutes, when my lunch break is over, I might have a different answer for you.”

  “It’s just a quick question.”

  “Great, then it will be a quick answer,” Val said, putting down her Slurpee to pick up her cell. She started clicking away. “In thirty minutes.”

  “We had an appointment with the county recorder ten minutes ago. And it is a really important appointment.”

  Val paused in writing her post, which no doubt said something derogatory about the demanding customers she had to deal with, to look up at Charlotte. “The county recorder is out today. She comes back tomorrow.”

  To an onlooker it would seem as if Welcome Gal Val was full of cheery customer service, but her tone was pure eat shit and choke on it.

  Charlotte ignored this and flashed a friendly smile, instead choosing to focus on the fact that they were headed in the right direction. Obtaining information. “Unfortunately, tomorrow doesn’t work, and I have driven three hours and taken a day off work to make this meeting. So is there anyone else who can help me? Today? Please?”

  Val picked up her Slurpee again. “No.”

  Knowing that sometimes even the most sour grapes just needed a little sugar, Charlotte asked, “Was that a ‘No, there is no one else who can help me?’ Or a ‘No, because it is still your lunch break?’ ”

  Val smiled back. Reached her hand forward and pinched the edge of the plastic partition—only to slam it shut, nearly taking off the tip of Charlotte’s finger.

  Slurrrrp.

  Charlotte took a fortifying breath, then reached into her purse and pulled out her grandfather’s business card and slid it under the partition as though it were an FBI badge. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but my grandfather is the honorable Judge Holden of District 4. And I need to speak with the county recorder in regard to a time-sensitive matter, so if you could give me a moment of your day to direct me to someone else who can help me, that would be much appreciated.”

  Any second that partition would slide back open, because when someone in the South said they were related to Hang-’em-High Holden, people got right neighborly.

  As expected, the partition opened and Val slid the card back across the counter. Then—

  Slurrrrp. Slurrrrp. Slurrrrp.

  Charlotte felt her friendly smile fade and feared that Val was one slurp shy of tossing her Slurpee in Charlotte’s face. Jace must have noticed, too, because he flashed that grin of his, the one with the double dimples, as if he thought that was going to work on Miss Tude. Then he rested his forearms leisurely on the counter top, and Charlotte couldn’t help but notice the way his biceps budged at the motion. “Val. That’s a pretty name. Is that short for Valerie?”

  And to Charlotte’s surprise and irritation, it worked. Val smiled, shy and giddy, Jace’s biceps not going unnoticed. “Valentine,” she said. “I was named after my grandfather.”

  “Small world.” His drawl got thicker and Val’s eyes got wider. Charlotte threw up in her mouth a little. “I was named after my grandpa, too.”

  He reached out his hand and Val leaned forward to take it. “Jace McGraw.”

  “Valentine Sharp.” She looked Jace up and down, not even bothering to hide that she was checking the man out in front of his wife. Granted neither of them had a ring on, but still, they had walked in together. “You a Johnson fan?”

  Talk about a personal question, Charlotte thought, but Jace tipped his hat in Val’s direction and whispered in that bedroom voice of his, the one that used to have her melting, “What do you think?”

  Oh, for God’s sake. “Jace is more of a boob man,” Charlotte said. “Now that that is cleared up, how about our appointment?” Because she had enough to deal with without adding another four-hour car ride with Jace to her calendar.

  Jace looked at her and grinned. Big and smug and she knew he was laughing at her. “Actually, I’m more of an Earnhardt fan, but I know Jimmie. Used to be on his crew.”

  “Omigod,” Val said in one big screech. “Jimmy Johnson? Are you serious?”

  “Do you think I’d lie about NASCAR?” he asked, and Val shook her head, mesmerized by Jace’s charm.

  Charlotte didn’t blame the girl. She’s been that young, impressionable woman before, too. Only she knew better now. At least her heart did. She wasn’t s
o sure about her body.

  “I work on exotics now,” Jace went on. “But I still have a few friends in NASCAR. I bet I could make some calls and see if I can get you and Grandpa Valentine some seats at this week’s race.” Jace leaned in, getting up close and personal with Val, those worn Levi’s stretching at the seam across his incredible butt, and Charlotte knew what was about to happen. He was going to use his eyes, those flirty baby blues, to land them an appointment. “I could drop them off tomorrow when I set up that new meeting with the recorder.”

  And even though Charlotte couldn’t see his face, she knew the moment he unleashed the McGraw wink on her: Val’s smile went full watt. So did that blush she’d die if she knew she was sporting.

  Val looked around and lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Elvina Larson is the county recorder. Her schedule is booked until next week, but she comes in a half hour early every morning so she can drink her coffee without her kids driving her nuts. If you show up early with chocolate doughnuts and an extra set of tickets, I bet she’d see you.”

  “Chocolate doughnuts, four tickets, and a cherry supergulp. Got it,” Jace said, laying it on so heavy Charlotte could actually hear Val’s heart flutter. “See you tomorrow, Valentine.”

  Then with one last wink he took Charlotte by the elbow, and before she could remind him that tomorrow didn’t work for her, that she couldn’t last that long, he leaned and whispered against her ear, “And for the record, Charlie, I’m not a boob kind of guy. I’m a you kind of guy.”

  And damned if Charlotte didn’t feel a little flutter of her own.

  * * *

  “Twenty-four hours,” Charlotte said, taking a seat on the hotel bed because her stomach gave that familiar little twist she hated. If this conversation went anything like the one she’d had only in the car, she’d need to find a bar—one that served by the shot. “I am only asking for twenty-four hours.”

  Her dad sighed into the phone as if she’d asked him to cure cancer, when in fact she was only asking him to reschedule the call with Mercy Alliance, her call with Mercy Alliance, for tomorrow afternoon instead of today.

  “Tipton was expecting a virtual tour today. His board is expecting it today, Charlotte.” She closed her eyes and swallowed past the thickness in her throat. She hated when her dad said her name that way, as if he believed her name directly translated into disappointment. “I meant what I said to Tipton, Sugar Medical was built on dignity and pride,” Reginald said. “Which means we uphold our obligations.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, but like I said, something important came up,” she said, suddenly feeling like a little girl asking her daddy for permission, instead of the capable and competent head of pediatrics she’d become.

  “Do you want me to explain to a group of men who are considering investing their money and reputation in our family that my daughter’s something was more important than this meeting?”

  Charlotte silently nodded and blinked several times against the choking burn. That was exactly what she wanted. For her dad to come through the phone. To hold her and tell her everything would be okay. That she wasn’t a complete disappointment and that this weird, lingering restlessness that she didn’t even realize she had until Jace came home would pass.

  But he couldn’t. Reginald hadn’t bothered to ask Charlotte what was so important that she had asked Ben to pick up her patients today. Ben knew something was wrong, because he knew that Charlotte would never skip out of responsibilities unless she had a good reason. A really, really good reason.

  And she did. Charlotte needed today to go smoothly so badly that she’d nearly lost it when Jace told her it would be smarter to stay in Atlanta overnight than to have to drive back again tomorrow. And he was right, but Charlotte couldn’t get past the fact that she would have to make it through an entire night sleeping with only a wall between them. She’d have to put off her annulment once again and act like she wasn’t slowly losing it.

  Part of her had called her dad instead of rescheduling with Mercy Alliance directly, hoping he’d ask what was wrong, what he could do to help. And who knows, Charlotte might have even told him the truth. Because after all these years, she was still as confused as the day Jace asked for an annulment, and she still wanted perspective, someone to talk it through with her. Be the voice of reason.

  But her father hadn’t even cared. And if she let him hijack her meeting again, it would be like telling him that that was okay. That she was open to being ignored and walked over. That he was right, and she was a silly little girl with silly little problems.

  A disappointment.

  “You know what, Dad? I have put the last three years into making this center a reality. I know more about the project and Mercy Alliance than anyone else. This is my project, and I’d like to close this deal. All I’m asking is to see if we can look into pushing the call to tomorrow.”

  “And I am the director, and tomorrow doesn’t work for me.”

  That twist in her stomach got worse, making it hard to breathe, because Charlotte had heard that statement so many times in her life, most recently from her own mouth. And she’d said it to the person who was actually giving her the chance to finally get closure on the past. And it didn’t just hurt, it was the kind of sting that got worse with time.

  The realization weighed heavily in her chest, so heavily she lay back on the bed and closed her eyes. She had spent the entire afternoon ignoring the one man she’d vowed to love for eternity.

  Proving she was more like her father than she thought.

  * * *

  A couple hours later, Jace stood at far corner of the bar with a bag of women’s lotions and potions in his hand, telling himself that this wasn’t his problem and to go back to the hotel room. Due to the Vegas-style decor, lack of plasma screens, and ridiculous pricing, the hotel bar was completely empty.

  Except for Charlotte.

  Jace wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, or if he should handle it at all. Charlotte had made it more than clear she wasn’t interested in his company, yet she’d been sitting at the bar picking at a basket of fries for what had to be the better part of the evening. Jace had first spotted her during happy hour when he’d come down to grab a cold one and maybe some wings. Sensing he was the last person she’d want to see, he’d driven into town to pick up dinner and some personal items they’d need for tomorrow.

  Now it was past dinnertime and she was still there in the same dress with the hundred little buttons trailing down the front that he’d love to undo—one by one. Ever so slowly.

  Then he noticed the sunken posture and the empty ice-cream bowls and wanted to hug her. As if that wasn’t a train wreck in the making. So he settled on buying her a drink.

  “Two Dirty Girl Scouts and a pint of whatever you have on tap,” he said to the bartender when he reached the bar.

  Charlotte didn’t look up, didn’t offer him a seat, didn’t even make some comment about his ridiculous drink order. On the plus side, she didn’t tell him to go fuck himself, either. So he’d take it.

  Still standing, he extended the paper bag. “I stopped by the drugstore. Picked up a few things I figured you might need.”

  Charlotte looked up at the bag and eyed it skeptically, then eyed him skeptically, as if waiting to see what the catch was. Oddly enough, right then, Jace didn’t have any ulterior motives.

  “You going to take this?” he asked, still holding the bag.

  “Does it contain condoms, lube, a G-string, or something else you think would be funny?” she asked.

  “Nope, just a toothbrush, hair spray, and a T-shirt to sleep in. The essentials,” he said, making a mental note to swap out her LOOK AT THEM PEACHES tee for the standard black one he’d gotten himself.

  “Nothing cute to break the tension?”

  “Does a box of Peppermint Patties count?”

  “Thank you,” she said, snatching the bag without hesitation, but her voice sounded tired. The kind of bone
-deep tired that comes from years of disappointment.

  The bartender returned with his order. Jace dropped a couple of bills down and slid one of the shots in front of Charlotte, then picked up the other and raised it. “To Peppermint Patties.”

  She paused, clearly weighing the cost of sharing a drink with him. “It’s just a drink, Charlie.”

  She picked up the shot glass and took a tentative sniff, watching him over the rim the entire time. “It smells like ice cream.”

  “Mint chip ice cream.” Her second favorite addiction. “You looked like you could use something a little stronger than vanilla.”

  She nodded gently, then to his utter horror, her expression went from blank uncertainty to something a hell of a lot rawer. She was looking at him as if she didn’t know how to handle the fact that he’d paid enough attention to know her favorites. Which turned his stomach, because knowing he’d hurt her when he left was one thing, seeing that hurt with his own eyes broke something deep inside of him.

  “Shitty day?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said quietly.

  “If you don’t, it will just build up, and then you’ll start missing sleep and your eyes will get all puffy,” he said. “You hate puffy eyes.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it with you,” she clarified, and, man, if she could have said one thing guaranteed to leave marks, that was it. “At least not right now, anyway.”

  Jace hadn’t come back to Sugar to make her life more difficult or dredge up the past, he’d come to finally set her free. To set them both free. And, okay, he’d come back to see her one last time before he officially put down roots in a town that wasn’t home, in a house that wasn’t theirs. But it wasn’t going as planned. He never expected his heart to feel this heavy.

  Maybe he had been wrong before. Maybe in order to move on they had to first go back. Clear the air so all of the pain and disappointment would disappear and the memories wouldn’t hurt so bad.