Chapter Seventeen

Luke

When I got home a little while later, the house was dark and empty, filled with nothing but the sound of rain tapping against the windowsill and the occasional rumble of thunder tearing through the hot Texas night.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Maybe that Charlotte had waited for me the entire hour since she’d left, a reading light perched over her head in my living room as she pretended to read but stared at the front door.

I laughed at myself for even thinking such a stupid thought. Of course, she hadn’t done that. A girl like Charlotte wasn’t the type to sit around and wait for a guy, even if I’d asked her to.

She was like Sarah—she’d take action, do what she needed to in order to survive.

And this time? Apparently, that meant packing up her shit and getting the hell out of my house before I could even walk through the door to try to stop her. Which, of course, I also couldn’t blame her for.

Fuck, I would have gotten the hell out of Dodge if I were her too. But, damn it, why did I always have to be the one to beg? Why couldn’t she stay just because she wanted to?

With a deep breath, I made for the small makeshift bar in the corner of the living room. There I grabbed the newest bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass.

It had been raining the night Sarah left too, though that had been a flash of summer rain. Tonight was different. It was wild and torrential, fat droplets spattering the dusty ground and turning it into a mud slick.

Had it rained the morning our mother had left?

It felt like it was possible.

I swigged my whiskey, then thought again of the look on Charlotte’s face when she’d tasted the drink I’d concocted. It was like she’d lit up, so bright and animated. When was the last time I’d seen a face like that—of someone who believed in me so much? Someone who wasn’t Duke or Molly?

That certainly hadn’t been Sarah’s expression when I’d told her about going back to the distillery.

“Your father? What the hell has he ever done for you? You need to stop worrying about all that and focus on us.”

Sarah had believed in her dream, but not mine. And in the end, wasn’t that what had made her go? And with Mom, wasn’t it her not believing in Dad that had made her leave?

Logically, their choices had nothing to do with me or my dad. But how it felt . . .

How it felt had nothing to do with logic.

I took another pull from my glass and sat it on a stool before closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. Again, with my eyes closed to the world, I saw nothing but Charlotte beaming back at me, holding the drink she’d been the inspiration for, even if she didn’t know it.

Could I really throw all that away? Could I let her get into her car tomorrow and drive out of my life forever without even telling her how I felt?

I took another sip and shook my head as I was surrounded by sudden and complete darkness. A flash of light filled the air as lightning cracked again, followed quickly by a slap of thunder.

“Damn power outage,” I mumbled, but then I thought of Charlotte alone in her room at the inn, probably sitting in darkness without any candles.

I ought to go check on her.

I wouldn’t ask her to stay. How could I? Even though she believed in me and I cared for her, I’d only known her for a week. But I could tell her how much I wished it could be different. And I could tell her how much I’d enjoyed her company. And then maybe she’d decide she wanted to stay.

What I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let things end like this.

Grabbing a few of the emergency candles I kept in my foyer closet, I headed for the truck and made quick work of driving through the onslaught of rain. The inn wasn’t far from my place, and before I knew it, I was parked in front of the familiar Victorian house as it was lit up by another flash of lightning.

Quickly, I snatched up the candles and sprinted inside, stopping only to ask Opal, the innkeeper, for Charlotte’s new room number before I bounded upstairs. When I hammered on the door, I heard her squeak in surprise.

“Charlotte? It’s me. Can I come in?”

“No,” she murmured, her voice sounding husky and quiet.

“Come on. It has to be dark in there, and I brought candles. Just let me know you’re okay.”

The door swung open and Charlotte’s face appeared, lit by the soft glow of a candle she held below her face. “Opal gave me one when the power went out. Honestly, how helpless do you think I am?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it.

“Look,” Charlotte blurted, “you made yourself perfectly clear. You don’t want me to stay and that’s okay, but I don’t really want to beat this to death, you know? I feel kind of stupid for even mentioning it, and—”

“Don’t. Please don’t feel stupid. I had an amazing time with you. It’s just—”

I craned my neck, acutely aware that Opal hadn’t made a peep in all the time we’d been talking, but was clearly able to hear us from down the hall. I’d bet money she was poised at the foot of the stairs, listening.

“Can you let me in so we can talk privately?”

Charlotte blew out a breath and stepped aside to allow me in. By the light of her candle, I could see that her eyes were gleaming with tears, and I felt like a total shit.

I paced the floor, then put the candles on the dresser before turning to face her. “Look, I’m not going to ask you to stay. I made that mistake before and it didn’t work out so well for me, but it also could’ve worked out way worse. Even if it had been okay with you and me at first, eventually you would’ve wound up resenting me, and we’d have ended up hating each other.”

“So now I’m Sarah?” Charlotte’s voice raised an octave, and I cringed.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just . . . I’ve only known you a week, and we both know you don’t belong here.” I hated even thinking it, but saying it out loud, I knew it was true.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“It’s not an insult.” I held up my hands. “You’re beautiful and cultured, and yes, you may think you want to stay here with a guy that you’ve only known for a week. But when time goes on and you realize that you’re sick of fried chicken and you can’t stand that there’s not a decent theater or shopping mall anywhere nearby? Shady Grove isn’t going to be enough for you.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know that. You don’t know me if you think that’s all I care about.”

“Maybe I don’t. But don’t you think that could be a problem too?”

She sucked in a deep breath and stared at me. Even in the candlelight, I could see the tears slipping from her eyes, finally breaking free. My heart gave a squeeze, and I resisted the urge to yank her close to me and take it all back.

“You’re right, okay? Is that what you want me to say? Wanting to stay here is a pipe dream.” She took a step closer to me, her bottom lip trembling. “It was just so good between us, Luke. What if we never find that again with anyone else?”

The very thought of her with anyone else made my gut tense. The thought of her in another man’s arms made me want to hit something.

Don’t think about it, man.

“So I can’t stay,” she added. “But does that mean we have to spend this last night apart?”

Jesus. Even after I’d hurt her, she wanted to be with me one last time, and it was what I wanted more than anything too. To hold her in my arms and take her, to claim her as my own. We would fit together so perfectly—like two missing puzzle pieces—and I would feel even worse when I had to watch her drive away from me in the morning.

But if I said no to her again? I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And I had enough regrets.

I walked toward her and tucked my hand under her chin, pulling her lips to mine until I could taste the minty-sweet toothpaste on her tongue and the oaky, rich flavor of honeyed whiskey on her breath. The perfect combination. The perfect girl.

Before I knew it, we were falling backward onto the bed until she let out a soft sigh and connected with the mattress.

“Luke.”

When she breathed my name, I kissed her again, tucking her hair behind her ear as my tongue searched deeper inside her mouth, pulling her toward me, claiming her with my lips.

“Come home with me,” I whispered, and she nodded, her head tucked under my chin.

A few minutes later, we ran for the truck, rain pelting us sideways as she left without taking a thing. Once we were back at my place, I led her to my bedroom, each of us carrying a lit candle to guide our path.

Stripping down to my boxers, I watched as Charlotte shed her wet clothes. After dressing her in one of my T-shirts, I led her to my bed.

I kissed her lips softly in a moment so sweet and perfect, it almost didn’t seem real. It felt like something out of one of those cheesy Nicholas Sparks movies that Molly liked. The raindrops pelting the windows, the sound of Charlotte’s shallow breaths, the way her lips met mine . . . I wasn’t a romantic, but the knot in my throat and the ache in my chest felt very real.

I wouldn’t make love to her tonight. I knew if I claimed her again, I’d never let go.

Come morning, it would be agony to watch her leave, but at least I’d still have my pride. I wouldn’t have begged or pleaded. She wouldn’t wake up and hate me one day for asking. And I’d be able to go on knowing we’d both been happy for a time, which was all we’d ever wanted from the arrangement.

I didn’t tell her that, though. Instead, I pulled away from the kiss despite everything inside me urging me on, and held her tight.

“You okay?” I whispered.

“I am now.”

We curled together in the darkness, sharing pieces of our pasts. Charlotte spoke again about her overbearing parents and wanting to make a decision that was just hers, while I shared my dreams of making my whiskey a household name. I told her stories of my mom and dad, and growing up in a small town. She talked about the lingering ideas she still had for the distillery, promising to call if she came up with any more, but I secretly hoped she wouldn’t.

Because if I heard her voice again?

I’d crack faster than a priest at a Vegas strip club.