Chapter 6
Liam
Learn to Fly – Foo Fighters
When our fingers brushed, the contact lingered, heat that I wasn’t expecting or ready for.
“You know,” I muttered, already dialing the first lawyer on her list, “most people would have just sent a message with these numbers.”
“Most people aren’t dealing with human remains and a potential site shut down.” She crossed her arms, pink rain boots planted firmly in the mud. “Besides, you're not really known for answering my calls or messages.”
Damn. She had me there.
“Fair point.” I hesitated as the number started to ring out. “This is helpful, though, Charity. Thanks.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m good at my job.” There was a spark in her eyes—a confidence that made it hard to look away.
The lawyer answered, but I found myself distracted watching Charity move around the site.
Somehow she stayed out of the way of the forensic team while getting information from my crew.
By the time I hung up, she’d already spoken to James about dealing with any media enquiries and was jotting notes in a small notebook she’d produced from her purse.
“The lawyer will be here in a couple of hours,” I told her. “But what are you still doing here?”
She looked up from her notebook and flashed me a smile. “Making sure you don’t get blindsided by anything else. And when did you last eat?”
“I’m not—”
“That wasn’t actually a question.” She was already on her phone. “Hi, this is Charity Dawson. I need a lunch order delivered to the hotel construction site on Route 9… yes, the one with all the squad cars.”
I stared at her as she gave the order quickly and efficiently, ending with her usual professional politeness. Unfamiliar warmth kindled in the pit of my stomach. When was the last time someone had just … taken care of details like this?
“You didn’t need to—”
“Liam.” She stepped closer, and I caught her scent. Light and floral, with a hint of sweet, it cut through the smell of mud, brick and cut wood that lingered on a development site. “You agreed to host a dinner for the entire business cooperative. That makes you my responsibility now.”
“Your responsibility?”
“Well, my professional interest.” A smile played on her lips. “I can’t have my host collapsing from exhaustion or starvation before the event.”
The way she said ‘my host’ made my stomach flip like it hadn’t in a long time.
I gave her a rueful smile. “I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I am grateful, Charity. I’m just a little stressed by all of this.” She looked up at me through sooty lashes, her blue eyes, the color of cornflowers. Something about them was familiar, although I had no idea how.
“I can imagine.” Nodding, she licked her lips before swallowing. “I’ll leave you to carry on with your day. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. Doesn’t have to be cooperative business.”
When the rise and fall of her chest paused, I sensed she was considering saying something, but when she turned it was obvious she’d changed her mind. I had no idea what made me do it. Maybe it was lack of sleep or the stress getting to me.
“Charity.”
She stopped and did a perfect turn on the rubber soles of her rain boots. No wonder she strutted in high heels like she was born wearing them. “Yeah?”
“I know you’re going to be organizing Tally’s wedding, right?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Can you let me have the bill for the wine and champagne, when the time comes?” I scuffed my boot at a jagged piece of broken brick as a lump formed in my throat.
“I kind of owe her.” One huge bouquet wouldn’t make up for missing her engagement-slash-housewarming party.
My sister deserved the beautiful happiness she was experiencing, and my relationship with her was one of the few I hadn’t managed to screw up—yet.
“Sure.” A small smile ghosted her red lips. “If Gunner and Cassidy’s wedding was anything to go by, then you do realize it’s probably going to be a free bar with half of Silver Peaks plus the ranch and horse training community will be there?”
I winced, fully aware. “She’s worth it.”
Those cornflower blues softened. “I’ll make sure to buy the best of everything,” she said with a smirk.
“I bet you will.” I flipped my cap off and ran a hand through my hair. “And thanks for not making me grovel for your help. I’m not great at it.”
“I kind of got that.” She gave me a bright smile. “But Liam, next time someone offers up help don’t be so dismissive of it.”
I watched her navigate the ground. Mud sucked at her boots as she walked away, steady, certain, with perfect balance like she knew exactly where she was going. Her wanting to help made my shoulders feel lighter. Maybe it was time to stop pushing everyone away.
Maybe it was time to let Charity Dawson surprise me. God help me, she already was.
Kicking my feet up on the sofa, I rested back and groaned.
It had been one long-ass day. The cops had shut down the site, which meant more delays for a contract I was already behind on.
I’d left a message for the hotel owner, but he hadn’t gotten back to me, so that was a difficult conversation still to have.
Tiredness seeped through my bones as I slowly let my body relax. What I really needed to do, though, was eat and think about what I did for the next few days while my site was closed. Paperwork was one thing but the other that kept buzzing around my head was the dinner.
Maybe this was my opportunity to pay back some of Charity’s kindness from today. I should use my unexpected free time to help her, right?
There were two issues I had with that; one I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less and two, I couldn’t get her out of my head.
If anyone should have shown up today, it should have been Pru. After all, she was head of the cooperative. Apparently, in title only. A few buddies had mentioned before that if anyone ever needed help of any kind, she was the last person to give it. Today she proved that was very much the case.
Instead, it seemed Charity Dawson was the one people generally called on. I got that organization was her wheelhouse, but it wasn’t her job to step up for everyone. Was it?
I shook my head at myself, my thoughts taking on a life of their own as I dissected the day.
No, it definitely wasn’t her job.
But, and it was a gigantic kick-in-the-ass but, I’d allowed her to do the same for me today.
That list she’d given to me…invaluable. Sure, I knew every member of the cooperative, that’s what small towns were like.
And sure, I would have got there in the end, but she took that weight, the stress, the total ball ache of a logistical headache, and she made it evaporate with a list of names on a piece of paper.
I reached for the TV remote and flicked through a few channels, but there was nothing interesting enough to engage. Not even the sports channel cleared my head, so I switched it off.
“Fuck,” I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I don’t need this shit.”
But what exactly was the shit I didn’t need?
The dead body?
That I owed Charity?
Or the fact that she had taken up residence in my head?
Whichever it was, at least I had some time on my hands to consider how I made it less shit.