He resigned to think positive and drove to the closest pharmacy for some essentials—just in case he might need them this weekend. That was wishful thinking on his part, but a man had to be prepared.
Driving home from CVS, his cell phone rang. Good, it was Phil returning his call.
“Man, I heard you really fouled–up your chances with Rachel,” Phil said. “How could you leave the poor girl hanging like that?”
“Rachel—is that the flight attendant with the auburn hair and the big, fake—”
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s hot, and she was into you, but you’re not going to get another chance. You blew it, man.”
“I didn’t want the first chance. I told you not to set me up on one of those ridiculous blind dates.”
“I know a man has certain needs, and as your friend, I know yours haven’t been taken care of in how long now?”
“A while … but I’m okay with that. I needed a drama–free existence for a while. I didn’t need another cheating bimbo. I was nearly tied down by the last one.”
“God man—what was she?—the second or third woman who did that to you?”
“Something like that. It’s to be expected though, when you hook up with girls at a bar or the gym. Which brings me to the reason I called you earlier. I need a favor.”
“What’s that?”
Charlie had to stop the car while the swing–span of the Ben Sawyer Bridge opened, allowing access for a large boat to pass through the channel. “I met a lady in the most unexpected way, and she is an angel—nothing like the women from my past. I’m spending the weekend with her, and I need to borrow your van.”
“The love machine, eh? Sure man, you can borrow it. Sounds like you’re making the most of your off–week. How’d you meet her?”
“Her name is Lindsay, and she blocked my driveway. That’s why I had to stand up what’s–her–name.”
“Are you kidding? She showed up at just the right time then, huh?”
“She certainly did.” Charlie had resolved to live the rest of his life as a bachelor, but Lindsay had thrown a wrench into his plans … and knocked him off his feet.
The bridge closed and Charlie proceeded across. The setting sun illuminated the water with a copper glow, and the smell of pluff mud loomed in the air. He cruised at a low rate of speed, ticking off the driver of the close–following Mercedes. He didn’t care. His eyes were fresh to the beauty around him, as was his heart. Seems Lindsay Martin had cleared the cobwebs away.
* * *
Around eight o’clock that night, Charlie was swimming laps in the pool when his cell phone rang on the patio table. He toweled off and answered.
“Charlie?” a female voice said.
“Yes, this is he.”
“It’s Lindsay.”
“Hi. I’m surprised to hear from you. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to call.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have waited until the last minute. I’m just leaving a job fair, and it lasted longer than I expected. Are you still up for camping?”
“There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do. So, we’re still on?”
“Yeah, we’re on. Here’s the itinerary.—”
“Lindsay?” Charlie interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Why don’t we meet for drinks first? Then we’ll talk about the weekend?”
“It’s getting late. I probably shouldn’t.”
“Yes, you should. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can’t wait another two days to see you again. You can even pick the place. I’ll come to Goose Creek if you want.”
Lindsay thought about it. On Thursdays, Ireland and some of her friends go to trivia at The Crust. Lindsay had gone a few times and had enjoyed herself. The DJ played all kinds of pop and rock music, which made for an entertaining atmosphere, especially when the drunks started dancing. It was sort of a hole–in–the–wall place though. She hoped it wouldn’t be too understated for Charlie’s tastes, but at least she would feel more comfortable on her home turf.
“I know a place with a fun crowd. I don’t know if it’s your kind of hang out, but—”
“What’s the name?”
“The Crust.”
“See you there in thirty minutes.”
He didn’t need an address, or have any other questions about the establishment? Oh well, he’s a pilot … he shouldn’t have any problems with direction.
* * *
Lindsay had stopped by the apartment, and changed out of her business fuddy–duds into a sexier ensemble: blue jeans and a Dodgers tank top with the team logo in rhinestones.
Each group that played team trivia had a name. When Lindsay had gone in the past, she’d suggested the name “Dodger Blues”, for her favorite baseball team. The name stuck, and on the nights Ireland and her crew played without Lindsay, they still used it. Most likely the Dodger Blues had a losing record by now; kind of like the real team. Lindsay didn’t care who made fun of her for liking a West Coast team … her man was on that team.
Lindsay pulled into the small strip of shops and found a parking place right next to Ireland’s old clunker. She drove a 1970s Volkswagen Beetle that had left her stranded ten times over the two years Lindsay had lived with her. Probably wouldn’t be long before it broke down again. It’d been a record eight weeks since last time.
Lindsay took a seat at their regular spot—a tall, rectangular table with bar stools.
Asher, Ireland’s brother, sat at the other end with some random girls.
He loosened his grip around one of the girls and came down to sit next to Lindsay. “Finally decided to come back to me?”
“No.” Lindsay said, turning her back to him. He walked around to face her. “Buy you a drink?”
“No.”
“Why you got to be like that, girl? We had a good thing one time.”
“Exactly—one time. Leave me alone. Had I known you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come. Where’s your sister?”
“Around here somewhere,” Asher said, walking off. “Peace out.” He went to the other end of the table and pulled a different girl into his lap.
Ugh, how disgusting. Lindsay still couldn’t believe that she’d hooked up with him a year ago. He was good–looking with his blond hair and baby blues, but that was all he had going for him. He was scrawny, at least two years younger than Lindsay, and had the immaturity to prove it.
She was drunk the night they’d hooked up and didn’t remember it the next day. All she knew was that she woke up with a tremendous headache—and what Asher told her, of course. He could have been lying, but it was no coincidence that they were in the same bed the next morning. If it were true, he must have been a terrible lay or certainly, she would have remembered something.
“Hey, girlie,” Ireland said, wrapping her arms around Lindsay’s neck. “I didn’t see you walk in.”
“I just got here. Where were you?”
“In the ladies’ room, checking my makeup. Gotta look good for Jeffrey. He’s coming up tonight.”
She needed to tone down that makeup. It looked like she was channeling her inner Christina Aguilera with that bright red lipstick. It was too much for her snow–white skin tone, but Lindsay didn’t have the heart to tell her. Maybe she would give her a complimentary makeover, if she could get her to the Clinique counter. But Ireland would have to wake up before three o’clock in the afternoon, and that was on rare occasion.
“What brings you out tonight?” Ireland asked. “The job fair stress you out?”
“No, it was okay. I applied with a couple of medical offices that sound promising. Keep your fingers crossed that I’ll hear something back. I’m actually meeting Charlie here tonight.”
“Rock on,” Ireland said, holding up her index and pinky fingers. “Look, there’s my man.”
Jeffrey was holding open the door. He was surprisingly cleaned–up tonight. His sandy–blond hair had a bounce to it. He wore carpenter blue jean
s, with a wrinkle–free, Myrtle Beach House of Blues T–shirt. That bumped him from a negative ten, in Lindsay’s opinion, to a good six or seven.
“And he’s looking good tonight,” Ireland said, as she licked her lips in a particularly wet and lascivious way.
Lindsay rolled her eyes. Great, looks like I’m in for a night full of drunk p–d–a.
Ireland gasped and tugged on Lindsay’s arm. “Look at that guy behind him. My, oh my, I may have to kick Jeffrey to the curb.”
Jeffrey was holding the door open for Charlie. He looked exquisite. The top of his hair styled with gel, stood up in a hot, messy, Colin Farrell sort of way. Damn. He had on a black leather jacket over a pair of loose–fitting blue jeans.
Lindsay found herself licking her lips in the same manner that Ireland had moments ago. She closed her mouth and made a mental note to pay less attention to Ireland’s mannerisms.
“I saw him first,” Ireland said, getting out of her chair.
“Hey!” Lindsay stiff–armed Ireland in her tracks. “Step off, sister. He’s mine.”
“You are lying!” Ireland said with mile–wide eyes. “That’s your beach guy?”
“Yep.” Lindsay’s confidence soared, as did her territorial instincts, as she made a beeline to the door.
Charlie stood in front of the DJ’s equipment booth, scanning the room. Lindsay snuck behind him and covered his eyes with her hands. In her four–inch heels, she stood the same height. She kissed his neck, then whispered in his ear, “Guess who?”
“Hmm, not sure. Keep going,” Charlie said.
“Don’t turn around,” Lindsay whispered, as she slid her hand beneath the front of Charlie’s T–shirt. Kissing his neck, she gave his nipple a pinch. She blew in his ear, then said, “Give up yet?” and nibbled the lobe.
Apparently her disregard for p–d–a had gone out the door with the last patron. And what had come over her, anyway? The magnetic affect he had on her was unnerving. Good thing the bar was dimly lit.
“Check please,” Charlie said, spinning around, and they both started laughing. He wrapped his arms around her waist and touched her lips with his, teasing her with a slip of his tongue. “That was hot as hell. I wasn’t kidding about the check. Let me pick up your tab, so we can get out of here.”
“Sounds tempting, but you just got here. Come on, I want to introduce you to my roommate,” Lindsay said, taking his hand.
Lindsay and Charlie stopped at the table where Ireland was sitting. “Ireland, meet Charlie,” Lindsay said.
“Hey,” Ireland said, slinking out of her chair to hug Charlie. “It’s a pleasure. Lindsay, you are a lucky girl. This man is a knock out.” She pressed her nose into his chest. “And oh–my–gosh, he smells so good—like blue lagoon and pheromones.”
Jeffrey just sat there, his expression unchanged. He either was blitzed, or just plain dumb.
“Pheromones don’t have a smell, Ireland,” Lindsay said.
“Contraire,” Ireland said, holding up a red, polished nail. “If I couldn’t smell them, I wouldn’t be all over him like a cheap suit.”
Cheap slut. Lindsay bit her tongue.
Charlie smiled, clearly entertained.
“We’re going to find our own table, so …,” Lindsay said.
“What? No! You can’t break up the Dodger Bums,” Ireland said.
“Dodger Blues, not Bums,” Lindsay corrected.
Ireland sucked her teeth. “Whatever. We can’t win trivia without you on our team.”
“I’m hanging out with Charlie. Gonna have to sit this one out.”
“Okay,” Ireland said, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess I’ll find out how smart Jeffrey is tonight.”
Good luck with that.
“Y’all enjoy your date, Ireland said. “Nice meeting you, Charlie.”
“Likewise,” Charlie said.
Leaning into Lindsay’s ear, Ireland said, “Judging by your make–out session, I guess the sexy kitty is back.”
“Naturally,” Lindsay said, giving her a wink.
Leading Charlie to the far right corner, Lindsay said, “How in the world did you find this place?”
“It’s a little thing called GPS. You might have heard of it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I should’ve known you had some fancy device. Is this table good?” Lindsay asked, pointing to a table for two next to an exit.
“It’s perfect. Allow me,” Charlie said, pulling out a chair for Lindsay.
“What a gentleman. I don’t think any guy has ever done that for me.”
Charlie walked to the other side of the table and sat. “Are you kidding? You deserve nothing less. You must’ve dated a lot of creeps in the past.”
Too many to name. “A few. That could explain why I never got serious with any of them. But let’s talk about you. I have to admit, when you walked through that door earlier, I had to pick my jaw up off the floor.”
“Why’s that?”
“Your hair for one. I didn’t know it was that long on the top. The messy look shows your edgier side. And that T–shirt and leather jacket looks ….” Lindsay drew a breath, and fanned her tingling cheeks, “It’s working for you, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Can I get you two a drink?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll have a beer,” Charlie said. “What do you want, doll?”
“Doll? Nobody had ever referred to her with such an endearing term. She liked it. “Water.”
“Okay, I’ll have that right out,” the waitress said.
“You always drink water,” Charlie said. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“Water is good for your skin, and that’s kind of a priority when you work at the Clinique counter.” Might as well get the embarrassment out of the way now.
Charlie didn’t blink. “Your skin is radiant. You clearly put a lot of hard work into taking care of yourself.”
That’s it? No questions? No getting up and walking out?
The waitress set the drinks on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Charlie said.
“I see you’re a Dodgers fan,” he said, tipping his beer toward her shirt. “How’d that come about?”
“My dad’s a huge Braves fan. He and I used to watch the games together when I lived at home. My favorite player got traded from the Braves to the Dodgers, and I traded with him.”
“Is that right? I’ve met a few Braves players through the years, when they were on a flight. What’s his name?”
“Tom Lally.”
“Left–handed pitcher with dark hair?”
Lindsay’s eyes sparkled. “Yeah, he gets no run support. You know him?”
“I know of him. He’s a quiet guy. Kind of flies under the radar.”
“Right,” Lindsay said. “He’s calm and collected until you piss him off. There’s a bulldog underneath that nice–guy exterior. I remember one time he hit a batter ….” Lindsay covered her mouth and giggled, recalling the incident. “Now, mind you, his curveball is his most dangerous pitch, but by no means does it make guys shake in their cleats. Well, he hit the batter, and the guy charged the mound. I almost died laughing when Tom met him halfway, and put a beat down on him.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope. The guy got acquainted with Tom’s cocked elbow real quick like.”
“Ouch. So then, you like that he’s feisty?”
“Exactly. You don’t cross Tom Lally.”
Charlie coughed into his hand. “I know somebody like that.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You were saying?”
“I was finished. You know, it’s funny—you bear a resemblance to him.”
“You think so?”
Lindsay looked him over. He had the same full eyebrows, dimpled chin, dark–brown hair. If Charlie had a baseball cap on, they could pass as brothers. “The similarity is remarkable.”
“That’s a good thing for me, right?”
&
nbsp; “I never thought about it before, but it doesn’t hurt anything.” It didn’t matter that he looked like Tom Lally. He had her under his spell from the moment they met. He was poised, self–assured. And when he touched her, her legs turned to wet noodles. It was insane what he did to her, but she was eager to feel his touch again soon, reckless as it may be.
Lindsay couldn’t keep the sour expression off her face when Asher walked past their table, blowing her a kiss. Good thing Charlie had his back to him.
“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked.
“I can’t stand the guy who just walked by. That’s Ireland’s pain–in–the–ass brother, and he tends to show up where she is.”
“Why don’t we get out of here?”
“Sounds fantastic,” Lindsay said, pushing back her chair.
“Ah–ah–ah,” Charlie said, moving his index finger back and forth.
Lindsay froze in place. “What?”
“Allow me.” Charlie stood and walked behind her, pulling out her chair. It was such a simple act, yet it demonstrated much more than chivalry. No one had ever valued her enough to do such thing. She felt her blood pumping to her heart, and imagined it growing two sizes bigger. Kind of reminded of her of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
Charlie escorted Lindsay to the parking lot, arm around her back. They stopped next to her car. Lindsay leaned against the driver–side door, and Charlie stood in front of her. “Do you want me to follow you to your apartment?”
“Uhm,” Lindsay looked down at the pavement, considering the usual untidiness of the place. To her recollection, Ireland hadn’t left any thongs or stripper shoes lying around.
“If you would rather go to my house—”
“No,” Lindsay said. “I’d love to have you come to my apartment.”
Charlie’s arms at his side, he turned his palms up and interlocked his fingers with Lindsay’s. He leaned in, indulging her in a long, carnal kiss that left her aching for more. “Have I told you how incredibly attracted I am to you?”
Stone in Love Page 3