I could give her the cash to move out, but there’s no way in hell she’d take it.
The tepid water died, driving James back out into the cold kitchen where Charlotte flitted about like a hummingbird in a rubbish heap.
Where can she go that’s safe? Somewhere that’s not Sophia’s place so I can still show up and bang her brains out?
“You’re gonna move out, right, Blue-Eyes?”
Charlotte poured milk into an orange bowl. “I’d like to but by the time I sort something out it would be time to go home.”
James frowned. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, I’m going back to Melbourne a couple of weeks after Sophia’s wedding.”
His guts churned as Charlotte absently added flour to her milky concoction, leaving a smudge of it on her nose. “I thought you liked it here?”
“I do. But I can’t afford to stay.” She gestured around her shitty apartment. “This place is almost out of my budget.”
James picked up her sugar bowl and began spinning it on the counter top. It was in the shape of the yin-yang symbol.
“I don’t make much at all and it was okay when I lived with Dale, we could split rent and he covered a lot of the bills, but on my own I’m poorer than a church mouse.”
James frowned, disliking the mention of the man who’d come before him. Dale. Even the name pissed him off. “How long were you guys together?”
Charlotte melted coconut oil into the pan. “A while, we met when he was in Melbourne touring with his band.” She poured thick white batter into the pan.
James closed his eyes. A musician. Jesus. “Were you in love with him?”
It was like taking shots you didn’t need at the end of a long, drunken night. No matter how much shitty information Charlotte poured into his ears, he couldn’t stop asking for more. Some part of him just had to know.
“I thought I was at the start, but I don’t think so now. I didn’t really know him, I just saw what I wanted to see.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I wanted an adventure and Dale was all about having adventures.”
Shut up, Hunter, shut the fuck up.
“How’d it end?” The pained look on Charlotte’s face made him grip the sugar bowl harder than he should have.
“He was really jealous, not at first, but as time went on, he just didn’t, he just wasn’t…” Charlotte took a deep breath. “We just weren’t good together.”
The sugar bowl gave an unhealthy squeak and he hastily let it go. “He hurt you?”
Charlotte smiled, her eyes fixed on the counter. “A little. Nothing life-shattering, but a bit of a nasty surprise. It sucked, realizing I wasn’t as good a judge of character as I thought I was. When it all went bad I had to move out pretty quickly, hence this place.”
Something lurched in James’ chest. Something dangerous. “Come stay with me.”
Charlotte froze, the beater in her hand dripping fat globs of pancake mix onto the kitchen bench. “What?”
Fuck. He’d wanted to explain this better. “I have a spare bedroom. We can get your shit in there today and after the wedding you can crash with Sophia. If you’re leaving soon there’s even less of a reason not to.”
She looked at him, her eyebrows drawn together. “I admire the way you’re trying to gain twenty-four hour vagina access, but no way.”
James laughed. “Come on, Blue-Eyes, I like you for more than just your incredible pussy. Let me help you out.”
Charlotte barely registered his racy comment. She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “You are completely bananas. We hardly know each other, what about your privacy? What if I drive you insane?”
James considered it for a moment and pushed the thought aside. He’d never met anyone as agreeable as Charlotte. Whenever he was with her they had fun. “You said you like adventures and I’ve never lived with a woman before. Adventure, indeed. Besides, I’ll let you play Smoke on the Water as much as you want.”
Charlotte bit her lip. “Thanks for the offer but I can’t.”
She placed a fluffy golden pancake in front of him. He looked at it wondering if he’d ever felt less hungry. Charlotte had shitty maple syrup as well, the kind that was ninety percent corn syrup. Why that irritated him so much he didn’t know.
Maybe because she deserves better than a busted house and corn syrup?
James decided to keep pressing. “Why not? No rent, no pressure. Lord knows, I never use the kitchen. You can’t tell me you’d rather live in a crime scene than crash with me for a few weeks?”
Charlotte’s face softened. “It’s not a matter of one or the other, it just wouldn’t work.” She paced across the kitchen, rearranging utensils. “I know money isn’t a big deal for you, James, but it is to me.”
She’s letting you down easy, just like you meant to let her down easy.
James recalled the night they met, the way Charlotte sensed that he was a piece of shit and left. Who knows, if he hadn’t tracked her down she would probably have a new boyfriend to cuddle up with by now. He’d probably be making her the pancakes instead of sitting back and watching like an entitled asshole. A spasm of panic gripped his insides. I don’t know how to make pancakes. I can’t do any of this shit. What the hell have I gotten myself into? He stared down at the Formica tabletop, willing it to give him the answers.
“James?” Charlotte sounded like a kindergarten teacher trying to coax a surly kid off the slide. He could feel her eyes on him, light like a summer jacket.
She’s probably wondering how to make you feel better. Like the morning fuck and the pancakes weren’t enough. Jesus Christ, could I be a bigger asshole?
“I should head out.”
“Okay.” Charlotte’s pretty face fell and her sadness twisted itself around his guts.
He gathered up his jacket and pulled on his boots, avoiding her eyes. He was halfway through the door when he felt a cool hand on his biceps. He paused, hating how strong the urge to return to her was.
Here it comes, now she’s going to explode.
But Charlotte’s face was soft, her blue eyes warm like a tropical ocean. This was why she was so dangerous. He’d take an ugly screaming mess where he got called a bastard any day of the week. You couldn’t fight a fairy princess.
Charlotte brushed her hand across his chest. “Please don’t go. I’ve had so much fun with you, James. Just because I don’t want to move in with you doesn’t mean it has to be over.” Her eyes were over-bright. “It was really sweet of you to offer your place to me, but I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did with Dale. Rushing into things, letting myself become dependent on someone too fast, but I do really like y…”
James shrugged her hand off his shoulder, suddenly unable to bear the weight of her palm pressing against him. “You should have told me to fuck off in that café, Charlotte. We’re not right for each other, you know that. We should never have started this.”
Without waiting to see her reaction James stepped outside, closing her broken front door behind him.
Chapter 15
After the most disheartening pancake breakfast in human history, Charlie was convinced James was gone forever. She’d sat on the floor for an hour trying to vent her nauseating emotions, both desperate to call him and determined they’d never speak again. When he asked her to move in, like a crazy woman she’d almost said yes, but a voice in her head piped up and reminded her she couldn’t be that woman twice. She’d already moved across the world for a guy she barely knew, she couldn’t possibly think living with James, a man she barely even understood, would work out well.
I can’t keep throwing my lot in with men and hoping for the best.
Charlie wanted to believe she would see James again, but the look he’d given her as he’d stormed out told her she shouldn’t hold her breath. She wished she could call Sophia but she wasn’t ready for the completely justified “I told you this was going to happen, you starry-eyed hippie.” So, like any other day Charlie packed her yoga bag, l
ocked her valuables in her bedroom, and headed into work. The front door was still busted, but if some enterprising dirtbag wanted to steal her crappy kitchenware, well, Charlotte Bell had passed the point of caring about that.
Her first class was maternity yoga, thirty women with beach ball stomachs wobbling and occasionally toppling over. The way they ran their palms over their stomachs with such reverence made Charlie’s chest ache. Three of the fetuses were called Hunter. She made a mental note to tell James and then remembered she wouldn’t be telling James anything.
He’d spoken the truth, they weren’t right for each other. She was too soft, too vulnerable, too alternative. Girls like her didn’t pin down men like James. They took a ticket, got in line, and when their number got called they made the most of it.
At least this way I didn’t live with him for a couple of weeks and watch the pleasure in his eyes turn into indifference.
With a deep breath she drove all thoughts of James from her mind, immersing herself in poses until the silver bells chimed to signal the end of the class.
Okay, that’s two down, just five hundred million James-less hours to go.
She was downing coconut water in the staff kitchen when Holly, the bottle-blonde receptionist, handed her a key. “For the new locks on your apartment.”
Charlie swallowed the last mouthful of her drink. “What do you mean ‘new locks’?”
Holly shrugged. “Some tradesman came in and said he replaced your door and installed the new locks. Didn’t you know? Did Belinda call someone?”
It had to be James. Charlie ignored the flare of hope in her chest. It wasn’t an apology, it was a parting gift. Something kind so he could brush her off without feeling bad. Besides, he had seemed pretty pissed about the break-in. Bossy alpha male.
Holly’s brown eyes narrowed. “It’s a man-friend who helped you, isn’t it?” Charlie stuffed the key in her pocket, and Holly clapped her hands together. “Oh my God, you are blushing. Who is this guy?”
“Someone who doesn’t know what he wants,” she replied and left the kitchen.
After class Holly dragged her back into the break room. To Charlie’s surprise it wasn’t to grill her about James’ identity but to present her with a huge bouquet of tiger lilies. There was a card attached. Sorry, Blue-Eyes. Charlie couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across her face.
Bossy, obnoxious alpha male. Doesn’t know what he wants, then buys a huge-ass bouquet of flowers and I’m supposed to fold like a cheap suitcase. Which I am, because I’m silly.
She left the blooms at reception where she wouldn’t have to look at them. At noon Brave Earth Vegan catering showed up at the office with an order for Charlotte Bell. There was enough pre-paid food for thirty hungry people and the company wouldn’t listen when she told them she didn’t order it. Everyone in the studio gorged themselves on roast vegetable lasagna, coconut curry, apple crumble, Greek doughnuts and coffee cake with burnt sugar sauce.
“I don’t care who this guy you’re banging is, he’s amazing,” Holly said with a mouthful of red lentil dhal.
“Mmm.”
“If you want my exceptional relationship advice…”
“Didn’t you and your ex cheat on each other fifty times?”
Holly assumed a holier-than-thou expression. “George and I had an open relationship.”
“Yeah and neither of you knew about it,” Charlie muttered.
“Anyway…you should call this man and forgive him for whatever asshole thing he’s done. He seems really into you. God knows after Psycho Dale you could really use a win.”
Charlie looked down at the table. It wasn’t kind to let James stew. His gifts were sweet but they were the actions of a man throwing money at a situation, unsure of what else to do. She waited another fifteen minutes, then picked up her phone and called him.
He answered after one ring. “Hey, Charlotte.”
“Hey, James.”
There was a long pause, like they were both considering what the hell they’d gotten themselves into.
“Thanks for lunch and the locks and the flowers. That was really, really kind of you.”
“I’m glad you liked it. Not that it makes up for anything. Can I see you tonight?”
Charlie hesitated, but only for a second. “I’ll meet you in Ruby’s at around eight o’clock?”
“Sounds good.” James sounded relieved. “Baby, about this morning…”
“Let’s talk about it in person.” She couldn’t start crying at work, her eyes would go all red and people would undoubtedly notice.
“All right. But for the record those pancakes looked fucking amazing.”
Charlie was obviously sleep-deprived, because even those irrelevant words made her want to cry.
After work she waited for him at her regular booth, pretending to write a lesson plan but really doodling in the margins thinking stupid, impossible, wonderful things. James Hunter sent her flowers and fixed her apartment door. Surely he wanted something more than to play landlord for a couple of weeks?
Easy, Bell, don’t get too ahead of yourself.
A man’s shadow fell over her table and a million butterflies took flight in Charlie’s belly. She looked up and her excitement melted away.
“Hey, Charlie. I thought I’d find you here.”
Dale had always been gorgeous with his wavy hair and complicated sleeve tattoos. It was strange to look at him now and feel nothing but weariness. He twirled a CD in his long, drummer’s fingers, the same fingers that once gripped her arm so hard it bruised. He’d thought she was flirting with the sound guy at one of his gigs.
Charlie returned her attention to her notepad. “Hi, Dale.”
It had been two weeks since she’d seen him and she’d foolishly begun to hope the absence was permanent. Unfortunately, Ruby’s had always been their hangout and the neutral ground afforded him endless opportunities to confront her.
Be cool, the sooner he says his piece the sooner he buggers off.
He placed the plastic square on top of her notepad, demanding Charlie’s attention. “I found this next to my spare bike chain. I wanted to bring it back for you.”
She stared down at the CD as though she could see her lesson plan through it. “Okay, cheers, man.” Clearly, returning his own copy of Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness had not been his primary motive for coming here. There was a long silence in which Charlie hoped her ex-boyfriend had dissolved.
“I heard you’re seeing someone else.”
Charlie looked up to see Dale’s face twisted into the sneer that was always waiting behind his easy smile. “That’s none of your business.”
“It used to be my business, Charlie. Before you dumped me to go fuck total strangers.”
Charlie blinked up at him. Dale had never scared her, not even when he was drunk and shouting. Somehow she’d known it was a façade, an insecure boy’s attempt at being a man, but it was annoying and tiresome and she wanted it to stop. “We were strangers once, Dale.” If we could only be strangers again…
Dale snorted. He was still standing over her, trying to intimidate her with his height.
“Bea told me he’s some corporate pretty-boy. I thought you were better than that.”
Charlie’s tolerance evaporated. “That is enough. Stop bringing me meaningless crap, stop texting me when you’re drunk and stop showing up here. If you keep doing this, I swear I’m going to take out a restraining order.”
Dale’s upper lip curled. “You can’t, you’re not a U.S. citizen.”
Trust him to respond to that rather than anything else she’d said. “People aren’t allowed to stalk their ex-girlfriends just because they came out of a vagina in a different country. Get the fu—”
The sound of heavy footsteps grew ever louder behind her and a thrill of terror zapped down Charlie’s spine.
He’s here.
She could feel James’ presence crackling at her back like exposed wires. She turned her head a
nd there he stood, taller, wider and meaner than she had ever seen him, which considering their sex life was saying something. He’d traded his suit for jeans and a black T-shirt, and with his mouth set in a hard line like that, he didn’t so much resemble a “corporate pretty-boy” as a thug from one of those motorcycle crime shows Dale liked so much.
This is not going to go well…
Her American lovers locked eyes, and for a second Charlie thought James was going to skip the niceties and punch Dale in the throat, but after a long cold stare, he shook his shoulders and settled himself in the seat across from hers. He looked like a Norse warrior mounting a throne of skulls.
“Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” he said, looking straight at Dale.
Her ex-boyfriend hissed like a broken gas cylinder. “Who’s your friend, Charlie?”
Spanish tutor? Parole officer?
“I’m the man Charlotte’s been seeing.” James let the word roll off his tongue in a way that made it very clear he meant “fucking.”
Dale swelled like an angry cane toad.
Yep, definitely not going to go well.
“I was actually talking to Charlie about something important before you showed up,” Dale snapped. “Can you give us a few minutes, man?”
She had to admire her ex-boyfriend’s nerve. She could see James’ expression and a smarter person would have long since turned on his heels and run screaming into the night.
James chuckled softly. “Actually, man, Charlotte and I are on a date, so if you don’t mind…?”
Leave before I beat the shit out of you.
James might as well have spoken the words aloud, but still Dale remained, glaring at them with his wiry arms folded across his chest.
“Got somethin’ to say, champ?” James inquired, extending his considerably scarier arms over the back of the booth. “We can go outside and talk about it if you like?”
The corners of Dale’s lips turned down, and for a brief, terrifying moment Charlie thought she was going to witness a brawl in a vegan café. She could practically see the headlines. Confrontation-fearing yoga teacher incites violence between local musician and former male model. What a skank.
Degrees of Control Page 16