Chapter 24 Charlie
Chapter twenty-four
Charlie
The drive back to the house is quiet but comfortable.
Sarah and Addie talk in the backseat about their plans for tomorrow while Bash keeps one hand on the wheel and the other firmly clasped in mine.
I stare out the window, watching the snowflakes dance in the headlights, and try not to overthink whatever this is between us.
When we pull up to the house, all the windows are dark except for the porch light my parents always leave on and the house feels more intimate without the usual bustle.
We climb out of the car, boots crunching in fresh snow. Addie yawns dramatically as we trudge up the steps. The door swings open to reveal the darkened entryway, quiet and waiting.
I flick the foyer light on.
"I'm beat," Sarah announces as we hang our coats in the mudroom. "Driving through those mountain passes took it out of me."
"And I need to post—I mean, journal about today's events," Addie adds, avoiding her mother's knowing look.
"Journaling. Right." Sarah rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Just remember our talk about oversharing other people's business."
"I know, I know. Goodnight, Uncle Bash." Addie gives him a quick hug, then surprises me by hugging me too. "Night, Charlie. I'm glad you're not with potato-brain anymore."
I laugh, caught off guard by her bluntness. "Thanks, Addie. So am I."
"Well, we'll see you two in the morning," Sarah says, giving Bash a look I can't quite decipher. "Don't stay up too late."
We watch them head upstairs, and suddenly the house feels very empty and very quiet. Bash turns to me, his eyes reflecting the soft glow from the porch light filtering through the windows.
"Nightcap?" I suggest, needing something to do with my hands. "I think my dad has some peppermint schnapps we could add to hot chocolate."
"Lead the way, Shortcake."
In the kitchen, I busy myself with heating milk on the stove while Bash leans against the counter, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. I focus on stirring the milk to keep it from scalding, hyperaware of his presence.
"So," he says casually, "you were really impressed by my restraint tonight?"
I glance up. "Yes, you didn't take Ethan's bait," I clarify, pouring the hot milk into mugs filled with cocoa powder. "All those little digs... he was practically begging for a reaction."
Bash shrugs, reaching for the schnapps bottle. "I've dealt with plenty of Ethans. Men who need to tear others down to feel bigger."
"Still." I accept the splash of peppermint he adds to my mug. "Most guys would've snapped."
"I'm not most guys," he says quietly, his eyes meeting mine. "And besides, why waste energy on him when I could focus on you instead?"
And that simple statement hits me low in my belly. Not a flutter, not a tingle, a full, molten weight that spreads through me like warm honey. I slightly turn my face as I begin stirring both mugs to hide whatever expression is on my face, but I know he sees right through me.
"What?" he asks, and I can practically hear the smirk he’s wearing.
"Nothing." I focus on stirring.
"I wanted to though." he quietly adds.
I shake my head, and take a little sip, the liquid burns my tongue but I welcome the feel. "That's why you shouldn't have. He was fishing for a reaction."
"He got one. Just not the one he wanted." Bash accepts the mug I hand him, our fingers brushing. "I think he expected me to make a scene."
"That would've been exactly what he wanted. Proof that you're just some hothead who can't control his temper. Instead, you were calm, collected, and made him look petty."
"A million different scenarios were going through my head," he admits, taking a sip. "But then I looked at you, and..."
"And what?" I ask when he doesn't continue.
"And I remembered why we're here. To make him jealous, right?" There's something in his tone I can't quite place. "Mission accomplished, by the way. Did you see his face when you were talking about heli-skiing?"
I laugh, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Right. The mission." I take a larger sip of my drink. This is getting complicated. Too complicated. I need to remember this is all for show.
Isn't it?
I down the rest of my drink and immediately pour another, heavier on the schnapps this time.
"Whoa, slow down there," Bash says, his brow furrowing. "You okay?"
"Perfect," I say, too brightly. "Just... processing. It's weird seeing Ethan so petty. I used to think he hung the moon."
He studies me for a moment. "And now?"
"Now I wonder what I ever saw in him." I take another sip. "But that's not the point. The point is, you're doing an amazing job at this whole fake boyfriend thing. Above and beyond, really."
Something flickers across his face—disappointment? He sets his mug down with a definitive click. "Charlie."
"What?"
"What's going on? You're acting... off."
"Nothing's going on." I shrug, avoiding his eyes. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
He steps closer, his voice dropping. "Are you regretting what happened earlier? In the shower?"
"No." The answer comes too quickly, too forcefully. "I mean, no. That was... that was great."
"Then what is it? Because one minute you're looking at me like..." He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "And the next, you're pulling away."
I set my mug down, suddenly overwhelmed. "I don't know what this is anymore, Bash. It was supposed to be simple. Pretend to date, survive this trip."
"And now?"
"And now nothing makes sense." I cross my arms, creating a barrier between us.
"In my mind you're supposed to be this arrogant playboy.
The guy I work with who drives me crazy.
But then you're..." I gesture vaguely at him.
"You're being so perfect with my family, and with me, and I don't know if it's real or if you're just really good at pretending. "
He steps forward, closing the distance I tried to create. "Do you want to know what's real?"
My heart hammers against my ribs. "I don't know."
"Well, I do." His gaze is steady. "But I don't think you're ready to hear it yet. So how about this—let's not think for a while."
"What do you mean?"
A slow smile spreads across his face. "Hot tub?"
I blink, thrown by the change of subject. "Hot tub?"
"Yeah. Your dad mentioned he turned it on before we left dinner. It's probably nice and warm by now." His eyes hold a challenge. "Unless you're too tired?"
I consider for a moment. The hot tub sits on the back deck, offering a view of the mountains. Private. Secluded. Dangerous.
Perfect.
"You know what, why not?" I say, finishing my second drink in one long swallow. "Your sister and Addie are upstairs, Em won't be back until late, and my parents and the Harpers will probably watch the jazz band until they pack up."
I walk past him toward the back door, and he catches my wrist gently. "Where are you going?"
I look over my shoulder, letting a little of the heat I've been trying to suppress show in my eyes. "To the hot tub. Coming?"
Without waiting for his answer, I slide the back door open and step onto the back deck. The cold air hits me like a slap, but I don't hesitate.
Thank you liquid courage.
The double dose of spiked hot chocolate has already started loosening the tension in my body as I reach for the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head, dropping it onto a nearby chair.
My boots and pants follow, and I stand there in just my matching black lace bra and underwear, skin prickling with goosebumps and something else entirely when I feel Bash's gaze on me.
I purposefully don't look back as I climb the steps to the hot tub and slide off the cover. Steam instantly rises into the night air, inviting and enticing. I dip one toe in, testing the temperature, then sink into the bubbling water with a contented sigh.
It’s only then that I look up at Bash. He hasn't moved from the doorway, his expression a mixture of desire and something that looks suspiciously like awe.
"Well?" I challenge, feeling bold. "Are you just going to let that drool freeze on your face, or are you going to join me?
That breaks his trance. He grins, that cocky, heart-stopping grin that first drew me to him at the bar back home. In one fluid motion, he pulls his sweater over his head, revealing the sculpted torso I've been trying not to think about since our shower earlier.
His boots and jeans follow, and then he's standing there in nothing but dark boxer briefs that cling to his powerful thighs. The sight sends heat coursing through me.
"Like what you see, Shortcake?" he teases, catching me staring.
I don't bother denying it. "You know I do."
He climbs in beside me, the water sloshing slightly as he settles. "God, this feels good," he groans, leaning his head back against the edge. The jets churn the water around us, creating a soothing white noise that feels oddly intimate.
For a moment, we just sit there, letting the hot water work its magic on our muscles. Snowflakes drift lazily from the sky, melting as soon as they hit the steaming surface. I glance up and can see the mountains silhouetted against the night sky, stars scattered like diamond dust above them.
"This view never gets old," I murmur.
"Couldn't agree more," Bash says, but when I turn to look at him, he's not looking at the mountains. He's staring at me.
My breath catches. "This is dangerous," I whisper, not entirely sure if I'm talking to him or reminding myself.
"I know." He shifts closer, water rippling between us. "But I think we passed 'dangerous' a while ago, don't you?"
His hand finds mine underwater, our fingers tangling together. I should pull away. I should remember all the reasons this is a bad idea. We work together, he's not the settling-down type, this was supposed to be pretend.
Instead, I slide closer until our thighs touch beneath the bubbling surface.
"What are we doing, Bash?" My voice is barely audible over the hum of the jets as I continue to look up at the night sky.
He reaches up, brushing a damp strand of hair from my face with such tenderness it makes my chest ache. "I don't know, Shortcake. But I know I don't want to stop."
And neither do I. That's the terrifying truth of it. Whatever this is, this connection, this feeling, I don't want it to end when we leave Colorado. I don't want to go back to being colleagues who once shared a night together. I want...more.
The realization should send me running.
Instead, I sit up, water sluicing down my skin as I shift through the bubbling currents. Bash watches me with those ocean-deep blue eyes, his body tensing when I swing one leg over his lap, straddling him. The jets send vibrations through my thighs where they press against his.
His hands land heavily on my hips, fingers pressing into my skin like he's not sure whether to pull me closer or push me away. "Tease," he murmurs, thumb tracing the edge of my bra where it rides up.
I lean in, brushing my lips against his—once, twice—just enough to feel the hitch in his breathing. He chases my mouth when I pull back, but I smile and tilt my head away, trailing fingertips down the tense line of his jaw instead. "Impatient," I counter.
His grip tightens. "You’re killing me."
"Good." I press a kiss to the thrumming pulse point below his ear. His answering groan sends heat spiraling lower in my stomach. His fingers dig into me, but he doesn’t rush, letting me set the pace as I trace the hard planes of his chest through the water.
I catch his lower lip between my teeth, tugging just enough to make him twitch beneath me. His hips jerk up instinctively, and the friction draws a sharp gasp from me. His laugh is rough with restraint. "Payback's a bitch, Shortcake."
"Worth it." I seal our mouths together again, slower this time, deeper, swallowing his groan when I roll my hips against his.
The hot tub jets churn the water around us, the heat between us eclipsing the steam rising into the cold night air.
His hands roam up my back, unhooking my bra with ease before I can protest.
"Cheat," I mutter against his mouth.
"You started it." His grin is feral.