Bang! Bang! Bang! I hammered away at the solid oak like it was Charlie’s chiseled abs. Shut the hell up, Charlie Dwyer! What would you know about the Eldredge knot!? Do you even own a tie?
“Of course, Dr. Perfect is handsome and charming and everyone adores him—women sigh when he walks by. But he only has eyes for you, and one day he whisks you away to Paris and there on the top of the Eiffel Tower, he gets down on one knee and proposes with a great big shiny twenty-five carat diamond—the cleanest, the purest diamond known to man.”
Seriously, this doctor man was sounding better and better by the minute, which only made me madder. I dropped the hammer and picked up the crowbar, trying to pry a stubborn plank.
Crack! The oak split when I pulled hard enough, sending me toppling back onto my bottom. Charlie was there in two quick steps to pull me up. “You OK?”
“I’m fine, really. Go on with your story. Sounds like you’re about to get to the good part. How’s the doctor in the sack?” I was a little out of breath from the labor and from the boiling anger I felt at Charlie. Which was stupid, really. He was saying things I already knew, at least where he and I were concerned. There was no we. There could never be a we.
There was him and there was me, and there was what we’d just done, and I was starting to question my judgment on that.
“In the sack?” Charlie held on to my arm and tilted his head side to side. “He’s so-so. Good enough to keep you satisfied, but not good enough to erase from your memory that one amazing night you were handcuffed to the barre.”
“My God, Charlie. The size of your ego is truly staggering.”
He grinned. “The size of my what?”
“You heard me. Now let go. I have to finish this.”
“Leave it, let’s finish tomorrow. I told you I’d come help again.”
“Ha!” I shrugged him off. “From now on, I’m declining all offers of help from you.”
“Come on. What happened here tonight was a one-time thing. And now it’s out of our systems, right? We can be friends.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“This won’t happen again. I promise.”
“What good is your promise to me? I barely know you.” I picked up my hammer again.
“Look, Erin, I know you think I’m an asshole, and maybe I am, but I like hanging out with you. You make me laugh.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really. So I should let you hang around just to laugh at me?”
“With you, not at you. Come on, you like me. I make you laugh too.”
I shrugged. “Maybe you do. Sometimes.”
“See? That’s why I know we shouldn’t sleep together again. We’ll ruin something nice.”
Hadn’t we ruined it already? Charlie didn’t seem to think so, but would I be able to handle just hanging out casually with someone whose tongue was all up in my business? I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t exactly trust Charlie to keep his hands to himself.
And he shouldn’t trust me, either.
“You really want to be friends?” I searched his face.
“Yes. Look.” He ruffled his hair again, which I now realized was his nervous gesture. “I’ve made some really bad decisions in the past. With relationships, I mean. I screwed up with every nice girl I ever dated, and I learned some hard lessons. There’s things you don’t know about me.”
“Oooooooh.” I balled my hands into fists under my chin and shivered. “Charlie has a past.”
He didn’t smile. “Just trust me when I say that you don’t want me anyway. Not like that. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”
He was right. It just stunk that the physical connection was so intense. “At least you’re honest.”
“I try.”
“Except when you’re holding up lemonade stands with squirt guns.”
He gave me The Smile. “Except for then.”
Groaning, I tossed the hammer down again. “Ugh, I can’t resist the dimples. Fine, you can help me finish this up tonight. But no more fooling around—and not because I’ll start pining for you or anything, but because I’m not really into casual sex.”
“Except when you’re handcuffed to the barre.”
My cheeks got warm. “Except for then.”
“All right. So we agree to be friends, help each other out sometimes.”
“And no more sex.” I said it again, to be sure he understood the boundary. “This was just an anomaly. Like you said, it’s out of our systems.”
“Exactly. And we both know I’m always right.”
I slugged him in the stomach. “Get to work already. It’s after midnight and you tired me out.”
In less than half an hour, we finished the job and stood next to each other beside a huge scrap pile in the center of the room. “Do you have a dumpster coming?” Charlie asked, pulling his gloves off.
“Yes, on Friday. I wouldn’t have thought of it, but Nick did.”
“Who’s Nick? Another pretend boyfriend?” He bumped me with his hip.
“Haha. No, he’s the fiancé of my friend Coco. The one you met at my house the night of the burglary. They’re actually getting married next month.”
“Right. Dark hair. Big…” He grinned sideways at me. “Smile.”
“Come on, you can say it. Boobs. You noticed her boobs, everyone does.” Turning away under the guise of gathering up the tools, I tried to ignore the zing of jealousy that shot through me. Not even the pushiest of push-up bras would give me the kind of luscious curves Coco had up top.
“Well, I was gonna say tits, but actually I think I’ll stick with smile.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re not fascinated by big boobs. All men are.”
“Not true.” Charlie tossed his gloves and hammer into his toolbox before kicking it shut. “I don’t have anything against them, but I don’t have a preference for them either. I think yours are perfect, so you don’t have to get all annoyed with me.”
“I wasn’t getting annoyed.” I was, but his compliment took the edge off. “Just stating a fact: Coco has big yummy breasts.”
“You’ve tasted them? Because I am fascinated by that.”
I gave him a flat look. “I meant, she has voluptuous curves that most men drool over and up-and-down girls like me envy.”
“I know plenty of women who would envy your cute little ass too, so it goes both ways.”
He thinks my small ass is cute. “Thanks. I guess it does.”
“I’m surprised they agreed to bring a dumpster here the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, yeah. Nick called in a favor. Some kind of Italian thing.”
He nodded. “That explains it. Are we done here?”
We were, although I almost wished I hadn’t insisted on finishing tonight. When would I see him again? In that moment I found myself wishing a few things, actually—I wished he weren’t so handsome and funny. I wished we weren’t so different. I wished we didn’t have the spark. I wished I had the nerve to say fuck compatibility—you and I could be good together. Tell me your secrets. I’ll tell you mine. Let’s take a chance.
But I held my tongue and nodded.
After I locked up the studio, Charlie walked me to my car. It felt as if the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees in the last few hours, and I shivered. “Brrr. Is it supposed to snow tonight?”
“I think so. Roads will probably be bad tomorrow.”
“You working?”
“Just half a day. I’m not traffic, though.”
“Will you get Thanksgiving dinner somewhere?” I wrapped my arms around myself, hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm.
He shrugged. “Somewhere. I have to go see my granddad. Maybe we’ll go out.”
On the tip of my tongue was an invitation to come to my mother’s house, but I thought I better not. Family holidays were probably reserved for compatible people. “Well. Thanks for helping me,” I said, my breath frosting the air.
“You’re welcome.” Charlie pointed his nose at my
car. “Go on, get in. It’s cold.”
Seriously? Not even a hug? Sheesh, he really was afraid of sending the wrong message. Taking a page from his book, I decided to mess with him a little. Rising on tiptoe, I threw my arms around him, tight, pressing my chest and stomach against his. “I mean it. I’m really grateful for what you did.”
He gave me a quick squeeze around the middle and let go, but I didn’t.
“Wow, you’re so warm,” I said, lifting my chin to whisper breathy words in his ear. His body stiffened, making me smile. “And so big and strong and handsome. And you give such good hugs—I can’t help myself. I’m totally attached to you. I can’t let go! Marry me, Charlie Dwyer! Tonight! I want to have your babies!” As my voice rose I got more dramatic, clinging to him, jumping up and down, dangling from his neck like a baby chimp.
“Very funny.”
Laughing, I straightened up and released him. “Scare you for a minute?”
“For a second, maybe.”
“Good. You deserved it. You can give me a hug, you know. I won’t expect a ring next Tuesday because of it.”
He held up his hands. “OK, OK. I confess, I tend to be uncomfortable with gestures of affection.”
“So for you, physical contact is sexual or nothing?”
“Pretty much.”
I shook my head. “Jesus, Charlie. You’re such an asshole.”
He tugged on my hair. “For a girl who doesn’t swear, you swear a lot.”
“Guess you bring out the devil in me.”
He laughed. “I’d say that’s mutual. So you better get in the car. You have my number, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Call if you need help laying the new floor.”
“OK. Night.”
“Night.”
Charlie waited until I pulled out to get into his car, which had been parked next to mine. Not a shiny black Lexus, but a nice enough silver Honda, which did not appear to have litter in the back seat (I checked).
As I drove home, I was torn between being glad we’d agreed on the no-more-sex thing, and feeling a little disappointed I wouldn’t experience the things that Charlie made me feel again. That sense of abandonment, feeling free to do or say wicked naughty things because someone else was prompting me. But that was silly—surely there were other men out there who’d bring out the devil in me, weren’t there? Men with less ego and more heart? Men who were interested in that kind of sex but also a relationship? There had to be. And if he drove a Lexus and took me to the opera and flew me to Paris to propose, all the better.
Yes, I’d say.
Yes, yes, yes.
Which is exactly what I said the following morning in bed, when I fantasized that Charlie came over to surprise me, found my door unlocked, and came upstairs to punish me for it.
Although after the real thing, even the Naughty Rabbit felt a little less impressive.
Damn him. What the hell was I supposed to do about that?
It snowed all day on Thanksgiving—the scattered flurries descending as I drove to the soup kitchen turned to a light fall by the time I left for my mom’s house, making the roads slippery. Cars slid through stop signs and swerved into curbs as drivers struggled to maintain control, as if they’d forgotten that brakes don’t work the same in winter weather. I saw quite a few near-accidents and the aftermath of two actual collisions, and both times I slowed down and craned my neck like a gawker to see if Charlie was one of the cops on the scene. Even though he’d told me last night he wasn’t a traffic cop, I still felt annoyingly disappointed that I didn’t see him. That I wouldn’t see him.
While we ate, the snow fell hard and steady, and by the time I was helping my mom do the dishes, a good three or four inches had fallen.
“It’s bad out there,” my mom fretted, peering out her kitchen window into the yard. “And it’s getting dark. I bet the roads are awful. You should just stay here tonight.”
“It’s beautiful out there, and I don’t need to stay here. I’m a careful driver.” I dried off a handful of silverware and put it back in the wooden case on the counter.
“Well, you better get going sooner rather than later. Want me to pack you some leftovers?”
“You’re busy. I can do it.”
As I piled food into plastic containers, I wondered what Charlie was doing right now. Had he eaten dinner with his grandfather? Was he alone tonight? An idea popped into my head—Charlie’s cell number was on his card. When I got home, I could call him and see if he wanted to come hang out after work tomorrow, watch a movie, eat leftovers with me. If he hadn’t gotten a home-cooked meal today, he might be craving one.
Happy with the plan, I took extra helpings of turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole (which I hated so I figured Charlie would love), mashed potatoes, acorn squash, and maple-glazed carrots. Cranberry sauce and gravy went into separate little jars, and I packed everything into one big cardboard box.
“Good Lord, Erin, you’re going to be eating Thanksgiving dinner for a week.” My mother brushed her short, wavy hair out of her eyes with her forearm since her hands were sudsy.
“I’m taking some for a friend.” I disappeared into the back hall to grab my coat, hoping she wouldn’t ask who the friend was.
But she’s a mom. Of course she asked.
“What friend?”
For some reason, I felt strange admitting it was Charlie. “One of the teachers at the studio. Her family lives far away, and she needed to stick around here and study for midterms anyway.”
“You should have invited her, silly. We had plenty of room.”
I freed my hair from the collar of my coat and buttoned it up, eyes downcast. “I know. Next time.”
I said my goodbyes, shuffled through the snow on the driveway, and set the leftovers on the back seat. I was planning to drive slow, so I figured they’d be safe enough there. After starting the car, I dug the scraper-brush from underneath the seat and cleared the windshield and windows. My hands were numb by the time I finished—I’d forgotten my gloves in the house.
But I was too anxious to get home and call Charlie to go back and get them.
#
Once I was standing in the kitchen, though, cell phone in one hand, Charlie’s card in the other, I had second thoughts. What if it was too soon to call? What if he saw this as a sign I was attached? That I was clingy? Emotionally needy?
Oh, relax. If he doesn’t want to come over, he can say no.
And if Charlie and I were going to legitimately be friends, I had to get over feeling like he’d be analyzing every move I made to make sure I wasn’t getting carried away. His hang-ups were not my problem—I was returning a favor that was all. If he took it the wrong way, screw him.
I punched his number into my phone, but before I could hit send, someone knocked softly at the back door.
Immediately my pulse picked up. I glanced at my alarm command center, a little screen set up on my kitchen counter. Armed—Night, it said.
I breathed a little easier. I could peek out and see who it was, plus I had my cell in my hand. I cleared Charlie’s number and hit nine-one-one so that all I’d have to do was press send. As I did this, the person knocked again, a little more forcefully this time.
I moved toward the door and looked out.
My heart rate kicked right back up again.
It was Charlie.
On the wall keypad, I pressed Disarm and typed my security code. Then I opened the door and drank in the sight of him against a backdrop of white snow and black sky. He had snowflakes in his hair.
“Hi,” I said, my insides tense with excitement.
“Hi.”
“Are you the burglar?”
His lips tipped up on one side. “No.”
“Are you the big bad wolf?”
The grin deepened. “Yes.”
Snow blew into my kitchen on an icy gust of wind. I backed into the kitchen, setting my phone on the counter. “Rough night to be out hunting, Mr. Wolf.�
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“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Kicking the door closed, he rushed toward me and took my head in his hands, his warm mouth slanting over mine. Tentatively, I put my palms on his damp wool coat, his kiss drawing me in. He looped his arms around my back, lifting me right off my feet.
My God, what was this? What was he doing to me? Had he changed his mind about being just friends or was this just another anomaly we’d dismiss later tonight as Lonely Holiday Sex? Between all those questions, three words beat a sweet little rhythm through my head—our first kiss, our first kiss, our first kiss.
Charlie’s tongue stroked mine, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, linking my ankles behind him. Hitching me higher on his body, he set me up on the island and shed his coat and sweater, dropping them to the floor. I wrested my cardigan from my arms and had my fingers at the bottom of my blouse, ready to whip it over my head, when common sense kicked in.
“Wait a minute.” I shoved Charlie in the chest, and even though it was like a ladybug trying to budge a giant sequoia, he was gentlemanly enough to take a step back. “No.”
His eyebrows raised. “No?”
I hopped off the island. “No. You said last night we were just going to be friends.” I struggled to breathe—it was like he’d knocked the wind out of me.
“We are friends.”
“Then what is this?” I gestured to the clothing on my kitchen floor.
“You don’t want this?”
“I didn’t say that.”
A pause. And since he wasn’t that much of a gentleman, I knew what I had to do.
I took off running.
He chased me through the dining room and front room to the bottom of the staircase, where he finally snared me with an arm around my waist. I did my best to try to scramble up the steps, but it was like spinning tires in the snow. Charlie easily overpowered me, subduing me with his strength, his will, his size. He spun me around to face him and set me down on the stairs, looming over me, one hand braced on a step above my head. I’d left one little light on in the front hall, a wall sconce that burned low, leaving half his face in shadow.
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