Charli

“MAN...” SHAWNTELLE put the car into park and looked over at Charli. “If your brothers ever find out what’s going on between you two, they just might kill that man, Charli.”

“As if.” Charli managed a snort that almost resembled a laugh. “For one, while my brothers almost terrify me, I think Shame could eat them alive. And don’t tell them. Also...” She shrugged. “There’s nothing between us.”

“You sure about that?”

Charli studied the man who leaned against the car in the driveway. The car was as insanely sexy as the man—a McLaren 570S, according to Con, and he’d told Riley that driving it was almost as good as sex. Riley had told Con to quit lying—Max wouldn’t let anybody drive that car.

But, of course, Max had let Con drive it. When Riley had pushed him, Max had shrugged about it. “He asked.”

Riley was too proud of a bastard to ask.

Now, as Max watched her and Shawntelle slow to a stop, she thought about how many times she’d imagined sliding into the seat next to him—and yes, behind the wheel—driving down the road with him, music blasting. Another dream she had to kill. So many of them.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of him, but it ached, too. She’d loved him for so long and she was tired of hurting because he wouldn’t let her in.

She was tired of hurting because he didn’t think he was good enough to let her in.

She was tired of hurting because the one man she’d ever wanted, had ever loved, would prefer to pretend that she only mattered to him because she was his best friend’s little sister.

He’d been using that line on her since she was seventeen. He’d use it until the day he died.

And she had finally accepted that.

“Here’s what I’m sure of,” Charli said softly, watching as Max pushed away from the car, hands hanging loose at his sides, like a brawler getting ready for battle. “I’ve loved that man since before I even understood what love was. And I know he loves me. I can feel it. Sometimes, when he lets his guard down, I can even see it. But he’ll never let himself admit it. And I’m tired of him pushing me away. I can’t carry a relationship on my own, and I can’t build one on my own. So...” Charli turned and looked at Shawntelle, nodding slowly. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Because Max Schaeffer has himself convinced that the only way he can let me matter to him is if he’s taking care of me for Con’s sake. He’s here—he’s letting himself be here because I’m the little sister of his best friend. Best friends,” she amended. “I matter to him, but he lies to himself and says it’s because of Con and Ry. It’s all he ever let himself have.”

“That’s...shitty.” Shawntelle touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Charli undid her seat belt and opened the door. “I should have forced myself to acknowledge this ages ago.”

Thirty seconds later, she was facing Max.

His ice-blue eyes raked her over from head to toe and she had to fight not to react, not to shiver.

She couldn’t afford to show him any weakness at all, especially not now when she had so many of them.

“Have fun in Mexico?” he asked, voice silky.

“Loads. I drank up the sun and the margaritas,” she quipped, shutting the door.

“Hmmm...” Shawntelle sauntered around the front of the car, pointedly walking between them. “You know, as fun as this is probably going to be, I think I’ll carry your bag inside and maybe use the bathroom. Is that okay with you, Charli?”

“Knock yourself out,” Charli replied. She’d asked Shawntelle to come over and collect her mail a few times while she was gone and the other woman knew how to handle the alarm system, so Charli passed her keys and key fob over, never once looking away from Max.

Max didn’t even acknowledge Shawntelle’s presence.

He could be a rude bastard like that—tunnel-vision, caught up and focused on nothing but what he’d set his sights on.

Too bad he’d focused on her for all the wrong reasons.

“Just why did you decide to take a vacation in the middle of your residency?” He crossed his arms over his chest. The ink there danced and flexed with the movement, as did the tattoo that took up most of his neck. Silken hair fell nearly to his shoulders.

A tactile memory assailed her, that hair brushing over her skin, sliding through her fingers.

His hands twining with hers, dragging her arms high overhead.

Tell me to stop, Charli. Do it now...

She should have.

Now she had the rest of her life to regret never having anything more than those few nights.

“Had a few rough nights on the job,” she said, shrugging. It wasn’t even entirely a lie. “Hurt my back, had to take a few days to recover. Figured why not take them in Mexico?”

His lids flickered and once more, he looked her over. This time, it was more scrutinizing, as if he were able to see through her clothes and detect injury, broken bone, muscle tears.

Broken hearts?

Tattered dreams?

Shoving that ache aside, she hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and started up the sidewalk. His body—long, lean and powerful—blocked most of it. He wasn’t polite enough of step out of the way, either.

Instead of engaging in a staring contest with him, she cut around him, stepping into the yard and continuing on her path to the porch.

“Why are you selling the house, Charli?”

This time, that deep intonation of her name, the personal question—it hit deep. Slowly, she turned and faced him. “Because I’m tired of holding on to dreams and memories. It’s time to let them go.”

“Living here is holding on to dreams and memories?” Mouth twisted in a confused frown, he took another step toward her.

She backed away.

Something in his eyes changed, a shutter falling across his expression.

His mouth tightened.

“Nervous around me now, are you?” The ugly rasp in his words sent agony ripping through her.

“No.” Even though she’d told herself she was done trying to make him accept himself, she wasn’t going to ignore that. “I’ve never been nervous around you. No reason to be. No reason to doubt or fear you, either. Why should I? You do more than enough of that for any ten people, Shame.”

Another deep frown darkened his face. “You never call me that.”

“You don’t want to be anybody else for me, and I’m done fighting you.” She lifted a shoulder and looked over at the sign in the yard. She already had several people who wanted to come take a look at the place. Since she was pin-neat, it was probably ready for a showing, but she’d told the realtor they’d start doing those the following week.

Now she just wanted it to be done and over with so she could leave.

“I’m moving to Louisville. I’ve got an appointment to go look at some places there and if I like what I see, I’ll be moving within a couple of weeks.”

“You think you can sell this place that fast?”

“I won’t have to.” She shrugged and met his eyes once more. “My brothers aren’t the only ones who know how to make money, Shame. Now...if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired.”