“It’s not a fucking story, Trev. I’ve already told you that.”
He shakes his head. “Whatever, man. You’re a bigger dumbass than I thought.”
My phone vibrates. It’s a text from Dean letting me know there’s a party going on in Biscayne Bay with a possible sighting of Garcia. As soon as I see it, I close my laptop and stand up.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some food,” I lie. It doesn’t matter what I say; Trevor would be suspicious regardless of where I tell him I’m going. “Want anything?”
“Sure. Whiskey.”
“You should call Steph,” I tell him seriously. “Instead of spending the night drowning your blood in alcohol.”
“What the fuck do you know, Max?” he snarls. “Your girl’s out with another dude.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Then why do you look so pissy about it?”
I ignore Trevor and head inside the house, slamming the door.
Whenever he makes his mind up about something, there’s no changing it. He takes being stubborn to new levels.
And yeah, he’s right about one thing. I am pissed off. But only because no one in the house ever fucking listens. Trevor won’t take my money. He could easily ride off into the sunset with Steph and live happily ever after, but no. He continues to act like an idiot, sitting around, carrying on like the world has ended, eating globs of ice cream and drinking himself to death. And Charlotte is determined to date a manwhore, regardless of the solid advice I’ve given her.
I don’t know why I try.
TWENTY-FOUR
Char
Stephanie sets two giant green cocktail glasses down on our high top, then scoots onto the barstool beside me. “Two margaritas on the rocks.”
I’m still surprised she came tonight. After witnessing how mopey Trevor was, I figured she’d be in the same boat. But everyone copes in different ways I guess. Her method may fall along the lines of trying to forget what happened altogether.
“Cheers.” I hold up my glass, clinking it against hers. “Are you having fun?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “As much as possible. Ask me again after I finish this drink,” she adds with a wink. “What about you?”
“Of course, a blast,” I say, but it feels like a lie.
The music is loud. Most of the Gritty Voice’s employees are here. The atmosphere is lighthearted and relaxed. Everyone is cracking jokes about work, drinking, and dancing to the salsa music. I am enjoying myself. I’m also not thinking about Max. Or how disappointed he looked when I blew him off. I’m not thinking about him at all.
“I noticed Briggs teaching you some moves on the dance floor,” Stephanie says, shooting me a sly smile.
I feel a blush work it’s way into my cheeks. “He was getting a little handsy, wasn’t he?”
“Um, yeah. Definitely noticed that too.” She laughs, dimples showing. “He seems really into you.”
“I guess so.”
“Do you like him?”
“He’s…nice.”
“I’m sensing there’s a but.”
But he’s not Max.
Who I’m still not thinking about.
I can’t seem to say that out loud though, so instead, I say, “He’s my boss, you know? I’m not sure how far it can go.” I look around the room, wincing when I notice the strawberry blonde in sky-high heels. “Oh, great. Taylor’s making her way over here.”
“What’s wrong with Taylor?”
Crap. I don’t know how to answer that question without having to explain why I don’t like her. I try to think of a believable reason, but can’t come up with one fast enough. “She’s just really annoying.”
I sound like a bitch, but it’s better than admitting the truth.
Before Stephanie can say anything, Taylor approaches. “Hey, Charlotte. Stephanie.”
I force a smile, lukewarm at best, then sip from my drink and avert my eyes. Unfortunately it’s not enough to avoid her.
“Charlotte, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Inwardly sighing, I say, “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“Alone?” she asks quietly.
Stephanie stands, quick to vacate the awkward tension. “I gotta pee anyway. Watch my drink, ladies.”
As soon as she’s gone, Taylor sits down, and I get the feeling I’m being ambushed. “You don’t like me, do you?”
I tense up. Yep, definitely being ambushed.
“I barely know you,” I reply, shifting in my seat. “I haven’t had time to form an opinion.”
She ignores that. “You don’t like me because there’s something going on between you and Max.”
Now she has my attention.
“We’re just friends.” Not that it’s any of your business.
“I don’t think that’s true. In fact, I think the reason he made me leave the other night was because you saw us together.”
I nearly spill my drink. “He made you leave?”
She nods. “After you left his door, I tried to get him in the mood, we started kissing, but then something strange happened. At first I thought I imagined it, but now there’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Go ahead, humor me. What happened?”
“Max started to say your name. We were in the middle of kissing, and he whispered Char, like he was going to say Charlotte, but stopped himself once he realized he said the wrong name.”
My heart lodges itself in my throat. I open my mouth to speak, but can’t seem to form any words.
“Anyway,” she continues. “After he said your name, he stopped kissing me, told me he was tired, and made me leave. But that’s the thing, Max never gets tired. We’ve spent whole nights together, and I swear that man never sleeps.”
I could’ve done without knowing about their long nights, but more importantly, I still can’t believe nothing happened on the night I found them together. What about the chair? I think back, remembering how Max told me about the chair only after I refused to lie on his bed. “Why did he make you leave?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Because of you.”
I laugh once. “If he had feelings for me, he wouldn’t have asked you to come over.”
She stares at me, contemplative. “I can’t explain his motive there, but I can say without a doubt that if he didn’t care about you, he wouldn’t have sent me away. I’ve never had any complaints before, if you get my drift.”
I could’ve done without knowing that also.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m the type of person who loves to be adored by one and all. What can I say? I’m a Leo,” she says, grinning. “Now that I’m aware of what’s going on, I’m not going to sleep with Max again. So I’d really appreciate it if you stopped hating me.”
I press my lips together. What reason would she have for lying? It’s not like she has anything to gain by telling me this. Other than my friendship, as she claims.
“I never hated you, exactly.”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “If I came with a self-destruct button, you would’ve pressed it in a heartbeat.”
As hard as I try not to, that makes me laugh. “I, um, appreciate the gesture, but there really is nothing going on between me and Max.”
“Really? But I’m usually never wrong about these things.”
“Not for lack of trying, believe me.” I shrug it off. “He’s just not interested.”
Her gaze soars past me, and after a moment, she begins to smirk. “Oh, I don’t know. Something tells me you’re wrong about that, hon.”
She nods toward the front entrance, and I spin around. My eyes widen when I see Max. He’s surrounded by several of his employees. They hug him and compete for his attention. For a split second, he glances up, and his eyes lock with mine. He smiles knowingly, and that’s when it hits me.
He thinks I’m here on a date.
Blood rushes to my face. I turn back around to hide my embarrassment. In r
etrospect, telling him that was a bad idea. Then again…
He thinks I’m here on a date!
If he assumed Briggs and I would be here alone, what the heck is he doing here? Did someone tell him about tonight?
Taylor heads off to the bar to buy a drink, leaving me alone, stuck trying to figure out what to say to Max. It’s not long before he makes his way over to me either, wearing the smuggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.
Great.
There’s no way he’s letting this go.
“Well isn’t this a romantic setting?” he says, gesturing to the surroundings. “You’ve got your music, dancing…and all of your coworkers. Doesn’t get any better than this.”
I cross my arms over my chest and sit back in my chair, trying to steel myself for whatever he dishes out. “All right, Max. Let’s have it.”
“You look gorgeous, kid. I wonder if Briggs knows it’s all for him. You know, since this is such a special night and all.”
I roll my eyes. “So I may have exaggerated. No need to rub it in.”
“And waste such a perfect opportunity?”
“Listen, just because it’s not a date, per se, doesn’t mean Briggs doesn’t like me.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, still chuckling to himself.
I hate him right now. Really hate him. But at the same time, I can’t help but notice how handsome he looks. He usually wears T-shirts and gym shorts around the house, but tonight his dark hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a black collared button-up shirt with dark blue jeans. He’s kind of breathtaking all dressed up. And it’s pissing me off that he looks this good when I’m trying so hard to hate him.
“So why did you drop by?” I ask as he takes a seat across from me. “You’re supposed to think I’m here on a date. Were you jealous?”
Hearing his own word thrown back at him takes him by surprise. “First of all, I don’t get jealous. And second of all, Steph texted me an invite. Imagine my surprise when I found out everyone from the office would be here tonight.”
I frown, upset with myself for not considering the possibility of someone else telling him. As if her ears were burning, Stephanie reappears at the table. “Thanks for watching my drink—Max, how nice of you to grace us with your presence.”
Downing the remainder of my margarita, I stand up, looking around the room.
“Going somewhere?” Max asks me.
“Yes.” I smile sweetly. “To find Briggs. I believe he owes me a dance.”
“Dancing, right,” he replies, sarcasm still dripping from his voice. “While you’re at it, can you grab me a beer? Oh, and ask the bartender if they’re still serving food. I’m starving.”
That quickly, it’s easy to hate him again.
“Get it yourself.”
I snatch my clutch and turn away, furious with him and myself. If Max is trying to prove how not jealous he is, he’s doing a damned good job.
***
After an hour of trying my best to look seductive on the dance floor, I’m starting to give up. Max is still sitting at the high top with Stephanie and a few of the other staff members, beer in hand, completely absorbed in laughter and conversation. He isn’t paying any attention to what I’m doing, and it’s starting to make me believe he meant what he said about not getting jealous.
Staring in the mirror, I try to figure out what I’m doing wrong. My hair is straight tonight, golden and silky and shiny. My skin looks better than ever, sun kissed from all the time I’ve been spending on the beach. I’m not sure there’s anything else I can do appearancewise.
“Undo one more button on your blouse,” Taylor advises me. I didn’t even hear her enter the bathroom. “So the top edge of your bra is showing.”
I do what she says, figuring it’s worth a try. If anyone knows sexy, it’s Taylor.
“Much better.” She bends in front of the mirror, reapplying her lipstick. “You need to do something drastic to get Max’s attention. Kiss another guy, maybe.”
“I don’t think he’d notice if I flashed the entire bar.”
She smiles. “Now there’s an idea, and trust me, he’d notice. You need to show him he can’t just follow you around and play babysitter.”
“Do you really think that’s what he’s doing?”
She tilts her head to the side, like it’s blatantly obvious. “Charlotte, we come up here almost every Thursday night. Do you know how many times I’ve seen Max? Zero. But the first Thursday you’re here, and bam, he’s come out of hiding. Do you think that’s a coincidence? Because I don’t.”
I think about what she said, sensing there’s some truth in it. It’s just frustrating. Max is being so damned stubborn, making me feel like there’s nothing I can do.
Maybe she’s right. Drastic tactics are needed.
When I leave the bathroom, I head straight for Briggs, a new plan of action formulating.
I get straight to the point, using my most charming, flirtatious smile on him. “Wanna get out of here?”
He takes a step back. “Why, do you not like this place?”
“I could use some fresh air. Maybe a walk on the beach?”
I feel bad about using Briggs to get Max’s attention, but I figure if worse comes to worst, and Max doesn’t flinch at the two of us leaving together, then there’s nothing wrong with taking a romantic walk on the beach with a guy who isn’t afraid to show me he’s interested.
Briggs takes me by the arm, leading me out of earshot. “Listen, Charlotte. I like you, but Max is my boss, and I can’t afford—”
“Wait. What does Max have to do with this?”
Briggs sighs. “He asked me to stay away from you.”
“He did what?”
“He saw the two of us dancing, so he took me aside, and asked me to keep our relationship professional.”
“And you’re just okay with that?”
Briggs shrugs helplessly. “He’s my boss. What was I supposed to say?”
I don’t bother answering his question. Shrugging away from him, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, feeling like I’m exploding from the inside out.
Unbelievable.
I’m pretty sure I’ve never been this angry with anyone before. It doesn’t make any sense! Max says he only wants to be friends, but then interferes the moment someone else comes into the picture.
“Another margarita?” the bartender asks, recognizing me from earlier.
“Yes, please. No salt.”
A few minutes later, he hands me my drink, but when I go to pay, he shakes his head. “The guy behind you asked me to put all your drinks on his tab.”
I turn around, clenching my palms into fists. “You can’t pay for my drinks—”
“Let it go, kid,” Max cuts me off. “You’re trying to save money, remember?”
“Put me on my own tab,” I order the startled bartender.
“Don’t listen to her,” Max warns him.
The bartender throws his hands up and backs away, hurrying off to the other end of the bar to help another customer. Of course he would listen to Max over me, since he’s on the receiving end of a menacing death stare.
“You’re an ass,” I snap once he’s gone.
“I believe the response you’re looking for is thank you.”
“Yes, you’re right. Thank you for being so controlling. And thank you for butting into my love life and scaring Briggs off. When I say you shouldn’t have, please know I really mean it.”
Max chuckles, lifting his beer to his lips. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Do you even know the meaning of a double standard?”
“Of course I do. It’s where I get my way, and you don’t.”
I groan out loud, which makes him laugh even harder.
“Don’t take it so hard, kid. You were too good for him anyway,” he says, completely at ease. He thinks his actions are justifiable.
“Here’s the thing—I get to decide that. If you think
I’m too good for you, I can’t force you to see things differently. But just because you don’t want anything to do with me doesn’t mean you get to make all my decisions when it comes to men.”
He no longer looks amused. “You think I don’t want anything to do with you?”
“That’s been made very clear.”
His voice lowers significantly. “I told you it was a bad idea, not that I don’t want you.”
“Whatever. Same thing in my book.”
He levels his magnetic gaze on me, holding my attention. “I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t.”
I start to say something biting like why bother, then stop myself, seeing how serious he looks. He leans down, his mouth by my ear so I’m the only one who can hear him. “If things were different, I’d take you home, put you in my bed, and make love to you until you saw stars.” His voice is slow and deep and mesmerizing. “I’d make you cry out my name until it was the only one you could remember. I’d bury myself in you, making the pleasure so fucking delicious that it would ruin you for every man for the rest of your life. I’d leave you so numb, so spent, and so satiated that you wouldn’t be able to move for a week. That’s what I want to do to you, Charlotte, which is not the same as saying it’s a bad idea.”
He moves away, watching my reaction. I can’t breathe. All I can do is stare at him, eyes wide.
“That’s what you want?” I gasp.
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I’ll act on it.”
“Why not?” I ask, confused. “I’m here, telling you I want the same things. Why can’t that be enough?”
“Because I would just take what I want from you and run,” he says darkly. “After what you did for me, you deserve better than that. You deserve love and romance, and I’m way too fucked up to ever give you those things.”
He looks away, staring out into the blur of the crowd.
This is because of his past. That’s what this is about—what it’s always been about.
I lay my hand over his free one, linking my fingers through his. “Everyone has demons,” I say, my voice softening. “Some people allow their demons to rule them, and that’s when they forget how to live. This is what it’s about. Living. Breathing. Touching. Tasting. Absorbing every last messy piece of life. I never asked for love and romance. All I asked for was you.”
Rebounding Page 17