11. charlee
ELEVEN
charlee
The fact that I was going stir-crazy all morning, unable to concentrate on anything, was enough to tell me that my previous declarations of, “That’s it. I’m done with him. He’s changed too much, has too much of an edge. Wants nothing to do with me. Screw him,” were nothing more than sound and fury.
Words I tried to convince myself I meant. Because my head was telling me to run as fast and far away from Lucas as possible.
Instead, I attempted to occupy myself with cleaning my house. The projects I’d wanted to tackle? Tossed out the window. I had the concentration of a gnat this morning, and it was all I could do not to crawl out of my skin waiting until “the afternoon.”
What did that even mean? Noon? Definitely too early.
I pressed a button on my phone.
Natalie picked up on the first ring. “How you doing?”
“Not good.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“If I need you to come here to distract me so I can make it a few more hours, that’s a problem.”
“The fact that you’re counting the minutes to go see a guy who has borderline been an asshole to you this last week—”
“Borderline? You’re being generous.”
Natalie laughed. “I am. For your sake.”
“That’s just the hurt talking. I can see past that.”
“Ha! That’s not what you said the other day when you walked out of his shop.”
Admittedly, I had not. “What are my options? Not even try to see if there’s something still there? You know I’ve never stopped caring for him.”
“Caring. I wish. You’ve never stopped loving him, and that, my friend, is the problem.”
Indeed, it was a problem. Besides being hotter than hell, he was a good kisser, used his fingers better than any other man I’d known, and was downright interesting. The way his mind worked fascinated me. Lucas, or at least the old Lucas, always had a way with words, saying things that constantly made me wonder, How did he think of that?
I could remember some of his one-liners as if it were yesterday.
After he told me he was joining the Army, and I asked him why, he’d said, “We play with the toys God gives us.” Apparently, his toy was a mind smart enough to realize he had limited options otherwise. Or so he thought.
Another time, when I asked him why he was waiting so long to ask me to the prom, he’d said, “You call the tune we all dance to. That’s how it works. If you want to go to prom, we go to the prom.”
Why he thought I might not want to go had been beyond me, but I remember thinking then that the surest way to deal with Lucas was not to play games. He liked blunt, and so I’d learned to be blunt. To ask for what I wanted. In return, he gave the same to me.
“Ask and you shall receive,” he’d always said, and Lucas wasn’t joking around. I loved that about him.
Did I love Lucas Warner?
After dating many guys since he left, it had become even more painfully clear. There was one simple, undeniable and utterly frightful answer.
I did.
And hated that I did, but denying it served no purpose.
I never did stop loving him. “I think you’re right,” I told Natalie, to which she burst into laughter.
“You think? That’s rich, Charlee. Go to the studio with my blessing. But if he treats you like he did at KC’s and you don’t kick him to the curb, I will not be a happy camper. Actually, maybe I should come. Just to keep you on track.”
I laughed. “No need,” I said. “I’ve totally got this.
Except, I totally did not have this.
I was a thirty-year-old woman with an MBA. A great job. Maybe soon a VP. I’d weeded out any negative friends and surrounded myself with people who lifted me up, and vice versa. Was the relationship with my parents, especially my dad, the best? Not necessarily. But otherwise, things were on track. I worked out. Ate healthy, at least three-quarters of the time. And someday I would figure out a way to work art back into my life.
I was a strong, empowered woman. And yet. . .
I’d actually fished out my air-sickness pills, cut one in half, and popped it. So maybe they were for my flight anxiety, and I wasn’t exactly getting on a plane this afternoon. But this was. . . worse. We were talking about a man I’d waited ten years to confront. One who had come back from his time in the military with an edge I didn’t know how to navigate. Or if I even wanted to. He hadn’t treated me the best, to be honest, and wasn’t that what I deserved?
God, this was fucking confusing.
One embarrassing call to Natalie later, after I realized I couldn’t actually drive after taking that pill, I got out of her car at Lucas’s shop. Walking to the front door as if I were walking a gangplank, I reached my hand up to knock.
It opened before my knuckles touched the door.
He wore a Grunt Ink Tattoo T-shirt, with his own ink on full display. The tee was just tight enough that I didn’t have to imagine much, but not obnoxiously tight. I actually shivered at the sight of him.
If you looked up “male” in the dictionary, you would find a picture of Lucas Warner. No doubt.
“Was that Natalie?”
He stepped aside, and I wished I’d held my breath as I walked by him. Lucas smelled too good by far for me to keep my head on straight.
“It was.”
“Something wrong with your car?”
He shut the door and locked it, that click resounding in my ear more ominous than it probably should be.
Lie. Just lie.
“No.”
I couldn’t do it. Actually broke out in hives when I tried. How annoying.
“Charlee?”
He wanted me to turn around. Except, how could I possibly look him in the eye and admit the real reason Natalie had dropped me off?
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“No,” I admitted. So much for playing it cool.
He came around to my side, looking at me as if I was supposed to say something profound.
“Why did Natalie drop you off?” he asked finally.
If I was truly not going to play games with him, might as well admit the truth. “I was so nervous waiting to come here that I took a plane pill. Well, half, actually. And belatedly realized I couldn’t drive. Natalie lives in an apartment just down the street, and I knew she was available, so I called her—”
“What,” he asked, his voice definitely huskier than it was ten years ago, “is a plane pill?”
“Anxiety medication,” I clarified. “I’m afraid to fly.”
“You are?” He seemed surprised. And thankfully had missed the whole point.
“Yes.”
“You weren’t always.”
“No, I wasn’t. Not sure what happened.”
He never took his eyes off me, so I was forced to meet his gaze.
His very intense, singularly focused gaze.
Did they teach him to do that in Army school? Was it even called Army school? I had no idea about these things.
“And why exactly were you nervous enough to have to take anxiety medication to come here? Do you take that regularly?”
I shook my head. “Only when I fly.”
“Except today.”
“Except today.”
Did his eyes soften a bit? Or was it just wishful thinking?
“You have nothing to be nervous about, Charlee,” he said. “It’s a small tattoo. Will hardly hurt at all.”
It took a second for his words to register. My eyes widened.
“Tattoo?”
“Yeah, tattoo. Didn’t you say you wanted to be my first customer?”
I had completely forgotten about that. Was he serious?
“I. . .” Words escaped me.
“Come here. I’ll show you the design I came up with. Tell me what you think.”
As Lucas walked behind the front desk to the design desk portion of his shop, I followed mutely. He was totally serious. And had come up with a design?
Actually, I’d been nervous to talk to him, but this gave me a good excuse, and I’d take it. I loved tattoos on other people and had always thought about getting one on my wrist. But I knew my parents would flip.
An admittedly stupid reason not to get one.
“So it really doesn’t hurt?” I asked, pretending this was the reason I was so worried.
“I mean, it’s not a massage. But it’s small. Won’t take long.”
He didn’t even know what I wanted. Or where. Or how big. So how could Lucas know how long this would take? But as I followed him, and Lucas turned on the iPad, I looked down.
And gasped.
No. Freaking. Way.