by Marina Adair
Chapter 10
Charlotte studied the man who had once been her whole world and wondered how her life had veered so far from the plan. Then she saw those intense blue eyes looking down on her as though she was everything and she knew. The woman who had a ninety-two-checkpoint life plan by age sixteen, who never took a road trip without a highlighted map, had slept with her estranged ex-husband. Except now he wasn’t so estranged and he wasn’t even her ex.
And his plan was to move in with her and pretend like the last four years hadn’t happened.
Charlotte wouldn’t allow herself to think about what that could mean, or even how wonderful it would be to go back to the way things were. Because wondering led to wishing, and wishing wasn’t a risk she was willing to take—not with so much to lose. “What if I say no, that I can’t right now, then what?”
He shrugged, as though expecting her to say that. “You do what you need to do and I’m going to do what I need to do.”
“Which is what?”
His eyes went darker, laser sharp, and she knew that Jace had his end goal in sight—and she was it. “Prove to you that I’m worth the yes.”
Her heart ached at his raw statement. Made her want to tell him he was worth so much more than a yes. But things had changed. She had changed. The world had moved on and life had taken them in different directions, and no amount of wishing could change that. Which should have made saying no that much easier.
But it was obvious Jace had changed, too. For the better. Sure, he was bigger, broader, sexier—if that was even possible—and the hard edges had softened a little with time, but it was something deeper. Jace was more comfortable in his skin, more grounded and focused. There was an ease to him now that was compelling, that drew people in. Drew her in.
All excellent traits for someone opening their own business—in Atlanta.
“It’s not that easy,” she said to the both of them. “I have a list a mile-long of things that need to happen. And if they don’t, or I get distracted, then everything that I’ve worked for since leaving Atlanta will be for nothing.” Which would leave her with nothing—and wasn’t that a terrifying thought. “There isn’t room on my list for this.”
Silently, he stared down at her, taking in her eyes, her lips, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “This wasn’t on my list either, Charlie, but we’re both here with a second chance to get things right. And I promise you that I won’t make your life any harder.”
“But just you being here will make it harder.” Already she felt like she was drowning in expectations. “Between work, the Founder’s Day Fair, and the endowment, my life is crazy. You being here will only make it crazier.” But even as she said it she wondered if that was true. Wondered what these next few weeks would be like knowing that she had someone in her corner. Even if it was temporary. “How would I explain your car or you or us to people? They would be so focused on what was going on in my personal life, it would overshadow what I bring to the professional side.”
And by people, she specifically meant her father. He was already encroaching on her job, challenging her ability to get things done. If he found out she was secretly married—to the town’s most notorious young gun—she had no idea what he might do. But she could guarantee that it wouldn’t end well for her—or her job.
Because if she let herself belong to Jace, even for a moment, she feared she’d lose the life she’d fought so painfully hard to create. Just the thought terrified her and made the broken spot in her heart that still belonged to Jace throb a little.
Charlotte had already let go of her dreams for marriage, children, a family. She couldn’t lose her Grow Clinic, too.
Jace knew what she was worried about, it was obvious by the protective undercurrent rolling off of him. She could also tell that he was disappointed—in her. Not that she blamed him. If Charlotte hadn’t been so adamant about keeping their marriage a secret back then, none of this would be an issue now.
“You don’t have to explain anything to anyone if you don’t want to,” he finally said. “I won’t park my car out front, I won’t interfere with your job or life outside these walls, and no matter what you decide, it stays between us.”
“So no one has to know?” she asked hopefully.
Jace’s hand, which had been gently stroking her shoulder, faltered for a moment. “If that is what it takes,” he said, so full of understanding it made shame rise up and take hold. Because it shouldn’t matter what everyone else thought, but apparently to her it did. “Regardless, I’m not giving up. I was given three more weeks of being your husband, and I am going to be the kind of husband my dad was, the kind of husband you deserve, the kind of husband I should have been before.”
Charlotte swallowed at his statement, let those words slide into her heart. Resisting laid-back Jace was hard enough, resisting him when he was all in would be impossible. “The last thing I want to do is complicate things more for you, Charlie. We both know that things are already complicated, but between us they doesn’t have to be. Please, just give me the chance to prove that.”
The thought of eliminating one what-if from her life was enough to give her pause, but it was the quiet steel behind his statement that had her reconsidering. Jace would find ways to put them in close proximity regardless of what she said. At least this way she could control some of the fallout when he left.
“Fine,” she said, hoping she made the right choice. “You can stay. Downstairs on the couch. No sneaking in my bed, no naptime shenangians, and no sex.”
“We’ll see.”
“And at the end of the three weeks, you leave, and we both go back to our lives.” She slipped her hand carefully out from behind the pillow to shake on it. A gesture that he ignored, and instead he gave her a smack on the lips.
“Deal.” His eyes glowed with wicked intent. “Unless you beg me to stay.”
“I won’t,” she said, and meant it. At least that was what she told herself. “I have a busy day today.” She poked him in the chest, ignoring how it flexed under her touch. “Now move so I can get dressed.”
Jace moved all right—right onto his back, folding his arms behind his head and leaning against the headboard. Charlotte tugged on the blankets, which were trapped under all two-hundred-plus pounds of him. He just smiled.
Undeterred, she smiled back. Charlotte had made a plan, her grown-up sexy plan, which included embracing her inner awesomeness and taking back control of her life. And she wasn’t about to allow one more male to come between her and her master plan, even if he did make her knees weak.
With a well-practiced grin, she threw the sheets off, dropped the pillow to the ground, and made her way to the bathroom. From the bed, Jace let out a sound that was all male appreciation, so she added a little extra swing to her step as she went.
And why not? Jace was determined to stay, and she was determined to not lose sight of the big picture—which was living by her own rules. Which was why she stopped at the door and looked over her shoulder.
Jace was zeroed in on her backside, so she cleared her throat and waited as he slowly ran his gaze back up to meet hers, not a bit embarrassed that he’d been caught ogling. “Oh, by the way, I won’t be home for dinner tonight,” she said. “I have a date.”
Not that an evening with Lionel was something to brag about, but the only way she was going to make it through these next few weeks with her heart intact was to get them on even ground.
* * *
“You’re my date?” Charlotte asked as her parents’ front door opened.
“You say that like Lionel is a better option,” Ben said, looking more than offended. “At least you know I won’t try to play foot doctor under the table.” This was true, although Charlotte had come prepared this time, wearing her knee-high boots. “And I don’t look like I run a funeral home.”
No, Ben looked like a true Southern gentleman in a pair of dark gray slacks, a blue button-up, and a coordinating tie.
�
�So unless you’re planning on ending the night with a game of doctor, then this isn’t a date.” He looked her up and down and smiled. “You bring your lab coat?”
“No,” she hissed, then peeked over his shoulder, relieved to find the foyer free and clear of any relatives. “And don’t let my mom know this isn’t a real date. If telling her that you were already taken wasn’t enough to thwart her matchmaker skills, then she might ignore my wishes and call Lionel.”
“Too late,” he said, opening the door and letting her inside. “He’s already in the study.”
“Great.” Charlotte groaned, her boots suddenly feeling flimsy. She shrugged out of her coat, and Ben, always the gentleman, took it. She looked him up and down and a plan started forming in her mind.
“He’s talking to my date,” he said. “The leggy redhead from HR who, by the way, has already asked if my stethoscope and I would like to have a sleepover.”
Damn it, her ankles were toast.
“You should host a little doctor-patient sleepover yourself,” he said, guiding her down the hallway toward the dining room. “Or maybe have that mechanic come give you a tune-up.”
Charlotte kept walking, but her heart skipped several beats. She thought back to that morning, having Jace in her bed, and felt her legs tremble. He’d given her an ultimatum and she’d caved, so easily it was embarrassing.
Charlotte had enough people standing in the way of her goals, yet one plea combined with those deep-blue pools looking at her as though she were everything, and she’d so readily accepted her fate.
Charlotte stopped right outside of the closed double doors. “Did you mean what you said? About why we didn’t work out?”
Ben let out a long sigh and turned to face her. They’d had this conversation before, but he’d never had a name to go with their breakup. “You have dated exactly one person since you came home from Atlanta, and that was just because I was familiar and parent-approved.”
“Between the new pediatric ward and the Grow Clinic, I haven’t had time to date,” she said, surprised at how easily the excuse rolled off her tongue. Even more surprised at the empty ping she felt when saying it.
“Well, you might want to find some time before that wound-tight-with-no-fun-in-sight scowl you’ve got going on becomes permanent.”
“I have fun. And I am not scowling.” To prove it she looked over at him and smiled serenely.
“God, that’s even worse.” He grimaced. “All I am saying is that I can’t remember the last time I saw you let go, offer up a real expression that wasn’t tempered for someone else’s benefit, like you did in your office the other day with the mechanic. I forgot that Charlotte existed, the fiery, stubborn girl I met in med school who didn’t apologize for how she lived her life.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to tell Ben just how wrong he was. That that wasn’t fire he saw, that was frustration, irritation, and, okay, so there was a lot of chemistry. But he wasn’t done.
“You’ve spent so much time trying to please everyone else you are barely living. You are good at playing nice. You do it with your parents, the hospital board, your patients. With me.”
“Nothing is wrong with nice,” she defended.
“Nice is boring, Charlotte,” he said quietly. “If it weren’t, you and I would have worked out. But neither of us wants boring, which is why I am here with a twenty-something former gymnast who likes to twist herself into a pretzel.” She smacked him again and he laughed. “Life isn’t a degree, Charlotte, it doesn’t come with a course outline, so stop worrying about coloring in the lines and live a little.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe she had been constructing reasons to avoid putting herself out there, to avoid creating waves. And maybe spending these next few weeks with Jace, letting go of their past, would give her the courage needed to take the final step for a full future.
The mahogany doors slid open and Reginald Holden the Third stepped forward, pulling Charlotte in for a hug.
“Glad you made it, honey.”
“Me too,” she said, and she meant it. Even though she was still angry at him for trampling inside her lines, something they would discuss before the night was over, more than anything she wanted to move forward and really live. And maybe that meant sharing some of the responsibility so that she had time for that life she was so excited to get to.
“I was just telling everyone about my trip to Nashville,” he said, stepping back, and Charlotte could see that by everyone he meant the entire medical board. “I convinced Mr. Neil and the entire Mercy Alliance board to come to the Founder’s Day Fair.”
Then again, maybe karma wasn’t on the same page.
* * *
Jace was shoulder deep in the exhaust system—more correctly, what was left of it—when his cell buzzed. Wiping his hands on his pants he hit speaker.
“You’re late,” Brett greeted. “Hattie is already here, Payton has been asking every ten seconds where Uncle Jace is, and Joie is pulling the brisket out of the oven in five minutes. Mom’s brisket, which means she spent all day tending to that instead of taking advantage of kid-free time to tend to me, so if you don’t walk through that door in three minutes we’re going to have issues.”
“Shit.” Jace grabbed the towel off the hood of the car and wiped his hands. He had completely lost track of time working on Hattie’s car—and thinking about Charlotte.
And her damn date.
While he was pretty sure it was with the podiatrist her mother kept pairing her up with, he’d also heard that Dr. Perfect was to be in attendance. According to Hattie, Ben and Charlotte had given their relationship a second try after she came home, but it didn’t go anywhere.
Which meant Ben could live. For now. If what Hattie said was true, and her gossip was as solid as gospel, then Charlotte had been the one who put on the breaks. That made sense, though, because why would Doogie Howser choose to be “friends” with a woman this amazing unless there was a “with benefits” added to that title.
And the only benefit the guy was going to get was his 401K. “I’m working on the car.”
“Work on it tomorrow,” Brett said.
“I’m covered in grease.”
“I’m covered in baby slobber and quite possibly spit-up breast milk.” He had Jace there. “Three minutes,” he said then hung up. And since Jace was smart enough not to argue with a strung-out new dad, he headed to the bathroom to clean up.
Ten minutes later Jace pulled onto the same gravel road he’d walked a thousand times as a kid, cut the engine, and rested his head on the seatback. The moon was already visible over the trees, casting a light glow over Sugar Lake. Jace caught a reflection of himself in the front windshield. He was dirty, bone tired, and scared shitless.
Jace had always taken comfort in the saying that you could never really go home, but in that moment he was terrified to realize that maybe he actually had. Because even though his parents were gone and the house was no longer standing, every nostalgic feeling he’d been avoiding, every memory he’d buried for the past ten years came rushing back to him the second he opened the car door and the familiar scent of clean lake air, fresh-cut grass, and bluebells—his mama’s favorite flower—gently blew by.
A deep longing rolled through him, but he set his jaw against it and grabbed the case of beer he’d picked up at Mable’s Market off the passenger seat. It got stronger as he walked around back and went to the small dock that jutted out onto the lake. The night was crisp with fall, but so clear that every single star was visible, something he missed these past few years of being around all the city lights.
Standing near the edge of the dock felt like standing on the edge of something huge, and the longing shifted from an ache to something deeper. Something nostalgic and weighted. As if all he had to do was take one more step and everything would shift back to the way it was before. Before he lost his parents. No one could have anticipated the summer storm that destroyed their home, a chance lightning fire that tore through t
he McGraw ranch. But if Jace hadn’t insisted on going back in the house to get his football gear, they wouldn’t have also lost their parents.
Jace remembered the smell of the smoke, the taste of fear when his dad went back in for their mom, who was looking for Jace, and felt everything inside tighten until breathing became difficult.
He’d made a stupid, impulsive decision, and his family paid the price. Not that they ever blamed him. In true McGraw fashion, his family surrounded him, gave him the patience and understanding he needed to push through a difficult summer—and a hell-raising next few years. And when they saw Jace struggle to fit in, their love went so deep they gave him the room he needed to run.
Some days it felt as if he still running. Too tired to go there, he cracked open a beer and took a long, cold swallow, noticing the small dingy tapping the edge of the dock as the current moved. It was ugly as hell. Fire-engine red with a white racing stripe around the rim, the boat no bigger than a glorified wheelbarrow. Just the idea of cramming his body in that thing had him smiling.
Actually smiling…and it felt good.
He’d caught his first fish in that dingy, was so excited about the small-as-shit guppy that he tipped the boat and plunged himself and his dad into the water in the middle of November.
“Brett found it in the barn in pretty sorry shape,” Cal said, coming to stand by Jace’s side, as though sensing that his kid brother needed him. Jace reached down and handed him a bottle. With a nod of thanks, Cal twisted off the cap and took a pull. “He and I rebuilt it last summer, then the girls painted it to match an old photo Hattie had.”
“You ever get Payton out on it?” Jace joked, although he didn’t feel like laughing inside.
Cal gave him a long side look that was sheer joy, and Jace found himself wondering how Cal could be so light being here. “Every Saturday during fishing season.”