CHAPTER
NINE
CHARITY realized she and Harley had more in common that just genetics. While Charity wasn’t a nanny, she was a handler for a rookie driver and it was the same damn thing as babysitting. Her charge for the new season was Roger Wilco. Yes, that was his name. And he was a moron.
Harley had suggested that perhaps she was being a little harsh. After all, he was only nineteen and, generally speaking, the male of the species didn’t pull his head out of his ass until at least age twenty-two, but Charity had been working with him for months and it wasn’t getting any easier.
“Roger, listen to me. You cannot give this number to women. You can’t. Do you understand?” She tapped the smart phone that was his primary means to communicate with his crew, her, his assistant, and the team owner. “Use the private phone you’re playing Candy Crush on right now to text girls.”
He wasn’t even looking at her. His feet were up on the desk between them. “Uh-huh.”
“Promise me.” She held her finger up and shook it at him, grateful that her job didn’t require her to travel to races with him. It was a sorely needed break every Thursday through Sunday. On the road, his assistant had to deal with him. But there in Charlotte, any screwups he made were her responsibility¸ and already that week he’d lost his expensive racing shoes and been busted sending pictures of his weenie to a forty-year-old female bodybuilder. On his corporate phone.
He made a face at her. “I promise. It was an accident.”
“I know it was an accident, but it’s very, very bad.” Charity felt like she was rubbing a puppy’s nose in a puddle it had made on the carpet. “Just don’t even send questionable photos of yourself at all. That would really be the best choice to make here.”
He frowned, pushing his baseball hat off his head and reseating it. “I feel like you’re stifling me. I need to express myself sometimes.”
Oh, Lord. “If you really need to send pictures of your junk to a woman, send them to me. That way I at least know it won’t go anywhere it shouldn’t.”
His feet dropped to the floor. “You want to see my junk?”
She would rather see just about anyone else naked, but she had to tread delicately. Charity wanted a cupcake for lunch. And a drink. It was the only way she was going to be able to fortify herself for an afternoon return to Roger. “That’s not the point. It’s my job to make sure you are retaining professionalism.”
He grinned. “I like your brand of professionalism. You’re kind of young, but we could have some fun.”
She was actually almost ten years older than him and he was a string bean, but she didn’t waste her breath pointing out the obvious. “Knock it off. I am not playing around here, Wilco. Straighten up or I’m putting you in a time-out.”
“Oh. Kinky.”
Unfortunately, a head popped into the doorway right then. “Hey, Roger, have you seen Jeff?”
Charity turned around. Shit. It was Cooper Brickman. The last thing in the world she needed was a seasoned driver witnessing her inability to handle the teen texter. Especially a driver who had made out with her sister. As her. Oh, God. He was looking at her, and thinking he had kissed her.
That was so awkward. Charity almost never saw him, and as the months had gone on, she’d assumed she never would.
His eyes went round. “Charity. Wow. Hi. What are you doing here?”
Her palms got sweaty under his scrutiny. Why was he looking at her like he wanted to lick hot fudge off of her body? Harley must have slipped him some tongue. “Working. I haven’t seen Jeff. Roger, have you seen Jeff?”
She wished she had seen the big boss. She was still harboring a huge crush on him, but he’d been scarce around the offices. He obviously had VIP things to do that didn’t involve talking to a lowly handler he clearly wasn’t attracted to.
“No.”
“I didn’t know you worked here. What kind of work are you doing for Wilco?” Cooper had walked into the room and he had his hands on his hips. He looked put out, like her employment personally pissed him off. “You never said you worked here.”
Which made Charity wonder what Harley had said when she had been posing as her. Or hadn’t said.
“She’s wiping my ass,” Roger said.
That was truly about the only thing she hadn’t done.
“I’m Mr. Wilco’s handler. He’s being naughty today and I’m giving him a time-out.”
His brow furrowed. “Well, I guess you and Harley have a lot in common then.”
“She giving you time-outs?” Roger asked.
Cooper scoffed. “Charity’s twin is my sister’s nanny. I guess they’re both good with children. Yes, that means you, rookie.”
Though Charity had it on good authority that Harley made more money than she did. Not that she was bitter or anything. She was happy for Harley, but she was starting to wonder if it was time to move on herself. “Tell my sister hi. I hardly get to see her anymore.”
He frowned like she’d said something wrong. “That’s all you want to say?”
She wanted to add that she was annoyed that Harley got to go to Daytona and she had to see pictures of Roger’s penis, but she kept that to herself. “Yes. I miss her. Harley and I may look the same, but we’re way different people. She’s super sweet and keeps me somewhat sane.”
“Can’t say the same for you,” Roger said under his breath.
Charity turned and glared at him. “I’ve had just about enough out of you today, mister.” She had learned in her two years on the job that some guys she needed to be charming with, others a disciplinarian. Roger needed a firm hand, the product of too much, too soon in life. “You’ll do what I tell you to and you’ll like it.”
When she turned back to Cooper, she gave him a bright smile. He couldn’t get her fired, she didn’t think, and she was seriously done for the day with Roger’s teen antics.
That furrow in Cooper’s brow had deepened. He stared at her for a second, and she looked at him expectantly. Finally, he shook his head, looking a little miffed. “Nice to see you again, Charity.”
“You, too, Cooper.” She gave him a generic smile, making a mental note to press Harley for a few more details on that kiss.
Cooper gave a wave and left, and Charity was left alone with Roger and the thankless task of ensuring he kept it in his pants.
“Pull out your calendar on your phone and mark down that I won’t be here on Monday or Tuesday in two weeks,” she told him. “I have a bachelorette party to go to on Sunday night and a wedding on Monday.”
“Where’s the bachelorette party at?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“No. I’m not telling you that, are you kidding me?” She’d have to be stark raving mad to give him access to her friend Shawn’s big girl’s night. The whole concept of a bachelorette party after the elopement seemed a little off to Charity, but hey, it was a party. She was perfectly happy to throw on a miniskirt and cowboy boots and celebrate love. But with Shawn’s new husband, Rhett, having many, many sisters who were all in the age bracket Roger seemed to prefer, she was keeping the location a state secret.
“You’re mean.”
“Get over it.”
Jeff Sterling knocked on the door frame. “Roger, I need to see you in my office.”
Charity straightened up and gave Jeff a smile. The owner of the team that Cooper and Roger drove for, inherited from his stepfather, Bud Rawlings, Jeff was in his forties, fit, efficient, and quiet. But something about him really appealed to Charity. She saw the way he stayed calm in a crisis and how he spoke to all his staff, and she really admired him. Yet he never seemed to glance twice at her even though she had it on good authority, from his stepsister Mary Jane Rawlings and her blog, that he was single.
At Ty and Imogen’s wedding, she’d made her best play for him as Harley, and while he had been friendly and conversational, he had not been flirty. Whenever she saw him at work, as herself, he always seemed faintly displeased with her and she had no idea why.
“Cooper Brickman was looking for you, Mr. Sterling.”
“Hm?” He glanced in her direction like he hadn’t realized she was in the room. Why was it the one man she wanted to think she was sexy didn’t seem to notice she actually existed?
“I said Cooper Brickman was looking for you.”
He eyed her. “Thanks, Charity. Do you spend a lot of time with Cooper Brickman?”
Um . . . She popped back out of her chair and gave him another sunny smile, not liking that look on his face. “No, of course not. I work with Roger. Cooper just stuck his head in looking for you.”
But that explanation didn’t seem to satisfy him. “Roger, give Charity and me a minute, please.”
Fudge. That didn’t sound good.
“What do you mean?” Roger asked.
“Wait for me in my office.” Jeff gave him such a pointed look that even Roger, slow on the uptake as he was, knew when to hop to.
Roger dropped his feet to the floor and stood up, giving Charity a smirk that conveyed he knew she was in trouble. Though how she could be in trouble she had no idea.
“Can I help you, sir?” she asked, starting to sweat, but determined not to show him how nervous she was.
“How long have you worked here, Charity?” Jeff’s stance looked casual enough, his hand in his pocket, his voice normal and even. But he was a businessman with huge demands on his time. Charity knew he wasn’t just making small talk.
“Two years.” Her heart rate kicked up a notch and her palms went damp. Was he going to fire her? Had Roger complained about her heavy-handedness?
“I don’t think it’s wise for you to be spending time with Mr. Brickman socially.”
She was so startled she had no idea what to say. “But . . .”
“I know that doesn’t feel fair because you don’t work directly for him, but there are just some types of relationships that aren’t appropriate for the office.”
Charity could feel the blood draining from her face. “There is no relationship of any kind. He popped his head in the office just now and that was the first time I’ve seen him since Mr. McCordle’s wedding.”
Jeff nodded. “Ah, yes. At the wedding. You know, I talked to your twin that night.”
Her. He’d talked to her. Charity still didn’t understand what was happening so she just stood there, still smiling, no fucking clue what to say to that. “Oh?” When she was nervous, she joked, so she added, “She’s the beauty. I’m the brains.”
His eyebrows went up. “So Harley is working for Brickman now? You know Mary Jane is my ex-stepfather’s daughter. I care about her.”
Okay. “Harley is really good with kids. Mary Jane is in good hands.”
“And you don’t care that Harley’s living with Cooper?”
“No. I think it’s a good opportunity for her.” What the hell were they even talking about?
But Jeff shook his head and made a sound in the back of his throat. “Okay, then. Well, just do yourself a favor and keep your distance.”
“Sure.” That should be easy enough since she never saw Cooper, but Charity felt like she had missed something seriously important here. Like Jeff knew something she so clearly did not.
“Good. Right.” Jeff turned on his heel and left.
Gone. The biggest boss of all the big bosses. He had clearly been trying to tell her something and she had no idea what. Charity dropped her head on the desk and thunked her forehead hard on the metal. She was still lying there five minutes later when Roger returned.
“You want to borrow my helmet?” Roger asked. “Oh, wait, I’m not sure what I did with it actually. Do you have it?”
“No, I don’t have it! You’re supposed to.” The day officially sucked.
Roger was smirking at her. “Hey, can I meet your sister? She sounds hot.”
Funny. “Go to hell.”
“That’s not very professional.”
“Look who’s talking, Boy Wonder Weiner.”
Let him fire her. She’d go tame jungle cats. It would be easier.
* * *
EATING dinner together with his sister and Harley was a ritual Cooper was really starting to like. He hadn’t had the greatest day what with running into Charity at the office, of all places. It had caught him off guard and she’d just stared at him like he was an inconvenience. Talk about being spanked. Was he really such a forgettable lover? He’d thought they’d had a hell of a time.
Then he’d come home to her twin sister. If that wasn’t the definition of fucked up, he didn’t know what was. Not that he was coming home to her, but it was starting to feel that way. He even heard himself saying things like, “How are you girls today?” Like he had ownership of them.
“I’m so excited to go to Daytona!” Mary Jane said, twirling around the kitchen in her socks and showing more enthusiasm than he’d seen in a long time. “I’ve packed all the things.”
“All the things?” He looked to Harley for translation. “What does that mean?”
Harley was straining pasta, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “She just means a lot. It’s an expression. Wear all the things. Pack all the things.”
“I don’t get it.” He reached into the strainer and stole a string of pasta and popped it into his mouth. “I’m going to run up and pack real quick.”
“We’re going to eat in five minutes,” Harley told him, steam rising in front of her.
He gave her a smile when he really wanted to reach over and kiss her. Like, he really, really wanted to kiss her. But instead he stole another piece of pasta. “I’m quick. Except when I need to be slow.”
Her eyes widened. But all she said was, “Five minutes? I’ll time you.”
“I can’t ever resist a challenge.” Cooper took off for the steps, already mentally cataloging what he needed to throw in a bag. He traveled so much he had a system. His toiletries always stayed packed and he just switched out jeans, socks, boxer briefs, and a few shirts. Easy.
Except when he got to his bedroom, the overwhelming scent of incense hit him. Damn it. Rosa had been praying for his soul again. She did it every time he had a woman spend the night or every time she found some indicator of sexual activity, like a condom wrapper in the master bath. It always made his eyes water but he never said anything in reprimand. It couldn’t be a bad thing to have someone praying for his soul, right?
She always burned the incense and left him a prayer card with Mary on it on his nightstand. He had started tucking them into the edges of the full-length mirror in his walk-in closet. He had covered two of the four sides of the mirror now, but honestly he couldn’t imagine why she had left him one today. It had been weeks since Holly had stayed over and he was living like a monk, pure of body, if not pure of thought. It wasn’t like Rosa knew he was having fantasies about keeping Harley in his bed for about six days straight.
For a split second, the thought that his housekeeper could read his mind made his nuts draw up, but then he dismissed it as impossible.
So he went into his closet and grabbed his travel bag. That was when he realized why Rosa was burning incense. Charity’s bra was missing. He’d brought it home from Asheville in his bag then tossed it on the floor, not sure what to do with it. The bra had remained there for three months, behind some luggage. Obviously his housekeeper had found it when she vacuumed the carpet.
At least that eliminated the problem of what to do with the bra. Now he didn’t have to worry about why he found it necessary to keep it. Nor did he have to glance at it longingly when he stepped into the closet, like a teenager with pilfered lingerie. It wasn’t doing anything for his ego, that was for damn sure. He packed quickly and took his bag back downstairs, holding it up for Harley to see.
“Done.”
“That was six minutes.”
But she gave him a smile that was so damn sexy Cooper felt his dick harden. She didn’t mean to be sexy. She just was. Which made it even sexier.
It was killing him.
“That’s all you’re taking?” MJ asked. “That’s insane.”
“Where is your bag?” he asked.
“Bags. In my room. They’re too heavy for me to carry down the stairs.”
“Wonderful.” He accepted the plate of food that Harley was holding out for him. “How is it that a girl as tiny as you needs two suitcases? I could roll your jeans to the size of a carrot.”
“I need to be prepared.”
She was their mother’s daughter in some ways, that was for sure. “How about you, Harley?”
“By the back door.” She pointed to a small black carry-on bag.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Again, he felt the urge to kiss her. It just seemed like he should. Like they should be together. They were living together. Sort of. It felt real in many ways. It seemed like a natural correlation that he should be entitled to touch her.
He wondered what she would do if he actually leaned over and put his mouth on hers.
Quit. That’s what she would do.
He needed to work this thing slowly, seductively. He couldn’t just attack her out of left field. Or make assumptions. Women hated when men made assumptions. It was all about the slow approach.
“Have I told you today, Harley, how much I appreciate you?” he asked, as they sat down at the kitchen table. “Because I do.”
Her eyes widened and she gave a nervous laugh. “Thanks.”
“Gross,” was MJ’s opinion.
Cooper suddenly wished that Harley were anything but his sister’s nanny. Why did every single encounter with her have to be while a tween was spouting her opinions around them? When he and Harley had watched that movie together and he’d helped her rock-climb, he’d enjoyed how relaxing it was. He wanted that, all the time. The right to massage her feet.
But if she weren’t MJ’s nanny, she wouldn’t give him the time of day anyway.
“I’m glad y’all are coming with me. I get lonely on the road.” Then he realized immediately that his words were an invitation for MJ to make a snarky remark about Holly or other women, so he turned and pointed his finger at her. Her mouth was already open. “Nope. Uh-uh. I don’t want to hear it.”
She froze, clearly busted. But then she shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t.” What were the odds MJ would fall asleep on the plane?
His sister wiggled on her seat and sucked down a soda.
Slim and none. Those were the odds.