Chapter 15
The second bottle of Pinot sat between them, nearly empty. Sam’s knee bumped hers under the table as she shifted, still watching Taylor at the bar, still grinning like she had every intention of trying to pick her up.
“Are you sure she’s a student?” Sam asked, turning back, her dark eyes sharp even through the wine haze.
“Yes.” Charlotte kept her voice level, but her throat felt tight, like she’d swallowed something too large. “I’m sure. She’s in my class.”
Sam took a slow sip. “I can’t believe you just ruined this for me.”
“Ruined or saved,” Charlotte countered, forcing a wry twist to her mouth that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I could still go and talk to her. Tell her she has an amazing voice.”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened around her glass. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I go over and talk to her? You know, about her voice, her talent.” Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Because I just told you that she’s a student. A psychology student.” Charlotte made herself exhale slowly, evenly, as if she weren’t watching Taylor lean against the bar. “And I know how you are with women. You’re such a flirt.”
Sam’s expression softened, thoughtful. “I’m not sure that I like that about myself or not. That I’m different with men than I am with women.” She paused, her gaze drifting toward Taylor again, then back to Charlotte. “But she’s not my student so…”
Charlotte stared at her. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.”
Sam held her stare for a beat—long enough that Charlotte’s pulse stuttered—before her mouth broke into a grin.
“Of course I’m messing with you. Can you imagine?
Trying to seduce a student?” She laughed, like it was the most absurd thing in the world.
“And thanks for saving my ass because I really did want to go over there and talk to her.”
Charlotte’s breath hitched, but she masked it with a sip of wine.
Can you imagine? Trying to seduce a student?
Charlotte swallowed against the dryness in her throat. She forced a chuckle and smoothed the cuff of her blouse.
“Yes, imagine,” Charlotte said.
Sam picked up her wine glass, spinning the stem between two fingers. “Honestly though, I need to stick to women who have established careers and a 401k. I don’t have the energy for someone that young anymore.”
Charlotte nodded, willing herself to act normal. “That’s probably wise.”
“Probably?” Sam scoffed, taking another sip.
“It’s essential. I’m forty-four, Charlotte.
The gap in life experience is just exhausting.
I went on a date last year with a woman who was twenty-four, and you’d swear that there were twenty years between us, not ten.
You remember being that age? I was a disaster. ”
Charlotte’s eyes strayed over Sam’s shoulder despite the screaming alarm in her head.
Taylor was behind the bar now. She didn’t look like a disaster. She looked grounded, magnetic, entirely at home.
And four months ago, those same hands had cupped Charlotte’s face, fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her down until there wasn’t a breath of space left between them, their bodies tangled together on the couch.
A wave of heat flooded Charlotte’s chest, leaving a cold, sick weight in her stomach. She dragged her eyes back to the table, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Sam was watching her, dark eyebrows pulled together. “You okay? You look pale all of a sudden.”
“Just tired,” Charlotte said. She reached for her glass, pouring what little was left in the bottle into her glass. “It’s been a long week. The start of the term always wrecks my sleep.”
“I know.” Sam checked her watch and groaned. “Speaking of which, I should head out. I’ve got an eight a.m. spinning class, and if I don’t get a goodnight’s sleep, I won’t make it.”
“I can get the tab,” Charlotte offered. Her card was behind the bar, anyway.
Sam raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Yeah? I’ll get the next one then.”
“Sure.”
They said goodnight, and Charlotte watched Sam leave while she sat back down to finish what was left of her wine.