Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
brAD
I’m the last one in line, so I have plenty of time to think of something to say to Charlie. It doesn’t help.
Sorry for sending you a picture of my dick. It was meant for your dad. I choke back a laugh. Definitely not.
Chuck and I joke around all the time. He might see the humor in it.
Minni will not.
It was an honest mistake. I’d been texting with Chuck all morning. And rereading Charlie’s texts from the night before. Which might explain getting the first text wrong. But every text after? And the phone call?
Sure, I was distracted by the hot presenter. And adding Charlie to my contacts as Chuck Jr. made sense months ago when I didn’t want to confuse him with Charlie from the lumberyard.
Still, I should have recognized Charlie right away. Hell, I’ve known the kid all his life.
But this guy talking and laughing casually with the others in line is a man, not a kid.
The last time I saw Charlie was the night of the Dundy County Fair. How did he change so much in five years? His long hair and short beard are new. And he calls himself Chas now. Not a fan. I like Charlie much better.
Charlie was a little nervous at the start of his presentation, but then he got his confidence back and took my breath away. Charlie knows his stuff, and it’s sexy as hell.
I’ve never seen Charlie so confident.
Way too soon, it’s my turn, and I’m standing in front of Charlie with no idea what to say. When he sees me, his eyes widen a fraction and his breath hitches. Otherwise, he’s the professional Charlie I didn’t know existed.
“Hiya, Charlie,” I say with a nervous smile, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach. What the hell? I’m forty-seven, not an adolescent teen. My confidence has fucked off somewhere, and I need it back.
He swallows and nods. The scent of strawberries from his shampoo must have hijacked my brain. I want to slide my fingers through the strands of hair on the side of his face. Are they as silky as they appear? I blink away those inappropriate thoughts. This kid is twenty years younger than me.
“How ya been?” I stuff my hands in my pockets because touching him is not allowed, but my body is having difficulty remembering that. “Last I heard, you were living in Kansas.” When did he move back? And why didn’t anyone tell me?
He nods a few times. “Yes, I was. Now I’m here. And I’m good. Mostly good. I mean, my house is nothing but boxes, and being back and starting a new job hasn’t been worse than getting a root canal, but it’s close, and at least no one asked me what a boning rod is because then I would have looked even more like a kid than I am. Not that I—” He clamps his lips shut.
I can’t help but grin. This is the Charlie I remember. The nervous rambling but now with an air of defiance. The adult version. And fuck, it’s charming as hell. I lean in, taking the opportunity to be close to him, and breathe in his scent. Desire stampedes through my body. “They’re used for leveling trenches.” I wink. “Now you know.”
He laughs, and it’s deeper than I remember. “Thanks.” He presses his lips together again as if he’s afraid of what will come out.
My eyes are drawn to his mouth, but I don’t linger like I want. This is his work. I catch his gaze. “No need to censure yourself, Charlie. I could listen to you talk all day.”
He snorts. “That’s not what you told me during wrestling practice. ‘Charlie, can you stop talking for five minutes?’ I think were your exact words.”
The bubbly feelings in my stomach pop. What am I doing? This guy used to be my student. “Things change. You’re not fourteen—” I stop before I make things more awkward and clear my throat. “I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi and welcome home.”
When I get to my truck, I bang my head against the steering wheel. What the hell? This is Chuck and Minni’s kid. And I’m twenty years older than him.
Should I quit the project? But I can’t. This is something near and dear to my heart. My sister Harper was without housing for a while. Of course, she didn’t ask us for help. Too proud. This project will help people like her keep their dignity. I can’t quit because I’m attracted to the guy in charge.
The talk with Charlie hadn’t been too embarrassing. I scroll through the text messages, imagining Charlie, not my best friend, reading them.
Fuck. Each text is worse than the last.
I’d drop to my knees for this guy.
Does he realize I was talking about him?
Would he let me?
My body reacts favorably to that thought, and I tell it to fuck off.
This is Chuck and Minni’s son. I taught him how to wrestle at fourteen and drive a car at fifteen. I feel like a dirty old man.
I swallow the bile in my throat and shake my head. I’m not attracted to the kid I once knew. I’m attracted to the man he is now. Sometimes confident. Sometimes shy. And sexy as fuck.
But others won’t see it that way. His parents certainly won’t.
And neither will the town.
I manage to avoid Charlie and his parents over the next few days. I’m unsure how to act around either. But a week later, I can’t put it off any longer as we tour the first home we’re renovating. Charlie is again in jeans, but he’s wearing a nice button-down shirt, and I hope it doesn’t get ruined.
As we check out the home, Charlie makes notes on a tablet. He’s confident most of the time and hides it when he isn’t. I can still tell. He’s always had this habit of touching his hair. And now there’s more of it to touch.
I shut those thoughts down. Charlie is my boss. Sort of. I need to remember he’s in charge.
“Okay, I think that’s everything down here. Let’s move upstairs.” His eyes stop on me for a second, and I forget how to breathe. He smiles and waves his hand in a let’s go motion.
I’m close to the front of the group. And no, it isn’t so I can watch Charlie walk up those stairs. But I’m not looking away either, so I see the moment it all goes to hell. Charlie steps on a soft spot on the stairs and his foot goes through the step.
“Shit,” Charlie says with a squeak. I rush up the stairs, being careful where I step, to reach him. Grabbing his arm, I hold him steady so he can pull his foot out.
“You’re okay.” I keep my voice low, so only Charlie hears me.
He laughs nervously. “This is not embarrassing at all.” He moves to avoid the hole, but the stairs are narrow, and he has to lean into me to keep from falling. “That’s enough for today,” he says to the group. “We’ll do the upstairs later. After we have someone check the stairs.”
“Are you okay?” I ask in a low voice as he starts to head down. I don’t want to undermine Charlie.
“I’m fine, thanks.” He pulls away from me and carefully navigates the stairs. But when we get outside, I notice the way he winces. And his limp.
Everyone takes off, but I hang back. When it’s just Charlie and me, he lets out a frustrated sound. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Brad.”
“I get that. But you’re bleeding.” I point to his right leg. The hem of his jeans is stained and blood is dripping into his shoe. “And I can help with that.”
“I don’t—” He presses his lips together and blows out a breath. “Okay, fine.”
Why does that small victory taste so sweet? “Come on.” I lead him over to my truck, not taking his arm. That might be too much help for him to handle. Opening the door, I wave for him to get in.
“But I’m bleeding.”
“Try not to get it on the seat.”
I hop into the driver’s side and turn on the truck. It’s a little chilly out. He shifts in the seat and pulls up his jeans. His leg is scraped but not bad enough that he needs stitches. I lean over, and he pulls back.
“What are you doing?” He sounds breathless.
“Getting the first-aid kit. In the glove box.”
He laughs. “Oh.”
I grab the kit and pull out the necessary supplies. “I need your leg.”
“Um. Okay.” He turns, tucking one leg under as he lifts his right leg so I can reach it. His foot is braced on the middle console, and I pull it across my lap.
“Is this okay?”
Charlie nods as he leans back and closes his eyes.
Using gauze, I put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. The only sound in the truck is the heater and Charlie’s uneven breaths. After a few minutes, I check that it’s no longer bleeding.
“This might sting.”
He nods again, and I wrap my hand around his ankle to keep it from moving. He sucks in a breath, and I wonder if he feels the same thing as me. My fingers tingle as I hold his leg with one hand and clean the scrapes with my other. His injury is mostly on the front of his leg. He flinches when I clean the area and add antiseptic ointment, so I tighten my grip on his ankle. I focus on my task. And not the feel of his skin. His ankles, strong but delicate. The soft hair under my fingers. Once I place the bandage over the wound, I tape it up.
“There. All done.”
He nods, still not looking at me as he shifts so he can get his foot down. “Thank you.” He sneaks a glance at me, and I smile.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Yes.” But he laughs.
“So, Charlie…”
His smile drops. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“Fine.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “But if you’re going to apologize for the texts, don’t bother.”
I lean closer. “Just remember, I had no idea I was texting the wrong person. But you? Knew the entire time. And you never said anything.”
“That’s not— I was in the middle of a presentation.” He lifts his chin defiantly, and I want to kiss him. On his chin. His jaw. His mouth.
The air around us changes, and for a moment, I think he might let me. Not that it’s a good idea.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not happening. But thank you for your help.”
Then he hauls himself out of my truck, and I watch him until he’s in his car and driving away.
I thought I had a handle on this. But Charlie is way too tempting.