Chapter 6 #2
“You’re welcome. Listen,” I say, shoving my hands into the pockets of my shorts while I toe at a piece of gravel.
“I know I said I’m not here to work, but you seem to have taken on a lot with this place, and I can only twiddle my thumbs for so long.
” That coaxes a smile out of her, and I find myself wanting to offer her one in return.
“So, I guess what I’m saying is, if you ever need some construction-related advice or someone to do the heavy lifting, you know where to find me. ”
“I appreciate that. Clearly, I have no idea what I’m doing, so you better mean it because I’ll take you up on that offer. And if there’s anything you need in return, my office is always open.”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
Her head tilts to the side as she waits for me to say more.
“I hate to mooch off you, but is there any chance I could bother you for some coffee? I’m a little hungover and could use some caffeine to kickstart the system. I haven’t had time to stock the cabin yet. How far is it into town, anyway?”
“It’s about a twenty-five-minute drive into Moose Harbor, and I’ll do you one better.
I’m about to pick up some painting supplies.
If you want to tag along, I can take you to my friend Dee’s place.
She owns the local café. Nothing like a quality cup of coffee and some greasy bacon to cure a stubborn hangover. My treat.”
I take a moment to contemplate her offer. I’m not really looking forward to running errands with an aching head, but the promise of a steaming cup of java and a warm meal does sound good, so I give her a curt nod. “That’d be great. Let me go change and grab my wallet, and I’ll meet you up front?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She gathers her supplies, hits me with another one of her potent smiles, and starts down the gravel path. When she passes my neighbor’s cabin, the door pops open, and Dave’s massive head appears.
“Did I hear you say something about coffee?”
“Sure did, big guy,” Charlie chuckles. “Would you like me to bring you back your usual?”
“Oh, you’re just the best,” Dave gushes while he steps out of the building and lowers himself into his favorite chair.
“And if you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a case of Bud Light. I’ll Venmo you.”
“You got it,” she throws over her shoulder before she saunters off, that delicious round ass swaying from side to side.
I let my gaze linger a little longer than appropriate, and clear my throat when Dave catches me staring.
Jerking my chin toward my front door, I let him know I have places to be before I slink away.
Just before I step inside, I hear a mumbled, “He’s a goner, for sure.” I don’t know why his off-hand remark bothers me so much, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s because it hits a little too close to home.
When I get to the resort entrance, Charlie is already leaning against her car, waiting. She lifts her hand in an exuberant wave but lowers it quickly once she realizes what she’s doing. The way she blushes is adorable, and I can’t help the smile from settling on my lips.
“I don’t know about you, but patching that roof sure made me work up an appetite,” she says when I’m close enough to catch her words.
“I can practically smell the bacon from here. Hop in and let’s get going before they stop serving breakfast.” When she pushes off the passenger side door and rounds her vehicle, a disbelieving snort bursts from my nose.
“You seriously expect me to fold myself into this tin can? Have you seen the size of me?”
The blatant way she’s looking me up and down doesn’t go unnoticed. That she’s doing so while her arm casually rests on the roof of her Mini Cooper only proves my point.
“You’d be surprised how much leg room this baby has,” she points out, and it sounds like she truly believes there’s a chance I might get in.
“So, let me get this straight. We’re picking up paint supplies, groceries, and a case of beer for the resident alcoholic, and you expect me to believe that all of that, as well as ourselves, will fit into this?” A flicker of doubt crosses over her features. “Well, how much food do you need?”
“I mean, I can eat. And seeing as I don’t know when I might feel like traveling half a day just to get to a supermarket, I was thinking I might go big.”
“Well, I could always grab the paint another day. I don’t really have to—”
“Just get in the damn truck, Tink,” I order, already striding toward my vehicle.
I don’t check to see if she follows as I slide into the driver’s seat and turn the key.
Then, I wait. It takes a few moments, but soon enough the passenger door opens, and Charlie uses the oh-shit handle to pull herself into the cab.
She drops into the seat with a sour expression and clicks the seatbelt into place.
“Fine,” she snaps, meeting my amused gaze. “But just so we’re clear. Breakfast is on me, and my giving in doesn’t mean I don’t still think my car would’ve worked just fine. I used to be a pro at Tetris back in the day, and Berta has never once let me down.”
“Berta?” I ask, quirking a brow.
“Berta Rose,” she says in a tone that implies I’m a little slow as her eyes shoot to her abandoned vehicle. “Figured she needed a strong name to give her an extra boost of confidence. Not that she needs it. Berta is a total badass. You know what they say? Tiny but mighty.”
I don’t warrant that with a reply as I shift the truck into gear and pull out of the lot and onto the driveway that never ends.
“Why Tink?” she asks after some time has passed in silence.
“Huh?” I grunt, glancing at her striking side profile and trying to remember what her question was.
She rolls her face toward me, regarding me with curious eyes.
“Earlier, when you told me to get in the truck, you called me Tink. I was just wondering why that is.” I keep my eyes on the road, biting at the corner of my mouth before I decide to go with the truth.
“Because the first time I saw you, you reminded me of some kind of mythical creature, like a wood nymph or a fairy. You know? Tinkerbell.”
Charlie purses her lips and lifts a shoulder in a shrug like this is not the weirdest nickname she’s ever been labeled with.
Then again, the woman christened her car Berta Rose, so I’m not surprised my little pet name doesn’t faze her.
Seemingly satisfied with my explanation, she kicks off her flip-flops and rests her dainty feet on the dash before she turns on the radio and lowers her window.
When she finds a station that doesn’t crackle, she sits back with a grin and starts singing along to “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus while her right hand performs some type of hypnotic waving motion in the wind.
Of course, her voice is just as perfect as the rest of her.
Soft and raspy, the melodic timbre goes straight to my groin.
I shift my hips, subtly adjusting myself to avoid drawing attention to my hardening dick, and for the rest of the drive I do my best to keep my eyes fixed on the pavement ahead, and not on the alluring siren sprawled out in the passenger seat.