Chapter 8
Charlotte
It is taking everything in my power not to stare at Gavin right now.
It’s not because I don’t want him to recognize me.
The smirk on his way too handsome to be legal face gave away the recognition almost immediately.
No, I am avoiding even looking in his direction because this man is hotter than a Hemsworth and bigger than the Jolly Green Giant.
He’s standing slightly higher on the embankment than where the car stopped, and when I look out the open window, his crotch is right in my face.
I know the bulge in his jeans is not a pair of hand warmers shoved into the pocket of his jeans.
“Let me check out the wheel situation,” he says. “I’ll let you know if I need to dig you out or if I can just get behind the car and give it a little push.”
“With your bare hands?” Josie asks with wild eyes and an open mouth grin.
Jesus.
Gavin chuckles. “I meant with my truck,” he thumbs over. “I have cables. I can pull you out if I need to.”
“Truck cables, right…” she says with a ditzy laugh. “Silly me.”
Gavin walks away, and Josie is still giggling. Meanwhile, I roll my eyes over to her.
“What?” she asks. “He’s nice. And handsome. And jacked. And…packing…” she laughs again.
“And he’s Gavin,” I whisper-yell.
“Who’s Gavin?” she asks, still in la-la land.
“Him!”
Josie still hasn’t caught on.
“The guy from the cantina.”
Nothing.
“From last month…”
“Oh. OH! Holy shit, really?!” she cries out, then covers her mouth and slumps down in her seat before whispering. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” I answer as we watch him inspect the car.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve seen the man naked, Jo. I’d know him in a mug shot line-up at this point!”
“A naked mug shot line-up. Can you even imagine?” she growls.
“Good lord,” I sigh.
“God. I forgot how hot he is,” she shakes her head. “Talk about luck.”
“Yeah, bad luck,” I say.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Because I wasn’t planning on ever seeing him again! That’s kind of the thing about one-night stands. They’re only supposed to be one night,” I mutter.
Josie wiggles her eyebrows. “Unless it’s meant to be something else,” she says.
“It’s not!”
“How do you know? He’s a catch!”
“Did you forget he’s Ben’s dad?” I say.
“So?”
“So! I can’t get involved with my ex’s dad! There are rules against that!”
“Is there, though?” she asks skeptically in a high pitch. “Because I’ve never heard that rule. And even if it’s true, that is one rule I’d be willing to bend if my ex’s dad looked like that. I mean, did you see his hands?”
“Yes, I’ve seen his hands,” I snap back.
I’ve seen his hands. Felt his hands. They are the most memorable hands I’ve ever encountered.
Suddenly, those hands tap on the window again, and I roll it down. Gavin bends over and leans into the window. I don’t know what’s worse–his face being right in my face or his package being right in my face. They’re equally delicious and equally frustrating.
“So I have good news and bad news,” he says. “Bad news first?”
“Always,” I say.
“Alright. The bad news is that your tires are bald. So even if I do pull you out, you know, with my bare hands—” he chuckles. Josie giggles. I roll my eyes. “Chances are you’ll only make it about fifty feet before you’re back in the bank again. The sleet is freezing over fast.”
“Awesome,” I nod, clicking my tongue. “And the good news?”
“The good news is I have connections with Pineville Towing and can get your car into the tire shop ASAP,” he says.
“That’s amazing!” Josie says.
“But we need to get to the ski resort,” I tell him.
“Well then, I have even better news for you,” he says. “I am headed there myself.”
“Even better,” Josie says, hopping out of the car.
“Let me give you a hand,” Gavin says, rounding the car to offer an arm.
“Transportation and chivalry?” She says, smiling back at me. “You coming, Char?”
“Yeah,” I say with a forced smile. “I’ll be right there.”
The ride to the ski resort is excruciatingly awkward, even if it is warm and smells like cedar. It’s not awkward because no one is talking; Gavin and Josie are doing plenty of that. No, it’s awkward because of the elephant in the room…or truck, I should say.
My ex’s dad and the father of my baby is the same person.
I am tempted to throw myself out of the truck and sled back home. Who needs the highest-paying wedding planning job of the century, anyway?
God. Kill me.
“So, what brings you to the resort?” he asks.
“A wedding,” Josie answers for us. That’s alright. I don’t really feel like talking anyway.
“A wedding? I don’t think there’s a wedding going on right now,” he says.
Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror. I am sitting in the back seat because Josie jumped on the opportunity to sit shotgun when I was reluctant to call dibs.
One can only imagine why. In a way, though, this is worse.
He can look at me without making it obvious.
But it is obvious because I can see him doing it.
So not only is he looking at me a lot, I can see him looking at me a lot.
So he knows that I know that he is looking at me a lot, which seems to make him look at me even more.
Sheesh.
“Oh no, we are the wedding planners,” Josie goes on telling Gavin our life story.
“Really?” he asks, looking over at her and then staring into the mirror.
“Well, Charlotte is the wedding planner. I’m the photographer. We are meeting with the bride and groom today, and the owner of the resort,” she goes on.
“Hmm,” he thoughtfully hums. “That should be interesting.”
God. He has no idea.