Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) (14 page)

Charlie woke from the best sleep she’d had in her life to a pounding headache and heavy limbs draped across her body. Looking down at herself, she realized she wasn’t wearing anything except her bra and panties, and Les’s bare legs were draped across hers.

She rested her head back against her pillow and tried to remember what had happened. Her last memories were of a sex club in LA.

Shit.

She’d had sex with Les.

Did they manage to get a room at the club? Did they do kinky things? Was Les into that kind of thing? She hadn’t been so drunk she blacked out since she was twenty. Since she’d gotten the damn tattoo he seemed so interested in.

She turned her head to look at Les. His hair was more unruly than normal, and she was tempted to smooth it out, but held back. She was wasted last night, that didn’t mean she would continue the charade sober. Her eyes travelled down his face—straight, lean nose, soft kissable lips, eyelashes any woman would kill for. Feminine features for a decidedly masculine face. His strong jaw line was covered in stubble.

Her gaze meandered to his chest, hidden by the sheet. Gently, she eased the sheet away, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of smooth muscles and the smattering of hair across his chest. She examined the tattoo she’d glimpsed before, an intricate depiction of a real heart, tattooed to look like someone had peeled back his skin to reveal the beating organ. It was so vivid and life-like. And typical.

Les’s heart stared back at her, exposed and raw, waiting for her to reach in and crush it.

Suddenly, an ache in her loins told her she wished she’d remember what last night had been like. She certainly wouldn’t repeat it. But she would like to re-live it. What did the stubble on his face feel like against her skin? What about his lips?

With a groan, she sat up, trying to extricate herself from his tangled limbs without waking him, but it was no use. As soon as she swung her legs off the bed, she heard his sleepy voice.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Actually, yes. I did.” She stood, her stomach rebelling against the motion, and grabbed the top of the lamp next to her bed to steady herself. Good thing it was bolted to the table, or she might have toppled it over. “I’m going to take a shower.” She didn’t want to talk about last night. Whatever had happened.

In the shower, as the water cleared her head, she remembered why she’d gotten drunk in the first place. She’d missed out on the stained glass piece. And she’d missed it because of the call from Adam.

Trent was graduating high school with a full ride to UT, one of the best state Universities in Texas. Adam and Sarah had done well with him.

Part of her wanted to go, to see what he looked like, how he interacted with his peers, his family. But another part of her didn’t want to know. Was ashamed. She’d given up all rights to her son, willingly, and with relief. She hadn’t wanted the responsibilities of motherhood. She’d wanted to party, to be just like her own parents.

That had taken a few years of therapy to get past. But she wasn’t sure she’d actually gotten past it. It seemed like she’d just buried it. Like everything else.

She needed to call her shrink as soon as she got back to Serendipity.

She’d been to so many. Initially, when she’d first started seeing psychiatrists, she’d been in the group facility in Dallas, where she’d lived. When she’d gotten older, and out on her own, she’d seen a different one. The first woman had been a matronly sort, and the second one had been younger. The younger one served to make Charlie feel inadequate, in a ‘look at me, I’m not much older than you, and see what I’ve done with my life’ sort of way. So Charlie shopped around until she’d found another older woman. She preferred women, because she was afraid of what would happen if she told a man what she’d done and learned to enjoy at the hands of The Man. She’d read enough to be terrified of becoming the cliché that would have sex with her therapist. So she stuck to women.

When she’d moved to Serendipity, five years ago, she’d been recommended to the woman she was currently seeing. She was a retired psychology professor, who had hung out her shingle, so she met all of Charlie’s requirements. Old and knowledgeable. While her knowledge didn’t extend to much first-hand experience, she’d read a lot on the subject, especially after taking Charlie on as a client, and her fresh perspective, straight from the books, seemed to be what Charlie needed at this stage in her process.

Of course, she didn’t see her weekly, or even really monthly. Charlie had progressed enough, or at least
repressed
enough, that she didn’t feel the need to vent her troubles regularly. But every now and then, her nightmares cropped up, or Adam would call, or something else would happen, and Charlie needed an ear.

And she needed refills for her meds to stay compliant. It was always easier to deal with things when she was on her meds.

Stepping out of the shower, Charlie heard Les rustling around in the other room, and smelled the scent of burned lobby coffee.

Bless his heart.

After coffee and a drive-through breakfast of ham and egg croissants, they were on the road home.

“Before we get started, I want you to know I’m not talking about any part of yesterday. Ever.” She was sure he’d want to dissect the sex they’d had, and talk about the relationship that it meant they were a part of now. Charlie didn’t want any part of that.

“Fair enough.” His lack of argument set her back. She gaped at him until he gestured back toward the road, silently telling her to look forward. She turned her eyes back to the road.

He seemed to pacify himself with playing with the radio, finding a station that didn’t offend his delicate sensibilities until his phone rang. Charlie perked up her ears. It hadn’t rung much during the trip, certainly not as much as hers, and she found herself wanting to glean as much information about Les Paul as she could.

“Hey, Ma. How’s things?” He sounded genuinely happy to hear from his mother, and Charlie was reminded of how you couldn’t pick your parents.

“You remember Sweetness? From the building supply place I was telling you about? Well, I had a little accident, and—” Charlie could hear a shrieking from his end of the phone, and Les pulled the phone from his ear with a smirk on his face. “I’m fine. Let me finish. Yeah, well Sweetness drove up on me, can you believe it? She’s actually Charlie, the owner of the place. Why didn’t you raise me better? I’d been assuming she was the secretary. You’d think I could be a little more sexually enlightened.”

Charlie smiled to herself at his descriptions. He must have a great relationship with his parents. Of course, he’d told her he did. This was a major reason she didn’t really have friends. She was an enlightened adult, and knew that everyone came from vastly different backgrounds. But she didn’t want to be constantly reminded of the fact. She pushed the feelings of inadequacy aside.

“Well, we’ve been travelling together, the entire trip, and … yeah… uh huh… She’s great. I can’t wait for you to meet her, if we… uh huh…”

Wait. Meet his parents? They weren’t even a couple! What was he thinking? What the hell happened last night? Her hands whitened on the steering wheel.

“No, it’s not like that. We’re friends… Yeah…” She exhaled a relieved sigh at those words.

“Yeah, no, I can’t. I have that fundraising thing on Friday. Yeah, I’ll be back by then. We’re on the way home now. Well, Ma I would, but she won’t let me drive. Love you too. I will. Bye.”

He turned to Charlie and she felt trepidation ease up her spine.

“Um, Mom just reminded me of something…” He raked his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, the words spilling out of his mouth. “I have a thing next week I need to take a date to. It’s a fundraising thing for a group where I’m on the board.”

“What group?” Why was she asking questions? Why not just say no? That’s what she needed to say.

“Refuge of Light. It’s an organization that helps victims of human trafficking locally; they’re trying to build a safe house for the girls they rescue.”

Of course. It would be the Refuge of Light where he was on the board. If she believed in God, this would be her final sign that she needed to be with Les. That he was the perfect man for her. But unfortunately, she didn’t believe in God. “I’m familiar with them,” she gritted out of tight lips.

“So, is that a yes?” His eyes actually looked hopeful, as if he hadn’t heard her all the times she’d said she didn’t do relationships.

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting into with me?”
Say no. Say no. Just. Say. No.
She ignored the inner voice screaming at her and looked at him squarely, pleading with her eyes not to do this. She wasn’t strong enough to keep holding him at arm’s length.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, no. I’m not at all sure what I’m getting into with you. But I want to find out, if you’ll let me in.” His voice was weak sounding, almost pleading, and Charlie felt something inside herself crumble. There went a wall. Tumbling down.

“I won’t let you in. My past is just that. Mine. If you want to give this a shot, knock yourself out. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She wondered why she was agreeing with him. She chewed on her lip. “I will break your heart. Just be prepared for it.” Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“Pull over.”

“Why?”

“Just pull over, Charlie.”

She pulled over onto the shoulder. Desert stretched out around them for miles, and few cars were on the road.

She turned to him, expectantly, although her heart was in her throat. She felt like she’d just jumped off a bridge and was waiting for the icy water to engulf her.

“I know you don’t think you can do this. I’m not even sure I can do this with you.” He put his fingers against her mouth, open for rebuttal. “But I’ve heard you. And all I can say is I feel something with you. Something different, and I want to know what it is. We’ll finish this trip and see where it takes us. Then we’ll go out Friday. After that, we’ll see. I’m going into this with my eyes open. Are you?”

She stared at him, his cocoa eyes boring into hers. It was as if he could see straight to her shriveled insides, and actually found her worthy. She nodded. Mute.

Then got back on the road.

Charlie couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d just agreed to, nor why. Well, she knew why. Les reminded her of Adam. He was gentle, caring, and would do anything for her. She just didn’t know if she could reciprocate. She would need to explain a little of that to Les. It appeared she’d just gotten herself in a relationship, and that’s what people in relationships did, right? Talk? Ugh…

That day, they made good time on the drive, considering they were pulling a trailer half-f of stuff. Charlie had managed to find a few things before she lost the stained glass piece. She had no idea how she would tell Mr. McMannis. She didn’t even know who’d bought it so she could try to contact them directly. But she’d gotten some exciting flooring made from a weathered redwood, almost unheard of in East Texas, and a great spiral staircase, as well as some double-hung windows she’d wrapped up really well to keep from breaking. Les had bought a few things too, but was secretive about his wrapped packages.

They stopped at a burger joint for dinner, and Les bought a bottle of wine at the liquor store next door before heading to their motel for the evening.

While they were eating, Les reached over and clasped her free hand in his, while he dug a French fry out of the mound before him. He made the move seem so nonchalant, like everything was so easy for him. As if he’d never been told no before. Les was constantly talking about not being able to keep a woman, but when he grasped her hand in his, a spark of electricity shooting up her elbow told Charlie that she wanted him to touch her more. A lot more.

“How do you do it?” She studied his hand wrapped around hers. Strong, scarred hands. A working man’s hands, complete with scraped knuckles and calloused palms. The bruise around his eye from the fight at the wedding were faded to a pale green color, adding to the depth of his mocha eyes.

“Do what?” He chewed a fry while talking.

“You always seem so happy. Carefree almost. How do you keep stuff from getting to you?”

“I’m honest with myself. That’s the first thing. And I’m honest with other people. Life’s too short to waste energy on dishonesty. And I’m not ashamed of how I feel.” He squeezed her hand, and the warmth he imparted in the simple gesture gave her hope.

It was selfish to hope, she knew this. But the greedy part of her wanted this. Needed it with a force so deep she didn’t want to explore it for fear of finding herself lacking.

“You probably have nothing to be ashamed of,” she said quietly.

“Oh, sure I do. Everybody does. I just know that I can’t change what’s happened in the past, and I need to move on from it. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, absolutely. But I’ve apologized and moved on.”

She ate in silence, gulping her wine between bites. Les continued refilling her cup each time it was emptied. When he was finished eating, he squeezed her hand one last time before letting it go, and Charlie felt a distinct emptiness as he got up and picked up his guitar from the corner before returning to his chair.

He softly strummed the strings, like a lover’s caress, as Charlie finished eating. When she was done, she leaned back and closed her eyes, letting Les’s music flow over her.

His style was classical—a mix of strumming and picking, with occasional taps on the body of the instrument. It had a full sound, a quality that juxtaposed with the wine flowing through her veins and made her want to move. The melody filled the air in the room, giving it a distinct quality, a warmth she felt cocooned in.

Her legs were twitching to the music, a tune she didn’t recognize, as Les hummed to himself while he played. His bare feet tapping his rhythm.

Charlie had decided this was her favorite time of the day, after they’d eaten and were winding down from their drive, and Les got out his guitar to play. He seemed to lose himself in the music strumming from his fingers, and he exuded this air of confidence. Sure he seemed confident other times, but it seemed like a bit of a façade, as if he was playing a part. But when he played, he was all Les.