When Two Hearts Collide (Game of Hearts Novels Book 3)

by Sonya Loveday

  My hands turned green, so I rolled forward, the anger disappearing just as quickly as it appeared, leaving me feeling a little empty.

  “Yer not the only one who’s nervous,” he said a little while later, so quietly I almost thought I imagined it. But then, he continued. “You make me feel like a young lad twitching for school to get out so I could see ye again and walk ye home.”

  I didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at him, because what he said couldn’t be real.

  “I like ye, Charlotte. A lot, actually, and that’s not normal for me, so, yeah, ye make me nervous. Crazy nervous, in fact.” He let out a large sigh and dug his fingers through his hair. “Could ye look at me?”

  The pleading in his voice made my head spin automatically as I stopped just at the entrance of my driveway.

  “I didn’t go any further with ye that night because I did… do think of ye as my friend,” he said, his eyes desperate for me to understand. “More, actually, because I’ve never cared like that for a girl, and I didn’t want to screw it up. Ye were better than a one-night stand with me, Charlotte. Ye deserve more than that, and that’s why I was glad Hannah couldn’t come, because I wanted to say these things to ye in person. So there ye have it. There’s the truth. I like ye, and I’m here because I want to get to know ye more. Which scares me because I’ve never really wanted to know anyone the way I want to know you. I won’t push ye or seduce ye, but I’ll know ye, and that’ll have to be enough.”

  I swear he had to be able to hear my heart pounding inside my chest as I held my breath. Every one of his words cleared my doubt like a cool breeze blowing through a field of smoke. He was a gentleman deep down, and he did have good intentions for me. And that made him even more dangerous, because I knew my heart, and I knew it wasn’t going to win a game of tug-o-war with my brain.

  He was a magnet. I couldn’t look away from his openly tender gaze. All I could think was that everyone made at least one life-changing decision in their life—whether it was a choice to turn left instead of right and ending up down the wrong street at the wrong time, or a choice to hold the elevator door for someone and they ended up becoming the person of their dreams.

  Hannah made her choice when she decided to leave everything behind and follow her dreams to be with Ed. And Cherry made hers when she decided to leave Violet on the backburner because neither could afford to just pick up and move on a whim at the hope that maybe things would work out for them.

  Charlie was a decision staring me in the face, asking me to forgive him and give him another chance. A decision I knew would eventually change the course of my world.

  I closed my eyes. Released my breath.

  And then… I let him back in.

  “I’D BETTER HURRY. THEY’RE ALREADY here,” Charlotte said as she parked and got out of the car before either of us could say anything more, leaving me wondering where her head was at. I wasn’t sure if it was an escape because I’d said too much, or if it was her way of dealing with things that made her uncomfortable.

  Bloody idiot. Why couldn’t I have just let it go for the moment? Waited until we were alone with no chance of her running away? And what the hell made me profess feelings about her that I hadn’t fully admitted to my own self?

  I mentally kicked myself over and over again as we walked in pinpricked silence to the front door. A slight pulsing vibrated through the air from the music coming from inside. It was a charmer—two stories of a well-kept farmhouse surrounded by acres of what seemed a hefty piece of property to own.

  A cacophony of voices floated toward us when Charlotte opened the door. Most were shouts for her, but it wasn’t Charlotte’s name they shouted.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised since I’d witnessed how rowdy derby girls could be from the bouts I watched while Charlotte and Hannah were competing in London, but I was when Charlotte was swallowed into a group of dancing girls all shouting her team name—Magick Pony.

  What followed next left my mouth gaped wide open. Aside from the laughter and the hugs being tossed around the room, one girl with dark hair ran over to the radio, calling out to Charlotte as she pointed to the iPod she was using to DJ. The song playing cut right off and was replaced by another one—My Pony.

  The voices in the room heightened to an all new level of excitement as every girl there seemed to circle around Charlotte, who was clearly enjoying the choice in song. She tossed back one drink before being handed another. She had a way about her that demanded every eye in the room. A smile that left your feet itching to move forward until you were close enough to be within radius of its light.

  As she dropped down to the floor and slowly worked her way back up, hips twirling in circles my eyes couldn’t keep up with, the blood rushed from my face, pooling right into my… “I need a drink,” I said to no one in particular, dragging my hand down my face.

  I had to peel my eyes off her and force myself to turn from the sight of Charlotte dancing. No, that wasn’t quite dancing. That was dry humping. With a bunch of lasses.

  Drink. Now.

  Cherry was in the kitchen, hips swiveling as her head bobbed to the beat. But nothing… nothing like what was happening in the living room. Before I could make some sort of noise loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass line, Cherry turned, holding a drink out for me.

  “I’d ask you what you thought, but after seeing your face, the question is irrelevant,” Cherry said, bumping her plastic cup with mine.

  “Cheers,” I said, trying my best to drain the cup and not freeze my lips off with all the ice Cherry put in it.

  She smirked, slipped a straw in hers, and then said, “Bottoms up!”

  I snatched the straw from her drink as soon as her lips left it. “I fancy keeping my teeth, yeah?”

  Cherry rolled her eyes about the time the crowd in the living room roared in excitement.

  “Like this at every party?” I asked, keeping my back to the other room.

  Cherry watched me closely as she said, “I figured you woulda stayed out there to enjoy the show.”

  “Touché. I could say the same for you, eh? Too many girl parts rubbing for ya?” I asked, saluting her with my drink before sticking the straw in my mouth.

  She shook her head, lips splayed in a smile that made her eyes sparkle. “Something like that.”

  “At least you don’t have a cock,” I said, knowing I’d get a good laugh out of her.

  It did.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Hard to control, are they?”

  “Control,” I said with a snort, adding, “As if there’s such a thing.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s almost over, but until then… you really shouldn’t miss this…” She plucked my drink from my hand and then hooked her arm through mine, pulling me backward.

  I dragged my feet, trying to hold myself back from the torture that was sure to come. Cherry, however, was a lot stronger than she looked. She maneuvered me up against the doorjamb and pointed her finger to my chest. “Don’t move,” she mouthed forcefully.

  I was too busy watching her as she disappeared into the sea of lasses to realize what was going on. Too distracted by the way the mood in the room had shifted into something more intense to see her coming. Soft warmth pushed into me. Her body perfect. Frozen in a hip grind that set my blood on fire.

  Cherry had put me in Charlotte’s path on purpose.

  Her arm came up around my neck, connecting my body to her instead of to the doorjamb she thought she’d backed up against.

  There was a slight shift when she realized she wasn’t dancing alone anymore. A tell-tale sign of someone ready to bolt.

  I wasn’t going to let her.

  Not with the way her ass felt pressed against my thighs.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  I clamped my hands on her hips and leaned in close to her neck, hissing against her skin as every cell in my body woke up.

  I pushed us both away from the wall, keeping my hands firmly in place until I f
elt some of the tension let go of her body. I’d forced her hand.

  What I didn’t know was how she’d pay me back. It wasn’t even thirty seconds later before I regretted pushing her. Regretted thinking I had any sort of upper hand with her, because I didn’t. All she had to do was crook her finger at me and I would have followed her anywhere.

  Anywhere except a crowded living room. Especially in my state. A state in which I couldn’t hide my reaction to her. I spun her around as the song ended and walked us into the kitchen, letting her go only when we got close to the sink.

  Turning on the tap, I splashed my face, over and over, before sticking my mouth along the stream of biting cold water.

  Charlotte stayed put, only moving to grab something from the drawer beside her.

  When I shut off the water, a fluffy towel appeared under my nose.

  “Thanks,” I said, blotting my face dry.

  She was flushed from dancing. The red grew more vibrant the longer we stared at one another.

  “Charlie… I’m—”

  “An enigma,” I said, putting my finger against her lips to stop her from apologizing.

  She shook her head, and then backed up a step. “If I had known you were there, I wouldn’t have done that.”

  After Charlotte’s dance, someone had lowered the stereo volume enough to be able to talk to one another without shouting. “I wouldn’t have been standing there but for Cherry.”

  Her brows pulled together. “Cherry?”

  “I was content to stay in the kitchen and polish off a drink or two whilst you, er, entertained your guests,” I answered, eyes skipping over the lineup of bottles on the counter.

  She closed her eyes, took a very long breath through her nose, and then released it. Like some sort of cleansing breathe. A ‘let that shit go’ moment in the making. It took all of ten seconds. When her eyes opened, she said, “Make me something yummy, Mr. Bartender. I’m feeling a bit thirsty.”

  “And what’ll ye have, lassie?” I asked, making sure to put a little more effort into my accent as I tossed the towel over my shoulder.

  She hooked her hands in her back pockets, bit the corner of her lip for a moment, shrugged, and said, “Surprise me.”

  “Where ye off to then?” I asked as she spun on her heel, intent to leave the kitchen.

  She caught the doorjamb with her hand, stopping only briefly as she said, “Getting out of these sweaty clothes and into something a little more comfortable.”

  She laughed. I could hear the throaty sound of it. Felt it punch me in the gut as I watched her walk away. Watched the sway of her hips with every step she took until she got to the stairs and looked pointedly at me.

  With a wink, she jogged the rest of the way, leaving me in a state of complete arousal.

  How in the hell could I ever go back to the life I lived before? Pre-Charlotte.

  Is that how I’d look at everything from now on? Pre and post-Charlotte?

  The outrageous part was that, without her, my future for the first time seemed really bleak.

  Shake it off, Charlie, me boy. No sense muddling ‘round those typed of maudlin thoughts, I told myself as I sorted through the bottles on the counter. Scrolling through my mental list of drinks, I settled on an oldie but a goodie.

  By the time Charlotte came back, I had two Rum Runners on the counter and was about to fill each straw.

  Distracted, I held the rum bottle in the air, taking in the sight of Charlotte in a pair of cotton shorts cut to show off the perfection of her rounded backside and very shapely legs. Visions of taking her from behind clouded my thoughts. It took a second before I could force my eyes higher, which brought me right to a view of her perky little chest covered by tiny, sparkly triangles of material.

  “Holy God. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I said, doing something I hadn’t done since my days at school. I crossed myself.

  “I never would have taken you for a man of the cloth,” she said, reaching out to take one of the cups from the counter. It was as if someone had replaced Charlotte with a siren. Gone was the nervous fidgeting, replaced by a sultry temptress who clearly enjoyed how she made me feel.

  I stayed her hand and poured a thin stream of rum down the straw before I allowed her to take her cup, following suit with my own.

  This woman might just be the death of me.

  Charlotte gave a slight gasp before saying, “Whoa… that has a kick.”

  “Liquid courage, or luck, depending, I guess,” I said, taking another long drink up my straw. Trying to ignore the thoughts of her riding my c—

  “Depending? Depending on what?” she asked, tipping her head in the follow-me fashion.

  “The situation, luv,” I answered, saying no more as we joined the partygoers who’d moved outside. My eyes drifted from her ass to the crowd in front of us, and then back to her ass.

  “The situation?” she repeated, giving me a slow smile over her shoulder.

  “My uncle had a parrot from the Amazon did the same trick, luv,” I said, dodging the elbow she meant to jab me with.

  “Funny,” she hissed, trying to sneer, but it fell short.

  “Depends on the situation in which the courage is needed. Could be a bloke needs a shot to get up the nerve to talk to a pretty girl, or could be a shot taken before askin’ a pretty lass if she’d like to dance, knowing he’s got no chance in hell, but he can’t help himself.”

  She smirked. “Or a great way to take the edge off an uncomfortable situation. Ply the subject of your enamor with alcohol and watch them lose their inhibitions?”

  “Is that what you think I’ve done? Because if you remember, I put the same amount of rum in both our straws,” I said, giving her a wink.

  “Magick Pony! Come take a ride on my magic handle,” some arsehole called out from the hot tub as he swiveled his hips outward in her direction.

  She winced, turning as if she hadn’t heard him.

  “Friend of yours?” I asked, watching him ogle her from across the yard, finding I didn’t much care for it. Neither did I care much that he decided he needed to get a little closer and repeat himself.

  “His name is Stuart,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me, eyes shadowed with annoyance. “He sort of has a… thing… for me.”

  “A thing? Did you two uh—”

  “God, no,” she hurriedly answered as Stuart shouted for her again, grabbing at himself as if it would entice her. When she ignored him, he shot me a dirty look as he got out of the hot tub and headed in our direction. I knew what that look meant. It was the look of challenge one bloke gave to another when it came to a female they wanted. It was clear he wasn’t going to give up without some sort of fight. His hands were already reaching through the air as if to grab her when I decided to put the bloody wanker in his place.

  “Don’t hit me, luv, but…” I didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, I pulled her into my arms, grabbed a handful of her backside, and kissed the bloody hell out of her.

  What I hadn’t counted on was the arsebite thinking he was some sort of knight in flashy board shorts.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled hard enough that it warranted a pained shout.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Stuart?” she asked, spinning around to confront him as she wrenched free.

  Stuart puffed out his chest, and then grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her along behind him. “Me? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Apparently, Charlotte didn’t approve of his methods. Pulling him to a stop, she stomped her heel down on his foot and then jabbed her elbow into his jaw. I watched in wonder as he bent over with a roar of pain.

  “Don’t ever put your hands on me again,” she said as she stood over him.

  Up until that point, the crowd of people had, for the most part, watched, continuing on while the drama unfolded. But when Stuart rose to his feet, clenched his fist, and drew it back, everyone went silent. As if they couldn’t believe what they were witnessing.

&nb
sp; Everyone except me.

  “Put yer fist down, mate.” The edge in my voice, deadly with intent, gave him a clear warning.

  Charlotte stepped back, putting several feet of space between them. “You need to leave. And don’t ever come back.”

  Stuart rolled his shoulders, pinned me with a look, and then, deciding I looked like a good target, came at me. What Stuart didn’t know was that I was already one step ahead of him. I knew what he was going to do before he did it. I was well versed in drunk and disorderly. I was also well versed in taking out the trash. Both, it seemed, would happen the minute he got within arm’s reach.

  We hit the ground in a tangle of extremities. He had a good twenty pounds on me, and all twenty of them were intent on hurting me as much as they could. Stuart wanted to fight dirty, and I found myself obliging him. To his every one hit, I got in two. He didn’t know it, but he’d picked the wrong bloke to fuck with.

  Screams mixed in with the grunts coming from both Stuart and myself. Neither of us was willing to let the other have any sort of upper hand. If I could just get him flipped over, I could get my arm around his neck and the fight would be over. Flipping him over was no easy matter as sweaty as he was. Getting hold of him to get him up on his feet was almost impossible. Before I could make any headway, something came down on the back of his head.

  He was rolled off me by a set of familiar hands. I sat up, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. Waiting for the explosion of pain to hit along my ribs and jaw. Waiting for my injured tailbone to wake up and infuse me with enough pain to sink me to my knees. Drunk as he was, Stuart’s right hook had found several places on my body to land while I tried to get him into a hold that would incapacitate him.

  What I should have done was sidestepped him and caught the back of his head with my fist. The blow would have knocked his ass out. I fought to keep my hands loose at my side. Fought with everything in me not to jump back on him and show him who the better fighter was. To tell him with blows, not words, to keep his hands off my woman.