Chapter 11 Charlie
Charlie
I’m so close to cracking him, I can feel it.
The traffic has opened up completely, and we’re crashing down Main Street at a good pace.
I could pull a James Bond move, unlock the car, and roll out.
I am contemplating my next move when my bladder is staging a full-blown protest, those two cups of coffee hitting me at full force.
Each bump in the road has it screaming at me like an angry toddler denied a toy at Target.
If we don’t stop soon, I might end up peeing my pants.
How humiliating would that be? Tied up in the back seat of my captor’s car. Wet. And not the fun kind.
“Uh, so,” I shift in the seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “Quick question. How… How far are we going?” I can feel the building tingly sensation running up my spine. I’m about to explode.
His eyes flick from the road to me, lifting one brow. “Why?”
“Because I really, really need to use the little girl’s room,” I admit, cheeks heated from my admission. “Like, code red level, we need to pull over right now.” Panic laces my voice.
He must sense my distress, or he’s a really nice captor. Or maybe he just doesn’t want me to get his car dirty. Probably that option. What captor would care about the random girl in his back seat? He starts to signal to turn right at the upcoming street.
A familiar street sign comes into view: Maple Lane.
As I expected, we’ve barely made it anywhere.
We only made it to the end of Main Street.
Maple Lane is the quietest and coziest street in Everly Falls.
In contrast to the hustle and bustle of Main Street, Maple Lane is lined with low storefronts and sleepy sidewalks.
A few mom-and-pop businesses line the street.
Maple Diner is among them, a staple of our little town, and the perfect location to stop.
It is the place to be after the high school football game wraps up.
Dee Dee and Pop, the owners, are basically honorary parents to every one of us.
If I can convince him to stop, I know Dee Dee will help me.
She’ll take one look at this out-of-towner, give me a wink, and send me out the back door with her famous peach cobbler while Pop sequesters him and calls the sheriff.
“We need to stop at the first location you see.” Knowing the first business down this street is Maple Diner, there’s no way he can avoid it.
His eyes narrow. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” I shake my head excessively, hoping he will take pity on me.
“This ship is sinking. The Titanic has hit the iceberg, Captain.”
Groaning under his breath, he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like why me?
“Look, there’s a little diner up ahead,” I say, nodding toward the billboard along the side of the road. The weathered sign with chipped paint and a faded red maple leaf barely cling to the wood. Maple Diner. Best peach cobbler in Everly Falls.
The sign’s so worn it’s almost a landmark.
All the tourists stop there because they’re told to, every local has a favorite booth with the cracked vinyl, and no one leaves without a serving of Dee Dee’s famous peach cobbler.
That cobbler has won more blue ribbons at the annual Farmer’s Market than I can count.
I can sense his glare even if he isn’t looking at me. At this point, I would promise not to ask anyone for help if he agreed to stop right away. I’m hanging on by a thread. Taking advantage of the stoplight, I lean forward and touch his biceps—the touch is light yet electrifying.
“Look,” I start, executing the best puppy dog eyes I have ever performed—like showman worthy, I could win a blue ribbon for these eyes. “I promise to be on my best behavior and not try to escape or ask anyone for help, if we can just stop at the diner for the little girl’s room.”
“Alright, but you need to be quick,” he relents.
“Thank you,” I say, genuinely thankful for him agreeing.
The parking lot is scarce with cars, likely because everyone is gathering on Main Street. Damn it. I know I promised not to run away, but that did not mean I wasn’t going to try to slip the service staff a note. It might be harder to do with fewer patrons to distract him.
He gets out from his side of the car and, in an instant, he opens my door, his body blocking my escape. He is massive, taking up the entire opening of the door. He looks sturdy, too; it would take a lot of effort for me to push him out of the way and run.
He leans in close, closer than I’m expecting.
I catch a whiff of him again, smoke and cedar—it’s intoxicating in such close proximity.
Without my mind’s consent, I close my eyes and take a deep inhale.
He clears his throat, and my eyes fly open to find a smirk on his face, heat creeping up my neck from embarrassment.
“Remember, princess, no funny business.”
Before I can say anything, he takes my hand and leads me toward the diner. My body feels like a live wire with his close proximity. Hand in hand, we look like a couple out on a brunch date.
The bell to the diner chimes as we walk inside.
Stepping in, a wave of nostalgia hits me.
The diner still has its original charm. Rows of red leather booths line the sides, their vinyl cushions slightly cracked but still full of charm.
The floor has the original black-and-white checkered floor.
The smell of frying bacon, fresh coffee, and butter sizzling on the griddle hits my senses, making me forget why we were here in the first place.
“How many?” a perky waitress says, walking our way.
She looks too pretty to be working at the diner.
She reminds me of my friend Jade, a striking elegance of a runway model and legs that go on for days.
At five-four, I was always a little jealous of her height.
When she wore bell-bottom jeans, she looked like she’d just stepped off a runway.
Meanwhile, I looked like Humpty Dumpty who stepped off the wall.
“Actually, where’s your restroom?” I blurt out, shifting on my feet, really feeling the push on my bladder now that I am standing still.
“Oh, the second door on the right,” she replies, not meeting my eye and blatantly staring at my captor.
I’m not going to lie, he does look insanely attractive with that skeleton neck gaiter covering half his face.
Like he walked straight out of a dark romance novel.
His emerald eyes are on full display, and dark curls of his hair look soft and touchable, but that doesn’t give her the right to ogle him with me standing right here.
A surge of unwelcome jealousy washes over me.
I don’t know why, it’s not like I’m dating him.
I really need to refocus on the fact that I’m here against my free will and not excited to be getting breakfast with this tall and broody guy.
“I’ll be right over there.” My captor points to the closest booth to the restroom hallway.
I rush off like my pants are on fire. I need to relieve myself like a toddler after three boxes of apple juice.
I make my way down the hallway toward the single person restroom.
As soon as my butt hits the seat, my heart sinks.
OH MY GOD, the universe hates me. What kind of bad karma did I accumulate over the course of my life that my body chose today, of all days, to start my menstrual cycle?
Of everything that is already happening today, I think this one takes the cake.
I glance around the small restroom hoping to find any kind of feminine product I can use. I check the small cabinet next to the toilet, praying for something. Nothing. I’m in full panic mode when I hear a knock on the door, and an annoying grumpy voice floats through the door.
“Hey! Are you done in there? We have to go.”
“Umm…” I sound more timid than I expect, “I have a situation.”
“What situation?” His voice is hesitant, like he’s unsure what new chaos I’m about to unleash on him. Oh, you’re in it now, Mr. Man.
“Could you maybe ask the waitress to come to the door?”
“No. Tell me what it is.”
“Well, I started my cycle, there isn’t any feminine product in here, and I can’t leave. It’s like Shark Week in here.” I wince as soon as that analogy leaves my mouth. He didn’t need to know that, Charlie.
No response, just sounds of footsteps walking away. I would have left, too, because that was embarrassing. It feels like an eternity passes as I sit in the small restroom, thinking of my next move.
A knock rattles the flimsy restroom door, and I nearly jump out of my skin. His voice carries through a second later, low but surprisingly sympathetic.
“The waitress didn’t have anything on hand, so I’m heading next door to the convenience store to get you what you need. Don’t try anything funny.”
I’m too stunned to reply. He’s really going to buy me feminine products? Most guys would die of embarrassment just walking down that aisle. Before I can even get a word out, his footsteps are already retreating.