by Cindy Kirk
She realized suddenly he was no more eager than she was to play this game. Charlotte found the knowledge both reassuring and amusing. Picking up the cards, she separated the deck into halves and began to shuffle.
As Charlotte’s hands shuffled with a light touch, Adam wished he’d taken the time to glance through the deck. When Ryder had produced the cards, the guys around them had laughed and offered their sympathy.
He’d assumed they were simply having fun at his expense, but he had to wonder now. What were relationship questions? And Charlotte was right. Who said they had to answer them?
“Cut?”
She slid the deck across the table toward him.
This would be the time to reiterate they didn’t have to do this. He would hand the cards back to Ryder or, if he wouldn’t take them, to Gladys. He’d be polite, but firm, in his refusal.
“You don’t have to cut.”
Charlotte’s voice broke through his thoughts.
He waved a hand in a gesture indicating he’d pass. But he wouldn’t pass on the cards or on the answers that might help him know Charlotte better.
They were compatible sexually. It was time to see how much that compatibility extended outside of the bedroom.
“I’ll pick a card. You answer first, and then I will. We’ll reverse the order when we get to the second question.” She cocked her head. “That work for you?”
He liked her decisive nature. Her willingness to gain consensus before moving forward. This, despite her earlier claim that she liked being able to do things as she wanted without input. “That works.”
Lifting the deck, she slipped a card from the middle, flipped it over and read, “What’s an ideal weekend for you?”
She glanced expectantly at him.
“It’s going to sound lame,” he warned.
“Tell me anyway.” Her warm smile gave him the push he needed to lay it out.
“I’m going to answer as if we’re talking an ideal weekend for us.” He glanced at her.
She nodded.
“You’d have spent the night. We’d get up slowly, no rush. Make love. Have a shower. I’d go down and start breakfast. We’d talk, eat, drink our coffee, then go outside and play in the dirt.”
She arched a brow. “Play in the dirt?”
“Plant. Weed. Prune.” His smile flashed. “I love seeing things grow and making that happen.”
She only nodded.
Adam saw his ideal day had surprised her. He wouldn’t apologize. He’d been honest and could only hope she’d be the same.
“What about in the evening?” she prompted.
“Ideally, sitting beside you on the sofa, watching a movie with a bowl of popcorn, my arm around your shoulders.” The fact that he could picture it surprised Adam.
He wasn’t a fool. He knew that Charlotte liked the finer things and had been used to life in a much faster lane. What did it mean that he could see her planting beside him, teasing him and tossing a clump of dirt at him, then laughing aloud when he pulled her to him and kissed her sun-warmed lips?
Adam could practically feel her body pressed against him on the sofa that evening, the scent of hot buttered popcorn filling the air. He saw himself twining a lock of her silky hair around his finger, then brushing a kiss across her temple.
It was a dream, he reminded himself. A pleasant one, but only a dream.
“And on Sunday,” she prompted, “what would we do?”
Her words took him by surprise until he realized the question had asked about an ideal weekend.
Adam thought for a second. “We’d start the day with coffee. That’s a given.”
She chuckled softly. “I feel the same.”
“Then church and breakfast at Muddy Boots. With my dad,” he added, watching to gauge her reaction. She didn’t seem disturbed by Stan joining them, or if she was, it didn’t show. “I see you and my father becoming good friends. He’s not the type to push in where he’s not wanted, but I see you wanting him around.”
Or, Adam thought, was that only his own wishful thinking in imagining the perfect scenario?
“After church and food, then what?”
“In summer, we’d go to the beach or take a boat out. Maybe have friends over and grill out. In the winter, cross-country skiing is a particular favorite of mine. Cooking together, maybe making a thick, hearty stew with vegetables from our garden and homemade bread. Relaxing in the evening before the work day begins.”
Charlotte inclined her head. “How would a baby fit into this picture?”
“He or she would be with us, of course.” Adam’s lips curved. Though being a father was something he’d seen occurring in the far distant future, he was looking forward to it. “Or, if we wanted to go out, we’d get a sitter.”
She frowned. “I don’t like the idea of getting a sitter on the weekends when I’ve been working all week.”
Whatever Adam had expected her to say about his plan, it wasn’t this. “I didn’t imply that would happen all the time. I think it’s good for parents to have some alone time.”
Her jaw lifted in a stubborn tilt. “Not when you’re gone all week.”
Adam tried a different tack. “I wasn’t envisioning leaving the baby with a stranger. More like my dad. Or a close friend.”
“Your father is having mobility issues. I don’t know that he’d be my choice to watch an infant.”
Heat slithered up Adam’s spine like a snake. He had to take one breath, then two. He reminded himself this wasn’t an issue now. Charlotte might feel differently later.
Or maybe she wouldn’t…
He now understood more fully why she hadn’t wanted her child’s father involved. She wanted to run the show. Her way or the highway.
“Back to the question.” Adam saw no point in belaboring the point. “What would your ideal weekend look like?”
Charlotte’s jaw remained tight.
He thought she might return to their previous discussion. If she did, he was prepared to make a stand.
Adam cleared his throat and attempted to quell the tension rising inside him. “C’mon. It isn’t that difficult of a question.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she suddenly looked lost, like someone trying to remember where she’d been, or maybe where she was going. She blew out a breath. “Since Saturday is a busy day when you’re a hairstylist, I’d likely be working. But since we’re talking an ideal weekend, I’m going with the assumption I have the day off.”
“Smart move.” He held out a hand for a fist bump.
She stared at his clenched fist before rapping her knuckles against his. A slight smile lifted her lips, and the storm clouds that had darkened her eyes scattered.
“I like quiet. I like being alone. My ideal Saturday would be sleeping until I wake up, no alarm. Then I’d take a long hot shower, stroking conditioner onto my hair and letting it soak in. After wrapping myself in a soft, fluffy robe, I’d go to the kitchen and start coffee.”
Adam felt a stabbing pain in his chest as he realized he so far wasn’t a part of her ideal weekend. He kept his voice nonchalant. “You said you like silence. So, no music or television?”
“Correct. That’s why I prefer living alone. The roommates I had always preferred noise in the morning.” Charlotte leaned her head back and breathed in the night air. “Once I had my coffee and maybe a yogurt, I’d go to the gym. I like working out, especially when I’m not rushed. If a friend was there, I’d have a vegetable smoothie with her. If not, I’d have the smoothie and scroll through my phone.”
“What about in the evening?” Just as she’d prompted him, he encouraged her.
“I like getting dressed up and going out. To dinner at a nice restaurant or to the theater.” Her gaze locked on him, and for a moment he felt certain she was imagining him at her side.
That, he decided when she continued without mentioning him, was simply wishful thinking.
“After whatever entertainment concluded, I’d come home and
unwind with a glass of wine.”
“With or without a companion?” Adam deliberately injected a note of teasing into the words.
Her lips curved into a slow smile. “Depends.”
Adam was suddenly tired of this game. Good and tired. The question had brought to light the vast differences between him and Charlotte, between what each wanted out of life.
The differences between his mother and Stan had been just as glaring. While Stan was more of a homebody, Adam’s mother had preferred going to bars with live bands to dance rather than spend a quiet evening at home.
Stan had done his best to keep up with her, to be the man she’d wanted, but he’d been a decade older than her and most of her friends and cut from a different cloth. In the end, the chasm between them had widened, and the union had shattered.
Thankfully, by the time they split, Adam had finished high school. He was able to remain with Stan, while his mother had been okay with enjoying her newly single lifestyle without her teenage son hanging around to give away her age.
“What about Sunday?” Adam really didn’t care about the answer. He’d heard more than enough. But Charlotte had made him go through his entire weekend, so he wasn’t giving her a pass. But he vowed not to ask any questions.
“Sundays were always my favorite.” Charlotte’s gaze turned thoughtful. “A whole day with nothing to do but what I wanted.”
“Sounds a lot like your Saturday.”
A cloud blanketed her pretty features. “I just realized that I described my ideal day. One where the only person I’m responsible for is me.” She shifted position so that she faced him more fully. “My weekends will be different when I have a child.”
When I have a child.
It was clear, once again, that she didn’t see a man being part of her baby equation.
Adam said nothing, could think of nothing to say.
Her eyes took on a distant glow. “For a hairstylist, a quiet Saturday doesn’t exist.”
He inclined his head when her gaze settled on him.
“Saturday is the busiest day of the week.” She expelled a breath, and her expression stilled. “You have to be willing to work the hours. It takes a lot of drive and hard work to build a new business from the ground up.”
“It does.” Adam remembered the struggle of those early days when he and his dad had first moved to Door County. It hadn’t been just the physical labor of planting and harvesting, but also getting the contracts and promoting.
“When I sold my salon in Highland Park and moved to California, I had money to invest.” She didn’t glance in his direction. It was as if she was talking to herself rather than him. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I now see I was on the fast track to burnout. Once I got to San Diego, I couldn’t seem to find my mojo. I worked hard and put in long hours, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Getting a foothold in that very competitive market ended up being far more difficult than I imagined.”
“That had to be disheartening.” He kept his tone light and nonjudgmental.
“Toward the end, I gave up trying so hard. The weather was beautiful, and there was so much to see and do.” Her eyes took on a distant glow. “Sand volleyball, parties on yachts and dinners at fine restaurants.”
A knot formed in Adam’s stomach. How many bad decisions had his mother made in her quest for fun? “You played hard.”
“I did.” Charlotte chuckled. “Still, I don’t regret it. Not entirely. I took advantage of everything Southern California has to offer. That’s what I want for my child. Whenever and wherever we travel, I want her to experience it all, from museums and live theater, to national parks and local playgrounds. The world has so much to offer a child with an inquisitive mind.”
Adam thought of the chaos of his early years. “Children thrive on routine, on a structured day-to-day schedule.”
Charlotte eyed him, and something he couldn’t identify flickered in her blue depths. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive. I know farmers rely on routine, but each job has its own rhythm. I’ve learned to be flexible, and I want to teach that to my child. Adapting to change is a valuable skill.”
When he said nothing, she smiled, but a distinct coolness had replaced an earlier warmth. “I’ve made mistakes. You’ve likely made your share. My mantra is ‘failure is my teacher, not my undertaker.’”
She made navigating life’s rough waters sound so easy. He knew just how easily parental mistakes could rock a small child’s world. “You cut your losses and moved to Good Hope.”
“It seemed the wisest course of action. Golden Door was struggling, partially because the manager didn’t do her job.” Charlotte offered a rueful smile. “Partially because I didn’t do mine. No oversight. No guidance.”
“You’ll get it right this time,” he said with more confidence than he felt at that particular moment.
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“It sounds like the first time around, it was all work and very little play.”
When he paused, she gave a cautious nod.
“In California, it was too much play and too little work.”
Charlotte lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.
“I’ve been there. Too much work or too much play can both be problematic. My dad helped me see the value in balance.” Adam met her gaze. “You’ll get it right this time. Because if you don’t, you won’t be the only one who suffers. Our child will, too.”
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte didn’t even consider asking Adam inside when they reached the door to her apartment. Not with the tension shooting sparks in the air between them.
That last remark had stung. She would have to get it right? As far as she was concerned, Adam needed to take a good hard look at his own rigid attitude.
She was ready to be done with him for the evening. She needed time alone. Time to consider all that had happened the past couple of weeks. Time to think about her growing feelings for such a pigheaded man.
She turned toward him, intending to send him on his way, but found him so close she could feel the heat from his body. Adam wasn’t intentionally crowding her. The landing at the top of the stairs was simply so small there was no room.
“You didn’t have to walk me to the door. I’m quite capable of ascending a flight of stairs without supervision.” She spoke in the pleasant tone they’d each used on the walk home, the kind usually reserved for people you don’t know well.
With a solemn expression, he brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “It was my pleasure.”
Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. What was happening to her? Adam was the only man she knew who could make her want to throttle him one minute, then long to kiss him senseless the next.
His lips brushed hers, and the tension that had gripped her chest like a tight band during the entire walk home dissolved.
Without giving herself time to consider the wisdom of her action, Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Really kissed him. Fiercely. Passionately.
He kissed her back with a fervor that had blood pumping like hot lava through her veins. Then, suddenly, abruptly, he was untangling her arms from his neck. Taking a step back, his eyes dark in the overhead light, he gave her hands a squeeze, then started down the steps.
Stunned, Charlotte stood there for several long seconds, listening to his footsteps on the steps, hearing the door as he pulled it firmly shut behind him.
Confused, disappointed and thoroughly frustrated, she stepped inside her apartment and slammed the door. She told herself she should be happy the evening had ended this way. Happy he’d left before she’d invited him inside and…
The ringing of her phone had her fumbling with the clasp of her purse with trembling fingers. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one troubled about how the evening had ended.
“Come up if you want.” She spoke quickly. “I have a bottle of—”
“Sounds tempting.” The man on the other end o
f the line laughed. “Too bad I’m so far away.”
Charlotte paused, held the phone out, then smiled at the readout. “Paul. I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously.” His deep voice filled her ear. “I’m happy to hear you’re getting out and socializing. Not that I’d expect any less.”
Charlotte dropped down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes. “How’s life in LA?”
“Busy.” He paused. “You know how I like to talk about myself, but let’s save that for another time. I’m calling about you.”
“Is this about your text where you congratulated me?”
“I thought I’d pique your curiosity, but you didn’t bite.”
“I’ve been busy opening a new business.”
“Not too busy for Instagram challenges and YouTube videos.”
She heard ice cubes clinking in a glass and wondered if he was enjoying his favorite blended scotch this evening.
“You’ve watched them?” Pleasure ran through her voice like a pretty ribbon.
“They’re good, Char. Really good. You’ve amassed quite a following.”
“I enjoy creating.” Her latest, a #30daysofgorgeousupdos Instagram challenge, had been well received.
“That’s evident. Which is why my friend, Leticia Logan, one of the agents at the Wall Group in Los Angeles, wants to represent you.”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. The Wall Group represented the best in hair and makeup artists. “Why me?”
Paul laughed. “Ah, because you’re übertalented.”
She knew there had to be more to it than that. The Wall Group wouldn’t pick her up simply based on Paul’s recommendation and her work on YouTube and Instagram. “What else?”
“Yuri put in a good word for you as well. Leticia was impressed with the hair you did for the Fashion Week San Diego runway shows.”
Charlotte had enjoyed working last spring with Yuri Tereshkova, one of the top celebrity photographers. Not only during Fashion Week, but during the time he’d spent in her salon. Every Sunday for weeks, her San Diego salon had become a photo studio. Yuri would shoot local and up-and-coming models after she’d done their hair.
