Chapter Thirteen

Luke

Charlotte glanced from me to the inn and back again before tilting her head to the side, letting her silky hair cascade over her shoulder. “Don’t feel obligated or anything. I just thought I’d ask. No big deal.” Her cheeks went pink as she scrabbled for the door handle again.

“I’ll come in for a sec.” My groin went tight and I shrugged. “But only to help you pack,” I said softly.

She blinked in confusion, her mouth half-open. “What do you mean?”

I leaned closer and traced a finger over the line of her jaw. “Your car isn’t going to be fixed until Monday. It’s just plain silly for you to keep staying here when I’d rather have you in my bed.” I let out a low growl, leaning in to nip at her earlobe before pulling back.

She dropped the last bit of her pretzel into her lap and let out a nervous laugh. “Are you sure about that?”

I nodded. “Look, we both know the deal here. You’ve got to get back to your life and I’ve got to focus on the distillery, but for the rest of the weekend . . .” I shrugged. “I don’t see what’s stopping us from having a little fun. Don’t you like what we’ve been doing?”

Her eyes gleamed, and I guessed she was thinking—like I was—of the way I’d poured maple syrup all over her body that afternoon and lapped it up with my tongue. I was careful to ensure her nipples and the delicious spot between her legs were well and truly clean before I dragged her into the shower and lathered the rest of her body with shampoo.

“It’s been fun,” she said, sounding a little breathless.

“So, it’s settled. Let’s go get your stuff.”

She quirked her lips to the side before picking up her pretzel and pushing open her door. “Fine. I’ll grab my bag, but you stay here. I don’t want anyone seeing me leave with you and getting the wrong idea that I’m a woman of loose morals,” she said with a chuckle. “But I’m warning you, if you’re going to tease me like this, you’d better be ready to hurry back to your place and make good on those implied threats.”

“You got it.”

I grinned and watched her disappear behind the inn’s front door, my mind drifting to how she’d looked beneath the bleachers and in my oversized T-shirt this morning, compared to how she looked when she first got here.

There was no use in comparing, of course, but it seemed like there was something different about her now. Back when we first met, she was in hoity-toity, high-class New York mode. But under the bleachers, and in my bed, she wasn’t a duchess. She was just Charlie, laughing and pretty, and all mine.

But then, Sarah had been like that too.

And Charlotte would be going soon, just like Sarah did, but this time I had the advantage of knowing that in advance. I wasn’t serious about Charlotte like I’d been with my ex, and we both knew as much. So, as long as I kept my heart out of all this and just had fun, what was the big deal?

Molly had told me I worked too hard and needed a break. Maybe this was exactly what she meant—I needed a warm, sexy body to share my bed, someone I could have some laughs and unwind with, no strings attached. No harm, no foul.

Charlotte stepped out of the inn, suitcase in hand. I climbed out to help her with the bag, but she lugged it around the truck and shoved it inside with surprising speed. As we settled back into our seats and prepared to head back to my house, I sensed an odd disturbance in the air between us, a tension that hadn’t been there before.

Of course, it could have been because she was getting ready to spend the rest of the weekend with a man she’d only known for a few days, but something told me that wasn’t it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned Sarah earlier. Or maybe when I did, I should have turned to watch Charlotte’s expression to see exactly what she thought. If, of course, she had any thoughts about my ex at all. It had been so long ago, and my life had changed so much since then.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, so you know all about my life and my past. What about you?”

She reeled around to look at me. “Like what?”

“I told you about college and Sarah. You must have some story about—I don’t know—your debutante ball? The prince who asked for your hand in marriage?”

She blushed and looked out the window. “I didn’t have a debutante ball.”

“College then. You majored in marketing, right?”

“I did. Not much to know. I went to Sarah Lawrence. It was fine.” She shrugged. “End of story, really.”

“I doubt that. No guys in your life?” I raised my brows. “High school sweetheart who broke your heart?”

“I went to an all-girls school, but good try,” she shot back.

“Huh. I don’t know a single person in the world that ever stopped,” I said with a grin. “You don’t mean to sit here and tell me you gave your virginity to some random guy you met when your car broke down in Texas?”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I’ve had boyfriends, but that doesn’t mean they were anything interesting enough to talk about.”

“What was the last one like? What was his name?”

“Why? You the jealous one now, Luke?” She shot me a tight grin. “You gonna go fight him?”

I laughed. “Depends on how things ended. Was he mean to you?”

She turned to look out the window again. “His name was Prescott.”

This time I laughed even louder. “Are you for real?”

She blushed. “It was a family name.”

“Which means he was actually Prescott Moneybags the what? Fourth? Fifth?”

“Prescott Billingsley.” She cleared her throat and added under her breath, “The sixth.”

“Wow, the sixth.” I let out a low whistle. “So, he’s old money then. Big score.”

She frowned. “Like I said, nothing to write home about.”

“You mean to tell me your parents didn’t do a happy dance when you told them who you were dating?”

“Look, it’s not important.”

She rubbed her palms over her thighs, and I did my best not to roll my eyes.

“How did things end?”

Another heavy silence filled the cab of the truck, and she shifted in her seat. “It was fine. Things just didn’t work out. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” she practically snapped, then smoothed a hand over her hair. “I’m sorry. You were so open. I shouldn’t—”

“No, no.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

I couldn’t deny, though, that her replies intrigued me and sent my sixth sense tingling. While I wasn’t jealous, exactly, I was much more invested in her answers than I should have been.

This is a fling, Luke. Don’t forget it.

I gripped the wheel more tightly and turned my attention back to the road. “Look, I normally meet a couple of old friends at the bar after the game, but I can call and cancel if you’d rather not go—”

“No, don’t cancel. You had no way of knowing I’d be here, and I don’t want you to bail. That said, I’m really tired. Why don’t you just drop me off? I’ll get a nice up-close-and-personal look at that big claw-foot tub of yours, and have some popcorn. A nice little ‘me’ night.”

The image of her shimmering with water as she stood from the bathtub, her pearly-white skin free of a towel, made another rush of need surge to my cock, but I nodded all the same. Suddenly, I felt like I needed the space.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I won’t stay out long.”

“I’m sure.”

I dropped her off and headed for the bar, thinking about Sarah . . . and Prescott Billingsley the Sixth.

Prescott was exactly the kind of name for a guy like that. The ritzy New York royalty that she’d inevitably marry someday. Then, when they had their penthouse and she slid into their claw-foot tub, maybe she’d think about the one in my house and remember . . .

Or maybe not.

Either way, it didn’t matter. This thing we had? It had an expiration date stamped on it, and nobody was more okay with that than me. Charlotte was probably itching to get back to city life, and Lord knew I had enough to do with the distillery to keep me busy for another few years at least.

It was a shame, though. If she were something else, someone else . . . if she were the girl who’d pulled me beneath the bleachers earlier tonight? Well, I might have been able to fall in love with someone like that.

• • •

When I got to the Drunk Skunk, it didn’t take me long to find Case and Ranger already bellied up to the bar and waiting with a third beer in front of the empty stool beside them. As I made my way nearer, Case made a whooping sound and Ranger patted the stool.

“The prodigal quarterback returns,” Ranger said. “Why are you so late?”

“I had to grab Charlotte’s stuff and drop her off.”

“Oh, she headed out of town tonight?” Case asked, but Ranger cut in before I had the chance to answer.

“Of course not. You know Wayne was at the game.”

“Which means if she’s not at the inn and she’s not out of town . . .” Case eyed me as he pieced it all together. “Aw, shit.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but Ranger hooted again.

“Sure you want to spend your night with us when you got better prospects waiting for you at home?”

“This is why nobody tells you anything,” I said, and then took a swig of my beer.

“People tell us plenty.” Case shrugged. “Just depends if we care to listen.”

“Did you see this one?” Ranger asked Case.

He bit his knuckle and nodded. “She’s pretty. Real nice figure. Would’ve pegged her for Duke’s type if I hadn’t heard about the whole salon debacle.”

“Something happened at the salon?” I raised my eyebrows, trying to act nonchalant but curious anyway, and also oddly irritated by Case’s notice of Charlotte’s figure. He wasn’t blind, after all, and she did have a banging body, but still.

“Yep, heard it from Audrey. Mrs. French always gets her nails done on Mondays, but apparently Charlotte walked in and took her spot. Got her hair done too in some fancy blowout, whatever the hell that means.”

“I don’t know how any of that has anything to do with me,” I shot back.

“A girl whose first goal in town is to get her nails and hair done? Big-city type with some designer handbag? Doesn’t ring a bell?” Ranger raised his eyebrows and my stomach twisted.

“Look, if you’re talking about Sarah—”

Case grimaced. “God, I hope nobody is. I’m trying to have a beer and enjoy my night. No need to relive that nightmare.”

“She wasn’t that bad,” I argued, although I inwardly cringed at the memory.

It was true, Sarah had stuck out around Shady Grove about as much as . . . well, about as much as Charlotte did. But there were differences between the two. Sarah would never have gone to the game with me tonight, and she sure as shit would have minded if I’d wanted to hang out with the guys instead of spending time with her. And she never would have eaten a concession-stand pretzel.

Still, that was the girl I’d thought I wanted to marry. I’d had the ring and everything. In fact, I still had it, tucked away in a drawer along with the note she’d left behind.

But Charlotte wasn’t Sarah. This was a totally different situation and would have a totally different outcome.

I raised a hand to put an end to the debate. “I’m with Case on this one. Why don’t we just have some beers and cool it with all the girl talk? That was a hell of a game tonight, after all.”

Lucky for me, the guys sensed I’d had enough, and turned the subject to tonight’s game. They dissected each of the plays and went over the stats of the star athletes for each team. The Stallions, we all agreed, would do better next week.

Although I tried to immerse myself in the stats and reasoning for every play, I still found myself thinking of Charlotte, and about how I would feel when, two days from now, she climbed into her car and got back to her life. I wanted her to remember me, even if we couldn’t be together. To take a piece of me with her when she went.

If I were being honest, I wanted her to leave a piece of herself behind too. Something for me to remember and hold on to when I thought about what could have been between us.

You know . . . if we weren’t totally wrong for each other.