16. Hard To Explain
16
HARD TO EXPLAIN
T alk about an unexpected sweet surprise.
It was not how Foster thought his first meeting with Charlotte again would go.
He wanted to apologize again, but the noises she was making not that long ago told him she was on board with it all.
Hell, she asked him to do it.
Maybe just not that hard.
But he’d lost a little of himself even while he kept it in check as much as he could.
No one was going to say he was this soft tender guy when it came to women.
No one who turned him on like Charlotte had.
He took care of the condom, washed up, then walked back into his room. He expected to find Charlotte dressed, but she was still naked and laid out where he left her.
“Come sit and talk to me,” she said.
Oh boy. Here they went. “Should we get dressed first?”
“Nope,” she said. “Because I think we need to do this again.”
“What about Marco?”
“He’s outside the door and not making a noise. I think he is lying down. He’ll be fine.”
He’d have to take her word for it and climbed on the bed with her.
She snuggled up against his side. “What’s on your mind?”
“Lots of things,” she said. “I just want to talk and you can listen. Or add to it. I hope you add to it.”
“I will,” he said.
“I talked to my sister about you,” she said.
“You did?”
“Yes. She asked how life was going and I told her. It was hard to say one thing without the other. You know, the fact that I can’t carry a ladder or mow my lawn without sending puffs of black smoke into the air.”
He snorted. “What did she say?”
“Not a lot. I joked I didn’t even know your last name, but you didn’t know mine. Then she said it sounds like I know what I need to.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“I think I do or I wouldn’t have just asked you to take me against the wall.”
“I don’t think you asked that exactly,” he said.
He kissed her on the forehead and she inched closer to his side, one of her legs over his. One breast was bare and his finger traced the globe and around her nipple, watching it pucker up.
He’d have to play with them a bit more when they were done talking.
“But I enjoyed it. Would you be surprised to know that I’ve never had someone take control like that before? I felt vulnerable but safe at the same time. It’s hard to explain.”
“I understand,” he said. “Could be you’re with the wrong men.”
“We know that,” she said. “I was waiting for you to come home and working myself up over what I was going to say. Then I remembered that before you, I always had everything planned out and it never worked. I said I liked that things were spontaneous with us, but I have to admit having Marco run out and me looking like a lunatic chasing him down your driveway wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“It got you in my bed though,” he said, laughing.
She turned her head and glanced at him. “Look at you all relaxed and cracking jokes.”
“Am I that hard to be around?” he asked. “My family is used to it, but even then they said I was in a better mood. I just thought I was being me.”
“I only know what you tell or show me,” she said. “Which isn’t much. But I like that person.”
Maybe he could give her a bit more. “My mother named me after one of my father’s closest friends. He’d died in the service right before I was born. My mother liked different names or using surnames. They reversed it and I’m Foster Mitchell.”
“Nice to meet you, Foster Mitchell. I’m Charlotte Moore. I realized you didn’t know my last name either.”
He wouldn’t correct her that Mitchell was his middle name. He’d said his parents reversed it. He all but gave her those facts without coming right out with it.
“As you said, we know what we need to,” he said.
“Which is funny for me,” she said. “I always felt like I needed to know everything about a person before I dated them. Like I had to form this judgment if they would be a good fit. Wrong on my part. I know that. Could be why everything failed with me and I was picking losers.”
“Speaking of losers,” he said. “Your ex was at your house on Sunday.”
“What?” she asked, leaning up and looking at him. His eyes dropped to her breasts both on display.
“I was leaving and noticed a Porsche in your driveway. I knew you weren’t home. He was on your porch looking in the front window. I stopped to see if I could help him. He gave me the cold shoulder and mumbled before he left.”
He’d asked Henry to run the plates this morning and it came back as her ex Landon Buccini. He’d never heard of him, but he didn’t listen to much that other people said either.
West knew the family. Said it was old money of the stuffy snooty kind.
If that was the type of person Charlotte dated, he was trying to figure out where he fit into this.
Then he had to remind himself she said she wasn’t looking for a man and sure the hell not like the ones she’d dated in the past.
“I can’t believe Landon found out where I lived,” she said. She flopped back down on his bed, her head bouncing off his chest.
He pushed her hair away from her face. “I want to know if he bothers you again,” he said.
“He won’t,” she said. “He doesn’t have the guts to do anything. Too afraid to get his clothes dirty.”
“Then he shouldn’t wear white,” he said.
She started to laugh. “What was white? His shirt or pants?”
“Shorts,” he said. “And white leather shoes with no socks.”
“I hate that look,” she said. “I used to try to gently urge him to wear something else and he’d tell me I had no style. That it came from having no class or money like him.”
He snorted. “If money buys you that style, you’re better off.”
West wouldn’t be caught dead in anything like Landon was wearing.
His brother had his suits that cost more than rent in Manhattan that he wore when he needed to, but most times he was laid back and casual.
There would always be an air of power behind West. One that Foster tried to emulate and it never worked.
Foster showed his power with his anger and that had been worse.
Thankfully that was in his youth and well behind him.
“I’m better off now in general,” she said. Her hand started to move down between his legs.
“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” he asked. “I’d like to get it out of the way before we move on to other matters.”
Her hand stopped moving and he wanted to kick himself for doing that.
“What is it we’ve got here?” she asked. “I know I came onto you and asked for this, but I’m not a friends-with-benefits type of person either.”
“I don’t know what we’ve got,” he admitted. “What is it you want? A commitment?”
“I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with anyone for a year,” she said.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
“A little over nine months,” she said. “I can’t even stick to my own goals.”
“Goals are there to aim for, but would you want to push something off or away to stick to a timeline that you just pulled out of the air?”
“You’re right,” she said. “I like this thing we’ve got even if I don’t know what it is. I guess I need to know there is no one else. I don’t do well with cheaters and liars. I’ve had enough people in my life play me or lead me along. I want someone to be honest with me.”
He hadn’t lied to her once. He just didn’t give her everything.
That is how he was justifying things.
“I like what we’ve got too,” he said. “I’m on the slow end. There are no other women in my life. You’d know if there was. You’re on my property enough.”
“I told Amanda that when she asked.”
Which meant she’d been thinking about him about as much as he’d been thinking of her.
“I don’t believe there are any other men in your life,” he said. “Other than your ex that won’t leave you alone.”
“No one,” she said. “I showed you the texts that were one-sided. I should block him. I’m going to.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“Sometimes it’s better to have a trail. If you’re okay ignoring him, just continue to do it.”
“A trail for what?” she asked.
He was too used to his brother Braylon always gathering facts. Even West.
“You never know,” he said. “If you don’t engage, then you’ve got a record of him bothering you. I hope you don’t need to get a restraining order or anything on him, but it’s nice to have that information.”
She got up and moved to her clothes on the floor, his eyes going right to her ass.
She turned with her phone in her hand. “You like what you see?” she asked.
“Very much so,” he said. “What are you doing? I’m not keen on naked pictures.”
She came over and flopped on the bed. “Texting Landon to leave me alone and that I know he was at my house this weekend and to not come back.”
He was going to ask if that was smart but decided to let her do her own thing. It wasn’t his place to tell her what to do. She was a grown woman.
She typed her text, showed it to him, and then hit send.
“Put it from your mind now,” he said. “If he replies and you don’t feel safe or feel threatened, I want to know. You’ll tell me, right?”
“Of course I’ll tell you,” she said.
“What did you see in him?” he asked. He just had to know.
“He treated me well,” she said. “He doted on me and spoiled me and made me feel like a princess. I guess I just wanted to feel as if some man in my life could make me that important. Then I realized that when someone does those things, they are hiding more important stuff I should know about. I like raw honesty now. It works better.”
“So I’m not someone you’re testing your theory with?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “It’s about time I date someone my own age or at least within a few years older than me. I bet I wouldn’t feel out of place around you and your friends or family. I always did with Landon or other men. Their family looked at me as a gold digger when I wasn’t. I didn’t care about the money. I mean it’s not like Landon could have been my father. He was forty-five. I’m thirty-three. Twelve years isn’t horrible.”
“You’re thirty-three?” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “Why?”
He started to laugh. “Guess you are making a change.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“You’re the old one in the relationship now.”