Chapter Thirteen Violet
Chapter Thirteen
Violet
I’d just said goodbye to Montana and made sure she hurried down the driveway keeping her hoodie over her head, just in case Charlie was watching.
My best friend had made fun of me for sneaking her into my place to make it look like I had a man over.
I knew he was onto me, but I wasn’t going to give it up just yet.
I poured myself a glass of wine and slipped into the bathtub. The hot water was heavenly, and I reached for my phone when it vibrated.
Charles: I see your lover just left.
Me: Stalker.
Charles: Hey, you had me at two-time professional athlete and supermodel. I thought I might be able to get his autograph. Maybe even a selfie.
My head tipped back in laughter. Charlie would never in a million years take a selfie, nor did he strike me as someone who would fanboy over a professional athlete.
Especially one we both knew didn’t exist.
I reached for my wineglass and took a sip before setting it back on the ledge.
Me: He’s a pretty private guy. He was in a hurry to get out of here without getting harassed by nosy neighbors.
Charles: Really? He didn’t seem that worried about it when I pulled his hood off. Montana screamed so loud I’m surprised you didn’t hear her.
Note to self: My best friend was not invited to any future undercover operations.
Me: I didn’t hear anything.
Charles: That’s all you have to say about it, huh?
Me: What would you like me to say, Charles? I was trying to get you to concede.
Charles: Because you want me?
Me: Because you’re an arrogant jackass, and I’d like you to say you want me first.
Charles: I think we both know we’re playing with fire. We already irritate the hell out of one another, and we haven’t crossed any lines other than you climbing me like a tree a few weeks back.
Me: You love to point that out. You’re the one who had to take multiple cold showers just to get the thought out of your head.
Charles: Not denying it, Firefly. But doing it again would be a bad idea.
I chewed on my thumbnail. I was the one who thought it was a bad idea, but I was offended that he thought it was a bad idea.
Me: Hey. You should be so lucky to spend a night with me.
Charles:
Me:
We hadn’t even done the deed, and we were already fighting by way of emoji.
Charles: You are the one who said it was a bad idea in the first place.
Me: So you’re throwing my words in my face?
Charles: Violet.
Me: Charles.
Charles: We fight more than we don’t. Neither of us are looking for anything. Acting on an attraction is a bad idea.
Me: Have you not heard of the Bang It Out theory?
Charles: Is this something one learns in school, Firefly?
Me: It’s something one learns from street smarts, Charles. Keep up, buddy, and you might get lucky.
Charles: I’m on the edge of my seat.
Me: Smartass.
Charles: Explain.
Me: We have one designated night to get the sexual tension out of our system. That kiss really got in my head, and I need to move forward, but I’m stuck.
Charles: Because you’re obsessed with my dick?
Me:
Charles: So we have sex, and it’s a one and done?
Me: I’m certain you’ve done that before.
Charles: You’d be correct. It’s the only way I’ve done it over the last few years. But it’s never been with someone living in my backyard.
Me: Lucky for you, I’m moving out in a few weeks.
Charles: You think it’s that simple?
Me: Oh, Charles. Life can be as simple as you make it. I don’t like you. That’s simple.
Charles: You sure about that? You did get all dressed up and pretend to have a date, because you wanted me to get jealous.
Me: Because I wanted you to admit that you want me.
Charles: I want you. That’s the easy part.
Me: What’s the hard part.
Me: Oops. Pun intended.
Charles: It can’t be weird after. Harper likes you. We have mutual friends.
Me: I like Harper. I like our friends. You’re the one I have a problem with most of the time. So that won’t change. But we’ll be riding the high of the Bang It Out theory and we’ll be done. For the record, I don’t get attached.
Charles: You’ve never been with me, so you don’t know for certain that it will be that easy to walk away.
Me: Please. I have years of daddy issues I’m overcoming. One grumpy contractor with a nice body is not going to undo years of damage.
Charles: You’re fucking funny, Firefly.
Me: Remember that when you’re falling in love with me. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.
Charles: What are you looking for?
Me: A good time, Charles. A one and done. We bang it out and we walk away. Capisce?
Charles: Capisce? Am I now to believe you’re an Italian mobster?
Me: Believe what you want. I’ve got this figured out. What do you say?
Charles: Fine. I’m in.
Me: Very romantic.
Charles: I don’t do romance, Firefly.
Me: Neither do I. We’re on the same page.
Charles: So we’re doing this?
Me: Yes. Tomorrow when Harper is at school. We’ll meet at your place on my lunch break, and we’ll do the deed.
Charles: I’ve never made an appointment for sex.
Me: I’m a wedding planner. We love appointments. Bring your A-game, Charles.
Charles: I always bring my A-game. I’ll be there.
Me: Prepare to be blown away.
Charles: Your foreplay game is weak sauce.
Me: Bite me, Charles.
Charles: Count on it.
“This is crazy, even for you,” Montana said as I packed up my briefcase and grabbed the smoothie Blakely had brought me for lunch.
I’d be skipping our normally scheduled lunch break for a little afternoon delight with Charles.
“Why? We’re on the same page. There’s no confusion. We meet. We do the deed. Hopefully we both enjoy it. And then I never have to fantasize about the man again, because he’ll be out of my system.”
“She makes a good argument,” Blakely said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “Plus, it’s very modern-day ‘I am woman, hear me roar.’ It’s about not being afraid to just ask for what you want and then be done with it.”
“Exactly,” I said, nodding my head, grateful that at least one of them was on board with the plan. I pumped my fist. “Tonight we ride, my friends.”
“Well, it’s lunchtime, so that doesn’t really work,” Montana said with a laugh.
“I’ve got to go. I need to beat him to the house so I’ll have the upper hand,” I said, pulling my purse over my shoulder.
“What are you going to do? Put on some lingerie and lie in his bed?” Montana asked.
I shrugged. “It’s a game-day decision. I need to go scope out the area. I’ve never been in his room. For all I know, his decor could freak me out. You know I scare easy. What if he has photos of himself blown up and hanging on the walls?”
“She’s got a gift for expecting to be let down.” Blakely narrowed her gaze at me before looking at my best friend.
“It’s called self-sabotaging. She’s one of the best I’ve ever seen,” Montana said as she winked at me.
I rolled my eyes before taking a sip of my smoothie. “I’ll keep you posted. Hopefully I’m back in a few hours, and I’ve banged Charles Huxley out of my system. No looking back.”
They were both laughing as I strolled out of the office. Clifford Wellhung was lying across the street at the park, and I saluted him.
I felt like I was ready to take on the world.
It had been a while since I’d had sex. I’d been in a rut. A self-inflicted dry spell, so to speak, and today I was going to let Charlie Huxley blow my mind for one day, and then I’d be back in the game.
My phone vibrated when I pulled in the driveway at his home.
Charles: Are we still doing this? I’m finishing up at the hotel in ten minutes.
Me: I’ll be waiting.
I chuckled as I walked into his home and dropped my purse on the counter. I needed to set the mood. I found the lighter in his kitchen drawer and lit a candle on the counter, then brought one to his bedroom and lit it there as well.
He had an Alexa, which made playing music very easy.
I chose a very romantic station on XM radio and then second-guessed myself, because this wasn’t supposed to be romantic.
This was a one and done, not a date.
Shit.
I found a channel that definitely wasn’t romantic but was still going to get us in the mood.
A little raunchy R&B for the win.
I moved to his closet and pulled out a white button-up. I slipped my dress and heels off and pulled the oversize shirt over my head. I left several buttons open, exposing the red lace of my bra, and climbed onto his bed, positioning myself in the center.
One leg bent.
I propped myself up on my elbow.
I tugged my hair over one shoulder.
Okay, this would work. But first I needed to pee. I ran to the bathroom, snooped around, and couldn’t find any condoms.
My God. What if Charles didn’t keep condoms at the house?
I didn’t carry them.
I dug through his bathroom drawers and came up empty.
Was I sweating now?
I texted the girls in a panic.
Me: He’s not here yet, but I can’t find condoms.
Montana: Where did you look?
Me: Bathroom.
Blakely: Should you check the garage?
Montana: She needs condoms not a snow shovel.
Me: Focus. I can’t Bang It Out with a man I despise and not have a condom. The jig is up. This isn’t going to happen. What was I thinking?
Blakely: Ahhh . . . is this an example of the self-sabotaging?
Montana: Yes, ma’am.
Montana: Try the nightstand.
Me: Oh. Why didn’t I think of that?
Me: Charlie’s room is very tidy. He’s ridiculously clean.
Blakely: And that’s a bad thing?
Me: I’m just saying. The man is uptight. Checking the drawers now.
I set my phone down and pulled open the top drawer.
There was a pair of nail clippers.
ChapStick.
Vaseline.
Hmm . . . what have you been up to, Charlie Huxley?
There were a few books about construction and architecture, and I fumbled around beneath the books and gaped at what my hand found.
I dropped to sit on the bed, holding the freaky contraption in my hand.
What the actual hell was this?
It was some sort of scary-looking baby doll shoved inside a condom.
I picked up my phone and typed as quickly as my fingers would allow.
Me: This is bad.
Montana: Are the condoms a size mini?
Me: Focus, Monny. Charles has a doll shoved inside a condom in his nightstand drawer. Operation Bang It Out is Donezo. He’s a serial killer.
Blakely: Screenshot please.
I took a fast picture, dropped the weird doll back in the drawer, and quickly got dressed, leaving his dress shirt on the bed. I needed to get out of here, pronto.
Montana: This is alarming.
Blakely: Maybe he was wrapping her in a cocoon like a butterfly?
I did not have time to respond. I sprinted through the house, blew out the candles, told Alexa to zip it, and ran toward the back door.
“You’re leaving?” Charlie’s voice called out just as he entered through the front door.
“Sorry!” I shouted. “Wedding emergency. I’ll have to take a rain check.”
I raced toward my car, then zipped down the driveway like I was running from the law.
Because there would be no rain check.
Call it self-sabotage.
Call it whatever you want.
But that condom doll had me running for the hills.