Chapter 26
T HE WHEELS TOUCHED down on the tarmac. Chris cracked open his eyes, gripping the armrests as his body shook slightly. The plane’s lengthy taxi to disembark gave his body time to wake up and become alert for the light commute he would make to get back to the Shores.
The moment the flight attendant authorized use of cellular devices, he powered his on. After a six-hour, three-time-zone flight, he was greeted by a ton of messages. All of which he had no intention of replying to except one. He scrolled to the three-day-old message from Carrah that had almost made him walk out on a deal of a lifetime. It happened.
Damn right it happened. He’d abandoned who they were and crossed the lines their families had drawn in the sand. They’d both been willing and equal participants. Hell, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back in a way no woman ever had. If her message had come after the Summer Bradshaw pop-up Shayla had informed him of, then maybe he would’ve understood her off-putting tone. But it didn’t.
He took a deep breath and finally typed back: What is that supposed to mean?
Instantly those three little dots populated his screen.
Wow, 3 days later.
Chris scoffed at her message and pocketed his phone. What was he really doing? He had to search himself for answers because maybe he had got caught up in a moment. This level of frustration over a woman who was not his wife, girlfriend, mother, or sister was not a part of his summer plan. Between the expansion and the joint venture his father was considering with Noir cosmetics, he didn’t have time to be playing a cat-and-mouse game. He’d already proved that in ending things with Heather.
After he was off the plane and on the way to the parking garage, his phone vibrated. It was another message from Carrah. He moved to the side of the busy walkway and swiped to her message.
Guess no reply means another 3 attorney Chennault?
He cupped his neck and rolled his head as he let out a long breath. If he had ever sent another woman the text he sent Carrah, he probably would’ve garnered an invitation to her bedroom. Instead he was being tried and convicted for what, not responding to her flippant message. This woman was unlike any of the women he’d dealt with in the past.
It was clear the lines had been blurred, feelings were hurt… at least his were, and he couldn’t help wanting to kiss her again.
Chris tamped down his annoyance and went into his photo library. He selected a picture of the magnolia tree they sat under at his cottage. He captioned it Meet me here in an hour and pressed send. He didn’t wait for a reply before sliding the phone back into his pocket. Either she came or she didn’t. Time would tell.
Fifteen minutes shy of an hour, he turned down the dirt road. The cares of the world faded away as his cottage came into view with Carrah sitting on the swing at the front porch. His breath hitched and his grip on the steering wheel tightened as though it would steady the unexpected rhythm of his heart.
Chris schooled his face to be absent of the happiness that had seconds ago induced a smile. Carrah wasn’t allowed to see this far behind his veil.
Once he parked and got out of the car, he inhaled the fresh morning air, which smelled of the lake and orange blossoms that weren’t far from his property line. It reminded him of when he first got to his grandparents’ house in the Shores for the summer. He knew he was coming to something good.
He gazed back up to the porch before his feet began crunching the gravel as he made his way to the house. He invited the warmth surrounding him at the sight of her to seize his heart. She was a dream sitting pretty in a pink dress that highlighted her tawny skin while maintaining immaculate posture as she swung. She was the epitome of a Southern debutante with beauty, intelligence, class, and sophistication. The kind of woman that was more than a prize on a man’s side, for she was a gift made to be cherished.
“Are you done being bossy, Mr. Chennault?” She stood, taking his breath away while making him understand why he had always looked the other way.
“For now.” His lips quirked. “You’re here so there’s no need.” Although she was not at all ready to find out how bossy he could be. He watched as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “I am hungry, though. I got off the plane and came straight here. Have you eaten anything this morning? We could go into town and grab breakfast at Mama’s Place.”
Her brows furrowed and she turned away for a second. “Our families would know before we got hot plates. Have you forgotten how fast gossip spreads around here?”
Chris hadn’t forgotten. He just didn’t care. This was their path. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the joint venture. Soon, the world would know that the Chennaults and the Andrewses were on speaking terms if they were able to do business. However, since she didn’t seem comfortable, he said, “It’s fine. I’m sure Ms. Watson has the fridge stocked. I can make something.” He moved toward the front door.
“Wait!” She scurried past him. The sweet scent of night flower lingering behind entreated him to unchaste thoughts as he watched her go to her car and retrieve a basket. “Your seven a.m. meet-me-in-an hour text didn’t seem like it included breakfast.” She began taking the steps back up. “So I brought something just in case.”
Her smile made him turn away and dig in his pocket for the key. Had he continued looking at her, he might’ve kissed her again. And based on the last correspondence over the topic, he was uncertain if that was something she wanted. He pushed the door open and allowed her to step inside first.
She went straight to the kitchen and set the basket on the counter. He was two steps behind watching her move about the space as though she had committed it all to memory.
“I hope you like it.” She took out a large pastry that resembled red velvet cake, but smelled like cinnamon, sugar, and toasted pecans, and set it on a plate. “Already prepping for the Red Party?”
Giggles filled her cheeks. “I’ve not thought of Red night since Quinn brought it up at my mother’s party.”
“It’s going to be lit.” He winked then clapped his hands and sat at the place setting, licking his lips. “What is it?” His sweet tooth would one day get him into trouble.
Another giggle escaped her. “A red velvet cinnamon roll. Seeing as you always lose your mind in that donut shop, I thought you would enjoy this.”
“Mmmmmm,” he groaned, and then took another bite. “You made this? ’Cause if so, I need to make you my wife.” He chuckled then got up to grab milk from the refrigerator and poured a glass.
Carrah burst into laughter. “Guess that won’t be me. Baking isn’t my gift.” The laughter between them faded after he brought his glass back to where he was sitting and took another bite out of his treat. “After mixing chemical ingredients all day baking seems tedious. Besides, I struggle with my work now as it is.”
There was a note in Carrah’s voice that captured his attention. It wasn’t sadness, nor was it happy.
“Because you’re in the lab over summer?” His question was genuine.
Her fleeting smile became a straight line. “Chemistry was always my escape plan.” They looked across at each other. “I hated being all dolled up for people to judge the way I spoke or appeared in a bathing suit.” She sighed and pointed to his plate. “You know how long it’s been since I had one of those for fear that I wouldn’t be able to fit a dress right or wear a bathing suit without feeling bloated?”
He chugged down his milk, gulping hard. If he hadn’t, he may have confessed that her body was made for sin. Of course he had not forgotten how sexy she was in that two-piece lavender bikini the day they went to the beach.
“Anyway, after years of the pageant scene and enduring the pressures of winning Miss Xavier and then Miss Louisiana, I quit. I refused to be a Miss America contestant that would cater to superficial standards that did nothing to elevate Black beauty, and unlike a lot of girls, I actually loved science and studying compounds.
“Knowing I had my father’s full support to work in the lab at Noir after getting my degree allowed me to further my advocacy to diversify beauty standards in the industry and positively reinforce that Black women and other women of color are beautiful.
“Only, the company’s other priorities took precedence over my product innovation and market suggestions… until now. What I used to escape is trapping me.”
His hands dropped to his lap and he turned on the stool until he could stare her in the face. “Sounds like you’re telling me that you haven’t done anything with your manuscript. Did you at least start with the changes the editor mentioned in her comments from the offer?”
“I told you before,” she sighed, “doing both is hard… My family needs me to balance the serum. Everything depends on it.”
“I know what you told me. Bottom line is, are you going to take a chance or remain trapped?”
“I took the chance. That’s why I’m here with you.” Carrah looked anywhere except at him. His face, those eyes, that scent of spicy earth and rich amber was irresistibly masculine and had been driving her wild from the moment he got out of the car. There was nothing she could do to subdue her racing heart after the sincerity he’d shown.
A moment of silence rested between them. She sensed hesitation that had not been present the last time they were together. Had she said too much, allowed him too far in to see it was no ordinary box built around her?
When Carrah finally glanced up, she met a smoldering stare that burned her body as if she were on the stake. This might be the one thing she didn’t care to escape. Yet, she knew she probably should because being trapped by her attraction to a man who was a sworn rival of her family couldn’t end happy. So why was she continuing to test the limits as though this were an equation that could be solved?
Chris cleared his throat. “You make it sound like I’m a risk. Is that how you see me when I only want to help?” He inched to the edge of the stool, closer to her.
“The other night…” Carrah swallowed hard then looked off for a second to catch her breath.
“It happened.” He folded his arms, arching a brow.
She jerked off the stool and began pacing behind where he sat. “I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Maybe”—his deep voice was deceptively calm as he spun the stool until he could see her—“tell me that you liked it or that you didn’t. How hard is it for you to say what you feel?”
Carrah effectively stopped the anxiety that was causing her feet to char the wood floors. She narrowed her eyes on him. “Oh, so what you should’ve done! Instead you were trying to feel me out for an answer. How did I know you hadn’t changed your mind? Maybe even regret what happened and then I’m stuck confessing my innermost thoughts.”
Chris stood up. Each step he took toward her made her take one back until she bumped against the wall and his arm caged her in. “Is that what you want to know, my innermost thoughts?” His gorgeous eyes cast down as his mouth hovered above hers. “I’ve been dying to kiss you again. My fingers itch to caress your skin until you’re glowing in my arms. This pink dress”—he tugged at the bottom half—“I’d rather see bunched up around your waist so I can have permission to cup that luscious ass of yours.
“The rest of my innermost thoughts spawn X-rated fantasies in my head that simultaneously contradict my loyalty to my family.” He closed his eyes, groaning, as he pushed back from the wall.
Carrah watched his chest visibly pound against his shirt. She understood because hers was doing the exact same thing. Their hearts raced toward an attraction that was set on a course to collide. There was no control.
“Just say what you feel,” he managed through strangled breath.
She rushed him, went on her tippy-toes, and stole a kiss that left her searching for air.
The ringing sounds of their phones made them come apart. Carrah stepped out of his hold, but was pulled back for him to reclaim her lips once more. For the second time their kiss was cut short by their phones. This time they both moved to retrieve their devices.
There was a missed call from her father. It was probably about missing their meeting this morning.
“Shit!” Chris brought the phone to his ear. “I’ll be right back.” He left her in the cottage and went out a sliding glass door.
She then quickly dialed her father. He answered. “I need you home within the hour.”
“Is something wrong… is Mom okay?” She couldn’t help if her mind went there. They all knew a relapse was possible even though it was not expected. After her father confirmed his request had nothing to do with her mother, he reiterated she get home ASAP.
She grabbed her key off the kitchen table as Chris reentered the cottage. His entire demeanor seemed to have shifted. “Everything okay?”
He glanced to the front door, a tick prevalent in his jaw. “No, I need to leave.”
“So do I.” He nodded and began cutting off the lights. “Do you want me to put the cinnamon rolls in your microwave?”
“Uh, no, I’ll take them with me.” He took the basket from Carrah and then ushered them from the house. He walked her to her car and held the door open for her to climb inside.
“Carrah.” She turned to face him, meeting his eyes. He looked off for a second. “I…” The tension battling to be loyal or give in to whims fueled by desire would pull him under. “Never mind.”
Family won. The quizzical expression shaping on her face demanded he give something better. Something that she might be willing to forgive for after the next time he would see her. “The next time I see you”—he gave a fleeting look to the sky—“promise not to hold it against me.”
“Promise.”