26. lucas
TWENTY-SIX
lucas
When I last texted Charlee, I got a “busy at the moment” and then a little bit later, when I asked about tonight, a “not sure.”
Now I was in the very unusual position of wanting to text her again but also not wanting to chase a woman who didn’t want to be chased. Clearly Charlee was busy, and I definitely had my hands filled with the soft opening this week. Three tattoos today plus an interview that Owen Smith had set up. So instead of staring at my phone to see if she texted back—a fucking awkward state of affairs—I closed up shop and headed down the street to KC’s Taphouse.
On my way, I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d be doing if I was still deployed. Looking at the time, unless we were outside the wire for some reason, it would be card night. I stopped just in front of the bar and texted Nate.
Winning?
It only took him a few seconds to respond.
Unfortunately not. How’s it going in Kitchi Falls?
That was a loaded question.
I’ll send a voice text to catch you up. All OK over there?
If by OK you mean hotter than hell with shit for food, then yeah. All is well.
I smiled, almost able to feel the stickiness that was our austere base—using the term loosely—this time of year.
I’ll have a beer for you.
I told him, able to see Nate’s expression through the phone as if he were right next to me.
Fuck you
I pressed the laugh response and put my phone back in my pocket, knowing better than to push my luck. Opening the front door of the bar, I was surprised to find it busier than I’d expect for a Tuesday night. One whiff of the place, though, and I figured out why. Sitting at the bar, catching Owen’s eye, I waved.
“Taco night,” I said when he came over to me. “Brilliant.”
“Who can resist tacos?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Shaking it, I replied, “No one I know.”
“One order of the special?”
“What’s the special?”
“Mixed. Two soft chicken and two hard-shell ground beef.”
“Add a beer, and I’m golden.”
Owen was already pouring it before I finished my sentence. Some things about small-town living weren’t so bad. “Done.” Owen slid the beer across the bar to me.
“I wanted to thank you for sending that reporter,” I said, taking a sip of beer.
“No problem. Least I could do for a new, old friend.”
As he took care of other customers, I found myself checking my phone. Again. Nothing.
“Here you go,” Owen said not long after. “Taco night special.”
I reached for the basket.
“What did you miss most when you were deployed?” he asked. “Food wise. I’m trying to imagine going without tacos for an extended period of time.”
“Steak,” I said. “Definitely.”
“The last deployment was Africa, right? How long were you there?”
“Almost a year,” I said, taking my first bite. “Mmmm, these are great.”
“Thanks.” Owen whistled. “No steak for a year. That’s rough.”
Not the roughest part, either, but we wouldn’t go there.
“Yeah. Some food made its way to us, but we’re over there fighting a war. Just give us a damn steak,” I said with another bite.
Owen laughed, glancing down at my phone as it lit up.
No need to look at it. I wasn’t going to rush to pick the damn thing up just because it might be Charlee. After some of the shit I’d been through these past ten years, certainly I could survive one five-foot-three-inch woman.
Except, I looked. It was her.
Can we talk?
Maybe it was just me, but that sounded ominous. Whatever. We weren’t in an actual relationship. She’d broken up with me. Still worked for her father. Would probably break things off again. Most importantly, probably did deserve someone more than a veteran who had been discharged from the Army with an alcoholic father, no mother to speak of, and a tattoo studio less than a week old.
Sure
In person?
I’m at KC’s
I’ll be over
OK
The fact that my heart was now racing told me more than I cared to know about the state of affairs between my ex and me. When I thought of last night, how she hadn’t flinched at my rough play. . . What else would she be okay with?
First things first. We did need to talk. Which was why, when she walked in a half hour later looking sexy as hell and searching the bar for me, I knew what I wanted to say.
“Hey there,” she said, sliding onto the bar seat next to me.
I wanted to pull her on my lap. But couldn’t.
“Hey,” I said back. “Eat yet? The special is enough for two.”
The way she looked at the tacos was my answer.
“Go ahead.”
“Hey, Charlee, what can I get you? Usual?”
“So much for a few dry days,” she said laughing. “Sure.”
I loved her laugh.
“Don’t get me wrong, you look hotter than hell,” I said, which was the truth. “But also like you had a long day.”
When she finished chewing, Charlee sat back and looked at me in a way that, frankly, terrified me. Since I’d come back, there was a warmth to her eyes that I’d begun to count on. But it was missing tonight.
“You could say that.”
“Charlee,” I started to say, thinking of this morning when I dropped her off.
“I can’t do it.”
Of course, I knew immediately what she meant. She was done with me. “It was a dumb idea,” I rushed to tell her. “A way to protect myself.”
How was that for honesty? She seemed to appreciate it, which may have made it worth the price. Namely, the possibility of this woman having the distinct pleasure of being the only one to break my heart, twice, as I laid it all on the line.
“Can’t say I expected that,” she said.
“It’s the truth. I agree, it was not a great plan. When I actually saw your father this morning, I thought that’s what I wanted. A test, of sorts, to see what you would do when he tries to pull us apart again.”
“Tries? You seem pretty sure that’s what’ll happen.”
I didn’t want to start something, so I just shrugged and grabbed a taco from the platter.
“You’re not entirely wrong.”
My head snapped up.
“He wasn’t pleased.”
I didn’t want to gloat. But since Charlee rolled her eyes so hard, I may have made a face that was slightly. . . gloat-y.
“I just think—”
“Stop there,” I said. “No excuses for him. I’m sorry, but I call bullshit on anything other than he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
Charlee’s mouth flattened. She wanted to refute me. To come back at me. She was Daddy’s little girl, always got what she wanted, and wasn’t used to being called out. Watching her struggle with the desire to lash out or admit I was right was actually amusing.
“Moving on,” I said.
Charlee grabbed her drink with enough force to make me laugh. Apparently, she didn’t disagree too hard because she mumbled something that sounded like, “Fine. Moving on.”
“I was wrong to propose what I did and want to start over. If you’re willing.”
That softened her. A bit.
“Move on as in?”
“As in real dating. Exploring this.” I waved an arm between us. “Seeing where it takes us.”
Her chest rose and fell. I watched it. Watched her breathing. Thinking.
Say yes, Charlee.
I must be nuts. Doing the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t, returning home to Kitchi Falls. But love makes you do crazy things. And I’d been in love with Charlee since high school. I couldn’t say that out loud, not yet. Not knowing where we stood. But I could make her understand a little bit at least.
“I didn’t want to,” I said. “But there were so many times, despite how we broke up, that I would catch myself thinking of you. At one point I wondered. . . how long had I been thinking of you exactly? Turns out, since we met. I never stopped.”
Her hand froze. Charlee put her drink back down.
“Lucas. . .”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say anything. I have no idea where we go from here, but I do know ours is a fragile thing, this bond we’re reforming.”
“Agreed,” she said. “So what do you propose?”
“This week is nuts with the soft opening. How about a date on Friday night? A real date, no deals or anything but two people getting reacquainted.”
“Uh, kind of like we are now?”
I smiled. “Kind of. But I want you to dress up. And bring an overnight bag. I have an idea.”
“I do also like draft beer and tacos,” she said.
“I know.” That was something I admired about her. Despite how Charlee was raised, she really had no airs about her. Liked getting her way? Sure. But most people did. But Charlee Donovan was no snob. Regardless, I wanted to make Friday special.
“So Friday night,” she said, as much to herself as me.
“Friday night. I’ll pick you up at your place, seven o’clock.”
Now, just to get through the rest of the week.