Walk Me Home

by Liza Kendall

  Behind Felicity, Jake came out of the men’s room, looking grim. He didn’t make eye contact; he just took the stairs down, two at a time.

  Charlie went after him.

  * * *

  He was in the Durango and backing out of his parking spot when she ran outside after him, people in the lower level of the restaurant rubbernecking.

  “Jake!” she called.

  But he was out of the slot. He slammed the truck into drive, intending to speed forward.

  Charlie stepped in front of it and put her hands flat on the hood. “Stop.”

  She felt the shudder of the vehicle as he slammed it back into park, then emerged, furious.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing? I could have killed you!” Jake gripped her by the shoulders.

  “Defending your honor,” she said calmly.

  How could a man look so outraged and yet so tender at the same time?

  That’s when he kissed her, his mouth hard and possessive on her own. Then he pulled back and shoved her away, leaving her bereft and breathless and wanting much more. “I don’t need you to be my white knight, Charlie.”

  “Yeah, I think you do.”

  “I’m not some damsel in distress—”

  “True. You’d make a really ugly damsel,” she told him. “And with those pecs, you’d bust right out of a corset.”

  That surprised him into a bark of laughter.

  “But I do think you’re in distress, Jake.”

  His dark eyes held a world of pain. An ocean of anger and regret. “That’s a melodramatic word. Seriously, I’m fine.”

  “Are you? I have my doubts. And I think it’s about time that someone stood up for you.”

  “Aargh.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “What you did in there—that was just . . . embarrassing.”

  “Why?” She was genuinely confused. “All I did was set the record straight with the idiots in my family.”

  “Yeah? Well, damn it, I love you for it, but you basically ripped off my balls and dropped them into your handbag. Now it’s going to be even harder for me to face them.”

  “I don’t understand: You’d rather that I let them trash-talk you?”

  He shrugged. “Sticks and stones,” he muttered.

  “But words do hurt people. You, in this case. And I have a problem with that. So I countered with a Scotch in Theo’s face,” she said.

  A corner of his mouth tugged up. “What a waste of good Scotch. Single malt, no less.”

  “You’re welcome, Damsel Jake—”

  “Don’t you even think about calling me that,” he growled, backing her against the hood of the still-running truck until she squeaked. Pinning her there between his muscular thighs. Which was both delicious and distracting, to say the least. Distraction was probably what Jake wanted, but Charlie wasn’t about to let him change the subject. Not now.

  “Hey!” She pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a tank. Breathless, she looked up at him. “I’m defending your honor—”

  “I’m not feeling very honorable right now.”

  “And trying to comfort you in your distress—”

  “There is no distress here.”

  “Right.” She grabbed his right hand, and he winced. She turned it over, appalled at the sight of his bloody, split, swollen knuckles. Oh, Jake . . . But he wouldn’t appreciate her clucking over them. “Roger that. No distress at all.” She kissed his injuries and heard Jake’s swift intake of breath.

  “I’m extremely pissed off at you,” he said. He looked down at her, those black Irish Braddock eyes making her knees weak. He pressed every available inch of himself against every available inch of her.

  Oh my. “Yes,” she said a bit weakly. “I can feel your, um, anger. Up against my—”

  “Don’t ever do anything like that again, Charlie. Understand?”

  “Not really,” she managed.

  “I fight my own battles. I don’t need anyone, especially a girl, to do it for me.”

  “That is so politically incorrect.”

  “I don’t care. It’s the way it is.” His face was inches from hers, and he was taking up all of her oxygen.

  “Not to mention ungrateful,” she added.

  “Ingratitude is one of my specialties,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah. Would you like to hear some others?”

  She smiled. “I think I just might. By the way, the hood of this truck is hot.”

  “So are you, Charlie. So are you.”

  “Then why are you driving away?” she asked. “Why are you ditching me? Got another date?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No other date.”

  “Then can you please take me—”

  “Yes,” Jake said, again covering her mouth with his and then kissing her senseless. “I can definitely take you.”

  Chapter 20

  A cheer went up from the downstairs bar as they walked back into the Hotel Saint-Denis. “Get a room!” someone shouted.

  Charlie’s face ignited. Well, what did she expect? After all, they’d been making quite a spectacle of themselves right outside the plate glass window.

  “Working on it,” said Jake.

  And within minutes, they were alone in a beautiful French country–style room with a king-sized bed, and she was seeing Jake without a shirt on for the first time since they were teenagers. What had been cute once—fine—had filled out to magnificent.

  He smiled as her mouth dropped open at the sight of his muscular chest, perfect six-pack abs, taut belly. And his arms. Dear Lord, those biceps. “C’mere,” he said.

  Her mouth had gone dry; her legs trembled. Really, a torso like his should be illegal. She was definitely going to lick his collarbones.

  “Gonna make me come get you?”

  “Huh?” She’d been staring at him like the village idiot. “Oh. Yes.”

  So he did. “I like your dress, Charlie,” he said softly, “but I’ll like it better on the floor.” He stepped behind her, moved aside her hair, and kissed her neck. Then, with the rasp of her zipper, the dress puddled around her feet and she stood there in her high heels and not much else.

  Feeling bare, feeling exposed. That’s right—she should concentrate on what was wrong with her body, so that she didn’t lose all control and climb him like some sex-starved orangutan. Gnaw on his triceps.

  “So beautiful,” he said.

  “Who, me? Ha. I’ve gained eleven pounds—”

  “Shh. I love every last one of them.” He ran his big hands down her arms, then over her stomach, hips, thighs, and . . . oh.

  Was this really happening? She vaguely recalled that there was a reason it probably shouldn’t . . . but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of it right at the moment.

  Jake pulled her against him, snug to his chest, and she thought she might pass out from the pleasure of touching him, really touching him, after all these years. His chest felt so warm and decadent against her back. His fingers threaded through her hair, sending frissons of pleasure radiating from her scalp to her whole body. Jake’s lips brushed her neck. Every nerve ending she possessed awoke with joy.

  Then he pushed her onto the bed, and undressed her completely.

  They were no longer teenagers. Charlie was no longer worried that her dad would come rolling down the hallway to discover them, or that her mom would pop nosily out into the garden, armed with her knitting needles. Granddad wasn’t there to clean his gun.

  They were no longer teenagers, but she felt as if they were, because it was new, even after all these years. Because the waiting and the heartache and the separation amplified the experience. And because he was Jake Braddock, her first love.

  Afterward, she fell asleep in his arms, wishing she c
ould stay there forever. It wasn’t until she woke at 5 A.M. that cold, hard reality hit. The town council meeting was at ten. The meeting during which she had promised her grandfather she would stand in his stead and threaten Jake’s livelihood—because she’d never asked someone else to do it. The meeting that she’d somehow never said one word about to Jake.

  Oh, dear God. Charlie sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her overabundant chest. And what are you going to do about it now, huh? Write him a sweet little note? Sure. That’ll do the trick. No hard feelings.

  She looked down at Jake, his face unguarded and relaxed in sleep. Dark stubble had made an appearance overnight, making him look wonderfully dangerous and disreputable. Even his thick dark eyelashes were sexy. Something very much like a smile curved his lips.

  She bit down on her own foolish smile, which had come unbidden. What were you thinking, Charlie? How could you have let this happen?

  She cast about for ways to get out of this situation. She could just not go. Pretend to be ill. But she pictured Granddad’s reaction—if he got furious, would he have another heart attack? A stroke? God forbid. And she’d promised him that she’d attend the meeting. Make his case. A promise was a promise.

  She could wake Jake up right now and try to explain to him. Apologize in advance. But she knew that wouldn’t come close to solving anything. And he was sleeping so peacefully.

  Charlie slipped out of bed and slowly got dressed. What to do? She was undecided until the very moment she opened the door.

  Coward.

  She couldn’t just sneak out and then blindside him at the meeting. That was simply unforgivable.

  She shut the door again. She leaned her forehead against it. Then she turned and walked to the bed, feeling as if she were headed for the guillotine. She sat down next to him.

  “Hey,” he said, opening his eyes. He yawned, pushed a hand through his unruly dark mop of hair, and smiled at her. It broke her heart. “Want to order blueberry pancakes? Lots of butter and syrup? A split of champagne with fresh orange juice for mimosas?”

  “Jake, I have to tell you something,” she said.

  “Well, don’t look so damn serious about it. And why do you have clothes on?” He grinned and reached for her. “Let me fix that.”

  She shot off the bed and backed away. “Jake.”

  The smile disappeared from his face. “What?”

  “I, uh, wanted to tell you this before now.”

  “Okaaay. Out with it, then. You’re secretly married? You’re having an alien’s baby? You’re—”

  “I’m going to be at the town council meeting this morning,” she blurted. “Instead of my grandfather.”

  He stared at her.

  “Presenting for him. His case against funding the fire department. I intended to find someone to go in my place, but with everything going on . . .”

  Jake’s face went completely blank.

  “Because obviously, he can’t, being still in the hospital. I . . . just wanted you to know.”

  “You wanted me to know,” he repeated, swinging his legs out of bed.

  “Yes.”

  “You sure as hell didn’t seem to want me to know last night,” he bit out.

  “Jake, last night wasn’t planned—by either of us.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But this, this has been planned now for how long?” His voice was quiet, his tone deadly.

  When had Granddad first asked her again? Charlie tried to remember. “He asked me a few days ago. I said—”

  “A few days ago.”

  “I said no. I was very clear. But then he brought it up again, and when I said no again, he got so upset that he literally had a medical episode.”

  “And you never thought to mention it to me?”

  “It just happened—and there hasn’t been the right opportunity!”

  “You mean you didn’t have the nerve to tell me.”

  Charlie looked away. “No.”

  “But now, just hours before I have to defend my right to make a living, now is the perfect time for this information. Beautiful, Charlie. Really. And after last night.”

  “Jake, I don’t want to do this.”

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “I tried to say no, and Granddad freaked out—”

  “So what? You’re an adult. Not a child. Why do you keep letting your parents and your grandfather make your decisions for you?”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s absolutely fair.” Jake got up and hunted down his pants. “You made a choice twelve years ago—you chose them over me. And now you’re doing it again.” He stuffed one leg into the trousers.

  “Excuse me? Who did I choose to stand with yesterday evening when I threw the drink in Uncle Theo’s face? I stuck up for you! I told them we all owe you an apology . . .”

  “Yeah, and where is that girl today? Who the hell are you? How can you defend me one day and attack me the next?”

  “I’m not going to attack you. I’m going to stand there as his proxy and deliver his report.”

  “You could have said no!”

  “I tried. You don’t understand—Granddad literally started having a heart attack when I refused him!”

  “How convenient.” Jake stuffed his other leg into the pants and yanked them up.

  “It was terrifying, not convenient!” Charlie shouted. “I had to get the nurses, the doctor. It was real.”

  “And what we have isn’t real. That’s crystal clear to me as of right now.” Jake grabbed his shirt.

  “Jake. Please. That’s not true.”

  “Why are you even telling me this?”

  “Because I needed to be honest about it.”

  “Honest.” Jake let out a short, unamused bark of laughter. “Are you really using that word? You, Charlie, have to be the most two-faced person I’ve ever met!”

  “Again, that’s not fair. I could have taken the easy way out and left this morning—”

  “Congratulations on your nobility. I have nothing else to say to you.” Jake had buttoned his shirt and was now stuffing it into his waistband.

  “Jake. Listen to me. Granddad has been lobbying against the fire department for the last decade, and nothing has ever come of it. Nothing will come of it this morning, either.”

  Jake shoved his feet into his dress loafers, grabbed his jacket, and shoved his socks into one of the pockets. He palmed his keys, strode to the door, and flung it open. “Tell yourself whatever you need to, Charlie. We’re one hundred percent done—so knock yourself out, babe.”

  And then he was gone.

  Chapter 21

  What Charlie had to do this morning would have been hard enough if she weren’t already emotionally devastated.

  Silverlake’s city hall was a gray building with two fluted, flat columns on either side of the door that were echoed in the window trim. The architecture managed to look both pleasant and faceless. Charlie wished that she were faceless, too, as she forced herself up the stone steps, hanging on for dear life to the metal railing in the center of them. She did not want to be here. She did not want to do this. And yet here she was. Thanks, Granddad.

  She prayed that once Jake cooled down, he would understand. She was just going to spew some figures and research. Nobody had listened to Kingston Nash in more than a decade; nobody would take Charlie seriously today. Her stomach roiled, sliding greasily from side to side, and her head pounded. Her legs trembled with each step she took, and her feet felt as if they belonged to someone else. She clutched her tote bag to her shoulder, her hand sweaty on the strap. In it were the reports Granddad had compiled about other small-town fire departments staffed by volunteers.

  She opened her bag for inspection and passed through a wide hallway flanked by offices with people busily working in them. She lifted a hand
to wave at Teresa d’Alba, who was the mayor’s assistant. Teresa waved back cheerfully. “Go on in, hon. They’re about to start the meeting.”

  Charlie’s knees knocked together. “Okay, thanks.” She walked to the double doors of the large room where town meetings were held. A long table stretched across the front of the room. Seated at it were the six council members, the seventh being Mayor Marisol Fisk in the center.

  Charlie aimed a tight smile at everyone and hunted for a seat in the back of the half-filled room. She found one and sat down. Don’t want to be here, don’t want to be here, don’t want to be here . . . Stop it. You are here.

  She felt like a traitor. A jerk.

  You’re not a traitor. You’re a proxy. A stand-in. Here to deliver a speech that you did not write.

  Tell yourself whatever you need to, traitor.

  The mayor called the meeting to order, and the council took care of some minor business having to do with parking permits and raising the fee at the city dump.

  Charlie allowed herself to relax; she told herself that she’d be able to present Granddad’s reports to an audience of almost nobody. Then the door opened, and Jake walked in with Mick, Tommy, Hunter, and Grady, who wore red fire department polo shirts identical to his. They were clean-shaven and brawny, and radiated good humor and competence. Not to mention that they were all hot enough to be in a pinup calendar: Men of Silverlake Fire and Rescue. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the hostile expression on Jake’s face when he registered her presence.

  * * *

  Jake tried to get his head around it: Charlie Nash was about to screw him over yet again. Which was not only unbelievable but unforgivable, considering how she’d spent last night, in his arms. And never once had she mentioned until this morning that she’d be here. Gunning for his job and the jobs of his friends.