Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
C HARLIE
Eighteen days. It’s been eighteen days since Emily moved in and turned my life upside down. I love having her in my space, my home, but being around her every day has been both blissful and tormenting. It’s more challenging each day to push my feelings for the woman aside.
When I’m not at work, we’re together almost constantly. Well, except for when she’s teaching summer school for a few hours each weekday morning. I take advantage of that time she’s away and alternate between working on her birthday gift in my wood shop and remodeling the office area. It’s hard to keep surprises a secret from her, so I had to tell her she can’t see the office project until I’m ready to do a big reveal.
At her request, I swear we’ve walked every inch of the ten-acre property in the last two and a half weeks—she’s enthralled with seeing it all.
Today is one of the more torture-filled days. It’s a searing eighty-five degrees outside and I’m working on the last four-foot section of fence I’m putting up to keep deer and other scavengers out of her garden. I know she wants to make sure she doesn’t infringe on my space while she’s here, so I took it upon myself and suggested she plant a patch to grow her veggies and herbs. I knew it was something she would love.
“Ooh, look at this dill,” she coos. “And the basil.” She leans down and smells the plants in the herb portion of the dirt. “It’s going to be so delicious when I cook with these. There’s nothing like fresh herbs to liven up a meal.”
I glance at her and the plants she’s standing near. To just look at them, I don’t know what they are, but they make her happy, so I’m glad they’re there. “They look great. And I can’t imagine your cooking getting any better. I swear I’ve put on five pounds since you’ve been living here and making meals.”
I sense her eyes on me and look over in time to see her leisurely scan my body, from my thighs to my torso and arms, before her gaze moves up to my face and meets my eyes. Almost immediately, a scarlet flush fills her cheeks, and she quickly looks away.
“There’s not an extra pound on you,” she says, as she bends to pull a weed and tosses it in the five-gallon bucket she carries around with her when she’s weeding.
I can tell she’s embarrassed that I caught her checking me out, but she has no idea how hard she’s made it on me sauntering around here in shorts and tank tops most of the time. Today, she’s killing me with old cut-off jean shorts, a black fitted tank top, and her ankle high rubber gardening boots with daisies on them. Her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and she looks downright stunning.
“I forgot to tell you, I got up before you today and went and checked out the sunflower patch. The flower buds are forming.” The joy in her voice is endearing and I feel a warm sensation in my chest. “Thanks for letting me do things in the yard. I know it’s probably annoying to have me planting stuff in your space.”
I pause what I’m doing and look over at her as she pulls more weeds. “Hey. Look at me, please.” She stops what she’s doing and lifts her head up to do as I asked. I focus my eyes on her sparkling ocean-blue ones. “I don’t mind at all. It thrills me to see you enjoying the property. Okay?”
A sweet smile teases at the corner of her lips, and she nods, then gets back to her work.
I look down and smile as I keep working on securing the latch for the gate. A few minutes later, I’m done, and I glance over at her to tell her.
Fuck me.
She’s now on her hands and knees working on clearing an area with particularly heavy dandelion growth. Her shorts have ridden higher on her thighs, though she’s still covered, and her tank top is exposing a stretch of skin over the small of her back. I swear it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I’ve got to get away from here or I’m gonna lose it.
“Um, hey, I’m just gonna go split some of that wood from the fallen tree. Okay?” Jesus, my voice sounds rough. She’s slowly killing me.
When Emily looks up at me, she’s got a streak of dirt on her forehead and a beaming smile spread across her face. “Sure. I’m just gonna keep plugging away in here.”
I spend the next forty-five minutes with the scorching sun beating against my back while heaving thick logs of wood onto an old stump and swinging the heavy steel axe over my head to sever the wood into pieces. I’d be lying if I said I’m not also attempting to release some of my sexual frustration. My arms ache from what amounts to a long arm workout, yet I can’t stop. I need this distraction. Yeah, this is way more difficult than I thought it would be—resisting Emily, not splitting the wood. The wood is the simple part.
Yet, I don’t want her to leave. I’ve accompanied her to see several houses she’s wanted to look at, and though she hasn’t been very interested in any of them, I’ve found—and pointed out—some flaw with each of them. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my subconscious trying to sabotage her efforts at house hunting.
My focus homes in on breaking apart the stubborn piece of wood, intent on conquering it. With a grunt, I use all my force as I lift the axe over my shoulder and slam the blade into the hard piece of oak. I’m rewarded when a loud crack from the wood splintering fills the air, followed by the thump as the pieces fall off the stump and tumble to the ground.
Emily startles me when she speaks. “Wow. I think I could sell tickets to that show.” She’s teasing, but there’s a faint quiver to her voice that I’m not sure everyone would pick up on.
An awkward chuckle escapes me. “We’d have to go fifty-fifty on the profits.”
“Deal.” She grins. “I’m gonna run in and grab a shower. I just wanted you to know where I disappeared to.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in there soon.”
I don’t even try to stop myself from watching her as she walks away. So, when she squeals and hops a few steps, I see it all play out. She tosses a glance over her shoulder to check if I saw her dance, and when she sees me looking, she chuckles. “Sorry, I thought that stick was a snake,” she calls over her shoulder before she continues on to the house.
And as I bend down to stack the split wood, I can’t help but smile at the joy and sunshine Emily brings to my life.
* * *
EMILY
When I step into the house, shut the front door and lean against it, I close my eyes and allow the cool air caressing my skin to soothe all the hot places on my body. Well, most of them, anyway. There’s only one thing that can truly calm the burning desire for Charlie that’s been growing inside me for a while now—exponentially so since I moved in with him.
And, Christ, today, watching him all lumberjack-like as he split that wood. Oh. My. God. There’s absolutely no way I’m going to avoid touching myself in the shower with that image fresh in my head.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve felt a man’s touch on the most intimate parts of my body. So, to say I’m horny is a bit of an understatement.
Truthfully, though, if it were just that, I could maybe plead my case to Charlie that I needed him to help me relieve this… pressure. Friends do that for each other sometimes, right? But I know even if I could convince him, that’s not enough for me and it’s not in my best interest to lie to myself. Even if I want to.
I walk up to my room and undress down to my panties, then sit on the side of my bed. Several years of memories assault my mind, reminding me why I can’t beg Charlie to do a girl a favor. Because no matter what I tell myself, over the years my confusing feelings about Charlie Fitzgerald were just that— my confusing feelings—he knew exactly what I was to him; just a friend. And I’d accepted it.
But then that kiss in April happened— the one I told him we didn’t have to talk about—and I can’t get it out of my mind.
A single tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe it away with the back of my hand.
I swear there have been glimpses that we could be more. But he’s had so many opportunities to make his wishes known if he desires more than friendship. And he hasn’t.
One thing is clear to me. The rekindling of our friendship this year may have reignited my crush on Charlie, but the last month or two, it’s grown well beyond that. I think I may have fallen in love with him.
And he’s made it abundantly clear—several times over the years—that those kinds of feelings are one-sided.
Resigned that I’ll have to provide my own relief, I slip off my panties and walk into the bathroom. I grab the fresh bottle of shampoo that just got delivered off the vanity and am about to step into the shower when I realize I forgot to pick up body wash after summer school this morning. And there’s no way I’m using this expensive ass shampoo to wash my body.
Damn it. I can’t go without body wash or a bar of soap. I’m pretty sure I smell from all the sweating I did today, and I’ll die if I have B.O. when Charlie and I watch a movie later.
Desperate, an idea strikes me. I slide on my cotton summer robe and hurry into the hallway, my shampoo still in my hand. When I peek over the railing and don’t see Charlie in the house yet to ask if I can borrow his body wash, I figure he won’t care and head toward his bedroom to grab it.
As I step into his room, it smells like him. In true creeper form, I stop, close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. I love the way Charlie smells, fresh and clean, yet manly—like the smell when you walk through the woods after a strong summer storm has blown through all the pine and cedar branches, with just a hint of leather. Pure man.
His bed is off to the side, and when I look at it, the ache in my center grows more intense. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and step around the corner to his bathroom. And I freeze in my tracks.
My heart skips a beat as I slowly look around the room and my eyes drink in the luxury bathroom surrounding me. Immediately in front of me is a gorgeous floating double vanity, made from stunning black quartz, with a large mirror hanging over it. I walk over to it and take in how gorgeous it is. Setting my shampoo on the vanity, I continue to look around. To the right of that is the most beautiful shower I could ever imagine. It’s exactly the shower I described to Charlie when he asked me to tell him about my dream house months ago. Two rainfall shower heads—one on each side like I envisioned. It’s even better because it has a built-in bench that a woman could use to prop her leg on when she needs to shave or wanted it propped for… other reasons. And the tub. I walk over to it and touch it, running my hand along its smooth, cool edge. It’s a huge, breathtaking, hammered copper two-person soaking tub.
What does this all mean?
“Emily.” Charlie’s voice is low, gravelly.
I slowly turn to face him. We stare at each other for several long seconds.
“I ran out of bodywash, so I came to borrow yours,” I whisper, in explanation.
He simply nods and I take a step toward him.
“This is the bathroom I described to you from my dream house.”
“It is.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
I move another foot in his direction. His smoldering hazel eyes watching me, searing me.
“What does it mean, Char?—”
“It doesn’t matter what it means.” Frustration radiates through his voice. He breaks eye contact with me and pads over to the vanity, resting both of his palms against the counter and leaning forward, his head dropping.
“It matters to me. Tell me,” I say from behind him. It’s a plea.
His shoulders rise with each breath.
When he doesn’t answer after several long seconds, I try again. “Tell me.” Now it’s a command.
He spins around to face me, stepping closer so quickly that I gasp.
“What do you want me to say, Emily?” There’s an edge to his voice I’m not used to hearing. He pierces me with his eyes and moves nearer still.
“The truth.” It’s a challenge. My chin tilts up, daring him to be honest.
He closes the distance between us but doesn’t stop until he’s backed me up against the wall, caging me in with a hand on each side of me. His pupils dilate, a hunger in his eyes. And I can’t deny the throbbing sensation his nearness, his gaze creates in my core.
“The truth? You want the truth?” His voice is rough, angry almost.
“Always,” I whisper.
“You want to know that I remodeled this for you? Because it’s what you want. That everything I’ve done since the day I bought this place, I’ve done picturing you here. The kitchen? I designed that for you. The sunflowers you planted this year outside the kitchen window? I do that every year because they remind me of you.”
I gasp, desperately searching his eyes, trying to find something there that will make this make sense.
“But why? Tell me why, please.” My voice is breathy.
“Isn’t it obvious, Em?” He rests his forehead against mine.
“No. I don’t understand, Charlie. Y-you didn’t want me. You don’t want me.” The trembling in my voice betrays my insecurity.
Charlie moves his mouth to kiss my temple, then quietly says near my ear. “I have always wanted you. Since the day I met you and every. Fucking. Day. Since.” He pulls back several inches and my body inwardly protests the distance. “I just can’t have you.”
What?
“Yes, you can.”
“No, sunshine, I can’t. You’re my best friend’s sister and… and I’m not what you need.” His voice sounds sad, resigned.
I push against his chest with my hands as anger rises in me.
Glaring at him, I say, “You don’t get to decide what I need. Or what I want. Only I get to decide that.”
“No.”
“No?” I ask, incredulous.
He shakes his head but never takes his eyes off my face—alternating glances between my eyes and my mouth. “Even if you weren’t Trina’s sister, I come from a fucked-up family, Emily. And I refuse to subject you to the kind of life a relationship with me would end up giving you.”
“Charlie, you’re not making any sense. You’re a good man.”
“I said no.”
Fuck this.
I slide my hands down from his chest to his waistband and grip it, using it to pull him closer to me.
“I decide. Me. And I want you, Charlie. I need you.”
A growl emanates from him. “Don’t keep tempting me. You have no idea how much control I’ve had to develop over the years to not pursue you, to not let myself have you.”
Fuck, his words. I whimper. “You can have me.”
“You don’t understand. Once I unleash this control, there’s no going back for me. I won’t be able to stop.”
I decide enough is enough and I reach between us and untie my robe, letting it fall open. Actions speak louder than words, and all that. Hands shaking ever so slightly, I reach up to my shoulders and push the material down until it slips off of me, pooling at my feet.
Charlie drops his gaze from my face and slowly peruses my body, his eyes widening when he gets to my center. He fixes his heated gaze there.
His voice is low and gravelly when he says, “Your pussy is bare.” Then flits his eyes up to mine. “Who’s that for?”
“You. I started doing it last month thinking of you.”
And his restraint breaks as his mouth crashes into mine.