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“I just think—”
“Stop there,” I said. “No excuses for him. I’m sorry, but I call bullshit on anything other than he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
Charlee’s mouth flattened. She wanted to refute me. To come back at me. She was Daddy’s little girl, always got what she wanted, and wasn’t used to being called out. Watching her struggle with the desire to lash out or admit I was right was actually amusing.
“Moving on,” I said.
Charlee grabbed her drink with enough force to make me laugh. Apparently, she didn’t disagree too hard because she mumbled something that sounded like, “Fine. Moving on.”
“I was wrong to propose what I did and want to start over. If you’re willing.”
That softened her. A bit.
“Move on as in?”
“As in real dating. Exploring this.” I waved an arm between us. “Seeing where it takes us.”
Her chest rose and fell. I watched it. Watched her breathing. Thinking.
Say yes, Charlee.
I must be nuts. Doing the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t, returning home to Kitchi Falls. But love makes you do crazy things. And I’d been in love with Charlee since high school. I couldn’t say that out loud, not yet. Not knowing where we stood. But I could make her understand a little bit at least.
“I didn’t want to,” I said. “But there were so many times, despite how we broke up, that I would catch myself thinking of you. At one point I wondered. . . how long had I been thinking of you exactly? Turns out, since we met. I never stopped.”
Her hand froze. Charlee put her drink back down.
“Lucas. . .”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say anything. I have no idea where we go from here, but I do know ours is a fragile thing, this bond we’re reforming.”
“Agreed,” she said. “So what do you propose?”
“This week is nuts with the soft opening. How about a date on Friday night? A real date, no deals or anything but two people getting reacquainted.”
“Uh, kind of like we are now?”
I smiled. “Kind of. But I want you to dress up. And bring an overnight bag. I have an idea.”
“I do also like draft beer and tacos,” she said.
“I know.” That was something I admired about her. Despite how Charlee was raised, she really had no airs about her. Liked getting her way? Sure. But most people did. But Charlee Donovan was no snob. Regardless, I wanted to make Friday special.
“So Friday night,” she said, as much to herself as me.
“Friday night. I’ll pick you up at your place, seven o’clock.”
Now, just to get through the rest of the week.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
charlee
If a woman could stop breathing by simply looking at a man, this was going to be one of those times. I could pretend to be chill and wait for Lucas to come inside, but that would be a complete farce. It felt like Lucas and I didn’t have time for games at this point. Hopefully, those were in the past.
The week had gone by like molasses, except for the time I stopped at the tattoo parlor Thursday and watched Lucas work for a bit. Flipping through his design book, I thought about sharing the design I’d drawn at my desk the other day with Lucas. He’d probably laugh. What did I know about tattoo designs?
His were really good, but with each one I found myself wondering what I’d do differently. My own would have more fine lines, a softer touch. Totally different look. Not better or worse, just different.
