LOL #2 Romantic Comedy Anthology - Volume 2 - Even More All-New Romance Stories by Bestselling Authors (LOL Romantic Comedy Anthology #2)

by Anthology

At that, it was like hitting the release valve. Charlotte laughed and laughed, holding her stomach, tears rolling down cheeks, and finally she gasped out, “I’ve never tackled anybody before in my life.”

  Frannie’s lips twitched. “You looked more natural at it than an NFL linebacker.”

  They stared each other for a moment, and then Frannie joined Charlotte in her laughter. It felt good to laugh about it. She’d have plenty of time to worry about her professional downfall later.

  Their laughter gentled and then finally petered out. Charlotte said, “I just came from—”

  “Hold that thought,” Frannie interrupted. “Be right back.” She raced up the stairs to her apartment, returning with a pint of ice cream and two spoons, no bowls. She hopped up on the counter and patted the spot next to her. Charlotte joined her, and Frannie set the pint down between them for easy access.

  Charlotte couldn’t help but think that it is one of the minor miracles in life that most things look a little better after a few spoonfuls—or a whole pint, if she was being real—of homemade butter pecan ice cream.

  After a few licks, Charlotte said, “I went and apologized to Winnie and Brian earlier.”

  “I figured you would. How’d that go?”

  “Much better than I ever expected. Winnie is”—Charlotte searched for the right word—“different than what I thought from the few appointments we had before the wedding.”

  “She’s a trip.” Frannie grinned, obviously recalling something she wasn’t going to share. “But she’s pretty special.”

  Agreeing, Charlotte concentrated on her butter pecan for a moment. “So.”

  “So.”

  “Do you think I’ll ever work in this town again?”

  Frannie laughed. “I think so. The most popular take is that you were defending your cake.” Frannie paused for another spoonful. “And you’re just bad at it.”

  Giggling, Charlotte said, “I’m surprised with the way gossip goes in this town that people haven’t been concocting wild stories about why Leslie went after that cake and why I went after her.”

  “Oh, they have. I think the guess in the lead is that Bradley Ryder is dating Leslie and somehow she got it in her head that he was messing around with you too.”

  Choking a little, Charlotte said, “Wow, that’s so laughable.” She faked a laugh. “Who would ever think Brad is the type to cheat?” Charlotte tried not to wince at herself as she said that.

  Frannie looked at her sideways. “Anyways, this town might not be the type to ever forget something like that, but most people will stop teasing you about it after a while. But hey, Brian’s teenaged cousin caught most of it on camera, and I think you might already be a YouTube star in case you want to get into a different line of work at some point.”

  “Oh great.” Charlotte laughed. “I’m good for now, but talk to me when wedding season is over.”

  They lapsed into silence, and it was nice to put off thinking about the Brad situation for a while longer.

  As if Frannie could sense all of what Charlotte wasn’t saying, she said, “You know, sometimes I think love makes people a little bonkers and a little blind.” She hesitated. “And it can feel like the hardest thing in the world is to ask a direct question. But a lot of times it really is the simplest way to do things, and then at least you’ll know.”

  Charlotte studied Frannie’s face for a moment before replying, “This sounds like experience talking.”

  “It is. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.” Frannie’s lips curled. “The town wrecking ball, remember?”

  “A lovable one, though.” Charlotte thought about what she was saying for a moment. “I’m not sure anything about this situation is simple.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think things are often way less complicated than we work them up to be in our minds.”

  Thinking about what Frannie said, Charlotte hopped down from the counter and thanked Frannie for the chat and the ice cream.

  “Anytime.” Frannie’s smile was encouraging. “And good luck.”

  Charlotte was going to need it, because she decided to take Frannie’s advice and go ask her question.

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte’s intention to ask that simple question flew out of her head the instant Brad answered his door wearing a towel, stray drops of water, and nothing else.

  Her mouth hanging open at the unexpected sight of all those inches of rippling muscles and sun-weathered skin, she tried to remember the question she’d come here to ask.

  She wasn’t sure she could even remember her own name right that second. It wasn’t fair for someone to be so naturally and unabashedly sexy, was it?

  Brad said, “Hey, come in. I just got out of the shower; let me go put some clothes on.”

  “No!” The force of her voice surprised her. It’d be a crime to let him cover up, though.

  He raised his eyebrows. “No?”

  “Maybe?” What was the question again? “I think you should… do that.” Was she even making sense? Had he melted her brain?

  “Okay.” Smiling, Brad leaned against the doorjamb and rested his hand where he’d knotted the towel together low on his waist. So low. She moaned.

  Brad looked expectantly at her, and Charlotte knew there was something she was supposed to do, something she’d come here for, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what it was.

  So she did what anyone in her position would have.

  She launched herself at him and fused her mouth to his, hoping he’d quickly get the idea.

  He did.

  Later that afternoon, Charlotte woke up with a serious case of déjà vu.

  She was half draped over a man, with a lightly furred chest and tanned skin beneath her cheek.

  But this time, Charlotte remembered every glorious second in bed with Brad.

  And hey, she was in an actual bed, too. That was new.

  She stretched, feeling the urge to purr. Had she ever felt this good? This… loved?

  Well, she felt good about everything except her letter. She hadn’t asked Brad about it before she’d attacked him, and the whole letter thing made even less sense now than it did then. How could he kiss her like he did, caress her like he did, look into her eyes while they made love like he did, if he didn’t care enough about her to spend the thirty seconds it would have taken to open her letter and read it?

  Charlotte glanced up at Brad. He was still sleeping. She wanted an answer to her question, but the uncertainty left her feeling vulnerable enough, and she didn’t want to be naked while she asked him about it.

  Much like she had yesterday morning, she carefully slid away from a sleeping Brad, intending to wake him after she got up and got dressed.

  But before she made it out of bed, a hand clamped down on her thigh. She let out a shriek.

  Brad, who it turned out was very much awake, said, “We’re not doing this again.”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to steal your clothes this time.”

  “You can take any of my clothes you want. But you’re not sneaking away while you think I’m asleep.”

  Charlotte gaped at him. “Were you pretending to sleep just now?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to see if this is something I can expect every time we’re in bed together.”

  Charlotte told her brain not to focus on the every time in that sentence.

  She said, “For the record, I wasn’t going to sneak away. I came here to talk, but I got a little”—she looked at the mouth-watering picture Brad made lying there, one muscular arm propped behind his head, his eyes warm and a sexy half-smile on his face—“carried away before. You make me a little wild sometimes.”

  “With lust?” he joked.

  “No,” she said, her tone horrified. “Trust me, I’m not the lusty type.”

  Brad laughed. “It’s like the person you are and the person you think you are in your head are two different people.”

  “That makes me sound more than a
little crazy.” At his look, she said, “Well if I am, it must be your fault.”

  “Must be.” He tugged on the sheet she’d wrapped around herself as best she could.

  Disgruntled, she said, “You don’t have to sound so pleased.” She hiked the sheet higher up across her chest. “Anyways, I don’t want to have a discussion naked.”

  “I like you naked.” His grin was wolfish.

  But Charlotte noted the serious look in his eyes despite the grin. “Well, that’s… nice.” Way more than nice. It sent a thrill through her knowing he enjoyed her body, when she’d always thought she was a little too plain and a little too fleshy. But she’d have to turn that over in her mind later, because now the question she hadn’t asked Brad earlier was knocking insistently at the door of her non-libido-driven self. She said, “We really need to talk.”

  The grin on Brad’s face faded and he sat up. “All right.”

  Moving to stand, she said, “Close your eyes.”

  “You’re serious.” He stared at her in disbelief.

  “Yup, shut ’em.” He obliged, and Charlotte stood, bending to scoop her t-shirt and panties off the floor. She put them on and turned to face Brad, who had one eye cracked open. “You said you would’t look!” She grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it.

  “No, you said I wouldn’t look. I never agreed.” He rolled out of bed, doing a leonine stretch that almost made her lose her track of that important question again.

  “You should get dressed, too.” She wasn’t sure she could make it through a serious conversation with all that toned perfection on display.

  He stalked toward her. “I want to get something straight first, in case it wasn’t clear.” Backing her against the wall, he gave her a series of long, deep kisses that had her wishing her t-shirt wasn’t separating their naked skin. “I want you. I always want you.”

  His hands moved down to grip her hips, pulling her against him, and they both groaned.

  Brad continued, “I love your curves. Your curves drive me wild. I want to kiss every inch of your sexy, curvy body, and then I want to do it all over again.” He punctuated each sentence with a kiss below her ear, on her neck, against her shoulder.

  The words were as intoxicating at his kisses.

  Curvy.

  That was a much nicer—sexier, even—label than fleshy.

  As much as she didn’t want this moment to end, she needed to know if she was right about what she thought she saw in his eyes beneath the heat.

  Chapter Seven

  Taking a deep breath, Charlotte pushed Brad away until at least a foot separated them. “Why didn’t you open my letter?”

  He took a step backward, looked away, and cleared his throat. But he didn’t say anything.

  She pressed forward. “Why didn’t you want to hear from me in the first place?”

  Turning away, he grabbed a pair of sweats hanging off of a chair in the corner and put them on. Apparently he’d decided naked talking wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  When he turned back to face her, there were lines on his face that hadn’t been in such stark relief a moment ago. She hated that she’d replaced happiness with that look, that she couldn’t let the lighter moment ride, but she needed to understand this. “Well?” she prompted.

  “I did want to hear from you. All the time.”

  “But before you left, I asked if there was a way we could keep in touch and you said it was better if we didn’t.” The old hurt she’d felt when he said that came rushing back. “That’s what you said.”

  “It was better that way.”

  “I don’t understand. If you wanted to hear from me, how was it better if you didn’t? Help me out here, because I just don’t get it.”

  “Do you know what it’s like for the families of my soldiers who deploy? The doubled family responsibilities on top of the stress and the constant worry? The sacrifices required when someone you love is fighting in a war zone on the other side of the world? Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  “Tell me you’re not saying you thought it’d be better for me.”

  “I didn’t want you going through that. It’s bad enough when it’s just a friend, but… ” He paused. “You and I both know that’s not where we were headed.”

  “Not where we were headed… ” Charlotte echoed. She started laughing, but it was an ugly, off-key laugh. “The joke’s on me then, because I was way past the friend zone. I probably passed that the minute you stayed late after one of my classes. By the time you deployed, I was already head over heels, desperately in love with you.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “No.” She put her hand up. “I spent the last nine months sick with worry and fear and love. Which would have been bad enough. Except I also spent that whole time thinking you didn’t care about me, that you were okay with forgetting me as soon as you left.”

  “Charlotte, God, that’s not—”

  She interrupted, “But that wasn’t the case at all. You just decided how I was allowed to feel. God, what if something had happened to you?” She closed her eyes tight for a moment, trying to decide if she was more hurt or angry. “I’m not one of your men. You can’t make decisions and then expect me to fall in line. How can you think it works like that?” When he just stood there staring at her, his face strained, she asked again, “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know how it works,” he burst out. He looked as surprised as she was.

  “What do you mean—how what works?”

  “This.” He motioned to her. “Having a family. Loved ones. I’ve never had any. I was raised in foster care, bounced around from home to home.”

  It threw her completely off balance. He’d told her once that he didn’t have family, but she hadn’t thought he was being literal. Everyone had family, right? She had five older sisters and brothers, and oodles of nieces and nephews; she couldn’t imagine being alone in the world. She thought she could actually hear her heart crack thinking about a lonely little boy version of Brad.

  “The only family I’ve ever had was the Army and my men. You’re right, though. I give orders and my men take them,” he said. “And then… there was you. And everything was different.”

  “Brad,” she breathed.

  “I’m sorry. I thought it would be easier if I kept my distance. But I wasn’t very good at that before I left, and being six thousand miles away only made it more practical, but not any easier.” He moved closer and reached up to wipe away the tears Charlotte hadn’t realized were coursing down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  Then he was holding her, and she was holding him back. Letting go of past hurt was easier when you had love to hold on to.

  He hadn’t said the words outright, but she knew.

  She said, “Just promise me that you’ll talk to me next time. Don’t leave me in the dark.”

  “Promise.” He ran his hands up and down her back, and they stayed like that for a moment.

  Finally, Charlotte asked, “Why didn’t you open my letter? That wasn’t because you thought it’d be better for me.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Brad sighed. “It’s a little hard to explain. It’s like… over there there’s a mindset. A way of life. And it’s really tough at times. My second tour in country was… ” He trailed off, his eyes haunted.

  She waited, giving him time to choose what he wanted to tell. She wanted to know everything about what he’d been through, but she wouldn’t push.

  Today, anyways.

  Brad continued, “It was brutal. And the only way to get through it is to keep your mind completely focused on things over there. Which was a lot easier for me than most of my men because I didn’t have anyone waiting for me stateside. This last tour was kind of like that—we had to keep focused because we were nearing the end. Our last combat tour there. I needed to focus on getting all of my men safely home, without distractions. We moved around a lot this time, and by the time your letter caught up w
ith me, I only had a couple weeks left in country. I needed to focus on the mission at hand. You’re the life that comes after. I needed to save the letter for that.”

  You’re the life that comes after.

  Tender warmth moved through her at his words.

  He said, “I did my best to push you out of my mind, but I wasn’t always successful. Actually—hold on.” He walked over to his closet and rustled around for a minute, before turning back to her with a folded sheaf of papers in his hand. He held them out to her. “Here.”

  She took them, realizing as she opened them up and looked at the top page that it was a stack of letters addressed to her. She quickly flipped through the pages. They were all written on cheap paper, and the handwriting was rough. They were short and to the point.

  But Charlotte could already tell they were the most beautiful letters ever written.

  Oct. 3, 2013

  Dear Charlotte,

  I tried not to think of you today and failed.

  Almost all the letters started like that. Months of letters. So many days he’d thought of her.

  She felt her eyes welling up again, but this time with joy. She looked up, speechless, at a blurry Brad.

  “Well, if they’re going to make you cry more, I’ll put them away again,” he said, and made a move to take them.

  “No.” She held them protectively against her chest. “I want to read them.”

  Every one of them. Every precious word.

  “You can read the rest later.”

  She nodded, that thought sending sparks of joy through her. They’d have a “later.” All the things she wanted to know, all the things she wanted to say to him, all the stuff she wanted to do with him—they would have time for that.

  Brad gently pried the stack of papers from her hands and set them on the dresser. She smiled when he not so subtly maneuvered her back towards the bed.

  But… she had one final question before they lightened the mood.

  “Why didn’t you open my letter as soon as you got home?”

  Brad looked down for a moment. “I thought we could open it together when you came to the welcome home ceremony.”