4. Travis
Chapter 4
Travis
“You know, now that we’re friends I can tell you that this tavern is a lot nicer than I thought it would be when I first heard about it. I can see why you're partial to it.” Charlie looks at me over the top of her iced tea.
Her mouth is puckered around her straw and her lashes flutter in my direction. I refill her glass of iced tea which she consumes in the most pretentious way possible; ice, lemon wedge, straw. When I slide the glass back to her, my hand grazes hers and it sends sparks of electricity shooting up my arm.
“It is, and that’s why I can’t believe that you think Findlay can exist without it. For a smart woman, it sure is taking you a long time to get that.” I snap at her, ignoring the pulse of heat that still tingles across my skin.
She rolls her eyes at me. “The bartender is a little crabby though.”
It’s been nearly three days since Charlie has set up shop in my tavern. It feels like she and I have already been to hell and back as the reality of losing everything I love settles in around me. One minute I can’t stand the thought of her coming in here the way she has. But in the next, I can’t look away.
Never mind the fact that she’s gorgeous, curvy with a smile that could knock you over. There’s something else about her that draws me in, pulling at me like a damn magnet. Charlie isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s fierce and independent. She doesn’t back down to any of my usual tricks. I hate to admit that when I see her and little Paisley standing in the doorway in the mornings, my whole world starts turning.
Today we’ve been at it for hours. I’m trying to get the inside seating arrangement figured out for Founders Day. But each time I drag a table into position, Charlie takes it upon herself to move it. She claims to be taking notes, but she can’t help herself from trying to take over. The woman is exhausting.
“We aren’t leaving the table there! It’s the middle of the dancefloor. You want a riot on your hands on live television?”
“Do you think people are going to dance? It isn’t just speeches and?—”
I hold up a hand. “Sweetheart you’ve got to be kidding me! There has never been a day we don’t dance when this tavern is open. Why do you think I’m messing with the tables in the morning? They’ve got to be cleared come dinner time. Of course, they’re going to dance. If we don’t open up the floor, they’ll dance right on the tabletops. Who can blame them? We’ll have all the classics, the watermelon crawl, the boot-scootin' boogie, you know...”
She smiles and it lights up her eyes. “I don’t know. I have no idea.”
“You don’t know?” I shake my head when I realize she’s serious.
Then I walk toward the audio system. It only takes me a few minutes to get country music blaring through the speakers. I feel the tinney sound of the fiddle deep in my soul. Then I head back to the dance floor and look at Charlie expectantly. Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at me.
“Well?” I hold my hand out for hers.
“Well, what?” She bites back a laugh.
“If you’re sticking around for Founders Day, you don’t want to embarrass yourself. Come on, I’m teaching you a basic two-step.”
She bites her lip. “If you insist.”
With that, Charlie puts her hands in mine. My skin burns with heat where our palms touch. The simmer of heat between us threatens to erupt into a flame. But she tries to lead and I can’t have that. I hold her in place. My hand grips the round of her hip tight, pulling her into submission. It doesn’t take her long to understand.
Once she lets go, I make her body mine. My hands move from her hips to her waist then run up her back. I tug her close to me and feel the soft, fullness of her curves against my hard lines and edges. With her body pressed against mine, I take in the light floral scent of her hair and it’s intoxicating. My manhood grows rock hard and when she discovers it, her soft giggle grows into full laughter.
The next three weeks pass in a blur of sizzling touches and stolen glances between Charlie and me. The woman is all I can think about and it’s driving me wild. The way my body responds to her is unreasonable. She leans across me or traces a fingernail across my arm and that’s all it takes to have me sneaking away to rub one out.
Our connection isn’t just physical. Charlie has a depth to her I didn’t expect. Having become a single mom, she’s independent out of necessity. But she’s still made time to take an interest in our town. Her thoughtful attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. I like the way she’s combed through Findlay’s history in preparation for Founders Day and asked questions about our values. The fact that she hasn’t thrown me out of what is effectively her tavern yet is good too.
Today Charlie and I are making our way through the the abandoned garden between the tavern and the stables. This overgrown courtyard, with the creaking gate and enough dead plants to fill a compost pile. I always thought I’d do something extraordinary out here, but it’s seen better days. Still, even the weeds can’t overrun the enormous sunflowers.
Charlie makes her way through the garden, scooping up wildflowers until her arms are overflowing. She’s a sight for sore eyes in her flowing floral print dress that hugs her body. “These are so beautiful. I’ve never cared so much about flowers. But the bouquets we can make with these are going to be stunning.” She wrestles with the stem of a massive sunflower. “Come on you stupid thing.”
“Hold on,” I put a hand on her shoulder and pull her backward. “Let me get that.” I cut the rigid stem with my pocket knife and hand her the flower.
“Thank you.” She looks up at me, a smile playing on her lips. “Paisley is going to love Founders Day, she loves making arrangements for the table at home. Of course, we can’t scoop our flowers out of the yard, we’re grabbing them at the grocery store.”
“She’s a sweet kid. Next time you bring her up, I told her I’d take her out back and let ride Dolly.”
Charlie blinks at me and her hand moves to her hip. Backlit by the golden setting sun, it’s hard not to fall in love with this woman. “A sweet kid you can’t keep promising things to. She doesn’t know how to ride a horse. The last thing I need is to have her get hurt and then Paul will have more ammunition to present in court.”
“Stop it, Dolly isn’t going to hurt her. She’ll be fine,” I try to wave away her concern.
But Charlie puts a hand on my forearm and her touch on my skin grabs my attention. “It isn’t just the promise….She’s had a lot of disappointment in her life and I don’t want you adding to that. When you tell her things, she takes you seriously.”
I straighten, offended by the insinuation. “There isn’t a person alive who understands more about disappointment than I do. I grew up in the foster care system. This town raised me and not all of my temporary parents kept their word along the way. I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep, ever, especially not to children.”
Charlie’s face softens and she reaches for my hands. “Did you really grow up in foster care? You never mentioned it, I had no idea.”
“Well, now you do. It all worked out, you don’t need to go feeling sorry for me.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “No, I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m impressed. You are the best man I’ve ever met full of integrity and sincerity. You built this amazing place. I just didn’t know what you had to go through to earn it.”
“This place is the only home I’ve got. There was a time, back when I first took it over that I thought I might have a family of my own here one day. The family never came, but this place sure is the stuff of dreams, my dreams at least. I let out a chuckle. I can’t imagine it’s yours or anyone else's.”
Charlie’s eyes roam the field in front of us. “I don't know, don’t discount me yet. There was a time, believe it or not, when I wanted to be a cowgirl. Back when I was Paisley’s age I would’ve done anything for a big garden like this to play in. I imagined riding a horse over to my swing and spending hours outside catching butterflies.”
“I don’t buy it.” I let out a chuckle. “If that’s the case then what happened?”
“Life. It pushed me into a stable career with all the sacrifices it took to get there.”
“Maybe there’s still time for you to become a cowgirl.” I catch her chin in my hand and tilt her mouth up to mine.
Our lips connect and the kiss sizzles through me. I put a hand on the back of her head and she parts her lips. My tongue slips inside, dancing with hers. I move to her earlobe, then pepper her neck. I work my way down until my face is pressed into her cleavage. Every kiss is hot and frenzied, aggressive but tender. They ignite the fire that bubbles deep within me until all of a sudden, I erupt.