14. Charlie
FOURTEEN
CHARLIE
It had been a tactical mistake to leave my door open. I should’ve known by now that it was best to keep my guard up around this man. He’d somehow gotten under my skin, and now I wondered if he kissed as good as he looked.
It was the wine stain that did it. He was mussed and undone, and it softened the harsh edges of him. And try as I might, the more time I spent with him, the more I saw the cracks in my plan.
I’d fallen through the floor a few days ago. The roof was leaking. The whole place needed a lot more than a bit of paint to bring it up to scratch, and the theater wasn’t much better.
He wasn’t an evil developer. Part of me was ready to admit that in a lot of ways, he was right. The town needed help, and my need to preserve history might’ve been holding us all back. Maybe all I was doing was standing in the way of progress while I clung to a past that never belonged to me.
So when he stalked toward me and slid a strong arm around my waist, I didn’t have time to muster my defenses against the onslaught of him. His gaze softened as it dropped to my mouth.
A faint groan escaped him, and he bent toward me. His fingertips tightened around my waist, tracing the edge of my skirt as he gently nudged me closer. His palm was calloused as it tilted my jaw up toward him, its roughness sending shivers skittering over my skin.
Heart rattling, I tried to ignore what that simple touch did to me. Tried to ignore the heat sweeping through me, the tension pulling me in four different directions.
Kissing him would be a mistake. It would go against everything I believed in. It would be a betrayal of my most sacred values. It would be defeat, plain and simple, before we’d even fought the first battle in the war.
But I still wanted to do it.
“Charlie—” he groaned, and it sounded like a prayer. His fingertips were all the urging I needed to bend toward him like a flower searching for a scrap of sunlight. His head dipped, and?—
“Yoo-hoo!”
I jumped away from him and crashed into my kitchen cabinets. My palm landed on the cookie plate, flipping it off the edge of the counter. It crashed against the floor and shattered. I yelped, Anderson swore, and Albert waved at us cheerily from the front window.
My heart thumped so hard the only thing I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. Crossing the small space, I pushed the window up and stared at the man leaning against the ladder outside.
“All done up there,” Albert told us, the apples of his cheeks red with exertion. His wiry white hair stuck out at all angles, gnarled fingers gripping the edges of the ladder. “Few new shingles did the job, but there are a few problem areas we might have to look at soon. Something for the new landlord to deal with.” He chortled, winking at Anderson behind me.
“You be careful on the way down, Albert.” I stuck my head out the window to look at the grass below. It seemed like a long way down.
“Don’t worry about me, hun,” he chided gently. “I’m old, but I’m still handy.”
“Course you are,” I said, watching him make his way to the ground. It gave me enough time to get my heart rate under control while I tried to come to terms with what had almost happened moments ago. Horror gurgled through me like hot tar. I clutched the windowsill, breathing deeply, until Albert’s feet hit the grassy front lawn.
Then I turned.
Sebastian was crouched by the broken plate, gathering up the shards into a neat pile.
“I’ll get that,” I told him as I approached.
“It’s fine.”
“I said I’d get it.”
“Would it kill you to not fight me on one single thing, Reeves?” he snapped, then sucked in a hard breath. A line of red appeared across his finger, and he dropped the broken piece of plate he’d been holding. He stuck the wound in his mouth and scowled at me.
“I’ll get you a bandage.”
“I’ve got some downstairs.” He stood and turned for the exit.
“Now who’s being difficult?”
He paused at the door to glance over his shoulder. “I think it’s best if I go,” he said. He held my gaze for a moment and when I said nothing, he released a soft scoff and let himself out.
I listened to the snick of the latch behind him and his fading footsteps beyond. I felt wrung out and confused. Most of all, I felt disappointed. But I didn’t know if it was because I’d almost given into the urge to kiss him—or because I hadn’t actually gotten the chance to do it.