“That was damn amazing, Butterfly,” I tell her. “Your voice is out of this world.”
She beams. “Thanks, Charlie.” Her tone is soft and genuine. Her eyes fall on the sketchpad on the table. “Oh, you brought it. Thank you.” She bends across the table to pick it up and her sweet scent fills my lungs.
“Of course I brought it,” I say as she straightens up. “It seemed urgent when you asked for it on the phone.”
Leaning a hip against the booth, she clutches the book to her chest. “Yeah, I don’t want to jinx things by going into detail but yeah, it’s important.”
I won’t push her to talk about something she obviously isn’t ready to talk about. She’ll tell me what she’s comfortable sharing when she’s comfortable sharing it.
“What are you doing later?" she asks. Then she cringes. ”Do I even want to know?” Her laugh tells me she thinks I'll be in some random woman's bed.
I chuckle even though it kind of hurts that she sees me as nothing more than a player. I wish she had a higher estimate of me but I can’t blame her for seeing the worst in me. I haven’t always been a great guy. Today, at least, I can prove her assumptions wrong.
“I do have plans actually,” I tell her. “I’m going to pick up my tux for your grandmother’s wedding.”
An eyebrow hikes up her forehead. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
She observes me, chewing her lip. “Wow, you’re actually taking this thing seriously.”
I huff. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
She continues to stare at me hard, looking straight into me. “Y’know—I don’t want you to feel obligated. You don’t have to do this…”
“Do what?”
“Take me to the wedding.”
“Why would you think I don’t want to take you to the wedding?”
She shrugs. “It’s just that I know you, Charlie. You think it’s your duty to have my back all the time. But you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”
I angle my chin and watch her. “Of course it’s my duty to have your back. Especially since you’re my best friend now.”
“Oh, I’m your best friend now?” She looks surprised.
“By default,” I say, lifting a shoulder. “I mean, your best friend just snatched mine away so, by default, you and I are best friends.”
She laughs. “I guess you’re sort of right. But in all seriousness, I’m not that vulnerable little girl I was back in high school. You don’t have to keep coming to my rescue.”
“Nova, has it ever occurred to you that I’m just going to that wedding for the cake? Or the party favors that come in those little white mesh bags?”
She laughs. “The little chocolate almonds covered in that white powdery crap?”
“Yes, exactly. I’m going for the chocolate almonds…So relax. It’ll be fun. Stop trying to uninvite me.”
She’s laughing more now. “Okay. I’ll stop trying to uninvite you.”
“Good. I’m going to show you the time of your life, Nova Chester. I guarantee it.” I wink at her and she rolls her eyes.
"I'll go with you to pick out the tux," she offers. “After my shift.”
Right then, a big voice booms into the dining room, yelling something obscene in Italian. Nova’s eyes widen. “Shit…he’s back already?” That face she’s making right now is pretty damn adorable.
Gianni Gallo is a tyrant. That’s no secret.
I snicker and she can’t help it—she does, too.
“He left me a list of stuff to get done while he was gone and I haven’t even started yet.” Her laughter fades. “I'd better get on it." She gestures at her sketchpad. "Anyway…Thanks again. And tux shopping later?”
I nod. “Tux shopping later.”
As she spins to walk away, I grab her by the wrist. I really don’t want her to go. “Nova?”
She looks at me over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“It’ll happen,” I say confidently. “Just give it time.”
And I’m not bullshitting her. She’s way too talented to stay stuck in this rut forever. There are big things for her on the horizon. I can feel it.
She flashes that smile that takes my breath away. “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
My eyes devour the dizzying sway of her hips as she walks away.
Chapter Twelve
Nova
The changing room door swings open and I bust up laughing. Charlie steps out, with his arms spread out around him, proudly showcasing a purple, mirror-shine tuxedo with a yellow bowtie covered in little red ducks.
“So, how do I look?” He does a spin for me, generously providing the 360-degree experience. “I’ve been feeling kind of…nonconformist these days.”
“You look positively handsome,” I tell him.
A brash smile pushes across his lips. “I do look good, huh?” He brushes his fingers over the glimmering fabric.
Right then, the salesgirl shows up. A pretty girl with bright eyes and blonde hair. When she sees Charlie standing in front of me, her cheeks pink up and her eyes go shy. Because as ridiculous as that suit is, it can’t conceal how damn good-looking he is.
“What do you think?” he asks her.
“You’ll have the bridesmaids beating each other over the head with their bouquets to dance with you all night.” She sounds a little breathless as her eyes move over his physique.
“That’s exactly the effect I was going for.” He rubs his hands together, his gaze fixed on me again. “So, I guess my work here is done. Let’s pay and get out of here. What’d ya say, Nova?”
I fight back a grin. “How about you put that look on the ‘maybe’ pile and try something else? You can’t just buy the very first suit you try on.”
He sighs like my request is a burden. “You just want to objectify me. That’s what it is,” he says knowingly. “You just want me to parade around here in these tuxedos to satisfy your sick fantasies.”
“Sure,” I say with an eyeroll. “That’s what it is.”
Chuckling to herself, the salesgirl leaves, giving Charlie time to try out a few more options.
I sit patiently for two or three minutes, waiting for his next outfit. When he pops out wearing red plaid from head to toe, that’s when I know it’s time to take matters into my own hands.
“Okay, enough!” I laugh as I bounce out of my seat. I grab the classic black, slim fit tux hanging outside the changing room door and march toward him. With my hand planted high on his muscular back I push him into the changing room and shut the door behind me.
He spins around completely and looks down on me with a playful grin. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making sure that you stop wasting my damn time.” I push him into the wall and he lets me. I unknot the awful plaid tie and drag it off of his neck, letting it fall to the floor. Grabbing the jacket by the lapels, I push it over his shoulders and then it’s lying in a pile at his feet. Then I reach for the top button of his shirt. My fingers working fast to undo them one by one.
It isn’t until I pull the white fabric of his shirt away from his chest and am confronted by the broad expanse of his muscular, tattooed chest that I ask myself the very same question. What am I doing?
We’re locked in a narrow, overly-bright space and he’s standing half-naked in front of me.
His presence fills up the entire room, sucking up all the oxygen, barely leaving me enough air to breathe. My heart mallets against my ribs. My palms go sweaty. My gaze moves up his body to his face. All signs of his cocky smile are gone. His pupils are dilated. His breathing is rough.
Oh god. What’s happening?
I can almost see the thoughts streaming through his head. He wants to fuck me. He wants to take me right here in this changing room. Pin me to the wall, wrap my legs around his waist, seal his lips over mine to muffle my screams.
The warning lights flash in my head. This is wrong. This is Charlie.
The un
repentant womanizer. My best friend’s older brother. The guy who defended me in high school when I couldn’t defend myself.
This one misstep could cost me one of the most sacred friendships in my life. This one misstep will complicate everything.
His hand falls to my hip as he moves closer.
It could be because of the tight space that we’re locked in or the warm, spicy scent of Charlie’s skin or the ever-present glint of sex in his eyes, but right now, my brain has decided to close up shop and go on an impromptu vacation.
Swallowing hard, pulse amplified, I reach up and trail my fingers down the hard planes of his torso. His chest expands on a sharp intake of breath. His eyes follow the path of my fingers as they inch down toward his waistband.
He hisses. Goosebumps rise along his skin. The hard ridge of his erection strains against the fabric of his pants.
As my fingers touch his belt buckle, a sudden knock at the door causes me to jump. “Are the sizes okay in here?” the salesgirl calls out from the other side of the wall.
Reality comes crashing back into me. We can’t do this…
Taking a quick step back, I clear my throat awkwardly. “Uh, can we maybe try a size 36? The waist is a little loose on these.”
Before Charlie has a chance to react, I throw the door open and get the hell out of that room.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlie
The cabin of the car is painfully quiet. It's the kind of silence that presses against your skin, that suffocates everyone in the vicinity.
Vivian’s fingers squeeze the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles have turned white. Tears pool on the rims of her eyes. I throw a glance at Reese in the back seat. Her jaw is tight, clenching as she stares at the scenery passing alongside the highway.
Seeing my sisters in this agony kills me. Memories are dancing across their minds. They're reliving the days when things were better.
The expression on dad's face as he sat next to our mother’s bed, the absolute helplessness, it flits through my mind. I can't imagine what it must be like to give all of your heart to a woman and then be forced to watch her fade away. Watching my parents’ struggle only bolsters my decision to steer clear of love.
I wish there was something I could do, some way I could fix this. But I'm just as helpless as they all are.
Today's visit was a bad one. Mom was in so much pain that she couldn't even smile, couldn't even lie and pretend to be okay. The days when she can't even put on a brave face for us, the days when her own muscles clench around her, shackling her inside her body, those are the days when I hate her multiple sclerosis most.
Today was one of those days.
We don’t go visit mom enough. It’s easy to blame it on the four-hour drive from Copper Heights to Springfield and back. But the truth is, it’s just too hard to see her suffering. It’s a damn selfish excuse. I know that. I never said I wasn’t a coward.
Desperate to relieve the tension in the car, I lean forward and turn on the radio. The upbeat sound of a popular boy band fills the car, so sudden and jarring it makes Viv flinch. She throws a glare my way.
"I hate that song," Reese mumbles from the back seat. She’s been in a strange mood all day. Even before we saw mom’s condition.
Exhaling with defeat, I flick the radio back off. "Should have taken my truck." Because being trapped in here with the two of them is too hard. Not enough space for all the sadness and anger and confusion.
A few more miles roll by in silence until, Reese blurts out, "Nova told me you're taking her to her grandmother's wedding..." It's a simple statement, but the amount of accusation in it makes me feel like I may need to call my lawyer.
Can somebody please read me my Miranda rights before I say something incriminating?
"Yeah, I'm taking her to the wedding." Wordlessly, Vivian throws me a glance. A very suspicious glance.
I didn't think it was possible for this ride to become even more tense but I was wrong.
Reese presses. "Why?"
"Because she's my friend. And I like wedding cake." I try not to sound defensive but I feel like I'm being attacked.
"Is cake a euphemism for something else?" she demands. I glare at her in the back seat. The attitude on this one…
I chuckle dryly. "You sell cupcakes for a living. So you tell me. Is your bakery just a front? Is it really a brothel or a sex club in the back?"
Vivian laughs a little at my sarcasm. Reese tries to fight it but she laughs, too. "Stop messing around, Charlie.”
"Nova is my friend so I don't get where all these insinuations are coming from."
Reese pins me with a stare. "You two have been hanging out a lot lately...”
Viv is practically sweating now, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. My older sister gets insanely anxious whenever she suspects that people in her circle may potentially perhaps possibly be coupling up. (She literally threatened Reese’s life when she suspected that our little sister was sneaking around with Leo.) She’s 29 and single. And the poor girl is convinced that there’s a race to the altar going on and she’s in last place.
"Well, since you stole my best friend from me, I've been kind of bored and lonely on my own."
"So basically you want her to give Leo back to you?" Vivian says snidely.
Reese grunts. "Not a chance in hell."
"So it's settled then.” I pound my fist into my knee like a judge’s gavel. “No more grumping from you."
"I just don't want you to hurt her."
In the rear view mirror, I catch Reese’s pleading expression. "I'm not into Nova that way.” I manage to say that in an aloof tone. “And besides, the girl can hold her own. If I so much as look at her the wrong way, she'll be using my nuts as ping pong balls in no time."
Reese examines my face. But my expression is all sincerity and earnestness. "Don't fuck with her, asshole. That's all I'm saying." It sounds like a threat to me.
"I won't." That’s the truth. I’d never hurt Nova. Her presence in my life means too much to me. She’s my friend and adding sex into the mix could be dangerous to our relationship. I understand that on a logical level even though my libido rages against it.
Reese doesn’t quite seem to trust me but she slumps back against her seat and her eyes move back to the scenery. I do the same.
The car is silent as we exit into Copper Heights. I don't want to let my little sister down. But when it comes to Nova, I'm starting to imagine what it would be like to have my (euphemistic) cake and eat it too.
Chapter Fourteen
Nova
We spot each other from across the room and her eyes light up as mine do. An avalanche of mischief goes rolling through my chest as we move toward each other like speeding trains, dodging around people and furniture.
“You bitch! You cut your hair without telling me!” I yelp as we collide in a messy hug and rock left to right. She releases her death grip and I lean back to pull on the edges of her new shoulder-length bob.
My older sister shrugs a shoulder. “Post-break up protocol,” she tells me. “Just be glad I didn’t dye it orange with cheetah spots like I wanted to. Because that would go over really well when representing my clients in court.”
I pull away from her and gasp. “You and Luke couldn’t work things out?” She shakes her head ruefully and tears settle along the rim of her eyes. “Oh Nadia, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says dismissively as she blinks the tears away. “Luke and I should have never gotten started in the first place. We were friends. And now, we’ve ruined that.” She throws an arm around my shoulder and we walk toward the bar cart. “God, is there anything to drink around here? I could use a stiff drink. Or six.”
I laugh as I grab a tall, empty glass for her and one for myself. I drop a few ice cubes into each then tilt the neck of the vodka bottle over her glass. “Say ‘when’.” Waiting…waiting…waiting…she’s not stopping me. “Dude, say when.”
&nbs
p; “When,” my sister grumbles reluctantly just as the damn glass is about to overflow.
I examine her with a furtive eye as I pour myself a much more conservative measure of vodka and add some pineapple juice for the sake of my sobriety. Despite the smile sitting on the surface of her lips, everything about her demeanor tells me that she’s hurting.
Well, tonight it’s my mission to make her feel better. "You told me you were coming tomorrow!" I say.
As I’m stirring my drink, we move to a table nearby. "Well that was the plan, but I hitched a ride into town with dad.”
“Dad’s in town?”
She gives me a dubious nod. Dad’s in town. Of course he is. His mother’s getting married. Still, Nadia and I both know that means trouble.
My sister drops into a seat and I sit across from her. “Anyway, I had to get here today. I couldn’t miss the chance to see some random man grind himself all over my 83-year-old grandmother. No way!"
I glance over to where granny and her friends are sitting at a table, enjoying tea and biscuits. In their little pearls and pastel sweater sets. This is the most uneventful bachelorette party in history.
"There's no stripper," I tell her.
She winks at me. "Not yet."
"Why do I get the feeling that this has something to do with our mother?"
"You know it.” Nadia tips her glass in cheers and alcohol sloshes over the side.
Again—this means trouble.
Because, yes, my mother has managed to keep a cordial relationship with her ex-mother-in-law over the years. But mom and dad hate each other. A lot. I am not excited about the idea of both of them at that wedding together.
Nadia’s laugh fades, morphing into a nasty scowl when she takes that first sip of her ‘cocktail’. She makes a gagging sound and I shove the bread basket her way.
"Oh my god," I mutter under my breath. "And how's dad dealing with mom hanging around anyway?” The last time my parents were in the same room, Cleo, in a fit of rage, was making plans to strangle him with her purse strap and have him turned into taxidermy. My father has deliberately avoided her since.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 29