You're Still the One

by Rachel Harris

  Charlie called out a greeting to Hunter and Pete, then lobbed each of them a wrapped biscuit, too, feeling like freaking Santa Claus. The crew here were good guys, hard workers and honest dudes, but they were way too serious. They’d needed the likes of him joining the ranks to liven up the place. Even better, working here kept him busy enough that the constant void barely registered. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t lonely, because he was, but concentrating on his future was more important than the feel of a woman’s touch.

  Yep, any way you sliced it, agreeing to Stone’s proposal was one of the best decisions Charlie had ever made, second only to co-founding Blue with his best friend when he was nineteen.

  The small office at the end of the hall was his as of a week ago, and he dropped into his desk chair with a smile. It felt good having tangible work to accomplish while the band was on hiatus, and Strange Wheel provided an excellent opportunity to further his foundation. After finalizing the details of his niece’s trip the night before, Charlie had told Abby how things were coming with Life & Lyrics, and hearing her enthusiasm further proved he was headed in the right direction. Everything in his life was suddenly coming up roses…so it would be nice if he could stop thinking about a certain mysterious brunette.

  Charlie groaned and shoved his hand through his dark hair. Why was she haunting him? It wasn’t the abrupt ending, either. She’d been easy to talk to, witty and fun, and the feel of her lips was imprinted on his skin. Never in his life had a woman affected him like this, so it stood to reason he’d never see her again. He closed his eyes with a sigh. It was probably for the best.

  “Morning, Mr. Tucker.”

  A manila folder dropped on his desk, and Charlie raised his head to see Beth, the young wisp of a thing who worked the front desk. She was a relative of Mike’s, shy as all get-out, and she refused to call him Charlie. She made him feel ancient as shit, but at least this time she hadn’t called him sir.

  “Good morning, sunshine. This the list of local bars and clubs we discussed last week?” He opened the folder to find a huge stack of papers inside.

  Beth nodded. “Yes, sir.” Charlie gritted his teeth. “I included every bar I could find that advertised open mic nights in Jefferson, St. Tammany, St. Bernard, Plaquemines, and Orleans Parish. The owners’ names and phone numbers are listed on there as well.”

  “Awesome.”

  One of the things Strange Wheel tasked him with was community outreach and broadening their name within the Greater New Orleans area. Sure, the industry was taking note of their innovative style, but they wanted local musicians to know they had a place right here ready and willing to make their recording dreams come true.

  Charlie glanced over Beth’s work and gave an impressed nod. “You sure you’re only sixteen?” The spreadsheet she’d put together wasn’t only extensive, it looked complicated as hell. Creating something like this would’ve taken him forever. This generation definitely had a leg up on technology. When he lifted his eyes, he found her gnawing on her lip, a pink blush stealing across her pale cheeks.

  Dammit. The poor thing wore her heart on her sleeve. The other guys had made it obvious she had a crush on him, and if Charlie didn’t want to hurt her feelings, which he didn’t, he’d have to be more careful with how he praised her. “Thanks for this,” he said, closing the folder and tapping the cover with his finger. “Good work.”

  She beamed and started fiddling with her hair, lashes low, as she hung around unnecessarily, and he proceeded to attempt looking as important and harried as possible. He shuffled papers around and fired up his computer. Honestly, this job was a cakewalk, but he was a freaking champ at appearing busier than he really was. It came in handy whenever Tyler got into one of his organizational fits.

  Beth shifted her weight and cleared her throat, and when he didn’t respond, began inching her way toward the door. She made it halfway there when she spun around. “Oh, sir?” Again with that word. Withholding a sigh, he raised his eyebrows in question. “Arabella James is here.”

  It took Charlie a full thirty seconds to remember that Stone’s daughter had used an alias to apply for the position, an honorable attempt to withhold her identity. “Great. I’ll be right out to meet her.”

  With that, Beth closed the door, her smile dimmed, and Charlie rapped his knuckles on the desk.

  He’d known this day would come—hell, it was the reason he’d been hired—but he’d been dreading it all the same. He had nothing against the girl. The intern position wasn’t exactly rocket science; Hunter was handling it just fine, so Charlie was sure Arabella would, too. But the role of glorified babysitter rankled.

  Charlie loved working at Strange Wheel. Loved the fast-paced energy of recording, the rush of experimentation he got on the producing side of things. Arabella “James” Stone would only distract from that. Now that he was here, he wanted to immerse himself in music, not keep tabs on some haughty prima donna.

  “You made your bed,” he muttered to himself, mock-stabbing himself in the chest with a Bic pen as he shoved to his feet in surrender. His rolling chair careened toward the wall and crashed with a dull thump. “Now you have to make the best of it.”

  Back out in the hall, bits of conversation caught his ear. Not words, but sounds. Mike’s gruff, weathered voice, the result of smoking two packs a day since he was old enough to light a cigarette, and a woman’s musical laugh. Despite his surly mood, it tugged a smile out of him, the cadence of his heartbeat responding to the honeyed notes. It was exciting and soothing at the same time, and something nudged at his memory.

  He hesitated only a second as he neared the lobby, preparing himself to charm the daughter of the man who signed his paychecks. He released a breath, nodded to himself, and rounded the corner—

  Then came face-to-face with his kiss-and-run vixen.

  Charlie’s steps came to a grinding halt.

  The ghost of the woman from the club materialized alongside the hipster-dressed intern standing in front of Mike, smiling and looking excited, nervous, and hot as hell. Charlie shook his head at the impossibility. No. They couldn’t be the same person. The Arabella Stone in his mind was no older than Beth, twice as shy…and every bit as smitten.

  Maybe admit that she’s fantasized about you for years?

  Charlie cursed under his breath. That’s what the woman had asked him at Country Roads. And, obviously, the girl in his memory would’ve grown up by now. Just because he hadn’t seen her in several years didn’t mean she’d stayed trapped as a young teen for life.

  That old premonition he’d gotten when Stone first approached him roared back with a vengeance. Something had warned him then to be cautious, that everything in his life had a downside, but he’d ignored it. He should have known better. Lately, if things could go wrong, they did, and having the sexy woman from the club be the boss’s daughter definitely counted as wrong.

  “Little Bit?” Charlie’s voice was a hoarse rasp, hands clenching at his sides to keep from reaching out, while his head screamed at him to run. Trouble signs flashed in his periphery. As for Arabella, her smile froze on her glossy lips, and as her big doe eyes turned to meet his, they widened in shock.

  Well, look at that. Little Arabella Stone had grown up.

  And he was fucked.

  Chapter Five

  “Charlie?”

  Holy nuggets of crud, her worlds were colliding.

  Arabella licked her lips, a deer caught in the headlights. “Wha-wha-what are you doing here? I thought Blue was on hiatus.”

  Belatedly, she realized she could’ve at least attempted to deny her identity, but she was simply too shell-shocked. Not exactly the blasé post-kiss impression she’d intended to make when she first saw Charlie again, and yes, she’d had a plan in mind.

  From the moment she’d gotten home from the club, she had known there’d be no escaping the fallout of her escapade of deceit, but when the time came, most likely during a future Belle Meade event, she’d assumed one of two t
hings would occur:

  He’d have forgotten her again.

  Or

  She’d be the epitome of cool, calm sophistication, and explain that it’d been a harmless lark. The two of them would then laugh the night off as innocent flirting and walk away amused, but both secretly pining for each other.

  Okay, so even she could admit that second outcome hadn’t been likely, but it hadn’t mattered because she’d had time to come up with a better plan!

  Being the friendly stalker that she was, of course Arabella knew Charlie’s schedule. He was supposed to be back home in Franklin for the summer. She’d been aware that the band used Strange Wheel for a handful of songs on previous albums—it’d been what put the independent studio on her radar in the first place. But that hadn’t been an issue when she applied, because Blue wasn’t recording now. She’d known. She’d checked!

  Mr. Hebert, the sound engineer who had ultimately hired her and met her at the door that morning cleared his throat, and Ella dragged her gobsmacked gaze in his direction.

  “You two know each other,” he commented somewhat gruffly, a strange expression on his weathered face. “That’ll make things easier.”

  Arabella’s eyebrows lifted. “What easier, sir?”

  A snort came from Charlie’s direction, for some unfathomable reason, and her boss shot him a look. “Tucker here’s gonna be your supervisor for the summer.”

  Of course he is.

  Ella glanced at the security camera in the corner of the room, positive that any minute someone would burst in and shout, “Gotcha!” Because that made about as much sense as this latest development.

  Charlie and Arabella had circled each other for eight incredibly long years, most of them spent with her pining in the shadows, and him never once stopping to look her way. So, why was fate throwing them together now, after she’d kissed then ran and sort of lied to the man?

  It was almost poetic.

  Charlie shook his head as if coming to the same conclusion, and a mask of friendly distance shuttered his previously baffled expression. But there was no hiding the muscle ticking in his lightly stubbled jaw.

  “I live here,” he explained, and gone was the flirtatious lilt of the other night. In its place was pure professionalism…along with an underlying warning that they would be discussing this later. “Across the lake in Magnolia Springs. I bought a house here when Tyler decided he was settling in for good.”

  Everyone knew the story by now. Almost two years ago, Country Weekly had called Tyler Blue’s songwriting into question due to his perpetually single status, an article Arabella could’ve repeated verbatim with the amount of times Daddy had read it over Sunday dinner.

  In an effort to lighten the mood, she’d suggested the idea for a Country Bachelor reality show as a joke, only to watch her father’s eyes widen with eagerness, dollar bills replacing his pupils. Luckily, Tyler ended up finding his own solution to the problem—a surprise Vegas wedding to a feisty southern woman from a small town in Louisiana. A town that apparently was a whole lot closer to New Orleans than Ella had ever realized.

  “Oh.” For no apparent reason, her head began bobbing on her neck like a tendon had been severed, and her already fake smile stretched to painful proportions. “That’s great!”

  It was so very far from great.

  The whole point of coming to New Orleans was for escape. For anonymity. How was she supposed to prove her worth while Charlie, her longtime crush of all people, breathed down her neck? Half the time she couldn’t even speak in his presence, and when she did, she turned red-faced and rambly. Not to mention the fact that he could spill the beans and tell her coworkers who she was. Would they care? Would they be angry that she lied, or prejudge her like everyone else?

  Disappointment, swift and cold, settled in Ella’s stomach and she felt her starry-eyed hopes for the summer drain into the hardwood floor beneath her pumps.

  Hand tight on her purse strap, the need to call Lana supreme in her mind, Arabella remembered the top-ten list waiting on her phone. Nine items remained uncrossed, one of them discovering her passion, and she needed this job in order to make that happen. She wasn’t sure how she knew that to be true, only that she did.

  She couldn’t let the first setback to come her way derail her efforts. She’d never forgive herself. Besides, she wasn’t a quitter. Her inner perfectionist wouldn’t rest until everything was crossed off that list.

  Deciding to make the best of the situation, she stood tall. “It’ll be nice having a friendly face around,” she said, only realizing how much she meant it as the words washed over her.

  Ella wasn’t delusional. She didn’t expect Charlie would want a repeat of their flirtation or their kiss, especially now that he knew she was Stone’s daughter. But she really could use a friend. That night at Country Roads, he’d listened to her with an open mind and a softness in his eyes. He’d encouraged her with her list. Having him here, having him know about her summer mission, would keep her honest. Help stop her from chickening out. Who knew? Maybe if they became friends, he’d even join in for a few activities.

  Charlie nodded, mouth firm and shoulders rigid, then he glanced at the handful of employees watching them. Running his hand through his longish dark hair, he glanced at a guy who looked to be around her age and said, “Hunter, why don’t we show Arabella where the two of you are set up?”

  He didn’t bother waiting for a reply. With one long-legged step and one sweeping motion of his hand, he ushered Ella forward, behind her fellow intern, and past the snickering engineers and a young girl who watched their departure with unmistakable contempt. Oh goody, a friend already. Then Charlie placed his hand at the small of her back, and the sullen thoughts of the teenage mind fled Ella’s consciousness.

  “Not now,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. His hand was like a brand on her back, the heat of his skin permeating through the fabric of her retro, fifties-inspired shirtdress, and her stomach tightened as she bit her bottom lip to repress a nervous giggle.

  This was an unmitigated disaster. Her childhood crush was angry with her (and for good reason), her summer plans lay in tatters, and she most definitely hadn’t made the best first impression on her coworkers, thanks to that strange display in the lobby. But Charlie Tucker had his arm around her and, call her hopeless, that was pretty incredible.

  However things turned out, Ella was certainly having an adventure, and that was more than she could ever say before. She felt alive and excited about the future. So, right there in the bright hallway of Strange Wheel, and with the scent of Charlie’s soap-scented skin filling her head, Arabella made a decision. She wouldn’t ruin this opportunity with regret and second guesses. She’d sit back and enjoy the ride, wherever it took her.

  After all, she was in New Orleans now.

  Laissez les bon temps rouler!

  …

  Charlie tromped toward the break room in search of coffee. The day had been hell already, and it was only lunchtime. His neck was stiff, his temples had a pulse, and he’d had to stop himself a dozen times from calling his boss and confessing everything before the story landed on the front page of the tabloids. But what would he have said?

  Sorry, boss man, but I accidentally made out with your daughter. I didn’t know who she was, but I can’t say for sure it would’ve mattered. She’s seriously hot. By the way, good job on that.

  Yeah, Stone would’ve appreciated that call.

  What really had Charlie twisted, though, was that Arabella had known who he was. She’d known all the reasons why their conversation, as innocent as it may’ve appeared on the outside, should never have happened. She’d approached him, sought him out in the middle of a Belle Meade event and, when she’d realized he didn’t recognize her, she’d kept him in the dark on purpose.

  Nothing about that lined up with the image he’d been sold. Hell, if he were honest, it made the memory of their kiss even hotter. But it was a mistake ne
ither of them could afford to repeat. Only one thing was certain—he’d been right before. This summer babysitting job was definitely going to be a distraction.

  The aroma of coffee, strong and black, met him at the threshold, and Charlie headed straight for the pot. The break room wasn’t much to look at, linoleum floors, a few utilitarian tables, a refrigerator, and vending machine. A wicker basket on the counter held an assortment of decaffeinated teas for singers needing to care for their voices. Lucky for him, he was only a bass player.

  Grabbing a mug from the rack, he poured himself a steaming cup and lifted it to his lips, jonesing for a caffeine hit, when a soft sigh came from behind him.

  Arabella. Christ, even her name was sexy. It hadn’t fit when she was a girl; it was too worldly, too exotic. It was one of the reasons he’d given her the dumb nickname. But it sure suited now. The preteen he’d known had matured, her hair grown long and lush, her teeth perfectly straight and gleaming white. The headgear was gone, the acne cleared, and the womanly body rounded…but it was definitely her.

  She sighed again, and Charlie stood facing the coffeepot, a forked road in front of him. One led back to the office where he could hide away and figure out what in the hell he was supposed to do. The other involved him manning up, taking control of the situation, and nipping whatever this was between them in the bud.

  Decision made, he turned and rested his back against the counter.

  “What you got there?” he asked, the picture of nonchalance as he observed her bent over a laptop, a half-eaten sandwich beside it. Her long hair was up in a clip, strands exploding around her face, and her nose was scrunched as she grimaced at the screen.

  Arabella’s eyes shifted to his and then away again. “Apartment hunting. I’m scrolling through a realtor’s website, but I have to be doing something wrong because everything is either too far away, has no vacancy, or is too expensive. There’s got to be something, right? I can’t afford to stay in the motel all summer, as cheap as it is.”