You're Still the One (17 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The back of Arabella’s knee itched. Her left butt cheek was twitching, too, from standing still for so long, but she didn’t dare change her position. In fact, she barely breathed. Her living room was bathed in darkness, save for a lone lamp in the corner, and her face was pressed against the blinds as her shaking fingers held two slats the tiniest bit apart. Any wider and she feared she’d give away her location.

And now she sounded like a Bond girl.

Charlie was in his old, restored truck, parked by the curb in the same place he’d been for the last five minutes. The shadowed figure in the passenger seat really could’ve been anyone. Nate or Miles. One of the guys from the studio. Maybe even another relative from Tennessee. But she knew—knew it like she knew spicy food gave her heartburn—that another woman was holding his attention. And just as Ella ate the spicy food anyway, knowing full well the damage it would do to her insides, she remained at the window, watching. Needing to confirm the painful truth that sat lodged like a lump in her throat.

She wasn’t enough.

Two days had passed since the Fourth of July, two days of reliving the kiss to end all kisses. Charlie had done his job well, curling her toes and proving all those country love songs weren’t total hogwash. She’d been forever altered because of that kiss.

Turned out, Charlie wasn’t nearly the out-of-control playboy the tabloids proclaimed. His frequent moments of quiet reflection, the occasional bouts of brooding that shifted to an almost impish playfulness, rounded out his rough edges and smoothed them to a shine. His intense loyalty, his hidden philanthropy, and his secret skill in caretaking proved he was more than she or anyone else ever thought.

Once upon a time, Arabella had fancied herself in love with Charlie Tucker, but that had been a superficial crush on an image. A false one at that. Now, Arabella knew the real Charlie, and she could no longer claim to be
infatuated with
or even
falling for
her favorite bassist. Nope, she was completely in love with him.

Only thing was, Charlie
wasn’t
in love with her. In fact, he’d been avoiding her.

Stupidly, Arabella had thought they’d reached a turning point after the kiss. In a morbid way, she’d understood where he came from and had even been grateful for his honesty. Afterward, as they’d swam together, fully clothed this time, beneath the stars and explosion of fireworks, she’d felt strangely honored that he valued their relationship as highly as she did. Friendship wasn’t
better,
like she’d so lamely suggested, but it was special.

Right now, though, Arabella didn’t feel special. She felt devastated.

In the month and a half they’d lived side by side, Charlie had never once brought another woman home. He’d ignored their constant texts, didn’t make or accept any calls, and he’d skirted any topic that could lead to a discussion of his love life. Most importantly, he’d never once been cruel.

So why invite another woman home tonight? Two days after their kiss? Was he trying to hurt her or prove some kind of point? Obviously, she’d known he wasn’t a monk; Charlie was a gorgeous man with a healthy libido. He’d never once tried to hide or deny his past exploits, and she hadn’t expected him to change his spots because she’d moved in next door. She’d just assumed he’d keep his liaisons discreet. Bringing another woman here now, where he had to know she would hear, felt purposeful.

The
slam
of the truck door caused Ella to jump and her fingers slipped on the blinds.

Crap.

This was what she’d been waiting for. She needed to see who he was with and what he’d do next, but she was terrified to move the blinds again. Had Charlie seen them shift with her jump? Did he know she was being a total creeper?

The interior lights were off with only the small glow of a lamp behind her, but Charlie had left his front porch light on. That plus the overly efficient streetlights gave enough illumination for him to clearly see her if he looked closely enough.

A second door opened and closed, followed by a female voice, and Arabella’s heart sank into her stomach. But her curiosity got the best of her. Hearing wouldn’t be enough. She had to
see
them together, had to confirm it with her own eyes.

Steeling herself for the final blow, Arabella inhaled deeply and slowly drew the blinds apart. Luckily, Charlie wasn’t watching her side of the duplex. In fact, he wasn’t looking at the house at all. Instead, he was staring a hole into the ground as he trudged up the pine-needle-dusted drive, one hand anxiously twirling his keys, and the other slung around a tall, curvy blonde.

Why was he anxious? Arabella swallowed hard. And who was the woman?

The blonde was also oblivious to Ella’s presence. She was preoccupied with chattering away at Charlie’s side, her high-pitched voice and overly made-up face so unlike what Arabella would’ve pictured. True, she’d seen the photos online and knew that he’d once loved the blonde-bombshell look, but having gotten to know Charlie this summer, it wasn’t at all what he needed.

Charlie deserved to have a sweet woman by his side, someone he could spoil with his surprisingly chivalrous tendencies. Someone genuine and real, who
listened
as much as she spoke. This woman had yet to stop to take a breath, not even a pause to let Charlie grunt in agreement.

When they came to a stop at his front door, Charlie’s gaze shot to her window. Ella gasped as she quickly leaned away, careful this time not to sway or drop the blinds.

Had he seen her? Her heart thundered beneath her nightgown. They were standing so close that all it would take was one small movement, or one glance too long, and he’d know that she was spying. Even if that had been his intention, for her to see him moving on and forgetting their kiss, she refused to give him the satisfaction.

All remained quiet until she heard the woman ask, “Are we doing this or not?”

Arabella squeezed her eyes shut. She’d gotten her answer, and now she wanted to run as far away as she could. But running wasn’t an option. If she bolted, the shifting blinds would give her away, which left her standing there, listening and hoping like crazy that Charlie said “no
.
”

When she didn’t hear any response at all, Ella’s fears won out. Her good sense fled the scene and she shifted forward again, peering out through the window.

Charlie’s keys were in the lock. The blonde’s hands were on his chest, her lip snagged between her teeth as she gazed up at him in adoration. Arabella knew the expression, as she’d worn it often herself. But what hurt was Charlie…his hands wrapped around the woman’s elbows, his hooded eyes glued to her lips.

Pain lashed her chest as the flames of jealousy and shame licked her insides, charring them to a crisp. A choked whimper threatened to escape, but she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep the lustful couple from hearing her agony.

Then the woman closed the small distance and pressed her body firmly against his in a move so confident that it tore the last shred of hope Ella had. That daring woman in Charlie’s arms would never be her. In more ways than one.

Having seen more than enough, Arabella turned away and let the blinds drop from her fingers. She didn’t give a damn if Charlie saw her or not.

…

This is a mistake.

Charlie had never felt more self-loathing than he did in that moment, and that was saying a hell of a lot since his life was one fuckup after another. As Stacy—
or was it Sarah?—
fisted her hands in his shirt and pressed her mouth hungrily against his, that was all that it was. A mouth. Two pairs of lips, an annoying swipe of tongue, and remorse.

Damn, he hoped Arabella was asleep, or snuggled deep in that fuzzy blanket of hers. If she saw this juvenile display she’d probably hate him. Hell, he hated himself. There were no words for this new level of idiocy.

Lifting his head, Charlie held himself beyond the woman’s touch and watched as she lazily opened her eyes. He’d asked her out searching for answers, and, well, he’d gotten one.

“This isn’t gonna happen.”

Stacy/Sarah’s eyebrow furrowed, clearly unfamiliar with being turned down, and he could see why. She had a hot body and a pretty face. She obviously loved the sound of her own voice, but some guys liked that sort of thing. It kept them from having to say shit.

But Charlie actually
liked
conversation. The blonde’s wisp of a dress had nothing on Arabella’s retro numbers. And honestly, he had zero interest in inviting this woman inside. It was beyond time to call it a night.

He gave her a small, regretful smile. It wasn’t this woman’s fault his head was a mess. He’d been determined to prove the kiss with Arabella hadn’t meant anything, that the calm feeling that entered his chest whenever she was near was harmless. Now, he only felt exhausted.

“I’m sorry I led you on,” Charlie said, in as gentle a voice as he could muster. “You’re an incredible girl, but my heart’s just not in it. I think it’s best I take you home.”

Stacy/Sarah rolled her eyes. “Honey, we both know I didn’t come here for your heart.” Grinning wickedly, she reached for his crotch.

“Whoa.” Batting her hand away, he jerked out of reach, and her seductive smile morphed into a sneer.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Charlie almost laughed.
What’s wrong with me?
Hell, he’d been asking himself the same question for two days. Longer, if he were honest. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Tell you what. If I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

A couple months ago, he would’ve been all over her offer. Shallow, detached, and purely physical hookups had been his drug of choice. Tonight, it held no appeal.

Now, he craved more than mutual satisfaction. He wanted a connection, a conversation that led to discussing bucket lists and favorite scents. A woman asking him about his truck and how he missed his family.

Arabella did those things, and because of her, Charlie was seeing everything differently, realizing what he’d been missing, and as a result, his former lifestyle felt empty. Ironic, since it’d been the one thing to momentarily fill the void.

What happened now? If hookups weren’t enough, relationships too hard, and Arabella off-limits, what in the hell was left? Celibacy? Loneliness? A handful of memories and a friend he couldn’t touch?

Charlie sighed. More fucking questions. So far, the only answer he had was that this night was over. Taking Stacy/Sarah’s hand, he nodded toward his Chevy.

“Come on, let me take you home. We’re done here.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Howdy, neighbor.” Arabella knocked on the door and smiled at the small group in Charlie’s living room as she let herself in. “Am I interrupting?”

Sherry’s smile was instantaneous. “Not at all, chica. Come on in.”

Ella waved at Tyler as she closed the door, and sent Charlie a subtle nod. She’d seen the Blues arrive a while ago, and figured now would be a good time to stop by—when they had a buffer. Things between her and Charlie hadn’t exactly been comfortable the last few days, and they’d each made excuses to avoid hanging out. Their relationship had gone from friendly, to strained, to downright awkward, and Arabella didn’t like it one bit.

She hated tension. Loathed it, in fact. Call it the people-pleaser in her, but whenever strife arose, she got to the root of it and pruned it from her life. After losing her mother, she’d decided that enough sadness and pain existed in the world without adding trouble.

Friendship was what she and Charlie had agreed to after their kiss, and they needed to start acting friendly. Seeing him with another woman had hurt, but not nearly as much as not having him in her life at all. Arabella could live with a broken heart. What she couldn’t survive was never hearing Charlie’s laugh again or seeing his playful grin. Or knowing she’d been the one to put it there.

“How are you liking Magnolia Springs?” Sherry asked, sliding over to make room on the couch. Tyler sat on her other side, and Charlie was in the recliner. “I stopped by to see my sister yesterday, and Evan asked about you.” She nudged her with an elbow. “He is one cute piece of man-meat.”

Tyler grunted, and Sherry shot her a wink. “I’m happily married, but I still have functioning eyeballs. Besides,” she said, glancing at her husband, “Ella is
single,
and I’m thinking Evan has developed himself a crush.”

Arabella brushed her hair behind her ear, avoiding Charlie’s gaze. “Yeah, he’s called a few times. He wants to take me out tomorrow night.”

Sherry clapped her hands as another grunt rent the air, this time from Charlie. Arabella shifted her body toward him with a raised eyebrow. Had that been a noise of jealousy?
Um, hello, kettle. You’re black.
“What, you think I shouldn’t go?”

He shrugged a shoulder and lifted a beer to his lips. She seriously didn’t understand men. Charlie didn’t want her for himself—he’d made that abundantly clear with his speech and tacky display the other night. Clearly, he’d moved on from whatever flirtation they’d had, so it would be completely hypocritical for him to not want the same for her.

Hypocritical…and also telling.

If Charlie didn’t want Arabella to date, then maybe he did have feelings for her. She wasn’t sure what to do with that, considering he’d hooked up with another woman before her lips were even cold, but it would mean that their shocking connection wasn’t only in her head. That he’d felt it, too.

“Go for it,” Charlie finally replied, setting his Bud Light on the coaster. “Just thought the guy was lame, is all. I mean, who irons his pants for a barbecue?” He glanced at Tyler who laughed. “Am I right?”

“Ignore them,” Sherry said, shifting to face her on the sofa. “You’re young and beautiful, and Evan is hot. I thought he looked very nice at the party—and you know what they say about those buttoned-up types.”

Ella’s nose scrunched. “That their dry cleaning bills are atrocious?”

Sherry cracked up, holding her swollen belly with her palms. “Ha! Good one. But no. They say the buttoned-up ones are real beasts in the sack.”

Fire flooded her cheeks as her mouth fell open. When Evan offered to take her out, she’d assumed that meant to a movie or to dinner. Dancing perhaps. But not to the bedroom! She wasn’t a prude, but she thought the three-date rule was pretty solid. Heck, why not go for six?

“You’re young,” Sherry continued, shooing away Arabella’s obvious discomfort. “You should be living it up, dating, and having fun.” She leaned closer. “You know, New Orleans is the birthplace of fun. We can even make a day of it! Go out shopping and get our nails done. What do you say?”

Arabella hesitated. Charlie’s stony silence was like a force field pushing against her right side. Even Sherry seemed to notice, flicking her gaze toward him with a curious frown before smiling again eagerly.

What was she waiting for? Evan was a nice guy. He was handsome and attentive and made her laugh on the phone. He hadn’t pestered her about Charlie and his weird, caveman-like behavior. Her heart was still battered and bruised, and Evan didn’t make her weak in the knees, but she didn’t need that. What she needed was to move on.

“Okay,” she said with a firm nod, and Sherry bounced in her seat. “Let’s do it.”

…

When the front door closed and Arabella set off for the other side of the duplex, both Tyler and Sherry pinned Charlie with a look. Tyler, the asshole, even smirked.

“What?”

Sherry sighed. “I can get her to cancel the date. Charlie, if you wanted her for yourself, all you had to do was say so. I don’t give a flip about Hottie McWaiter man. I just wanted to see that girl have some fun. It’s pretty obvious, though, that she’d rather have fun with you.”

His jaw clenched. Damn straight, he wanted her to cancel. He didn’t want that guy within fifty yards of Arabella. But that was jealousy talking, and it did neither of them any good.

“Don’t get her to cancel,” he said, kicking his foot up onto the coffee table. “Arabella can do whatever the hell she wants.”

“God, you’re a stubborn ass.” Sherry set her hand on the back of the sofa and pushed to her feet with Tyler’s assistance. Grumbling, she set off for the kitchen. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be in here,
not
choking on mulish testosterone. Also, devising devilish plans to make Arabella irresistible. Irresistible, I say!”

“She already is,” he muttered under his breath and plopped his head against the chair.

The morning check-in with Stone hadn’t helped Charlie’s frustration. As much as he wanted to tell Arabella the truth about the deal with her dad, he couldn’t. That was the one stipulation Stone had, and Charlie couldn’t afford to screw things up by letting his emotions take control. Not the guilt over his lie of omission, and certainly not his uncontrollable need to hold her. Or kiss her senseless again.

“Talk to me, man.” Tyler grabbed another beer from the cooler at his feet, twisted the cap, and sent it spiraling across the room. Charlie watched it fly and grinned, imagining Arabella’s disgusted reaction. “You into this girl or what?”

Charlie sighed. This was why Tyler was his best friend. He wasn’t busting his balls, even now that he knew Arabella was Stone’s daughter. Charlie had manned up before she’d come over. While he hadn’t admitted that she’d been the one with him in their pool, they seemed to figure that out for themselves.

Neither Tyler nor Sherry had judged him, or told him to stay away. Clearly, Sherry was pushing for the opposite, but then, she was addicted to romance novels. Tyler had understood, though. Or at least Charlie thought he had.

“Look, Arabella’s a sweetheart,” he said, rolling his head against the ridge of the chair. “She’s funny, but without trying to be. Which is nuts because her old man is duller than dirt.”

He shifted to catch Tyler’s nod of agreement before going back to staring at the ceiling. “Did you know it was her idea for the proceeds from merch sales to go to Life & Lyrics? The foundation wouldn’t be anywhere without her. She’s the one who got the volunteers together, made my ideas tangible.” He blew out a breath. “She’s incredible, man.”

“Not too hard on the eyes, either.”

Charlie scowled, and Tyler shrugged his shoulder. “Just saying. The woman’s beautiful. Obviously, whatever you two have going on isn’t one-sided. She was sitting here practically begging you to say not to go on that date. Why can’t you just admit that you want her?”

So he
didn’t
understand. Why was Charlie the only one who saw the truth?

“You think Stone’s gonna let me take out his daughter?” He laughed as he shoved his fingers through his hair. The man barely trusted him to keep her safe. “Not a chance. Especially not after that shit with Maddie Clark. Besides, it doesn’t even matter, because she’s leaving town in a few weeks, and we hit the road after that. What’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler replied sarcastically, “maybe that this is the first girl I’ve seen get to you since that bitch screwed you over?” Charlie shot his friend a look that said
don’t go there,
but Tyler ignored it. “Or that, unlike Shaylene, Arabella knows this industry…maybe even better than we do? She was born into it, dude. She knows what it takes, how hard it can be, and she’s still willing to roll the dice. If anybody can make a relationship work in this business, it’s her.”

“Amen!”

Both men turned to see Sherry leaning against the doorjamb, her fist held high in the air.

Charlie smiled, appreciating what they were trying to do. But it was pointless. Especially since once Arabella discovered the truth, she’d hate him.

“Look, I hear what you’re saying. I do. But I’m not going there with her. You two work because Sherry comes out on the road with us, but Arabella has a job waiting for her at Belle Meade.” He plunked his feet back on the ground and grabbed his beer. “Trust me, friendship is all that’s in the cards for us.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows as he threw his arm over the sofa. “You’re gonna be okay watching your
friend
leave with another man tomorrow night?”

Charlie swallowed thickly. “I’m gonna have to be.”