Saving Charlie (Stories of Serendipity Book 9) Read online

  But first, he had to get her out of here.

  Her arm snaked up his back, and he kissed her neck again before she yanked on his hair to kiss him fully on the mouth. She tasted of whiskey and coke, sweet and burning, and he realized just how drunk she was when she started working his belt right there on the dance floor.

  He couldn’t do all that.

  “Let’s go back to the motel room, Sweetness,” he gasped against her mouth.

  She nodded, limp in his arms, and he led her out to the truck. Buckling her in, he stopped to study her. Her honey-blonde hair was tousled and her cheeks were flushed. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the orgasm, but the macho side of him chose to believe the latter. Although, when he heard her soft snoring on the ride to the motel, he realized it may have been the former.

  He carried her into the motel room and laid her on the bed gently. Les locked himself in the bathroom and leaned on the sink, looking at himself hard in the mirror.

  “What are you getting yourself into here, buddy? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want this with you.” That’s what her words said, anyway. Her body told him something completely different. He wasn’t one to go against a woman’s wishes, but she was sending him so many mixed signals, he wasn’t sure what to do. All he knew was that he wanted her. Badly.

  She had a history though. Baggage he didn’t know about. The nightmares told him that much. And the guarded looks that flitted across her expressions at times. Although, the guardedness had been less and less the more time he spent with her, until that phone call today.

  And what did she mean by she’d never spent this much time with anybody in years? Was she that much of a loner? He thought about that.

  He supposed it could be true. He’d never really seen her with anybody, except her boyfriend, who was now her ex, thankfully. She lived all alone on that property she ran her business from, acres of pastures and sheds full of house pieces. If she had no family, she could be very much alone in the world.

  Didn’t she need somebody? Didn’t everybody need somebody? He’d always believed, romantic sap that he was, that there was one person out there for everybody. He’d imagined himself finding his own special someone so many times, and he’d been burned in his quest so often, he’d almost begun to lose hope. But something about Charlie called to him—her independence, her strength, the vulnerability she hid so well.

  It could have been fate that drove her up the road after his accident in west Texas. If so, that meant she was his someone, and he needed to fight to make her see it too. But how was he supposed to do that?

  A whimper from the other room broke into his thoughts, and he realized she must be having another nightmare. He quickly strode into the other room and found her thrashing in her sheets. Remembering she didn’t like the motel’s bedding, he got her pillow and blanket from her things and set about making her more comfortable.

  “It’s okay, Charlie. Another nightmare. It’ll be okay.” He rubbed her shoulders, and she seemed to quiet down, so he took the liberty of undressing her and himself before lying down next to her and pulling her into his arms. Her soft snores returned, and he lay there, tracing the tattoos on her arms, her armor.

  He noticed faint scars under the pictures and colorful designs, and he studied them closer. They looked purposeful. He’d seen marks like them before, on the rescues at the Refuge. Had Charlie used to cut herself? Was that why she covered her skin with art? To cover the scars? There was so much more to this woman than he could probably ever know. He longed to eradicate her demons, if she’d only let him in.

  Her scent wafted up to his nose, and he lay there, smelling her as she breathed deeply in her unconsciousness, her soft snores relaxing him. His thoughts continued on the same tract as before, reveling in the softness of her body against his own, wondering how he could stop the nightmares.

  Chapter 12

  From Carla May’s Journal—August 1995—Age sixteen

  My favorite day? The day The Man came to my room with movies and McDonalds. He’d brought me one of those kids’ meals with the toy. It was a little action figure of a raccoon or something like that. I’d never seen the movie, but The Man told me that if I kept on being one of his favorites, he might bring it to me when it came out on video. But that was a good day, mostly because of how The Man treated me, like he had when I was new. He told me how pretty I was, and brought me a new pair of shorts and some really cute sandals. It was summertime, and the house was always hot, no matter how low we set the air-conditioner.

  The Man really was cute, and most of the time he took really good care of me. He was always making me feel special, whether it was bringing me an ice cream cone, or a new nail polish color, or even a joint. But this time, he came into my room and spent the whole day there with me, letting me rub his neck while we watched Speed. He sort of looked a little like Keanu Reeves, I think. His hair was dark like Keanu’s and so were his eyes, and he was sort of the same size, too.

  He said he had a big job that only I could do, because I was his only girl he could trust. I was proud that he felt he could trust me that way. The thing that made this day so awesome was the cuddling. The Man sat up in bed with me and we just held each other all day while we watched movies. He put his arm around me and made me feel like I was really his girlfriend. It made me feel like I had when I was new, when he first took me from my shitty parents. It was awesome.

  Charlie woke from the best sleep she’d had in her life to a pounding headache and heavy limbs draped across her body. Looking down at herself, she realized she wasn’t wearing anything except her bra and panties, and Les’s bare legs were draped across hers.

  She rested her head back against her pillow and tried to remember what had happened. Her last memories were of a sex club in LA.

  Shit.

  She’d had sex with Les.

  Did they manage to get a room at the club? Did they do kinky things? Was Les into that kind of thing? She hadn’t been so drunk she blacked out since she was twenty. Since she’d gotten the damn tattoo he seemed so interested in.

  She turned her head to look at Les. His hair was more unruly than normal, and she was tempted to smooth it out, but held back. She was wasted last night, that didn’t mean she would continue the charade sober. Her eyes travelled down his face—straight, lean nose, soft kissable lips, eyelashes any woman would kill for. Feminine features for a decidedly masculine face. His strong jaw line was covered in stubble.

  Her gaze meandered to his chest, hidden by the sheet. Gently, she eased the sheet away, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of smooth muscles and the smattering of hair across his chest. She examined the tattoo she’d glimpsed before, an intricate depiction of a real heart, tattooed to look like someone had peeled back his skin to reveal the beating organ. It was so vivid and life-like. And typical.

  Les’s heart stared back at her, exposed and raw, waiting for her to reach in and crush it.

  Suddenly, an ache in her loins told her she wished she’d remember what last night had been like. She certainly wouldn’t repeat it. But she would like to re-live it. What did the stubble on his face feel like against her skin? What about his lips?

  With a groan, she sat up, trying to extricate herself from his tangled limbs without waking him, but it was no use. As soon as she swung her legs off the bed, she heard his sleepy voice.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Actually, yes. I did.” She stood, her stomach rebelling against the motion, and grabbed the top of the lamp next to her bed to steady herself. Good thing it was bolted to the table, or she might have toppled it over. “I’m going to take a shower.” She didn’t want to talk about last night. Whatever had happened.

  In the shower, as the water cleared her head, she remembered why she’d gotten drunk in the first place. She’d missed out on the stained glass piece. And she’d missed it because of the call from Adam.

  Trent was graduating high school with a full ride to UT, one of
the best state Universities in Texas. Adam and Sarah had done well with him.

  Part of her wanted to go, to see what he looked like, how he interacted with his peers, his family. But another part of her didn’t want to know. Was ashamed. She’d given up all rights to her son, willingly, and with relief. She hadn’t wanted the responsibilities of motherhood. She’d wanted to party, to be just like her own parents.

  That had taken a few years of therapy to get past. But she wasn’t sure she’d actually gotten past it. It seemed like she’d just buried it. Like everything else.

  She needed to call her shrink as soon as she got back to Serendipity.

  She’d been to so many. Initially, when she’d first started seeing psychiatrists, she’d been in the group facility in Dallas, where she’d lived. When she’d gotten older, and out on her own, she’d seen a different one. The first woman had been a matronly sort, and the second one had been younger. The younger one served to make Charlie feel inadequate, in a ‘look at me, I’m not much older than you, and see what I’ve done with my life’ sort of way. So Charlie shopped around until she’d found another older woman. She preferred women, because she was afraid of what would happen if she told a man what she’d done and learned to enjoy at the hands of The Man. She’d read enough to be terrified of becoming the cliché that would have sex with her therapist. So she stuck to women.

  When she’d moved to Serendipity, five years ago, she’d been recommended to the woman she was currently seeing. She was a retired psychology professor, who had hung out her shingle, so she met all of Charlie’s requirements. Old and knowledgeable. While her knowledge didn’t extend to much first-hand experience, she’d read a lot on the subject, especially after taking Charlie on as a client, and her fresh perspective, straight from the books, seemed to be what Charlie needed at this stage in her process.

  Of course, she didn’t see her weekly, or even really monthly. Charlie had progressed enough, or at least repressed enough, that she didn’t feel the need to vent her troubles regularly. But every now and then, her nightmares cropped up, or Adam would call, or something else would happen, and Charlie needed an ear.

  And she needed refills for her meds to stay compliant. It was always easier to deal with things when she was on her meds.

  Stepping out of the shower, Charlie heard Les rustling around in the other room, and smelled the scent of burned lobby coffee.

  Bless his heart.

  After coffee and a drive-through breakfast of ham and egg croissants, they were on the road home.

  “Before we get started, I want you to know I’m not talking about any part of yesterday. Ever.” She was sure he’d want to dissect the sex they’d had, and talk about the relationship that it meant they were a part of now. Charlie didn’t want any part of that.

  “Fair enough.” His lack of argument set her back. She gaped at him until he gestured back toward the road, silently telling her to look forward. She turned her eyes back to the road.

  He seemed to pacify himself with playing with the radio, finding a station that didn’t offend his delicate sensibilities until his phone rang. Charlie perked up her ears. It hadn’t rung much during the trip, certainly not as much as hers, and she found herself wanting to glean as much information about Les Paul as she could.

  “Hey, Ma. How’s things?” He sounded genuinely happy to hear from his mother, and Charlie was reminded of how you couldn’t pick your parents.

  “You remember Sweetness? From the building supply place I was telling you about? Well, I had a little accident, and—” Charlie could hear a shrieking from his end of the phone, and Les pulled the phone from his ear with a smirk on his face. “I’m fine. Let me finish. Yeah, well Sweetness drove up on me, can you believe it? She’s actually Charlie, the owner of the place. Why didn’t you raise me better? I’d been assuming she was the secretary. You’d think I could be a little more sexually enlightened.”

  Charlie smiled to herself at his descriptions. He must have a great relationship with his parents. Of course, he’d told her he did. This was a major reason she didn’t really have friends. She was an enlightened adult, and knew that everyone came from vastly different backgrounds. But she didn’t want to be constantly reminded of the fact. She pushed the feelings of inadequacy aside.

  “Well, we’ve been travelling together, the entire trip, and … yeah… uh huh… She’s great. I can’t wait for you to meet her, if we… uh huh…”

  Wait. Meet his parents? They weren’t even a couple! What was he thinking? What the hell happened last night? Her hands whitened on the steering wheel.

  “No, it’s not like that. We’re friends… Yeah…” She exhaled a relieved sigh at those words.

  “Yeah, no, I can’t. I have that fundraising thing on Friday. Yeah, I’ll be back by then. We’re on the way home now. Well, Ma I would, but she won’t let me drive. Love you too. I will. Bye.”

  He turned to Charlie and she felt trepidation ease up her spine.

  “Um, Mom just reminded me of something…” He raked his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, the words spilling out of his mouth. “I have a thing next week I need to take a date to. It’s a fundraising thing for a group where I’m on the board.”

  “What group?” Why was she asking questions? Why not just say no? That’s what she needed to say.

  “Refuge of Light. It’s an organization that helps victims of human trafficking locally; they’re trying to build a safe house for the girls they rescue.”

  Of course. It would be the Refuge of Light where he was on the board. If she believed in God, this would be her final sign that she needed to be with Les. That he was the perfect man for her. But unfortunately, she didn’t believe in God. “I’m familiar with them,” she gritted out of tight lips.

  “So, is that a yes?” His eyes actually looked hopeful, as if he hadn’t heard her all the times she’d said she didn’t do relationships.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into with me?” Say no. Say no. Just. Say. No. She ignored the inner voice screaming at her and looked at him squarely, pleading with her eyes not to do this. She wasn’t strong enough to keep holding him at arm’s length.

  He let out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, no. I’m not at all sure what I’m getting into with you. But I want to find out, if you’ll let me in.” His voice was weak sounding, almost pleading, and Charlie felt something inside herself crumble. There went a wall. Tumbling down.

  “I won’t let you in. My past is just that. Mine. If you want to give this a shot, knock yourself out. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She wondered why she was agreeing with him. She chewed on her lip. “I will break your heart. Just be prepared for it.” Her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

  “Pull over.”

  “Why?”

  “Just pull over, Charlie.”

  She pulled over onto the shoulder. Desert stretched out around them for miles, and few cars were on the road.

  She turned to him, expectantly, although her heart was in her throat. She felt like she’d just jumped off a bridge and was waiting for the icy water to engulf her.

  “I know you don’t think you can do this. I’m not even sure I can do this with you.” He put his fingers against her mouth, open for rebuttal. “But I’ve heard you. And all I can say is I feel something with you. Something different, and I want to know what it is. We’ll finish this trip and see where it takes us. Then we’ll go out Friday. After that, we’ll see. I’m going into this with my eyes open. Are you?”

  She stared at him, his cocoa eyes boring into hers. It was as if he could see straight to her shriveled insides, and actually found her worthy. She nodded. Mute.

  Then got back on the road.

  Charlie couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d just agreed to, nor why. Well, she knew why. Les reminded her of Adam. He was gentle, caring, and would do anything for her. She just didn’t know if she could reciprocate. She would need to explain a little of t
hat to Les. It appeared she’d just gotten herself in a relationship, and that’s what people in relationships did, right? Talk? Ugh…

  That day, they made good time on the drive, considering they were pulling a trailer half-full of stuff. Charlie had managed to find a few things before she lost the stained glass piece. She had no idea how she would tell Mr. McMannis. She didn’t even know who’d bought it so she could try to contact them directly. But she’d gotten some exciting flooring made from a weathered redwood, almost unheard of in East Texas, and a great spiral staircase, as well as some double-hung windows she’d wrapped up really well to keep from breaking. Les had bought a few things too, but was secretive about his wrapped packages.

  They stopped at a burger joint for dinner, and Les bought a bottle of wine at the liquor store next door before heading to their motel for the evening.

  While they were eating, Les reached over and clasped her free hand in his, while he dug a French fry out of the mound before him. He made the move seem so nonchalant, like everything was so easy for him. As if he’d never been told no before. Les was constantly talking about not being able to keep a woman, but when he grasped her hand in his, a spark of electricity shooting up her elbow told Charlie that she wanted him to touch her more. A lot more.

  “How do you do it?” She studied his hand wrapped around hers. Strong, scarred hands. A working man’s hands, complete with scraped knuckles and calloused palms. The bruise around his eye from the fight at the wedding were faded to a pale green color, adding to the depth of his mocha eyes.

  “Do what?” He chewed a fry while talking.

  “You always seem so happy. Carefree almost. How do you keep stuff from getting to you?”