You're Still the One

by Rachel Harris

  Charlie made her feel cherished. Their lovemaking had burned her mattress, but it had also been passionate. Playful. Spine-tinglingly romantic. Now that she’d gotten a taste of how it could be between them, her heart was bursting with whatever sentiment came after love. Adoration, respect, appreciation, they all applied. He’d been so gentle, as if she were made of fine china, and seeing the rough-and-tumble bad boy gaze at her with such affection had her throat clogged.

  “You okay, sweet girl?” Charlie swept her hair aside and pressed his lips to her neck. It seemed to be his favorite spot. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “God, no.” She tilted his chin up with her fingers and smiled softly. “I’m perfect. It was perfect.”

  He closed his eyes before inhaling and scooting up to cradle her in his arms. “It was.” The thick knot in his throat bobbed, and Ella laid her head on his chest, the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat confirming what he couldn’t.

  Ghosts had been in his eyes when he’d shown up at her door, listing all the reasons why they couldn’t be together, yet telling her he couldn’t stay away. She had tried to reassure him as best she could—she wasn’t pushing for more than he could give—but those same ghosts were back, clouding his eyes as his fingers skimmed her back.

  “What are you afraid of?” she whispered, wondering if he would tell her. His chest rose and fell beneath her, and he pressed a kiss against her hair.

  “Hurting you,” he admitted. “You haven’t seen the world from this side of the business. It’ll eat you alive if you let it. A news day is twenty-four hours long, and people are out for blood to fill it. When they can’t find any dirt, they invent it.”

  There was a sharp edge to his voice, and she knew he was referencing his most recent scandal. Curiosity ate at her. Maddie Clark wasn’t a close friend, but she’d met the young woman at several Nashville functions and, when the story broke, Ella hadn’t believed the tabloid version one bit.

  “What really happened with the mayor’s daughter?”

  Charlie sighed, long and regretful. “We’d actually met to discuss Life & Lyrics. A mutual friend had hooked us up, knowing about my plans for the foundation and Maddie’s heart for the cause.”

  He hesitated for a second. “Maddie has…experience with depression. It’s a cause both she and the mayor champion, so our friend thought she’d be the perfect person to help get the foundation underway. Maybe solicit donations. As you know, I’m great with ideas, but shit with execution, and that afternoon Maddie agreed to help with funding and organization—as long as her name stayed out of the papers. That wasn’t her stipulation, but the mayor’s office was adamant about her not being linked in fear of their personal story coming out. As protective as I am about Abby, I completely understood.”

  Arabella shifted up onto her elbow. “So the two of you met to discuss Life & Lyrics, and what? Your hand accidently found its way up her skirt?”

  She gave a small smile to show she was teasing, but she was honestly confused. She hadn’t believed the published story, but his version clearly left out a vital detail. Most business meetings she’d attended didn’t end with a friendly grope.

  Charlie rolled his head against the pillow. “I have the worst luck in the world. Seriously, ask Tyler, it’s a proven fact.” He sighed. “Maddie and I had finished lunch and I offered to walk her to her car. She was by herself and parked a few blocks away, so I was trying to be a gentleman. Do the right thing. You see where that gets me.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “We were half a block away when I spotted the first camera, but by that point it was too late. We picked up our speed and ignored him, figuring the fallout couldn’t be that bad. What could they print, a story about two acquaintances sharing a meal? No one had heard about Life & Lyrics yet, and without a scandalous picture, whatever random story they cooked up would die within a week.”

  Arabella nodded her agreement. She’d seen enough to know photos were the money shot, and while two people talking might lead to a few rumors, especially considering who the two of them were, interest would’ve faded soon enough. Especially if they hadn’t given them anything new to work with.

  The problem was that they had…the ultimate money shot.

  “It was a warm day,” Charlie said, resuming the slow tracing of her spine. “But being near the river, there was a breeze. Not too much, but enough that you knew it was there. I didn’t think anything of it until it picked up out of nowhere. Walking where we were, on a side street between buildings, it created a tunnel. Growing up with five sisters, I knew what could happen in that situation and I dove on instinct, trying to help Maddie hold down her dress before the photogs got their pictures. I was a half a second too late. Her dress was already up…and instead of an embarrassing photo of her underwear, they got one of me with my hand on her ass.”

  Ella winced, envisioning the scenario he was describing play out. It was mortifying. But still, something didn’t add up. “But the pictures—”

  “Made it look like we were making out,” Charlie cut in with a scowl. “Yeah, I know. It was the camera angle. That or some sort of voodoo magic in Photoshop, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that I’ve never kissed Maddie Clark, and I don’t plan on it, either. She’s a nice enough girl, I guess. But she’s not…” He hesitated and his hazel eyes flicked to hers. “She’s not you.”

  Outside it was raining. The gentle patter of raindrops hitting the window filled the silence after his confession. Arabella wanted to ask what it meant. Charlie had told her, repeatedly, that they couldn’t be together, but then he went and said heart-melting things like that. Obviously, he wanted her in some way, he was in her bed, after all, and the way his eyes traced her face made her believe he felt something for her.

  So, where did that leave them?

  “Touring makes relationships impossible,” he said, clearly reading her thoughts. “I’ve been there once, in the beginning, before things got crazy. Now a tour for us involves crossing the country and hopping the pond. Distance like that can make a solid relationship crumble, but one just starting out?” He shook his head. “Phone calls and video chats aren’t enough. I won’t do that to you, Arabella. Hell, I don’t know if I even have it in me.”

  Ella fought to maintain her expression, pretending that his words didn’t hurt. Charlie was the most caring, sensitive man she’d ever met, despite the rough exterior. Either he didn’t realize that, or he didn’t want her enough to try, and she’d vowed she wouldn’t push. He cared for her, in his own way, and it was already more than she’d expected.

  That would have to be enough for her.

  If a few weeks was all Charlie could offer, she wanted it—wanted him—for as long as she was here. She was a big girl and there was no shame in temporarily enjoying each other. Lana did it all the time.

  “Charlie, I’ve seen the merry-go-round of musical marriages and breakups,” she told him. “I’m not asking for a commitment beyond the summer. All I want is you, for as long as I can have you.”

  She traced the strong line of his stubbled jaw, smiling faintly as the rough whiskers rasped her fingertips. “If I can spend what remains of my trip here in your arms, it’s enough…” Ella licked her lips and met his gaze. “But only if you want me here.”

  Charlie’s hand flexed on her waist, and when he spoke, his voice sounded like he’d gargled with rocks. “I want you here, sweet girl. More than anything.”

  That small admission meant everything, and Ella shifted until she was lying across him, her knees straddling his waist.

  They’d done enough talking for one night. Made enough decisions. If this was just another element of her stolen summer—a secret friends with benefits relationship with the man she’d cared about for half her life—then so be it. She’d worry about the potential heartbreak later.

  Now was the time to enjoy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Life was damn good. It was hard to remember a time Charlie had been this happy. May
be back when he was a kid, but even then he’d been chasing attention, looking for more. Being the youngest of six required creativity if you wanted to be heard. But these days, everything in his world was coming together. Life & Lyrics was nearly a reality. Strange Wheel gave him an outlet he hadn’t realized he needed. And Blue sounded better than ever in rehearsals.

  The best part was Arabella. For the last couple weeks, she’d filled his days with boisterous laughter and his nights with slow kisses. She was the reason for his change in luck, and although a constant pang clawed his chest, reminding him that she was set to leave in a week, he was determined to ignore it for another day. Just like he’d ignored Stone’s phone call that morning.

  “Get your dancing shoes on, sweet girl,” Charlie called as he let himself inside Arabella’s side of the duplex. “We’ve got ourselves a list to conquer.”

  A soft voice floated from down the hall. “What are you going on about, Tucker?”

  He followed the sound of grunts to her bedroom, smirking as he wondered what on earth the woman was up to. She was a dynamo, forever in motion. Charlie wouldn’t have been surprised to find her reorganizing her closet of dresses by color, or Feng shui-ing the solid oak furniture. What did shock him was the sight of suitcases lining the floor.

  “What’s going on?”

  Arabella blew a strand of hair off her face as she sat back on her haunches. “I’m packing,” she said, surveying the mess. “It’s one of those weird little quirks you’ve either got to love or ignore about me, four-string. I’m organized. I despise putting things off to the last minute and always start early. I need days to make my lists and check things off—”

  “Wait, another list?” He forced a smile as he leaned against the wall. He could do this, be supportive and act as though their impending good-bye wasn’t slowly killing him. “You mean there’s more than one?”

  “Well, obviously. You didn’t think I started with the summer top-ten, did you?” Tsking softly, Arabella pushed to her feet with a twinkle in her eyes. “Charlie, I’m a compulsive list-maker. I hope this doesn’t sully the wild-child, free-thinking, party girl image you have of me.”

  She winked at him, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Damn if this woman couldn’t pull him out of his worst moods. Shoving away from the wall, Charlie stepped over the piles of clothes and luggage, pretending they weren’t there, and yanked her into his arms.

  After kissing the tip of her nose, he nuzzled her neck. “It so happens I’ve recently discovered a weakness for list-makers. In fact, I’ve been inspired to make one of my own.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Arabella tilted her head and issued a soft moan as he sucked the tender skin of her throat into his mouth. “Of what?”

  Grinning, he trailed a line of kisses across her neck and skimmed his nose along her jawbone, filling his lungs with her lavender scent. Then he whispered against her ear, “Ways to make you scream my name.”

  She groaned and dug her nails into his shoulders. Charlie held her tight as he plundered her mouth, unable to get enough of her taste, her sounds, and her floral scent. She was the closest thing to perfection he’d ever known, an enticing blend of sweet and sassy during the day and a temptress in his bed. He’d been ruined for all other women, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Not while she was still there, writhing in his arms.

  Arabella pushed on his shoulders, steering him toward her bed, and walking backward, Charlie tripped on an open suitcase. The unwanted reminder cut through the thick fog of desire, and he lowered his forehead to hers, drawing a ragged breath.

  “Are we stopping?” The disappointment in her voice made him chuckle in spite of the looming sense of loss, and Charlie threaded his fingers through her hair, palming either side of her beautiful, makeup-free face.

  “Yeah, darlin’, we’re stopping.” When her lips twisted in a pout, he leaned forward and gently bit them, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “Just for a little while. I’m here to take you dancing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe there’re a few more activities to cross off your list.”

  That nudged a smile out of her, and Arabella wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You’re right. It’s hard to think about silly things like lists when I have you in my arms, but if I don’t see this through here, I never will. Nashville’s like living in a fishbowl. If I leave even one thing unchecked, I’ll be kicking myself once I get home.”

  Charlie ducked his face in her hair so she wouldn’t see how the words affected him. Could they go five fucking minutes without her mentioning leaving him? This seemed so easy for her. Wouldn’t she miss him at all?

  “Let’s go then.” Fixing a smile on his face, he squeezed her tight and then released her. “I know just the place to take you.”

  Twenty minutes later, Charlie held open the door to Mudbugs.

  “Explain again how the daughter of Veronica James doesn’t know the two-step,” he said, his mouth near her ear as they headed toward a booth in the back of the room.

  “Must I remind you of my sheltered life?” she asked with a small laugh. “My mama might’ve recorded some of the best two-stepping songs in existence, but it’s hard to learn when no one asks me to dance.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Charlie said, waiting until she was seated before sliding in opposite her. “You can’t expect me to believe you never dated. You’re a beautiful woman, and not everyone in Nashville follows country music.”

  “You’re right,” she said with a wry smile. “But they do follow Lana. It doesn’t help my love life having a best friend who screams sex appeal. The fact that she never dates a man more than once only adds fuel to the flames.”

  Charlie shook his head. Men were idiots. Seeing the surface flash and not bothering to notice the hidden beauty beneath. He’d know; he’d been the worst offender.

  His cell phone chimed in his pocket, and Charlie discreetly reached to silence it. Apparently, he hadn’t been slick enough. Arabella’s happy smile fell, and he quickly yanked out the case, making a show of turning it off before setting it out on the table. It didn’t matter who it was, her father or another woman. Either way, he wanted nothing to do with it.

  “It’s just the two of us, baby. No one else.”

  She released a breath and then sat up tall, plucking her phone from her pocket, too. “I like the sound of that. Everyone I want to talk to is right here, anyway.”

  She returned her phone to her hip, and Charlie took her hands in his, needing to feel close to her. They’d spent practically every day together since she’d arrived in Magnolia Springs, and lately every night. But it still wasn’t enough. Time was slipping away.

  Linking their hands together, he studied her slender fingers next to his thick ones. She’d told him once that she played piano, and clearly her hands were made for the instrument.

  “Play something for me tomorrow,” he told her suddenly, staring into her eyes as he brought one of those talented fingers to his mouth. “Strange Wheel has a baby grand in one of the studios. I want to hear you make music.”

  His teeth raked the tip of her finger before he sucked it into his mouth, and she hissed, bowing her hips up from the booth. Her eyelids drooped as she flexed her hand, unconsciously offering him more. He liked that reaction…a lot.

  Sucking a second finger into his mouth, Charlie let his tongue in on the action, sliding across her knuckles, lapping at the soft webbing between, his eyes never leaving hers. Arabella bit her lip, and her foot kicked out beneath the table. He grinned wickedly.

  Just as he was preparing to say screw the list, and take her back to his bed where she belonged, the song changed and “Goin’ Creekin’” rolled through the speakers. It was a sign, one Charlie reluctantly listened to, and he released her fingers from his mouth with a wet, audible pop.

  “Time to show you how it’s done.” Smiling at the dazed look in her eyes, he tugged on her hand and pulled Arabella onto the large dance floor.

  “
Is this Billy Brenton?” she asked, stealing a look at the other dancers and rubbing her palms against her jeans. “He’s so dang hot in that ball cap.”

  Laughing, he pulled her close and tickled her ribs. “You trying to make me jealous, girl?” Her innocent expression of who, me? didn’t fool him one bit. “Billy’s actually a friend of mine, and this song happens to be perfect for the two-step. Now get out of that gorgeous head of yours and just follow me. I promise I won’t steer you wrong.”

  Arabella’s warm brown eyes locked on his. Trust and gratitude, mixed with the emotion he wasn’t ready to touch, bloomed in her gaze, and Charlie felt a mysterious tug in the center of his chest. Taking her right hand, he placed his hand on her left shoulder blade and nodded when she hesitantly set her arm alongside his. “Perfect.”

  …

  There was no better sound than Charlie’s steady heartbeat beneath her ear. In times like this, lying in his bed with his hand gently drifting through her hair, it was easy to pretend she wasn’t leaving, that Blue wasn’t headed for a worldwide tour, and that happiness wasn’t slowly slipping through her fingers.

  After had yet to be discussed. Over the last two weeks, they’d successfully avoided all heavy topics, any unnecessary turmoil, and for now, that was okay. Arabella had seen the way Charlie shut down when he spotted her luggage, and she wasn’t in a hurry to confront reality, either.

  She wanted to believe they were building something real, something strong enough to withstand whatever came their way. Ella’s entire life had been spent dealing with constant scrutiny, and she was willing to handle tabloid craziness and overeager fans as well. She could handle just about anything if it meant being with Charlie.

  But Charlie didn’t seem to feel the same way about her.

  Sometimes she caught him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The wistfulness in his eyes and the gentle way he treated her indicated this meant more to him than a simple fling he could walk away from in a week. Maybe if she let him know a small sample of how she was feeling, he would see how good they were together.