Rick had called her cell and then sent her a text at noon, apologizing for the late notice but something had come up and he couldn’t make it (Obviously he’d gotten her cell phone number from Davis).
Davis messaged just after, pissed on her behalf. He’d told her that he was keeping Connor overnight regardless of the fact that Rick had cancelled, and to go out and have fun anyway. She deserved a night out. He’d also sent a second message threatening to kick her ass if she didn’t at least go to the dance with Ava and her date.
So here she was, standing near the bar at the Valentine’s dance, watching Ava get up close and personal with Seth Rogers, while the glaciers reflected in Charlie’s eyes kept any man who looked her way at bay.
Happy Freaking Valentine’s Day.
This stuff shouldn’t bother her. Not with the thick skin she’d grown into over the last few years.
Except that it did. She felt like a fool and worse than that, there was a stupid lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away. Her eyes fell back to Ava as the band slowed things down with a ballad. Seth was a good guy and from what Charlie could see, the ‘just friends’ thing wasn’t exactly working out tonight. They looked like a couple and she felt like a perv watching Ava melt into Seth’s body as if she was meant to be there.
“Shit,” Charlie muttered, setting her glass on the bar. It was half full, but then she wasn’t in the mood to drink.
“Wow, looking good, Samuels.”
Charlie glanced over as Jackie Byers sidled up to the bar and ordered a cocktail. The perky brunette was a few years older than Charlie and had just given birth to her third child. A townie like Charlie, she and her husband owned the local bowling alley and pizza joint.
Me?” Charlie said with a small smile. “You look amazing. How’s the baby?”
Jackie grinned. “He’s wonderful. Such a good boy, you know? And after two girls, David is over the freaking moon.”
“Where is David?” Charlie asked, trying to be polite. She so wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“He had a last minute delivery out of town, but he’ll be here. We don’t often get a night out and I promised him I’d make it worth his while.” She winked and giggled as the bartender handed her a Cosmo.
“What about you?” Jackie asked, taking a sip, eyes moving over Charlie from top to bottom. “Who are you here with?”
“No one.”
“That’s too bad because you look hot.” She swirled her drink around in the frosted glass, eyes questioning. “Should have known the gossip mill was wrong.” She laughed. “Again.”
Charlie stood a little straighter. “What do you mean?” Heart suddenly pounding, she reached for her glass, though she didn’t bring it to her lips.
“David had to make a pizza run out to the old McLaren place and I thought…or I’d heard that you and the new guy were like, an item. I just assumed…well obviously you’re not there so I assumed wrong.”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed, her grip tight on the glass. She didn’t say a thing. Hell, it would have been impossible because that damn knot in her throat was suddenly so big she thought she was going to choke. Heat shot up from her neck and she pushed back the long strands of hair that fell over her shoulders.
And dammit, were those tears stinging the corners of her eyes? Exhaling a deep breath, her gaze swept the dance floor. Wrong thing to do. Ava and Seth were slow grinding among at least thirty other couples doing the exact same thing.
Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Charlie slammed her glass back on the bar. “Have a good one, Jackie,” she managed to say without sounding too much like an idiot.
“I will, but Charlie…”
Whatever Jackie was going to say was drowned out by the roaring in her ears. Charlie marched over to the coat check and scooped up her worn, leather jacket. Hot and pissed off, she didn’t bother throwing it over her shoulders.
Her ex, Jeremy, walked into the place with Emily just as Charlie was headed to the exit—and Charlie had stupidly thought this night couldn’t get any worse.
“Hey,” Jeremy said, looking more than a little surprised to see her.
Screw you, Charlie thought. She would have walked past them without a word except Emily Bryan had other ideas. The blonde was poured into a fire-engine red dress and looked like a tall drink of water, even with a small baby bump that was easily visible.
“Charlotte. I hope things will be okay between us?” Emily’s pouty mouth was shiny as she spoke. “I mean, it’s a small town and I don’t want there to be any hard feelings. I’m sure you’ve heard that Jeremy and I are expecting.”
Charlie paused long enough to get her shit together. No way was she going to cause a scene—Emily would like that way too much. And even though the lump was gone, replaced with a burning anger that had her blood boiling, Charlie managed to keep a lid on her temper.
Davis would have been proud.
She tossed her head and squared her shoulders, aware that a few people were eavesdropping. Aware that Jeremy was looking at her in a way he’d not done in years. She knew she looked fierce and for the first time in a long time, she felt powerful. She was driving the car, she wasn’t just the passenger along for a ride.
“I have no feelings when it comes to you Emily. My sympathies are with your husband and the two little girls you share. And no, it’s not because you’re not with him anymore. I know not everyone is meant to stay together, so there’s no judging. But what you did to him, screwing around, getting pregnant with another man’s baby, that’s just plain wrong. You didn’t have enough respect for your marriage to at least deal with your shit before sleeping with my boyfriend. You didn’t have enough respect for your marriage to be honest. I feel bad that those little girls have a shitty role model for a mother.”
Someone gasped behind her, but Charlie didn’t care. Her eyes narrowed onto Jeremy.
“You bitch,” Emily said tightly.
“Charlotte,” Jeremy said roughly, extricating himself from Emily and taking a step toward her.
“Don’t call me Charlotte. Actually don’t call me anything.”
“Wow, bitter much?” Emily said, grabbing onto Jeremy’s arm. “Why don’t you just admit that you’re angry that Jeremy’s with me and not you?”
Charlie had to count to three, because really, even she wouldn’t hit a pregnant woman.
“Let me be real clear so that there are no misunderstandings. I have no desire to get friendly because I don’t like either one of you all that much. Jeremy and I have a past and some of it was good but a lot of it was crap. I don’t think I realized how much of it was crap until this very moment. And you know what? I’m done with crap.” She slid past them, tossed her jacket over her shoulders. “I’m done here.”
Charlie strode out into the cold winter air and headed straight for her truck. Tossing her purse and jacket inside, she fired up the engine and let it warm up. Leaning back into the worn leather seat, she began to shiver, teeth rattling against each other like hollow bones.
The radio came to life, a sultry Chris Isaak song, and as the haunting strains of Wicked Game filled her truck, she squeezed her eyes shut. Outside, the wind howled and her chest tightened with each blast. It was early, barely ten. She didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to stay at this dance. Heck, she didn’t know what she wanted.
Or did she?
A damn tear slid down her face—in spite of her anger—and her eyes flew open, hands now gripping the steering wheel. She’d been good inside. Hadn’t caused a scene. Not really. She hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.
She exhaled and glanced into the rear-view mirror. Pale blue eyes stared back at her, wild auburn hair falling into them.
She was done waiting for something good to happen. Done being a person she didn’t recognize anymore. Reliable and hard working were admirable qualities for any person, but when had dull and boring become Charlie’s thing? She needed to be the person she’d been before her world had imploded. Wh
en the hell had she stopped being a fighter?
Charlie slammed the truck into reverse and skidded out of the parking lot. As she headed out of town toward the McLaren place, she finally found the focus that had eluded her all evening. She was done being good, done taking crap, and if she didn’t tell someone off she was going to explode.
So, Rick-whoever-the-hell-he-was thought he could blow her off with some sad excuse that was obviously a lie? Without consequence? No way.
No way in hell.
Chapter Seven
Maverick had just finished a slice of pizza when someone pounded on the door to the shop. What the hell? He’d been trying to get some work accomplished, but truthfully he’d done more drinking than writing.
He was the typical country song cliché.
He glanced at his watch and frowned, noting that it was nearly ten-thirty. It was a Saturday night. He was out in the middle of nowhere. No one knew him. So who would be knocking at his door?
Setting down his beer, he rose from the leather sofa, careful not to knock his Gibson onto the floor. Sheets of music were scattered everywhere, along with more than a few empty beer bottles and a half a slab of pizza left in the box.
He had a bit of a buzz going on, was bare foot and dressed in an old faded pair of Nike track pants and nothing else. He hadn’t shaved in days but then again, it’s not as if he’d expected company.
The pounding intensified and he thought he heard a voice but it was hard to tell with the howling wind. He strode to the door, swearing when he nearly tripped over a couple of cables on the floor, and yanked it open.
Any words he had stalled at the back of his mouth because surprise stole them away. Long strands of dark auburn hair snaked into the wind and the pale eyes that he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind stared up at him.
The rest of her came to him slowly, like fine wine that you sipped and savored and enjoyed. And man, he was enjoying the view.
He saw creamy shoulders that were toned but delicate, shown off to perfection in a slinky black top that clung to round, firm breasts. Round, firm breasts that heaved as she dragged in a gulp of air. Jesus, were they gonna fall out?
His eyes slid lower, falling onto black leather pants that fit her hips like a second glove and—holy hell—the kind of come-fuck-me-boots that would make any man weak at the knees.
A gust of wind hit his bare chest and he shivered. Christ, she must be freezing.
“Are you listening to me?”
Charlie’s voice finally penetrated the fog in his brain and Maverick took a step back, but as it turned out, it wasn’t far enough.
Two hands nailed him in the chest—more like cannons—hard enough to rock him back onto his heels and Maverick’s head snapped up.
“What the hell?” he said, watching her warily as she stalked into the room, eyes blazing and that mouth-watering chest still heaving.
“I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to dealing with, Rick whoever-the-hell-you-are, but I’m can promise you one thing—I’m not like any of them.”
“I can see that.”
She seemed surprised that he’d answered, and liking the fact that he’d thrown her off her game a bit, Maverick smiled (When in doubt revert to charm is what his mama always taught him). “Wanna beer?”
Lips pursed tightly, she walked past him and scooped up a Bud from the table beside the sofa. She twisted off the top and tossed it onto the pizza box before taking a good long drink. It was long enough for him to get a glimpse of the soft skin at her neck and he couldn’t lie, the sight of her throat muscles and that mouth wrapped around the beer bottle was totally hot.
It was long enough for him to catch her scent, sultry vanilla and something else.
It was also long enough for his eyes to travel down and touch on a shapely, round ass made for a man’s hand. Christ, but the woman could fill out a pair of pants, and the boots…
He groaned silently, running his hands through the hair at his nape, and felt something electric shoot through him when he looked back up and met those pale, stormy eyes. Oh yeah. He hadn’t been wrong. There was definitely something between the two of them. Something hot and electric and in that moment, he knew that it was something they were going to explore.
Right or wrong didn’t seem to matter. In fact the more wrong it seemed, the more alive it made him feel. Christ, was it hot in here?
He shoved his hands into the side pockets of his Nike’s, because shit, he didn’t know what to do with them. And truth be told he was starting to get hard. Like a damn teenager, he was horny as fuck just watching this woman. He hadn’t reacted to a female this way since he’d been sixteen and had snuck into the pool house with Amanda Leery. She’d taken off her bikini top and he’d nearly exploded in his shorts.
But seventeen-year-old Amanda Leery had nothing on Charlie Samuels. He swallowed hard. Nothing.
Charlie did a slow perusal, her gaze running the length of him, stopping briefly on his bare chest and stomach, before dipping lower, and Maverick couldn’t be certain that his growing erection was hidden.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, though it wasn’t really a question because she gave him no time to answer. “Never mind. I don’t care.”
But she did care about something. He saw that she was upset and he’d have to be a moron not to know why.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About tonight.”
Her eyes widened a bit and her nostrils flared as she took another long pull from her beer. She licked her lips and set the bottle on the table beside the sofa, glancing at the mess of papers. For several moments there was nothing, only the sounds of her quick breaths and the blood roaring in his ears.
When she turned back to him, her eyes had darkened to a slate grey/blue and her hands were fisted.
“Are you alone?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Alone,” she said as if he was an idiot. “Or is there some woman here that I can’t see.”
Surprised, Maverick shook his head. “No. Just me.”
“Great. This would have been so much better if there was at least someone here with you.” She glanced back toward the sofa. “But no. It seems that you blew me off for a night of pizza and beer.”
“Charlie, that’s not what this is about. Trust me, I didn’t want to blow you off. I didn’t’…” Shit, how was he going to explain? He thought he’d been doing the right thing when obviously it had exploded in his face.
“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” Her eyes flashed and she took two steps toward him. “You owe me four hundred and thirty-nine bucks.”
A shot of adrenaline rushed through him and damn, but his dick was stirring something fierce. “Four hundred and thirty-nine bucks,” he repeated slowly.
“Yep.” She took another step forward and if he wanted to he could have reached out and touched her. Could have run his fingers across that pale skin, over her delicate collarbone and up to where her pulse beat at her neck.
And to say that he was dying to do just that would be an understatement.
“You and Davis coerced me into this date and Ava dragged me out shopping.” She ran her hands over her hips and the dip in her top exposed more creamy skin than he was ready for. “This outfit cost a lot of money that I shouldn’t have spent considering you blew me off for pizza and beer.”
Her eyes blazed and damn but that tongue darted out, touching on wet, shiny lips. Maverick leaned closer to her, his body tight, his mind going places that he had no right to go.
“I said I was sorry.”
“You owe me,” Charlie replied, not backing down.
His gaze dropped to her neck once more. Her pulse had increased and he knew she was just as affected as he was by their close proximity.
“I owe you,” he repeated.
She thumped him in the chest. “You. Owe. Me.”
“Four hundred and thirty-nine dollars,” he replied, his voice low.
“That’s just t
o start. I should charge you interest by the hour.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Interest? You’re getting greedy.”
“Sue me.”
“So we’ve got a problem.”
“You bet your ass we do.”
This had to be the hottest foreplay ever. He slid his hands from his pockets, blood boiling when her eyes rested on the growing bulge between his legs. No way could the thin material hide that thing, so he didn’t try.
“Well what are we going to do about that?”
“You tell me,” she shot back, breath catching in a way that made his gut tighten even more.
The devil in Maverick was telling him to scoop her up into his arms and bend her over the leather sofa. That guy was hard to ignore. She wanted him. He knew this. But, Maverick wasn’t that guy. At least not when it came to someone like Charlie. She deserved the truth.
“Look, Charlie. I gotta be upfront with you.”
“Oh how refreshing.” The sarcasm was heavy, but it came with a sultry look that made his mouth go dry.
“I want you,” he said carefully, searching for the right words.
“I know.”
“But…” He sighed. For a guy used to writing words and feelings into songs, he was falling short tonight.
“I don’t like playing games, Rick, so spit it out.” She licked her lips. Damn, but he wished she would stop that.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get involved and that’s why I blew off tonight.”
“And why would you think that?”
“I’m just passing through, Charlie. I’m here for a few weeks, maybe a month, and then I’m gone.”
“And?” She inched closer and that sweet vanilla scent rolled over him. God, she smelled good. “You think that I’m going to fall in love with you? Is that it?”
For a few moments he had nothing. Shit, he hadn’t expected the L word to be thrown out. Hell, he hadn’t even considered that one.
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