They walked out through the dark lobby and Grace locked the door. “Another clear night.” Then she shivered. “But I guess it’s too soon to give up on snow, right?”
Charlie nodded. “Way too soon to give up.”
She shot him a quick look and then she frowned.
“Get inside. I’ll come bearing pizza soon.” Grace narrowed her eyes at his order, but after another shiver, she headed for the staff apartments. She waved and stepped inside her apartment. Charlie looked up at the dark sky and something clicked in place. It was too soon to give up on snow and on convincing Grace to give them a shot. This was the time to take one more chance.
BY THE TIME Grace heard the knock on the door, she’d changed her mind at least ten times about what she wanted from Charlie and whether yes or no was the right answer to his offer to bring over pizza. They were doing pretty well as friends or friendly coworkers. When she remembered his kisses, though, she wasn’t satisfied with that. She wanted more. Having Charlie McMinn and his pizza in her tiny apartment should make it easy enough to have what she wanted. And that was the scary part.
Grace paused in front of the door and smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Then she straightened her shoulders, wiped her sweaty palms on the jeans she’d changed into as quickly as she could after she left Charlie out by the pool, and opened the door.
And as soon as she saw Charlie standing there, holding a pizza box and two cups, she was glad she’d said yes.
“Hi.” For some reason she felt as nervous as she had when Russell Pickens had stood on her doorstep in a rented tuxedo with a bedraggled corsage. She’d traveled a lot of miles since her senior prom, but a handsome man holding a pizza seemed to hold a lot more promise than even the high school quarterback had that night. When Charlie’s warm breath clouded the air around him with his answering “Hi,” she remembered the crucial step of getting him inside: moving out of the doorway.
“Come in.” She stepped back and took the pizza box and cups while he shrugged out of his jacket.
Pointing theatrically at the single stool Tony had brought her from some hotel storage area for odds and ends, she said, “Well, have a seat.” She displayed her inherited plastic plates with a flourish. “You can have this smiley face or that one.” As she settled across the bar from him and watched him pile gooey pizza on top of both, she asked, “What’s in the cup?”
He took a huge bite of pizza and held up one finger. Eventually, he said, “Sorry. We’re past my normal dinnertime. My stomach was pretty sure I was starving. It’s sweet tea, as is only appropriate with barbeque pizza.” He tilted his head to study her face. “Besides, that was what I was drinking the day you drained my glass in Viva Las Vegas approximately thirty minutes after we met.”
Grace’s lips twitched as she fought down the satisfied smirk that wanted to escape. She’d done it because she knew it would make an impression. And it had. “I bet you hated that. I’m surprised you didn’t lecture me on all the wasting diseases I could get right then and there.”
Charlie’s laugh was low and quiet. In her small apartment, it was an intimate sound and she could feel the ripple all the way to her toes.
“Not gonna lie. That was a shock. And most people would have gotten an angry set down for sure. You might be the only person in the world who could get away with it.” He picked up his cup. “But not this time. That’s why you have your own. And, if you’ll let me know what you’d pick if you were ordering your own drink, that’s what I’ll get the next time.”
Pretending to consider the matter even as the idea that there would be a next time worried and thrilled her, Grace took a bite of her own pizza, and then washed it down with tea sweet enough to make her teeth hurt. She shivered and nodded. “That’s absolutely perfect. I haven’t had tea like that in such a long time.”
They didn’t talk while they devoured half the pizza. Eventually Charlie leaned back with a sigh. “All right. I think I’m going to make it.”
Grace laughed. “Care to explain what it is with you and your schedule?”
He balled up his paper napkin. “The schedule is greatly tied to food, meal times, and spacing them properly so that my usually sweet disposition doesn’t take a nosedive with my blood sugar.” He shrugged. “Well, and the schedule is also my way of ordering things.”
Grace pushed around the crusts on her plate. “Someone has mentioned to me that schedules matter to Charlie McMinn.” Willodean’s warning made a little more sense now.
“Maybe. It’s not like I expect other people to stick to my schedule.”
Grace just blinked at him and waited.
He sighed. “Okay, that’s not exactly true. But the truth makes me sound a little bit like an anal stick in the mud. And who wants to go with the truth in that case?”
Grace laughed. “When you aren’t here at the hotel, being disrupted, what does a good Charlie day look like?”
He ticked points off on his fingers. “Run at six, breakfast at seven, work at eight. Lunch at noon. Dinner at six. Bed at eleven.”
“And what about when you’re wheeling and dealing, investing like the shark you are.”
He tried a modest shrug. “That doesn’t take up much of the day. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Of course you are. I would expect nothing else.” Grace took another bite of her pizza. “And the routine never gets boring? Do you ever want to shake things up? I like variety.”
“Boring? Maybe. But I’m not big on making a change just to make a change. A good reason? Then I can be flexible.” He said the word like he was unfamiliar with it. “But for you? Liking flexibility’s going to be good as an event planner. Lots of events, different times of day.” He nodded encouragingly.
He was trying to be positive, relate to the free spirit. It was kind of cute, especially since it looked so odd on him.
“Are you excited about going home for a visit? How does it feel to be this close?” He took a sip of his tea. “Tea this good ought to have brought you back home sooner.”
Grace shrugged. “You might have a hard time understanding this, but I just couldn’t fit in with my family. I’m the youngest of seven, and they couldn’t be any more regular if they tried. Schedules and budgets and multitasking were all very important. My mother would be a big fan of your schedule and would give me the most confused look if I dared to deviate from it. Imagine it. Six normal kids and one oddball that was determined to be grand. And nothing about that’s changed, so while I’m looking forward to it, I’m dreading it too.”
Charlie leaned both elbows on the bar. “Or maybe you spent your formative years as the only person on a schedule in a house with a woman who’d rather roll the dice than analyze and who adopts new people like it’s going out of style when all you want to do is sit with her and tell her about the bully at school who likes to pick on rich kids but she can’t talk because she’s got a hotel to decorate and every visit is a reminder that things will never be the way you want.”
The tense silence stretched between them, and Grace knew more about Charlie in that minute than she’d known about any other man she’d dated, no matter how long they were together. Before she could get her mouth in motion, he took a deep breath. “So maybe you convince yourself to build your own world, run it all on time because it makes you happy even if you can’t quite convince everyone else to run on it too. And then you feel like a total ass when you tell a beautiful woman that you like to eat your dinner at six every night because you have mommy issues.”
He started to stand, but Grace stopped him by wrapping her hands around his and squeezing them. “Stop. Wait. You don’t have to feel that way, Charlie. Here’s the thing about being a rolling stone. I’ve met a lot of people. Some of them weren’t nice, but most of them were just doing the best they could, you know? You run into some people along the way that teach you that no matter what the past looks like, where they started, the who they are now is just your…” She looked into his eyes and tried to f
igure out what to say that didn’t sound like kooky new age nonsense or romantic words that would send a guy like Charlie running out into the night.
One corner of his mouth turned up. “You want to say soul mate or something like that but not say soul mate. Right?”
Grace squeezed her eyes shut. “I worked my way into a corner, and I couldn’t figure a way out but that was the gist of where I was going. I think what I mean is that there are people for whom the connection is instant. And we can leave it at that. I felt it with Willodean.” She watched his face close off and then decided to throw it all in the ring. “Not like I felt it with you, of course, but still. With you, it was like we had a private joke that the rest of the world didn’t get. To me, at least. And I’ve never felt that.”
Surprise flashed across his face before Charlie rubbed his forehead. “I think I know what you mean.”
Grace slid off her stool, picked up the plates, and put them in the kitchen’s small sink. Then she shoved her hands in her pockets because she had no idea what to do next. The apartment had a television, but it had been so long since she watched anything she didn’t know what was on. She had no radio. “I wish I had a deck of cards.”
Charlie frowned.
“So that we could play something, poker or gin rummy or hearts.” She shrugged her shoulder. “Dinner’s over, but I don’t want you to leave.”
She did her very best to keep her eyes from straying to the full-sized pink elephant in the room, but the bed was hard to ignore as just about the only other things to look at were her blue pillows and the modern wall art of her bright orange coat.
“I wouldn’t mind folding laundry.” He rolled his eyes. “Or whatever.”
This time when their eyes locked, the room was just as quiet but the tension felt different, lighter. She had the feeling they were on the same team again. She took a step toward him. She had no idea why except that he might be as magnetic for her as the call of the open road. She could never resist the possibility of the untraveled path, and there was something about Charlie that made her feel that same fluttery excitement and low-grade fear of the unknown.
“Maybe Tony has cards. I could go ask.”
Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. “Or…”
When he didn’t continue, she made the “keep going” motion with her hand. “Or what?”
“If I was at home tonight, I’d take advantage of the cold and clear. Head out in the woods—”
“On purpose?” Grace couldn’t imagine what sort of boredom it would take to convince her to head out into the woods at night. No boredom would do that. Nothing short of an ax-wielding maniac would convince her to do that.
“Not big on the great outdoors, huh?”
That could be classified as an understatement along the lines of “Elvis has a lot of fans” but she didn’t want him to go either. “Well, not really, but maybe I just needed someone to show me the ropes.” She was pretty sure that was not true. It was the same as saying “Oh, sure, I love football” on the first date when she could barely name the local team mascot much less follow all the downs and yardages and penalties and positions. She’d done that one time and suffered every game until Super Bowl Sunday before she took a job in Los Angeles as a masseuse.
Charlie nodded. “Right. Well, I was going to say we could see if we could find any constellations, but it is pretty cold and—”
“Now that is something I can happily try, Charlie. Besides, outdoor Memphis is hardly the same as east Tennessee. There I might see bears. What’s the worst that could chase us here?” Ax-wielding maniac was the answer even in Memphis, but she wasn’t going to say that. Her positive image had already taken one hit. She didn’t want to add overactive imagination to it. She had a feeling that was not a quality Charlie would embrace.
“Maybe too much light pollution to see stars, but we could try.” He tilted his head. “Want to?”
“I’ll just grab my very warm orange coat. Aren’t you glad I got it now? We don’t have to worry about being shot on accident.”
“You know you’re smack dab in the middle of Memphis, right? Hunter orange probably won’t save you from a stray bullet here.” Charlie’s voice was dry as he asked the question but she could hear the hint of amusement. Exactly the reaction she’d been going for.
She sniffed. “Maybe you’re right, but my motto is always safety first.”
He didn’t argue. He wanted to. She could see it on his face. If she were giving out points, he’d have earned some by letting that whole comment pass by. “Maybe we could sit by the pool? It’s clear, no trees.”
He shook his head. “Too much light. We’ll need to go where it’s dark.” The small smile on his lips and spark in his eyes combined with the husky promise in his voice made her shiver. Just like that. He could touch her without lifting a finger.
“Okay, well, how about we take this ugly pink blanket then? We should be warm enough, right?”
He nodded. “Pink’s not your color?”
“Youngest of seven, remember? We had a boy’s room and a girl’s room. And my oldest sister Ellen loved pale pink everything. It was the color of the room forever. My parents were big on getting a lot of mileage out of whatever they bought. Every hand-me-down I had was pink. And not exciting pink. Girly, cotton candy pink.” She rolled her eyes. “Pink’s fine but pastel’s not in my world.” She pulled the blanket off the bed and quickly folded it while he slipped on his jacket.
“You know,” he said, shooting obvious glances at her new coat, her new pillows, and her clothes, “I would have guessed that about you. The bed was the part that didn’t make sense.”
“Came with the place.” She licked her lips and did her best not to look at the bed. The room shrank again now that they were both talking about the bed. Maybe it was because she’d spent a lot of time in that bed trying to not think of Charlie or his broad shoulders, his intense focus, or the way he kissed. If they ever ended up in that bed together, things would never be the same between them. She might never be the same. The instant connection between them would take sex, something she’d always enjoyed, and turn it into something else, something she’d never forget.
And it scared her to death to know that wherever her path took her, she might measure her future against the memory of Charlie. It scared her more to think of never having him in the first place.
After Charlie slipped into his coat, she shoved the folded blanket in his arms and took her only piece of modern art off the wall and put it on. Without a word, Charlie opened the door and motioned her through it. He pulled it shut, and they both took a minute to adjust to the night.
“C’mon, let’s try the green space. I think that will be our best shot.” He wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her along. While she carefully watched every step she took through the trees and grass in the field behind the hotel, she was conscious of the heat of his hand and the way he traced his thumb over her skin every once in a while, not like he had a pattern or a rhythm but like an unconscious habit.
“This is probably good.” He pulled her in front of him and then unfolded the blanket before wrapping it over his own shoulders and sliding his arms around her waist. Grace jerked in surprise but grabbed his hands to stop him when he moved to step back. Maybe Charlie had changed his mind about getting closer. Even if this was the extent of his boldness, she wanted to savor it. “Let’s see how cold it gets.”
“You don’t think someone will shoot us, do you? My safety orange is now completely hidden.” And she’d never be cold again. There was something about standing in a dark field with Charlie’s arms wrapped around her that turned up her temperature, even through his leather jacket and her puffy coat. That was some kind of connection.
“Not unless they’re out hunting big pink bears, probably not.” He squeezed her closer and she could feel the happy contentment pass between them.
“I should have warned you. I’ve never been able to see constellations.”
She c
ould feel his shrug, and he fidgeted for a minute. “Luckily, now there’s an app for that. All you have to do is point the phone at the sky, and science will show you what you should be able to see. Clouds and light pollution might get in the way, but having a picture to know what you’re looking for can help.” He handed her the phone and grabbed the slipping blanket as she aimed it at the sky. “Most people can find the dippers easily enough.” He tapped the phone screen. “There. The Big Dipper. Do you see those four bright stars there?”
And with the help of the screen she could. She could see exactly what he was pointing at. “You see the bowl and then the handle.” He motioned and then shifted, his chest rubbing against her back as his breathing picked up. “And then the Little Dipper. You can see that.” He pointed again.
She nodded. “This is amazing. There’s an app for everything, right?”
His laugh was quiet and close to her ear. The warmth of his breath melted through her to pool in her abdomen, and she decided this was a hobby she could totally get into. She and Charlie could travel the world with his handy phone. He could show her the stars, and she’d just melt against him.
“I hate to point it out, knowing how you feel about bears, but if you can find the Big Dipper, you can also see Ursa Major.” His arm shifted against her shoulder as he pointed again. “Hope that bear doesn’t make you want to take off for civilization.”
The warmth in his voice made her want to smile. And kiss him. And the two urges together were enough to confuse her into silence.
“Did you know Ptolemy listed Ursa Major in the second century in a list of forty-eight constellations? It’s mentioned in the Bible. Shakespeare wrote about it. Van Gogh painted it.”
“So what you’re saying is that Ursa Major is kind of a big deal?”
Charlie turned her in his arms and frowned down at her. “Major. It’s a major deal.”
He wagged his eyebrows at her and she laughed.
Santa, Bring My Baby Back Page 16