The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

“Those sound like excellent traits for a tax lawyer. Anything else?”

  She smiled a little lopsidedly. “Well . . . you’re not a douche,” she offered.

  He laughed with surprise. “I didn’t know that was on the list of possibilities.”

  “Dude,” Ella said, and smiled sheepishly. “That is always on the list of possibilities.” She wanted to touch the dark tress of hair that had fallen over his brow. “But you’ve been a perfect gentleman. You’re even a gentleman when you make, umm, you know,” she said, whirling her hand, “an evening call.”

  “A what?”

  “Otherwise known as a booty call?” She imagined herself leaping onto his body—swiftly followed by a fleeting image of them tumbling down the steps and each breaking a leg.

  But Luca didn’t smile like she thought he would. He frowned. “What?”

  Had she been too blunt? She seriously needed flirting lessons.

  “You think this is a booty call?”

  “Wait, what?” she echoed, confused by his confusion. “Isn’t it? You texted me.”

  “Yeah, I texted you, but I didn’t mean that,” he said, looking slightly offended.

  Oh, good Lord, had she really misunderstood him? “But you texted ‘you up,’” she reminded him. “Who texts that in the middle of the night if it’s not a booty call?”

  “Ella, it’s nine thirty. I meant are you up, am I bothering you,” he said, and took her hand in his. “And as much as I would love it, I didn’t come here to get you into bed.”

  Well, that was disappointing news on the surface and all subterranean levels. She had imagined him taking her in his arms. She was supposed to protest, not him.

  “I have too much respect for you to try something as crass as that,” he added.

  Ella wanted to crawl in a hole. She glanced around for one.

  “I wanted to see you,” he said earnestly. “I texted you because . . .” He paused. He pushed a hand through his hair, and he looked, she thought, almost distressed.

  “Because?” she prodded him.

  “Because things have been pretty intense at the ranch lately, and I was on my way to my place in San Antonio, and I thought, maybe . . . I don’t know . . .” He shrugged.

  She was so confused as to what was happening. “Thought what?”

  “That we could talk? Just talk, Ella—that’s all I intended.”

  Talk. Huh. She believed him. She was a little disappointed, but she believed him. “Maybe next time be a little more explicit in your text, so a girl doesn’t get the wrong idea,” she muttered.

  “Yeah, about that,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “Can we take a walk? I want to tell you something.”

  “Sounds ominous,” she said as he tugged her down the steps. “Are you a cannibal?” she asked, teasing him about what he’d said to her earlier in the evening.

  “Not yet,” he said with an enigmatic smile.

  “Are you sick? On the lam? Oh, I know! You’re poor.”

  “No, no, and no,” he said, and put his arm around her waist as they walked along the moonlit path they’d taken to the spring.

  “You’re moving,” she said. “You’re going to raise goats in the Andes Mountains.”

  “If I was that into goats, I’m not sure why I’d go all the way to the Andes Mountain Range to raise them when I could do that right here. But that’s not it either.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He sighed. He stopped walking and turned her to face him. “I don’t text very often. Only in emergencies.”

  Ella almost laughed. “That’s what you want to talk about? That you prefer calling to texting?”

  He said nothing.

  She couldn’t suppress her laugh. “Whew!” she said, and pressed her hand to her heart. “I thought you were going to tell me something huge. Okay, you’re a caller, not a texter. Message received. But not by text.” She giggled at her joke.

  Luca didn’t smile. “The reason I don’t text is because I’m, ah, dyslexic,” he said, and pushed his fingers through his hair again, a habit she had come to recognize as a telltale sign of his discomfort.

  “Okay.” She didn’t understand why that was a big thing either. Lots of people were dyslexic.

  He drew what sounded like a tortured breath. “The truth is that I can’t actually . . . read,” he said softly.

  “You can’t read?” she repeated. Luca didn’t smile, and Ella’s heart fluttered. “You mean you’re a slow reader,” she said, attempting to explain it for him.

  “I mean I can’t read,” he said flatly. “If you ask me to look at a menu, I can make it out. But a book? A message scrawling along the bottom of the TV screen?” He shook his head.

  “Oh,” she said, and meant to offer her empathy, but he was already nodding.

  “I know,” he said instantly. “It’s unbelievable. But it’s true, Ella, and you should know that about me. I’m functionally illiterate, and I can’t text very well, and honestly? I’d rather tell you I’m a cannibal than I’m illiterate.”

  Ella’s chest filled with disbelief and compassion. She couldn’t imagine not being able to read. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to admit it. How was it possible that a man from the Prince family couldn’t read? “But . . .” She paused, uncertain if she should ask how he’d graduated without the ability to read.

  “I skated by in school,” he said, anticipating her question. “I picked up a lot by listening. Every time it looked like I wouldn’t pass, my parents sent me to another school. No one was going to hold a Prince kid back, not even for a legitimate reason,” he said, and sounded a bit resentful. “When I got older, I faked my way through.”

  Ella remembered all too clearly the charming way he’d hung around with girls who were known to be smart.

  “But as an adult, I’m determined to change it.” His tone was earnest, as if he thought she might doubt his determination. “I’ve hired my sixth-grade teacher to teach me, and I’m learning.”

  “Really?” Ella was surprised.

  “Look, I know no one wants to be with an illiterate man—”

  “I didn’t say that,” she protested.

  “You don’t have to. I get it. In the world we live in, in a country like America? Illiteracy is inexcusable.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all, Luca,” she said, and took his hand in both of hers. “I was thinking what a terrible burden this must have been for you as a kid. How hard it must have been to try and make your way through school and . . . and hide it, right? How hard it must have been for you to tell me.”

  He curled his fingers around hers. “You have no idea,” he muttered. “When I was in middle school, a teacher, a counselor—someone—thought I ought to be in special education. My parents lost their minds. My mother hired a tutor, but that guy was a joke. She hired another one, a college student, but the drive from San Antonio got to her and she quit after a few weeks. My mother was so frantic that no one from Three Rivers find out about her illiterate son that she didn’t get anyone else. I think she mostly hoped I’d grow out of it. When I had problems at school, Dad made donations.”

  “What sort of donations?” Ella asked.

  Luca put his arm around her and nudged her to walk with him. “Remember the new football stadium they finished our senior year?”

  Ella remembered it, all right—football was sacrosanct in Texas, but for the size of Edna Colley High, it was a monstrous stadium, big and flashy. Regional play-off games from much larger schools were played there. She remembered a plaque on the outside stadium wall commemorating the Prince family and their contributions to the school district. Someone had tagged it with graffiti. “Your father built a football stadium just so no one would know you couldn’t read?” she asked incredulously.

  “Let’s just say that my father’s contribution got t
he school district over the hump and made sure they had enough money to finish the stadium. And then I was passed to our senior year.”

  Ella couldn’t fathom it. Had she suffered from a learning disability, no one would have cared. The goal of every foster parent she had was to get her to her eighteenth birthday and out the door, no matter if she had a diploma or a baby or a job or a criminal record.

  “It’s a little sickening,” he said.

  “Sickening? No,” Ella said. Luca didn’t know how fortunate he was that he had parents who actually cared so much. “I’m sure they thought it was the right thing to do for you,” she said. “I’m sure they cared if people knew, because people can be so cruel. Whether or not they did the right thing, I don’t know, but it’s in your hands now, and you’re learning. What are you reading?”

  He laughed. “Conservation law. Best land management practices.”

  “Oh my God,” she said, and laughed up at the sky. “I’m so glad I’m not your tutor. What does your mom think of what you’re doing?”

  “She doesn’t know,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone but Hallie.”

  “Are you going to tell her?” she asked.

  “Not right now,” he said. “I wasn’t kidding when I said life has been pretty intense out at the ranch lately. My father’s death left us with some unresolved issues, and feelings are all tangled up in them. It’s like walking through barbed wire at home right now.”

  “So when will you tell her?”

  “At the fund-raiser Brandon and I are planning,” he said, and for the first time since he started this conversation, he smiled. “My plan is to read from some notes. She’ll hear it along with everyone else.”

  “Well, that ought to bring down the house,” Ella said.

  He grinned. “Dramatic, huh? We’re firming up a date in early June. Maybe you could come?”

  The thought of going to Three Rivers Ranch was a little scary to her. “You know what, Luca? I’m, like, totally proud of you,” she said. “I know it’s not my place to be proud of you, but I am, because it’s really incredible that you’re taking this on without a lot of support.”

  He gave her a thin smile. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

  “Aah,” she said with a shrug. “You’re doing it now. So hats off to you, cowboy.”

  His smile deepened. “I have an extra incentive now—I want to get my texts right so there is no misunderstanding between us.”

  “Very important,” she said. “You can’t rely on eggplant emojis alone. Too much room for interpretation.”

  He laughed and laced his fingers with hers. “There is one small thing I’d like to ask you.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I’ve told you everything. You know about my past. You know my best friend is a bit of a klepto. Admittedly, I didn’t mention the leak under the bathroom sink, but you would probably find out on your own if you need to use it.”

  He tucked her hair behind her ear. “This is a very important question.”

  “Great,” she said, sobering. “What is it?”

  “You said you thought I was making a booty call.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  “As I said, it was most definitely not a booty call. Nevertheless, you seemed on board for it.” His eyes moved to her mouth. “Were you?”

  A smile slowly curved on her lips. “Busted.”

  His eyes moved down her chest.

  “Unfortunately, you didn’t come for that,” she reminded him.

  He lifted his gaze, cupped her chin, and stroked her cheek. “Good news—I’m pretty flexible. I can change my plans when necessary.”

  Ooh, her belly was doing cartwheels. She settled her hands on his waist. “Are you changing them now?”

  “Well, that depends on you. Now, we could take this real slow. Maybe wait until some of those walls come down a little,” he said, tapping her chest.

  “We could.” Her heart was beginning to pick up speed, thump-thump-thumping along.

  “Or . . .” He paused to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I could help you kick down one or two of those walls tonight.” He kissed her again, and an eddy of tingling flared across her skin. He smelled like cardamom and horse and a little bit of Buddy. He smelled like a man and Ella was certain she must smell like raw desire. She closed her eyes when he kissed her neck. “Did you bring your tool belt?” she murmured. “Some of the walls might require extra effort.”

  He chuckled against her neck. “Baby, I brought the biggest tool belt I could find.” He slid his arm down to her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “Back to the house?”

  She opened her eyes. Her breath was already short, her body already desperate for his touch. It was alarming how much she wanted him. “Are we doing this? Are we taking the next step?”

  “I’m in, Ella,” he said. “I’m all the way in.”

  She slowly released her breath. “I’m in, too.”

  He grinned. “Then saddle up, girl.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Luca didn’t know exactly how they’d made it to her bedroom, how exactly they’d managed to walk as they’d kissed and their hands had explored. But here they were, standing in the dark of her bedroom, lit only by moonlight.

  The room was small, but he liked it. Ella had left the windows open, and a breeze lifted the sheer drapes, making them look like ghostly dancers that brushed against them from time to time. There had been no words since they’d come in and kicked Buddy out. They didn’t need to speak—the energy flowing between them said everything there was to say. This felt right to Luca. This felt new and exciting and meaningful.

  Ella looked up at him with eyes turned gray in the moonlight. Her breath was shallow as she reached for his shirt and began to unbutton it. How odd that a strangely vulnerable feeling swept through him. For the first time that he could recall, he was concerned that a woman might not find him attractive. It had never been so much as a thought before—previously his focus had always been on the act of sex itself, on enjoying the ride to the top. Not whether a woman liked the way he looked. But with Ella, it mattered, and Luca was at a loss in that moment to understand why, really, other than he truly, genuinely cared about Ella. A lot. He had feelings about her and for her that made his head spin, but above all, he wanted this moment to mean something.

  Shut up, he told his head. Shut up, shut up. Just go with it.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as she slid her hands up his bare chest.

  He was better than okay. His heart was pumping, his body ready to explore. “Yep,” he said, and shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He ran his hands down her arms. “Are you?”

  She stepped back from him to her bedside table and opened a drawer. When she turned around, she held up a condom.

  Luca drew her forward until her body was touching his bare chest, took the condom from her hand, and kissed her. His natural instincts took hold, pushing his overactive brain out of the way. He slid his hand down her back, to her waist, and moved his hand into her jeans, squeezing the warm, supple flesh of her hip. Ella unfastened her jeans and stood still as Luca pushed them down, so she could step out of them. He wanted to bite the red bikini panties from her, but instead reached for the hem of her shirt, and she lifted her arms overhead so that he could pull it off, and then she removed her bra.

  Luca paused a moment to take her in, admiring the swell of her breasts, the soft roundness of her belly, the flare of her hip into a trim waist. He loved women of all shapes and sizes, but there was something about this particular woman that appealed to him beyond the visual. His reaction was visceral, hitting him square in the gut. The sight of her went to the heart of him, a place so primal and apparently, so needy, that it took his breath away. She was so natural in everything she did, in every way she looked. Her body was not perfect, but it was beautiful, as God
had intended—the only form that would slake a man’s internal thirst.

  With a sigh of longing, he drew her to him. He could feel the beat of her heart melting into his. He swept his tongue into her mouth, nibbled at her lip, filled his hand with the heavy weight of her breast, kneading it. Her smooth skin aroused him to hardness, attraction buzzing like a beehive as it spread through his limbs. His pulse was beginning to thrum in his temples and his groin, and he unfastened his jeans, then let her go a moment to remove his shoes, hopping around like a loon in his eagerness to get them off before falling backward onto her bed.

  Ella fell beside him, laughing. No matter how this had happened, no matter what he remembered of her or what she remembered of him, this moment was all that mattered. It felt as if she was the one he’d been waiting for. She was the girl he had always hoped would show up at a party, at a bar, in the showroom of the Sombra dealership. She was the girl he had always imagined would come and claim him.

  He kicked his jeans away and rolled on top of her, holding himself above her so that he could look at her. Her hair spilled around her, her eyes glistened with delight and desire. He sensed that she wanted him with the same intensity he wanted her, and moved his palm up her body and over her breast. He kissed the hollow of her throat before moving his hand down again, between her legs.

  Ella seemed to undulate against him as her mouth moved over his skin, to his neck. His chest. He languidly caressed her, trying to keep a lid on his desire, struggling not to rush, to push—but the need was building. Their caresses became more urgent, their kisses deeper. “This is crazy, Ella,” he said between gulps of breath.

  “It’s insane,” she agreed, and raked her fingers up his back and gripped his arms, pulling him to her, pressing against his erection. Luca’s imagination was racing ahead of his body; he could see himself sliding into her, his cock as hard as marble, his hips clenched as he tried to restrain himself from driving into her. But then she took him into her hand, and he lost all rational thought, drifting into the ether of their lovemaking, completely submerged in the sights and sounds and scents of it.