He pulled her closer. “Always.” The whispered word was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her.
Chapter Three
The morning sun teased open Charlie’s lids. She stretched her well-loved body and remembered that she was in Hank’s bed. Blissful sparks fired through her and, if it were possible, she was happier than she had been last night and more hopeful than she’d been in years.
Hank was singing in the shower. Badly. And it was the most beautiful sound in the world. She gathered the sheet around her and made her way to the bathroom. “Hey, good-looking. You sing real pretty.”
He pulled the curtain back and grinned. “Liar. You’re the one who sings pretty. I sound like a dying goat.”
She shrugged. “True, but I like waking up to it anyway.”
“Why don’t you get in here and show me how much you like it?”
Lust raced through her belly and pooled between her legs. “I’ll do that, but let me call the hospital first and check on Pops. Save me some hot water.”
“No promises, but I’m pretty sure we can make our own heat. Hurry up.”
She laughed and went to find her phone. The call to the hospital was quick with no extra bad news. “I’ll be there later this morning,” she told Pops’ nurse.
“No problem,” the nurse replied. “He’ll be here when you get here.”
“Thanks for taking such good care of him. See you in a bit.” She sat for a moment and enjoyed the happy, hopeful glow she was floating in. Hank’s phone pinged with several messages one right after the other. Dang, she hoped it wasn’t the sheriff’s office calling him back home. She checked the screen in case she needed to pass a message to him, and her empty stomach seized.
On the screen were three messages. The display read, Wife.
Hey baby, it’s me.
Surprise!
I’m in the lobby.
Wife, baby, lobby? The words slammed into her and beat the hell out of her. Her hopeful heart shattered with each vicious blow.
He. Was. Married.
He’d said they needed to talk. Now she knew why. While she’d been planning a future, he’d been married.
“Oh, my…” Her skin burned from the inside out when she thought of all the ridiculous, immature assumptions she’d made. They were nothing but pathetic teenaged romanticizing. She was too stupid to live.
“Charlie. I’m waiting.”
The words floated through the steam to where she sat, paralyzed. Nauseous bile burned her throat. She’d slept with a married man. Hank was married. Married. Married. Married. The words were on a warped playback loop like the soundtrack from some screwed-up carnival fun house.
Panic drove her to dress in record time but also made her movements uncoordinated and jerky. She ripped the blankets aside and the sheets smelled like sex. Their sex. It smothered the last flicker of hope in her chest. None of it had been real. Hank was just one more person in a long line of people who’d used her for what they wanted. You’d think she’d have learned by now.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the desk. Devastation etched every curve and hollow of her face. The last vestige of the trusting young girl she’d been before those three texts evaporated before her eyes. Another tear slid down her already wet cheeks. “I’m so stupid.”
“Charlie?”
The urge to run, to flee from him, her miserable life, and most of all her stupid self, burned her gut. Where could she go? With her last speck of dignity, she made her way to the bathroom. “Hank.” The word wobbled and barely stood on its own.
His head popped out of the shower curtain. The expectant smile he wore broke her heart all over again and another tear tumbled over her lashes.
“What’s wrong? Is it Wardell?”
She swallowed twice before she could speak. Years of pretending to be someone else kicked in and she was able to say the words. “Your wife is waiting for you in the lobby.”
The shock on his face told the entire story. She nodded. “So, it’s true. You’re married.” Not a question. She knew by his expression it was true. “The boy I knew would never have done this to me. I guess the man isn’t nearly as honorable as the boy.” Her teeth clamped down on her trembling lip, and she shook her head. “I thought better of you, Hank.” She hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “Tell your wife I said hello.”
She spun on her heels before she broke down and made for the door.
The scrape of shower curtain hooks on the rod sounded from the bathroom. “Charlie.”
There was no stopping her. She was out the door and down the hall in a second. The trip to her floor was a blur of gut-wrenching pain and confusion. Inside her room she stripped off her clothes and threw them into the trash, then crawled into the shower.
The hot water washed Hank from her skin, and the tears washed him from her heart.
Chapter Four
First Trimester
Until the ink dries.
An innocent enough phrase, unless someone’s using it to refer to your impending marriage. Charlie tried and failed to ignore the roiling river of uncertainty swishing around her belly. Of course, that could just be the little alien taking up residence for the next seven or so months. Either way, she wished she was anywhere but in the Zachsville, Texas Justice of the Peace’s office about to get married.
“Charlie, are you listening to me?” her publicist Marci asked.
“Huh? Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m listening. You just made a joke. Instead of until death do us part, it’s until the ink dries on the new Carousel contract. Then Ron and I can divorce. Is that right?” She glanced at her manager, Ron—or should she say, her fiancé—who gave her a don’t-give-me-any-crap look.
Marci cleared her throat. “Yes, that is what I said, but it doesn’t have to be horrible. You love Ron and Ron loves you. You two have known each other for the past eight years. So who knows what might happen?”
Yeah, since I was almost sixteen. That’s not creepy at all.
“Who knows, Charlie, you might decide you can’t live without me. Christ, you look like you’re about to be sick again.” Ron opened a canister of mints and offered her one. “Here, eat one of these before you puke all over my new suit.”
She obediently plucked a tiny white sphere and popped it into her mouth. “I already can’t live without you, Ron. If you left, who would run my life or bully me into doing things that are good for me? But I don’t want to be married to you or anyone else.” The refreshing peppermint soothed her traitorous stomach. She hated that he’d known it would.
He hissed out an exasperated breath. “Charlie, we’ve been over this a thousand times. If the Carousel Network finds out their biggest child star is pregnant out of wedlock, then they won’t sign you to this new, highly lucrative contract.”
She crossed her arms over her sensitive breasts. “Out of wedlock? Really, Ron? You sound like you just stepped out of a Victorian novel. And I’m not a child. I’m twenty-four years old.”
“Not to Carousel you’re not. It’s how the network will see it. They’re still not going to be happy even if we get married, because of the accommodations they’ll have to make while shooting to hide the pregnancy. But they want you, and if we’re married, they will overlook it. Trust me.”
Trust him. Famous last words. She’d trusted her mother, who’d robbed her blind. She’d trusted Hank, and look how that had turned out. Her hand went unconsciously to her belly. Tiny tendrils of affection connected this pea pod to her heart.
No matter how deep Hank’s betrayal cut, she’d never considered anything but continuing this pregnancy. She and Hank had loved each other once. And against good judgment and everything that had happened, that foolish young girl still loved him.
But not the grown woman.
Not anymore.
Ron snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Did we lose you again, Charlie?”
She shook her head and chewed her nail. “No, I’m still with you. Just tryin
g to figure out if there is an alternative to marriage.”
He laughed. “No wonder it looks like steam is coming out of your ears. Don’t try to do the heavy lifting, Charlie. That’s what you have Marci and me for. You just do what you do best—look pretty, be talented, and make us all lots of money.” He chucked her under the chin. “This is the only option. We’re going to take care of you.”
Would there ever be a time where she didn’t let these people run her life? She couldn’t deny that they were terrific at what they did. It was just that what they did was exhausting for her.
The sad truth was that she’d never wanted this life and didn’t know if she wanted to continue living it. Her current situation had forced her to take an honest look at things. But if she didn’t take the deal, then how would she get the IRS off her back and support herself? Too much contemplation and too many hormones meant she hadn’t had a clear thought in two months. So she’d fallen into the rhythm of her life where she let Ron and Marci make decisions for her. Really, it was all she knew. “You’re right.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s my girl. Now, Marci, is the media assembled outside the courthouse?”
Marci checked her phone. “Yes, they should be gathering just about now. When we’re done here, then you’ll exit out the front of the courthouse and pose for pictures. I’ll make a statement, reminding them that Charlie’s been here in Podunksville caring for her ailing grandfather for the last three months, then you and Charlie will take a few questions. They may ask why the wedding took place here instead of LA. Do you remember what you should say, Charlie?”
As if on autopilot she repeated the words that had been scripted for her. “I couldn’t leave my grandfather, but I couldn’t wait to marry Ron either.” Even to her own ears, every syllable sounded flat as the pancakes she’d made her Pops for breakfast that morning.
Her publicist pursed her lips. “Right. Hopefully you’ll be able to deliver it with more enthusiasm than that when the time comes.”
“She’ll do fine.” Ron brushed lint from his lapel. “Do you think they know what this is all about?”
Marci shook her head. “If they do, no one’s contacted me. It’s helped that Charlie’s been in the middle of nowhere for the last two months.”
Ron rubbed his silver-flecked beard. Charlie was surprised he kept it. It made him look every bit his forty-one years, and the man had more vanity than the cast of all the Real Housewives shows combined. “Good. I’d like to surprise them with this news.” He threw an arm around Charlie. “It’ll play even better later when we announce that we’re going to be parents.”
What little food she’d choked down earlier threatened to make a reappearance all over Ron’s expensive suit. They were going to be parents? She wouldn’t let Ron parent a goldfish, let alone Hank’s chi— She cut the thought off before she completed it. Hank wasn’t a part of any of this.
Hank had a wife, and they were a family. There was no room for her and her pea pod in that mix. There was a nearly audible rip in the fabric of her soul at that thought. No, not of her soul, but of that idiot kid’s she used to be.
“Oh, I like that, Ron,” Marci said. “You and Charlie will move in with her grandfather to continue to care for him. Her fans will eat it up. We’ll announce the pregnancy in the next couple of months. But first, we’ll sign the Carousel contract tomorrow, then payday!”
The fist bump they exchanged seemed uncalled for considering they were discussing her freakin’ life. She should be used to this. They always talked about her like she wasn’t in the room and didn’t have a say about anything, but now they were talking about The Pod like a commodity, and that was wrong.
Who was she kidding? This was all wrong.
Before she could tell them so, the door to the Justice of the Peace’s office opened and in walked the JP himself, Larry Norris. Not two seconds later Sheriff Hank Odom strolled into the room too.
Her Hank.
No, not her Hank.
Her Hank was Mrs. Hank Odom’s man. Whoever she was. She’d avoided any conversations about Hank for the last two months, avoided leaving the house unless absolutely necessary, and most definitely avoided Hank’s many attempts to get in touch with her. Basically, she’d gone on a Hank Odom fast and had no intention of breaking it.
This morning’s oatmeal churned at an uncomfortable rate in her stomach. The temperature in the room rose about a million degrees, and sweat pooled beneath what were rapidly becoming her pregnant, monster boobs. What were the freaking odds? Considering the lousy roulette game her life had become, about a million to one. Hell, even she’d bet against her own damn self at this point.
He was tall, golden and eat-him-up-with-a-spoon good-looking. Damn it, she’d hoped her overactive imagination had made that part up. Sadly, no. If anything he was more good-looking than she remembered, and she hated him for it. She hated his perfect hair, his perfect jaw, and his perfect teeth. His perfect everything.
Images of their one night together blasted through her. Lips, arms, and legs tangled in ecstasy. Her heart wrapped in the promise of finally being with the man she’d always loved. She placed her hand on the wall to steady herself. The best and worst night and morning after of her short twenty-four years. Her other hand went to her mouth. Damn him for making her fingers tremble. Even after two months, she could still taste him there. She hated him for that too.
“Oh, hell. I’m sorry, folks. Looks like I’m late,” JP Norris said.
“Nothing to worry about.” Marci extended her hand. “I’m Marci Malone, Ms. Kay’s publicist.”
“Larry Norris. Nice to meet you. If you give me five minutes we’ll get this thing taken care of,” Larry said.
Ron smiled and also offered his hand. “Ron Gaylord. I’m Charlie’s fiancé and manager.”
The other three occupants of the room continued with introductions and niceties, but she and Hank stood like statues, neither taking their eyes off the other.
She wanted to run and jump into his arms, beg him to get her out of this circus. Deep down, on a cellular level, she longed for him. Wanted him, not just sexually, even though that was definitely there. Her flesh and blood called out to him.
Dramatic much? Hello, idiot. He’s married. And he lied to you.
They stood like that for what seemed like forever before she watched his armor fall into place. “What?” she whisper-yelled.
“Nothin’.” The sadness on his face when he shook his head and gave a one-shoulder shrug tried to break through the angry shield she held between them.
She forced herself to remember the devastation of seeing the texts from his wife. That did it. She and The Pod turned their back on him. He didn’t deserve one ounce of her attention, nothing but her contempt. And she’d do well to remember that.
“Larry, I need to be going. Fishing on Saturday?” Hank asked.
“You know it, Hank.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the man who’d ripped her heart to pieces. He left the room without a backward glance in her direction, and her barely functioning heart took another crushing hit.
It was a one-night hookup, nothing more. Stop trying to make it something it wasn’t. Plus, HE LIED!
A one-night stand that produced The Pod. She’d forgotten that the antibiotic she’d taken the week before their ill-fated night could render her birth control useless. Gah! How had she let this happen? She wasn’t ready for a baby, could hardly take care of herself.
Ron and Marci will take care of it. It’ll all be okay once this wedding is over. Her secret would be safe, and she could go on with her life with Sheriff Odom none the wiser.
Guilt pounded down on her like hail from a Texas thunderstorm. Could she really do this? Pass this baby off as someone else’s, and never tell Hank about his child? Memories of wondering about her father scraped against her. She quickly brushed them aside. This was different. She glanced at Ron yucking it up with Marci and the Justice of the Peace and knew he’d n
ever be The Pod’s father.
The first clear thought she’d had in nearly two months slapped her in the head.
What was she doing?
“Charlie.” Her grandfather limped into the room with his girlfriend Honey Jenkins on his arm.
“Pops?” She moved to him and helped him sit. “What are you doing here? I told you that you didn’t have to come.”
“You know him, Charlie. You can’t tell the dern fool a thing.” Honey’s tone was stern, but Charlie could see the worry in her eyes.
Charlie knew how she felt. The sheen of sweat on her grandfather’s forehead was concerning. He was improving, but he still didn’t need to overdo it. “Has he had his meds today?”
Honey sat next to him. “No, he wouldn’t—”
“Would you two quit picking over me like a couple of chickens? And stop talking about me like I’m not here. I didn’t take my medicine because I don’t need it. I know my own mind. You two need to remember that.”
Honey’s arm snaked around her grandfather’s neck, and she kissed his cheek. “You’re right, Wardell. We’re just worried about you. You’re doing so well we don’t want you to lose ground.”
He patted her knee. “I know, Honey Bee. But I’m perfectly fine to attend my only granddaughter’s wedding.”
Big, goofy love bloomed in Charlie’s chest. It was good to know she had one person who loved her for just her. She sat on the other side of him. “Thank you, Pops.”
Wardell glanced at Marci and Ron, who were now standing alone, both concentrating on their phones. He didn’t try to hide the distaste on his face. “You sure you want to do this, Charlie?”
She lowered her head and voice so only her grandfather and Honey could hear her. “No, I’m not.”
“What?” Wardell asked at full volume.
“Shhhhh. I said, no.”
Running From the Law Page 3
