“You can run fast anytime,” Sadie said, linking her arm with Char’s and swinging them both around. “But how many times do you get a chance to have a leisurely stroll with your awesome older sister and her wonder dog?”
Char stared at the dog in question. “Wonder dog is licking that tree.”
While Sadie knelt and told Prince he was going to get splinters in his tongue if he didn’t stop, Char heard someone call her name. She looked across the street. Blinked. But it wasn’t her imagination, it really was Dr. Justin Louk—complete in running gear—waving at her.
She lifted her hand, bemused to see him in sweats and a T-shirt, his hair windblown. It was a good look for him. Made him seem less perfect.
Not that she minded perfection.
A vision of Kane swept through her mind, of his long hair tangled from sleep, his unshaven face. His kiss.
No. She didn’t mind perfection at all.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head until it cleared of any and all thoughts of Kane. Opened them to see Justin jogging toward her, a smile on his face. “Charlotte. Hello.”
“Hi, Justin.” She gestured to Sadie, who joined them. “Justin, this is my sister, Sadie Nixon. Sadie, this is Dr. Louk. He recently started working in the E.R.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sadie said.
“You, too.”
Silence. As if none of them had anything to say. Darn it. Why did it have to be so hard to hold a simple conversation with the man she was supposed to end up with? “Uh...I’m surprised to see you,” Char blurted. “Here, I mean.”
His cheeks were red, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to the cold or embarrassment. Though why he would be embarrassed was beyond her. “Since you mentioned how great it was running here, I thought I’d try it. Shake up my routine a bit.”
That was the extent of shaking up his routine? For some reason that left her feeling depressed. She really needed more sleep.
“Oh.” She didn’t actually remember mentioning it to him, but she supposed she must have. “That’s good.”
More silence. Char searched her brain for something to say, but there was nothing. Nothing. And this was a prime opportunity. She and Justin were away from the prying eyes at work—but were under the curious gaze of her sister.
Prince crept over and shoved his nose into Justin’s crotch. Justin looked decidedly uncomfortable and stepped back.
“Why don’t Prince and I just wander ahead,” Sadie said, tugging her dog back.
They both watched her go. “Well,” Charlotte said, unable to stand it any longer. “I guess I’ll be going. Enjoy your run.”
He smiled again. Nodded. “You, too.” She was halfway down the block when he called her name.
She turned and waited for him, wondering at the edge of impatience simmering along her skin. This was what she’d wanted, after all. Justin paying attention to her. She should be thrilled.
Was thrilled, she assured herself.
He cleared his throat. “I was thinking, since you’re finishing up your run and all, if maybe you’d like to go get a cup of coffee with me.”
Her smile felt frozen. Was he...he was. He was asking her out.
“What about your run?” she asked.
He waved that away. “I’ve already gone a few miles.” He edged closer, lowered his voice. “I’d much rather spend time with you.”
“You would?” She grimaced and wished the words back, but they were already out there, proving she was a complete fool and totally inept at this flirting thing.
His grin widened. “I would. Unless,” he added when she stood there like an idiot, “you already have plans.”
She opened her mouth to assure him she had no other plans, had nothing she’d rather do than spend an hour or two showing him how perfect they were for each other. But that dumb vision of Kane traipsed through her mind again.
And, she realized, she’d never called the pharmacy about delivering his new prescription.
Crap.
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, more sorry than he could know, “but I do have somewhere I need to be. I’m free either tomorrow or Wednesday afternoon, though.”
He smiled, but looked disappointed. “Wednesday would be great. Shall we say two o’clock? At Brewster’s?”
She hadn’t been to Brewster’s Coffee Shop since she tracked down James there one Saturday last fall. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
With a wave, she turned and caught up with Sadie.
“Well, well,” Sadie said as they waited for a car to pass before crossing the street. “Seems somebody is mighty smitten.”
Oh, Lord, was it that easy to tell? “Dr. Louk is just a coworker,” she said, sounding defensive even to her own ears.
A coworker who wanted to have coffee with her. Not exactly the most original start to a courtship, but at least it was a start.
“I don’t think that matters to him.” When Char just stared at her, Sadie added, “It’s obvious. He’s got a thing for you.”
Char stumbled. “What?”
Sadie looked at her as though she’d dropped a few brain cells on her little trip. “He just happened to be running in the area? The same area you mentioned to him? Come on. He was obviously hoping to bump into you.” As if to illustrate, Sadie bumped Char’s hip. “Plus, he was looking at you like he wanted to tie you up in a bow and give you to himself as his very own present. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks you out.”
“He did,” Char said. Sadie thought Justin had a thing for her? Amazing. Wonderful. For once, she didn’t have to do all the work. “We’re having coffee Wednesday.”
“Good. Just try to have fun without putting pressure on yourself. Or him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re always planning for the next goal, always looking forward. Relax and enjoy where you are now. Don’t try to push things. Simply...see where you end up.”
But then she wouldn’t have any control over the outcome.
“If I don’t push, how am I supposed to get the future I want?” The one she’d always dreamed of, planned on having. Sadie didn’t understand. She floated through life, taking things as they came, always more than happy to stop what she was doing and try something else.
That wasn’t for Charlotte. She liked knowing where she was going, what the end destination would be. And if she didn’t navigate, wasn’t in the driver’s seat, how on earth would she be able to guarantee she got there?
“All I’m saying is every now and then it’s okay to enjoy what you have, who you are in the now. Be in the present.”
“Thank you, Obi-Wan, but some of us prefer to know what’s coming.”
That way, you could plan for it.
* * *
“WE’RE CLOSED,” KANE said as O’Riley’s door opened Sunday evening.
Charlotte walked in, looking fresh and pretty as a summer day in a pair of jeans and bright green top. “Then you should lock the door.”
She slid onto a stool as if she owned the damn place and set a plastic bag on the bar.
“Sorry, Red,” he said in the tone that always brought out the frown lines in her forehead, “but you’ll have to get your booze somewhere else tonight. O’Riley’s isn’t open on Sundays except during football season.”
“Gotta keep those raging Steelers fans happy,” she said.
“It’s what I live for.” There were worse things to live for. Such as where his next high was going to come from.
She looked around and he took the opportunity to study her. She wasn’t beautiful; her nose was too pointy, her cheeks too round. So why the hell had he been unable to stop thinking about her all day?
He scrubbed the top of the bar with a damp cloth. Hard. One kiss and he’d lost his mi
nd.
“Where’s your daughter?” she asked.
“You’re still having a hard time getting used to that, aren’t you? Me being a father.”
Char set her elbow on a dry spot, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, it did come as something of a shock, seeing as how I don’t think anyone had any idea you even had a daughter. Let alone one old enough to drive, gorgeous enough to turn men into even bigger fools and sweet enough to still call you Daddy.”
“I’m only Daddy when she wants something. Today she wanted me not to kick her butt back to Houston.”
“Is that what you did?”
He sprayed the sink with cleaner, scrubbed the basin, each movement sending jarring pain up his side. He scrubbed harder. “She’s upstairs sleeping. Once she goes out, it’s tough to wake her.”
They’d hung out after breakfast, catching up with each other. Or rather, Estelle had caught him up on her life, chattering nonstop about this friend and that friend, her classes and teachers. He’d kept his comments to a minimum. Partly because it was hard to get a word in edgewise when his kid started babbling.
But mostly because he’d been hurting so bad, he was afraid if he opened his mouth, he’d groan. Or cry. Neither of which would do him any good.
He’d hoped keeping busy would help him forget about the pain. About how much he wished he still had those pills from last night.
“Too bad. I was hoping to get a chance to chat with her some more,” Charlotte said, sounding as if she really meant it. “She’s something. And I mean that in the best possible way. You must be very proud.”
“I am.” Estelle was the best thing he’d ever done.
The best thing that had ever happened to him.
“But you didn’t stop by just to hang out with my kid,” he said, rinsing the rag and setting it out to dry. “You’re checking up on me.”
She shifted. “Am I really that easy to read?”
“Like an open book with large print.”
She flushed, her mouth a thin line as if she didn’t like being open and totally honest. Giving and generous. Traits he didn’t understand himself, but they worked on her. “Actually, I stopped by to give you these.”
She retrieved a sling from the bag along with a prescription bottle. She set it on the bar between them. He eyed it as warily as he would a bomb, as if one of the pills was going to escape its confinement and leap into his mouth.
“It’s your prescription,” she said, slowly. “I stopped by the pharmacy and got it for you.”
“I’ll take this.” He picked up the sling, tucked it under the bar. “Thanks, but I don’t want the pills,” he said, though it was a lie. He did want them. Too much.
She frowned, checked the bottle’s label. “It’s okay. It’s a new script for Toradol. It’s non-narcotic. Much less...potent...than the one you had last night.”
Potent. She meant addictive.
He pushed the bottle toward her. “I won’t take them.”
“We talked about this, remember? As long as you take them as directed—no more than the maximum dose per day—the chances of you becoming addicted to them are slim.” She gentled her voice, touched his hand. “There’s no reason for you to suffer.”
Her words blew through him like a fire, burning his resistance. No, he didn’t have to suffer. All he had to do was pop a couple of those pills and his pain would be gone.
Temporarily.
He was terrified it wouldn’t be enough. That the entire bottle would be inadequate and he’d start wanting more, craving more until he was back to where he was fourteen years ago.
Strung out and desperate only for his next hit. For something to make everything okay.
“I won’t take them,” he repeated. “Not when my daughter’s here.”
For the next two weeks, Estelle was fully his responsibility. His only concern. He refused to blow it, to let his past, his mistakes, touch her in any way.
Charlotte curled her fingers around the bottle. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “When Estelle was little, I promised her and myself I’d never use again.” He forced himself to meet Charlotte’s eyes, to meet the sympathy there head-on. “I won’t take the chance of becoming addicted. I won’t take any chances when it comes to my kid.”
Charlotte exhaled heavily. “Okay. Okay,” she repeated more to herself than him. She tucked the bottle of pills in her purse. “I hope you’re at least taking ibuprofen.”
“Two every six hours. Like clockwork.” They only took the sharpest edge off the pain, but it was all he was willing to do.
“Good.” She smiled, as if she were proud of him for not caving to the pain. As if his fears, his past addiction, were to be ignored. She stood, picked up her purse. “Well, I should get going. I’m due at my mom’s for Sunday family dinner.”
“You have my sympathies.”
“For what?”
“Family dinner.” Sounded like torture. He should know. He’d suffered through enough of them before cutting himself off from his parents and brothers. Everything and everyone from his past.
Except Estelle.
Charlotte grinned. “Hey, I like my family.”
“Even your sister who stole the love of your life?”
Shit. Why had he said that? The comment hit home—her smile slid away and her face lost some of its color. He found himself wanting to touch the back of Charlotte’s hand. Found himself wanting to do something a Bartasavich never did. Apologize.
“Actually,” Charlotte said, staring at the bar, “I’ve come to realize perhaps I...overstated my feelings for James.”
“Yeah?” Why that made him feel relieved and sort of happy, he didn’t want to examine too closely. “Must suck, though. Having to be around them.”
“It’s a bit...awkward...from time to time, yes.”
Yet she was still willing to go to a family dinner. How many times had she been subjected to seeing James and Sadie together? It couldn’t have been easy, not at first. But she did it, had somehow managed to remain close with Sadie, had accepted James as an almost-brother-in-law. She didn’t back down from challenges.
That he admired her tenacious spirit and forgiving soul wasn’t a surprise. That he found those traits appealing was.
One he didn’t like.
“It’ll get easier,” he heard himself say, then immediately wished he could take the words back. No, they weren’t overly sweet or sentimental, were a pat response actually, but he didn’t want her to start thinking he might care about her or her feelings.
“It already has. Just as things will get easier with your daughter and, I’m assuming, her mother.”
“Estelle and Meryl are very close.”
Charlotte blinked. “Oh. I’m sorry. I assumed since Estelle showed up here without your knowledge, that she’d—”
“Run away from home?” He shook his head. “Estelle loves her mother.”
“I love my mother, too. But when I was sixteen, there were plenty of times I would have given my right leg to get away from her.” Charlotte sat back down, the movement pulling her top taut against her small breasts for a moment before she lifted her hips and loosed the material. Too bad. “Were you and Estelle’s mother married long?” she asked, her gaze way too intense. Interested. As though they were two buddies sitting around chatting, getting to know each other.
The interest wasn’t bad. He could deal with that, but he didn’t want her to get too close to him. Didn’t want anyone knowing him too well.
“No.”
She looked disappointed, as if his harsh answer had hurt her feelings.
As if she expected more from him.
“Meryl and I were never married,” he admitted, pulling bottles of beer from the case he’d slid across the floor earlier and
putting them into the cooler. “We slept together once, at a party, when both of us were too young, too stupid and way too drunk to know any better.”
He wished he could say that had been his last drunken sexual encounter.
He leaned forward, gave Char his sexiest grin. “I bet you’re thankful now I turned you away when you came to my apartment.”
“Yes, well, I’m always grateful when someone stops me from making a huge mistake.”
His lips twitched at the way she emphasized “huge.” Yeah, it would have been a mistake, one he was regretting not making.
He let his gaze drift slowly, deliberately down the long line of her throat to the vee of her shirt, remembered how she’d looked at his apartment, all glowing skin and long lines, subtle curves. He hated that she’d been so willing to debase herself for some guy who wasn’t worth her time. He slid his finger over the back of her hand, liked how she froze, the only movement her throat as she swallowed. “Glad I could be of service. Tell me, why did you come to see me that morning?”
She looked startled. “I...” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Maybe I wanted to try something new? Do something wild and adventurous and daring.”
“Tired of being the good girl, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“That may have been part of it, but it wasn’t the only reason,” he said, watching her carefully. “We both know what you wanted. And it wasn’t a walk on the wild side or even to get laid.”
She flinched and eased back, sliding her hand away from him. He curled his fingers into his palm.
Wished he could touch her again.
“No, I didn’t just want to get laid,” she said, color rising in her cheeks. “I wanted...” She sighed. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t understand.”
She got to her feet and for some reason, he didn’t want her to go. Not when listening to her chirp on and on actually kept him from thinking of the pain, of those pills in her purse and how much he wanted to take them.
“Try me,” he heard himself say.
CHAPTER TEN
CHARLOTTE TURNED, SLOWLY, suspiciously, her shoulders rigid, her narrow waist accentuated by the clinging top. “I wanted to prove something.”
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