14. lucas
FOURTEEN
lucas
I stood in front of the refrigerator having closed it with a second beer in hand.
So much for wanting to meet at a neutral spot. No dinner. No drinks. No date. And yet, here we were, Charlee now the proud owner of her first ink, which I’d designed like some lovesick puppy after vowing to avoid the woman at all costs.
Not even two beers in.
Telling Charlee exactly what was on my mind.
You’re batting a thousand, Lucas.
What the hell was I even doing here? Coming home after the disaster that had been the end to my military career was supposed to be a fresh start, not a catapult back into a life that I’d escaped from in the first place. Charlee had been a bright spot back then.
Captain of the cheerleaders. Daughter of Kitchi Falls royalty. President of her class.
Sexy as fuck.
And yet Charlee Donovan had chosen me. It had been a good run, and I’d caught feelings for her. Loved her.
I didn’t exactly join the Army to escape the pain of our breakup, one that was as sudden as an IED explosion. No warning whatsoever. I’d been considering enlisting for months, and that had just been the catalyst.
The man I’d become since was one who knew himself, who’d come to terms with the possibility of death. . . who never lost perspective. So, what the hell was I doing here today?
Fucking Charlee. The one temptation I couldn’t resist.
“I thought you got lost in there,” she said, still hesitant after I’d gone ahead and told her exactly what I’d been thinking.
“I thought maybe you’d have run out of here terrified,” I said, sitting back down.
“You don’t scare me, Lucas.”
“No?”
“No,” she said emphatically.
Mmmm. If she could read my thoughts right now, Charlee wouldn’t be so quick to say that. There was a beast within me that hadn’t been there when she knew me last, and Charlee was too innocent, too sweet, to see that side of me.
He threatened not to pay for college.
I wished she hadn’t told me that. Because, like it or not, it changed a lot.
It changed everything.
I did have questions though.
“Even then, you were reluctant to mention your dad. It was only after I cajoled you into it that you brought your dad into the conversation. And now, even still, you defend him. Why?”
It’s what had bothered me most about the breakup, how dependent her decisions were on her parents. The idea was foreign to me for obvious reasons.
“He is my dad.”
“And a controlling motherfucker too.”
She didn’t deny it. “He wants what’s best for me.”
“As long as it aligns with his vision of your life.”
She was getting visibly frustrated. “Why so many questions about my father?”
Charlee was cute when she got worked up like this. I’d forgotten how cute.
“It seems pretty relevant to a discussion about the breakup, don’t you think?”
“Sure.” She took a sip of her rapidly dwindling wine. “But I get the distinct impression you think ten years have passed and I’m still the same girl who would let her father pressure her to break up with someone she—” Charlee stopped short.
Would she say it?
We’d exchanged the words plenty back then. But I’d questioned many times if they were sincere, given the circumstances.
“Loved.”
Our eyes met. So much I could say to that, but none of it would serve to do much besides start an argument.
“You work for him,” I said instead.
“I do. Not sure what that matters? My father happens to own a string of resorts, and I have a degree in business and hotel management. Seems like a logical fit to me.”
“If you say so.”
“Jesus, Lucas. Why are you so maddening? What happened in the last ten years to make you so skeptical?”
“Have a few hours?”
“In fact, I do.”
This woman would be the death of me.
“You really think his concern was purely you not having a serious relationship at that age? That he’s not that guy? Or better yet, you’re not that same girl?”
She hesitated. Probably for good reason. Then, finally, “I wouldn’t let him talk me out of dating someone I. . . loved. Not now. I was a kid back then, and he held a pretty big hammer over my head.”
“So you’d call his bluff?”
She nodded. “I would.”
I didn’t believe her. Which was the reason, the sole reason, I was going to propose something so outlandish. Maybe it was just what I needed to get Charlee Donovan out of my system once and for all. Prove to myself and maybe her, too, that she was as firmly in her father’s pocket as she’d been back then.
“Prove it.”
Charlee’s expression went from cautious to slightly worried.
As she should be.
“What d’you mean?”
Last chance, Warner. You don’t have to propose this. Something told me Charlee just might do it. She’d shown an interest in reconnecting and had never been one to back away from a little adventure.
“Date me. Or at least pretend to. See if it doesn’t take him half a day to throw a hissy fit.”
Charlee downed the rest of her wine, prompting me to laugh despite the fact that I’d just fucked myself royally.
“You want me to. . . pretend date you. Just to see if I get a rise out of my father. Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
Good question. “Clearly there’s something still”—I waved a hand between us—“here. Before we waste any time exploring that, let’s see if the same conditions that tore us apart in the first place aren’t still here.”
Incredulous, Charlee stood. “That’s going a bit too far, Lucas. I wanted to explain myself to you, and in exchange, you mock me. And my family. And propose I put real feelings on the line for your pretend experiment.”
A pissed-off Charlee was one I hadn’t seen often when we were together, but the memory was coming back to me. It took a lot to push her over the edge, but when you did. . . look out.
“Thanks, but no thanks. Appreciate the tattoo.” She put her glass down. “And the wine. Nice reminiscing with you.”
I didn’t try to stop her as Charlee made her way from the back room to the front of the shop. Sighing, I stood, made my way to the door between the rooms, and leaned against the frame. It was probably for the best. That had been a really bad idea anyway.
Just when she got to the door, Charlee stopped. Looked at her phone.
Something was up.
I was certain she’d have stormed through it by now, slamming the door shut behind her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Slowly, she turned around.
Frowned.
Looked, if it were possible, even more pissed off than before.
“I can’t leave.”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t have a car.”
Ahh, that’s right. Dropped off because of the pill she’d taken to calm her new-ink nerves.
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
Charlee shook her head. “I can call Natalie.”
But I was already grabbing my keys. “I didn’t even finish the second beer. I got you.”
If those last three words sounded intimate, there was a good reason. It was something I used to say to her when we were dating.
“You sure?”
Oh man, I wasn’t sure about anything today. “If you can stand riding in a car with me.”
Charlee seemed undecided, as if she might actually change her mind and say, “I guess we’ll find out.” Instead she put her phone back in her purse and waited for me.
I had no idea where Charlee lived these days—still at home, probably—but however close or far it was. . . we were in for a long fucking ride.