Chapter 17
“T RAPPED?” C HRIS ASKED, echoing her reply.
Carrah wrapped her arms tighter around her waist. She felt like Samson between those two pillars. She, too, wanted them to crumble because then she might be free to escape a marriage being forced upon her and loyalty to Noir. She couldn’t explain any of it to Chris for fear that he might pity her or, worse, express ridicule that she didn’t deserve.
When he turned to walk away she cleared her throat and finally said, “One of the reasons I came to you despite our families’ history was because I admire you.” She turned to face him. “You broke free… followed your dreams instead of caving into what they demanded of you. Do they still expect something from you? Something you don’t want to give?”
His hands slid into his pockets as a distant expression shadowed his face. “My father expects that one day I’ll give up my passion for law to run Chennault Cosmetics.”
“But why—why do they want us to accept unreasonable burdens for the preservation of their legacy?” Her posture strengthened. “I want the chance to define my own.”
“What else do you want?” His head cocked to the side as she watched him watch her.
She turned away, afraid he could see all of her fantasies. “To know you,” she said a little above a whisper. “We’ve spent our whole lives knowing each other but not really. I don’t want us to be pseudo-strangers anymore.”
“Then”—he straightened into his full height as his eyes locked to hers—“tell me something I don’t know about you. It can be trivial or serious, good or bad.”
For a second, Carrah regretted that she’d allowed the words tap-dancing around in her head to slip from her tongue. Charge it to their proximity or his sincerity to help. Never mind the handsome face that abetted in the conjuring of those thoughts. She wouldn’t dare mention how the heady scents of cedarwood, lush vanilla, and something else, which was noble and intoxicating, yet mysterious, clung to him, demanding she know more. More than what she had been allowed her entire life.
Only, she hadn’t bargained on him also being inquisitive, considering the uptight attitude he possessed when they sat to discuss everything. At the least, she had to be sure it was a fair exchange. She never put all of her cards on the table.
“Will you do the same?” He nodded, and anxiety bloomed to life as she searched herself for what to share. It couldn’t be too deep or too shallow. Nothing that would make him regret helping her. “I’m a terrible cook.”
“I don’t believe you,” he replied, straight-faced, scanning her as though he was still searching for the truth. “ Et le gumbo? ” His brow arched, and she giggled while shaking her head no. “Jambalaya?” he asked, accent thicker than normal and she replied the same. “Fried chicken or collard greens?”
Carrah managed to raise her hand as though she were taking an oath despite her uncontrollable laughter. The scowl upon his face had her in tears although it more than demonstrated his disappointment. “I can boil water,” she finally got out, “sometimes fry an egg. At times bacon in the air fryer; that’s it. I would’ve burned those burgers tonight if I’d been cooking.”
“Glad you set the table.” Chris scratched his head while shaking off a laugh. “What about that old saying you Southern women have about the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? How do you plan to catch your husband?”
“Maybe I don’t want a husband,” she snapped.
The jocular spirit dissipated between them and she immediately wished she had better words. It wasn’t his fault her ideals of wedded bliss had been tainted. Chris had said he was a one-woman man earlier. Perhaps he was.
However, she knew Gavin was not and there was an old adage that spoke of birds flocking together because of a feather. At least a woman knew what she was getting with Gavin. He offered no promises, hearts, roses, or weddings. On the other hand, Trent had been a wolf in sheep’s clothing that strayed between multiple women’s legs.
Her entire body stiffened at the disgusting thought before her gaze returned beyond the window. Nothing was there except for the dark. It was better than allowing Chris to see the humiliation and insecurity another man had caused.
“You don’t believe in marriage?”
Carrah turned her head slightly to him while considering his question. It was earnest and relevant, given the way she had callously responded. Still, it was more than she wanted him to know. “Your turn, Chennault. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
He arched a brow at her and then moved to the couch while gesturing for her to take the seat across in the swivel chair. “Trivial or serious?”
“Serious.” She lowered down into the chair and sat on the edge.
Chris perched up on the sofa then leaned forward until his elbows hit his knees, and he stared her in the face. “I don’t like my questions to be ignored.”
Carrah swallowed hard as her line of sight fell to the ground. She failed to calculate how getting to know Chris would expose so much more of her. “Maybe one day I’ll get married. My parents have shown me a marriage that is kind, enduring, and full of love. Unfortunately, that has not been my experience and I deserve and want the same.”
“Ditto,” he said as she lifted her head and met his gaze. “Why was that so hard to say the first time?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a topic that has been very personal for me lately.” Her thumbs began to fidget and she glanced down at them, praying he wouldn’t ask any more questions that would make her think about the way her family had disregarded her happiness and auctioned her off in exchange for Noir.
“If I ever present a question that you are not ready to talk about, tell me. Don’t brush me off. Especially if what I’m asking pertains to the business between us. I hope my request is not too much.”
“It’s not,” she admitted. “Although, you are sort of—” She covered her mouth and looked off for a few seconds. “You’re very, uh… assertive.”
“Sure that’s the word you want to use.” A sardonic smile curved his lips as he eased back into the couch.
How had she missed this side of him? The Chris she usually got was quiet, serious, and dismissive of her. The one across from where she sat was unlike anything she’d encountered. The bad blood between their families had totally clouded her perception.
All these years, and by God, Chris Chennault was hotter than hell. Now was the time she had to keep her wits about her. Too much was at stake.
Chris assessed how Carrah turned away to cover the flush staining her cheeks. He honestly had not meant to taunt her in a way that might induce reservations on becoming his client or being here with him. He knew he had a reputation of being imperious. However, in this moment that was not how he wanted her to feel about him.
A level of comfort needed to exist between them given their already complicated dynamic… and he wanted to know her in the same way she wanted to know him.
He cleared his throat, garnering her attention. “How about something trivial now?”
“You first.” She winked.
“Fair.” He surfed his mind for things she wouldn’t know unless she had spent time with him. A smile stretched across his face and he said, “I’m a sci-fi junkie. I love Tron , Star Wars , Dune , Stargate … I could go on.”
“Seriously,” she shouted, shooting up from her chair with full cheeks and giggles. “What’s your favorite episode of Star Wars ? No! Wait… wait, don’t answer. Let me guess.”
He chuckled, seeing Carrah so animated. He much preferred this version to the one standing at the window. “Okay, so you’re noble. At times arrogant, a little mysterious, and definitely dominant.” She side-eyed him pacing the small living room area allowing her full thought process to be on display.
“You have no idea.” His reply stopped her. She examined him until he dismissed her silent inquisition and apologized for the interruption. Just as she hid things behind her veil, so did he. Therefore, he signaled for her to continue as he leaned farther back into the sofa.
“Add ego to the list,” she huffed. “You’re also still conflicted about helping me because of our history. Yet you deem it right.” She stopped again, facing him this time with hands on her hips. “Episode three, Revenge of the Sith ?”
“‘I do not fear the dark side.’”
A little tremble rolled over Carrah’s body, hearing the malevolent edge he’d laced his words with. “You’re such a Vader.” She cleared her throat then broke the connection. “And… for the record it’s my favorite episode, too!”
“You surprise me, Ms. Andrews.” He grinned from ear to ear. “Do tell why.”
She rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him on the sofa. His muscles tensed and he readjusted his legs to keep from brushing against hers. He fought his base nature and managed to steer his attention away from those pretty brown thighs at his side. “You’re going to think it’s super girly.”
His lips pressed together and for once he found himself debating fight or flight. The tightness in his chest finally gave way to an exhale and he crossed his legs, perched his chin in his palm, and attempted to give her his undivided attention. “Try me.”
“He… Anakin, was desperate to keep the love he’d found with Padmé. His soul was in limbo the entire episode because he thought the path he was on would remove his pain and fear of loss. Of course it did the opposite, but even after she learned what he’d done, she still loved him. So much so that on her deathbed she stated that Anakin still had good inside of him. It was a love story without a happily ever after.”
“Mmmm… yeah, that’s a bit girly, considering we watched him kill younglings and choke his wife out.” He chuckled as he raised his hand to stop the pillow in her hand from smacking him in the face. “Were you going to hit me?” She gave a mischievous nod and he couldn’t help smiling while removing the pillow from her hand. He casually tossed it to an empty chair and focused back on her.
“Anyhow, there is truth in what you said. Had you not tried to accost me, I might have finished.” He suppressed his laughter as she cackled out loud and signaled for him to finish. “Ultimately it was the path he chose. Albeit tragic, he stayed on it, owned it, and in the end redeemed himself. Not many people will take responsibility for the lows along the road.”
Carrah nodded in agreement before they dove into dissecting episodes and character flaws a little while longer. Once her nerdiness took over, she revealed that she was a fantasy buff who was a sucker for fairy lore. She also admitted to being a Stargate fan, citing time travel as a staple within the fantastical worlds she loved.
Her admission led to a debate on the ethics of time travel, which was the basis of the Stargate series. Do or don’t? Indulge or influence, either had the potential to reshape the future. There ended up being far too many scenarios to consider.
However, the one that challenged Chris’s views of not altering time was their rivalry. What if there had never been one? Could a leap back in the past correct what went wrong or change nothing at all? It was not the first time he wondered what growing up as friends would’ve been like. Tonight was just the only time he ever regretted that they were not given the chance.
Perhaps his thoughts were shared by Carrah. He pondered the possibility when she grew quiet and sat staring at him. She had already made a compelling argument for wishing to shift time to take advantage of medical and scientific discoveries. Maybe she would consider righting wrongs.
A little voice told him no. Her intrinsic disposition was rooted in her belief of fate. In Carrah’s mind, even if the past was changed, the future outcome would be the same—so maybe not. Regardless, the depth of their conversation gave him chills, much like her manuscript had when he read about lost souls finding one another.
At once their phones came to life severing the reflective pause in their debate. Carrah unfolded from the couch and retrieved her phone from the table while Chris pulled the vibrating device from his pocket. It was Duncan in the guys’ chat checking to see what everyone was up to because he didn’t want to watch a cheesy romance with Reese.
“OMG!” His attention flung to Carrah standing in the kitchen looking down at her phone. “Dunc better get it together. They are playing catch-up. He has to indulge my girl.”
He saw her thumbs working at the keyboard of her device.
“Not everyone wants to be held hostage by a sappy romance.”
Carrah lowered her phone. “There’s nothing sappy about Dirty Dancing . It’s a classic.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “Did Dunc text you that?”
“Don’t matter.” Chris slid his phone back into his pocket. “It’s not a movie a man is eager to watch.”
Carrah moved back to the sitting area. She folded her arms and stared at him as though she were contemplating next steps. “Have you ever seen it?”
He shook his head no and then he peeked down to his wrist to check the time. Before he could tell her it was late and she should be heading home, the television turned on. She stood with the remote in hand typing DIR into the search box.
“What are you doing?” Chris questioned. He abandoned his seat and got close enough to try swiping the remote from her. She giggled, snatched away, and then aimed the remote back at the television. On his second attempt he grabbed it from her dainty hands. “I’m not watching that tonight. Besides, it’s late. I should probably follow you back into town to make sure you get there safe. These back roads can be tricky late at night.”
She waved her hand in the air, turning away from him, and went to reclaim her seat on the sofa. “I’m not leaving until you watch. The least you can do is honor bro code and make sure Dunc has a guy to exchange commentary with. We both know Reese; he’s going to end up watching.” She crossed her legs, patting the cushion where he had been seated.
“You’re serious?” He kept it simple for there were far too many thoughts crossing his mind, and this was the easiest to articulate.
“As a damn heart attack.” She doubled down and leaned back into the cushion folding her arms.
Chris interlocked his hands behind his head and released a long sigh. The astute side of him demanded he adhere to the lines drawn in the sand, forget the contract, ignore the slivers of camaraderie that threatened betrayal, and get her back to town. On the contrary, he had never been a man to disregard his curiosities, and Carrah Andrews had seemingly become one.
Her visit to his office, reading the manuscript, the night of the ball, and now this evening carved a path opposite of the one they had been given from birth. He was compelled to explore it. And though he would never admit it, he liked her company.
Without another thought he unlaced his shoes, slid them off, and moved to reclaim his seat at her side. He gave her the remote. “Who am I going to tell Dunc I saw this movie with? He knows I’d never watch alone.”
“A friend?”
A chuckle escaped him. “I may be going out on a limb, but I’m sure most men who watch Dirty Dancing do it because they have a lady friend wanting to.” Their eyes met for a second, maybe two. “I’ll say I saw it with Chloe. I better not hear otherwise.”
“Is that a threat?” Her lips quirked into a smile.
“No,” he sighed. He had to be honest. Keep the lines from blurring so neither would be disappointed by the realities of the very public division between the Chennault and Andrews families once they left the safe space of the cottage. “A reminder that technically we shouldn’t be here.”