25. ~ James ~
CHAPTER 25
~ James ~
I desperately wanted to sweep Char into my arms and show her just how much I’d thought about her over the past week. How much I desired her in this very moment.
But I feared that if I pressed too hard, I might lose her. She was skittish. Shy. One to take it slow.
There was a reason I’d booked myself a trip to Corsica next week. I needed to give the woman a bit of space, so I didn’t freak her out with my readiness to march her down the aisle.
It was also entirely possible that I was reading her signs incorrectly, my own wants painting over the subtle hints she was sending me. Could her shyness be reluctance? Was her lack of recent availability a hint to back off?
I didn’t think so, but I was starting to realize just how many fears she had around relationships. And that meant she had a lot more uncertainty than I did. The things I took for granted, such as a marriage that would last, were the same things she assumed she’d never have.
But it was something I wanted to give her. And in order to do that, I had to do it right. I had to move slowly.
This woman was going to be the end of me.
We left the warehouse, and I took her hand again, promising myself I could, and would, move slower than I had last week, even though I could see our future, and wanted to be there. Now.
No, last year already.
She drifted closer, letting her shoulder brush mine. As we left the lot, she kept hold of my hand, even as we made our way through the hole in the fence.
That was promising.
It just felt like the energy that had been propelling us last week had eased up, and we were back to uncertainty, neither of us braving a bold next move. She could be waiting for me, but this might also be her preferred pace.
Char said men were impossible? Try dating a woman.
“Come to the museum with me,” I said, leaning against my Rover, checking my watch. I had a night shift in twenty-five minutes.
A flash of uncertainty crossed her face, and I snagged her hand, pulling her against me. I wrapped my arms around her waist, loosely, so she could wiggle free if she wanted.
Her smile was quick, and she made no moves to leave my embrace. “The museum closes soon.”
I gave her a deep, long kiss that I’d been thinking about for days. When we broke apart, her eyes were half-closed, her smile dreamy.
That was better. Much better.
“Come with me,” I prompted, buoyed by the signals she was sending me. I warned myself to slow down, but I wasn’t sure where the brakes were. Wherever they were, I wanted to snap them off and let the momentum take us away like it had last week.
She narrowed her eyes, watching me with a mischievous expression. “Okay.”
I parked in the staff lot, and as we entered the museum together, I asked her, my fingers reaching out to tap hers, “Do I need to sneak you in?”
She beamed at me like I’d said magic words. “I have my membership on me.” She flashed the card at Glenda moments later, and was warned she only had fifteen minutes before closing.
Greg, one of the several guides, sidled up to us on the other side of the admission desk. Charming and good looking, but total slime. It was clear he used Char’s intelligence about pottery stuff to make himself look better at his job. But he was charming. And women liked charming.
“Hey,” he said to Char, leaning casually on the edge of Glenda’s desk. “There’s new stuff in the gift shop. Think you might like it.”
That was my line.
She slowed. “Really?”
Greg did a great job of making her feel smart with his questions about her interests, so maybe that was my real problem.
Jealousy.
Around Char, I lost my game, but Greg’s got better.
“What era?” she asked, ignoring the fact that I was trying to gently propel her forward and away from Smarmy McDufus.
Greg flashed her a big grin, not answering her question. Probably because he’d forgotten to look up the age of the pieces or needed to ask her. “I heard you bought some land?”
“Greg, aren’t you off for the night?” I asked, renewing my attempt to move Char forward again.
“I did!” Char said brightly. “How’d you hear?”
“James told me.”
Yeah, and I really regretted it, too.
At another desk off to the side, where tours gathered, Richard, the museum director, looked up, obviously eavesdropping. He always studied Char with a frown, like he failed to recognize her. Then, after a beat, his scowl would deepen as though recognition had finally dawned, and that dawn was a vile orange instead of the expected beautiful array of pastels.
It pretty much made me want to push my fist so far into his face he’d need dentures.
As far as I knew, they hadn’t had a run-in other than the number of times Char had taken him to task over a few of the museum’s plaques and their inaccuracies. She’d confided to me once, after giving Richard a blast, that he should read the books they kept stocked in the museum’s gift shop.
I’d laughed over that one for weeks.
But if I were a betting man, I’d say it was the Christmas party for staff and members that had turned Richard. Apparently, slaughtering the museum director in an ancient history trivia game wasn’t a good way to earn his friendship.
Not that I figured Char wanted to be friends with the man. She’d once said he probably drove a diesel Dodge Ram with a lift kit and oversized tires on splashy rims to compensate for ‘other things.’ I’d checked the staff lot and confirmed that she was correct about his choice of transportation.
“My roommates and I are going to make a park once we tear down the warehouse,” Char was telling Greg.
“Why? Wait.” He held out a hand to stop her from explaining, his eyes dancing in a way that made me bristle on Char’s behalf. He found her amusing, something he poorly masked at times. She was smart and deserved more respect from him. She’d learned more about our exhibits than anyone else that worked here, and all so she could be closer to her dad.
“Is it an amusement park?” Greg asked, “No, no.” He held up a hand, head down like he was thinking. Then he lifted his stupid smirky face and gave Char a 100-watt smile. “Make a wicked warehouse bar!”
“No. It’s going to be a park.” She wasn’t smiling any longer, and I felt conflicted. She didn’t like Greg. That was good. But the guy was being a jerk to her. That was not good.
“You know,” she prompted. “Playground, benches, dog area.”
I found myself edging between Greg and Char, ready to shove Greg’s face into the admission desk the second he tried to belittle her and the idea. It was a huge undertaking; unrealistic, really. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Sunshine Char.
“So you’re paying money to do this?”
“A bit, but a lot of great agencies and companies are helping us out.”
“It’s called being a nice person, Greg,” I said coolly. “And I think it’s awesome she’s trying to improve Everstone with a green space.”
“It’s weird, man. Nobody we know is doing stuff like that.”
“Char is.”
“But why? Are you nesting or something? Move somewhere else if you hate Everstone.”
“Haven’t you heard of nature deprivation?” she argued, heat spreading through her cheeks. Her hands had gone to her hips and there was fire in her eyes. “My neighbourhood deserves and needs a park. Kids are getting hurt.”
“But…” He was squinting at her. “Why you? This sounds really hard.”
“Why not me?”
“Let’s go.” I pulled on Char’s elbow.
“Because it’s a city problem, not yours. This is why we pay taxes. You could be spending the time and money bettering yourself.”
Beside me, Char gasped. I’d been successfully herding her away from Greg, but now we both whirled on him.
“Uncool, man.” I was already reaching for his collar, but stopped myself before grabbing him, aware Richard was watching.
I wanted to quit this job on my own terms, not get turfed. I eyed Greg, considering her. Getting turfed could be worth it.
“Not like that.” Greg rolled his eyes like he hadn’t blanched at the way I’d lunged at him.
“Then how so?” I growled.
Greg gestured toward the various exhibit rooms, his face red, words spluttering from his dumb mouth. “Go to school and nerd out over all this ancient crap. She obviously loves it.” He scowled at us both and stormed off.
As much as I hated to admit it, continuing her education in an area where she was passionate wasn’t a bad idea. Too bad it was Greg who’d suggested it.
I watched him until he was out of sight, then noticed Richard had stood up during the exchange, looking none too pleased. He frowned at me and my lack of uniform, pointedly checking his watch.
“Not on for another ten,” I said absently, steering Char through the museum and into one of the exhibit halls. Once we were well beyond the front desk area, I pulled her close, whispering, “Go get yourself a milkshake, then meet me outside the Staff Only door by the cafeteria entrance in ten.”
Her hands were in fists, cheeks red. She was glaring at the direction we’d come. “Greg is such a?—”
“I know.” I planted a kiss on her scowl. She looked surprised, her anger gone as though I’d washed it away. She leaned in, eyes sparkling, as if I was the best part of her day. And that was the greatest feeling in the world.