by T. L. Haddix
Chapter Twenty-Five
“If you hurt her deliberately, I’ll kill you.”
The words were delivered with such straightforward matter-of-factness Charles had no doubt Owen meant them. They were waiting for the women to come back out of the restroom, and until that point, their conversation had been casual.
Though his first reaction was anger, Charles dialed it back. He realized as soon as his offended dignity had flared and settled that he’d said something very similar to Stanton when he’d started dating Daphne. That was with him having known the man for years. Charles was practically a stranger to Owen Campbell, and given Kathy’s history, taking offense at the words would have made Charles the biggest hypocrite to walk the planet.
“I’ll do my best not to hurt her.”
The other man’s glance of approval told him he’d passed a test of sorts.
The irony of the situation—that Charles himself would have and had done the same sort of thing—struck him, and he snickered. “You know, if I did hurt her? Not that I want to, but if I did? You really think there’d be a piece of me bigger than a button by the time Eliza got through with me?”
Owen grinned. “She’s one tough lady, that’s for sure. Sarah’s a lot like her. I used to think Kathy was, but I don’t so much anymore. She’s strong, don’t take that the wrong way, but she’s got a wealth of vulnerability.”
“She’s still figuring out who she is,” Charles said. “She has to learn to trust herself. Did you know the bastard she was married to?”
“Yeah. We met a time or two, and that was enough. He was a piece of work all around. We didn’t get along very well. If I’d had any idea of what was going on with her… but none of us did. She has a lot of pride, and you may have noticed she’s a bit stubborn. She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. She and Sarah weren’t always close, and that haunts Sarah.”
“You can’t change the past,” Charles told him solemnly as Kathy and Sarah emerged from an alcove on the other side of the club. “I learned that when I was trying to deal with the fallout from my father’s death. He shot himself, but most people think it was an accident. After you go through something like that, there are a thousand questions you ask yourself about what you could have changed, and do you know, the answer is always the same—not a damned thing. Maybe someday Sarah will learn that, and Kathy will too.”
Owen laid his hand briefly on Charles’s shoulder. “I hope you stick around.”
Charles smiled as the women approached. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They said their good-byes once outside the door, having parked in opposite directions. A light drizzle was falling, more of a mist than anything that could be considered rain, and Charles hurried Kathy to his car.
Once inside, he sighed and started the engine. “It does feel good to get away from the noise even though I enjoyed tonight.”
“You’re tired. You should take me straight home,” she said.
Charles rested his hand on the gearshift, looking at her in the watery light that filtered in from outside. “I am tired, but I don’t particularly want to see the night end. Not unless that’s what you want.”
She pulled the edges of her sweater closer together over the ruched bodice of her dress, her eyes downcast. “What are you proposing?”
“Come home with me. We can start a fire and sit and talk. Maybe have some coffee.”
“Is that all?” She lifted her gaze to his, her chin raised as though she were half-bracing for a blow.
Charles swallowed, his heart hammering in his throat as he prayed he’d find the right words. “That depends on you. Is that all you’d want?”
Her laugh was sad. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t we take it one minute at a time then? I don’t expect you to go to bed with me just because we go to my place.”
“You don’t want that?” she asked skeptically.
He gave a bark of laughter that turned into a faint groan. “I’ve wanted that since the first time I laid eyes on you, if you must know. But I won’t lay a hand on you unless you want me as well. And if we do end up… doing whatever, if you tell me to stop, I will. I promise you that, Kathy.”
“How can you be so damned nice?” she whispered.
He picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth to place a smacking kiss on the back. “Are you kidding me? I’m not nice. I’m a rebel. So where to, madam? I’m at your beck and call.”
She shook her head, but she was grinning, and the tension level in the car was noticeably lower. “Show me your house. We’ll see about the rest.”
“Drat. I really had my heart set on some coffee,” he teased as he gave an internal sigh of relief.
He pulled onto the street to the sound of her laughter, and he smiled. He wasn’t sure where the night would end, and he wasn’t going to worry about it. Regardless of whether it was coffee or more, he enjoyed being with Kathy, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Given what she knew about Charles, Kathy wasn’t sure what she expected his house to be like. Expensive and elaborately ornate? Maybe. When they reached the quiet street on Tybee Island and he pulled into a driveway, she tried to take in what she saw. She had no doubt the property was prime, but the house itself… was surprisingly modest. At least from the outside.
Typical of the Low Country-style houses so prevalent on the island, Charles’s home was on an elevated foundation to allow for heavy tides, the bottom serving as a carport. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the house appeared to be painted a soft baby blue, all the trim done in white. A wraparound porch surrounded the upper section of the house, and given that she could hear the surf when she opened her car door, she imagined the daytime views were stunning.
“This isn’t exactly what I was expecting,” she admitted as he escorted her up the wide steps to the balcony.
The porch light was on, making the space cozy. Comfortable-looking chairs and a swing sat to one side as if waiting for someone to come along and settle down on them. The thought that Charles had probably done just that on occasion gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, an awareness of the intimacy of the situation that ran all over her.
“No? What’d you think it’d be like?” He unlocked the door and gestured inside. “Welcome.”
“Oh. Oh, this is beautiful.”
The space off the entry hall was open, the dark-stained glossy wood floors covered in muted blue-and-green-patterned rugs that looked soft enough to sink into. Understated modern furniture graced the living room, and two sofas flanked a marble fireplace at one end.
“Thanks. I like it. Kitchen’s back here,” he said, leading her down the hall and into the long room that ran along the back side of the house. “There’s a half bath down there on the end with the laundry. Bedrooms are over here—two of them—and each has its own bath.” He pointed down a short hall that ran perpendicular to the one they’d come down. “And my office. Technically, it’s a three-bedroom house, but… anyhow. Coffee?”
Kathy nodded, half-smiling at his endearing discomfort. “That’d be nice. Do you mind if I’m nosy?” She’d never expected him to be nervous about this, and his unease helped settle her own anxiety somewhat.
He spread his hands wide. “Please. Make yourself at home.”
Taking him at his word, she slipped off the high heels that pinched her feet mercilessly. When he grinned with approval and turned toward the stove, she went down the hall to explore. The hardwood floor extended throughout the house, and the blue-and-green rug running the length of the hall was just as soft as she’d thought it would be.
The first door to her right was a smallish bedroom, neat and tidy and, unless she missed her guess, the guest room. Across from it was the office, where he’d left a small lamp burning on the desk. She relished such an intimate look into his life, and s
he leaned against the doorjamb, studying the room.
To her surprise, while not messy, it wasn’t sterile and perfectly ordered as she’d expected. He clearly used the room for more than just looks. Drawn inside by curiosity, she padded across the thick rug to look at the pictures on the bookcase behind his desk.
There were lots of framed shots, casual and formal, of a woman she recognized as Daphne. With her in most of the photos was a handsome man and two adorable, happy-looking boys. There were a few of Charles with Daphne and with the boys, one where he stood grinning proudly beside a redheaded man as they held up a fish almost bigger than they were, and a more formal image of an older woman smiling politely.
“That’s my mother,” Charles said.
Kathy turned to see him lounging in the door, hands in his pockets as he watched her. “You and Daphne resemble her some.”
He stepped closer and smiled. “We do. But I look more like my father.” He picked up a picture that was hidden a bit behind some of the others and handed it to her. As he’d said, the likeness was obvious.
“Do you miss him?” She knew from some of their previous discussions that he’d lost his father as a fairly young man.
“Yes and no. I don’t miss seeing him in constant pain. I hope that wherever he is, he’s found relief from that. But other than that? Every day.”
Since he was standing close enough to touch and since she couldn’t resist the need to reach out, she slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder as he set the picture back down. “It never goes away, does it? The loss.”
Charles leaned against the desk and folded her into a hug. “No, it doesn’t. I have to think it gets easier to carry the burden as time goes on though. It’s less new even if the hurt isn’t less.”
“That’s exactly right.” She closed her eyes, letting the quietness of the house move over her as they held each other. After a minute, she pulled back. “I’m not finished with my tour.”
He followed her to the door and cleared his throat, making her turn back. “Um, about the bedroom…” He ducked his head and grimaced as he rubbed a hand over his cheek then into his hair. “It’s a little messy. I didn’t expect a guest tonight.”
Kathy crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? I have to see it now.”
She was amused and touched, finding the situation humorous because he wasn’t the neatest man in the world and she’d fully expected him to be. Touched because he hadn’t set up a love nest in anticipation of bringing her home and ravishing her. That said a lot about his expectations and intentions, and though it could have meant he wasn’t seriously interested in her, she knew without a doubt that wasn’t the case.
His uncertainty also spoke volumes to her about the kind of man Charles was and humanized him in a way that completely—or nearly, anyhow—disarmed her.
When she flipped the light switch, which turned on the lamps on either side of the bed, she couldn’t contain a quick chuckle. “Oh, you slob!”
The bed, a huge four-poster, was unmade but not a disaster, and a few items of clothing were scattered around the room. When she spied a pair of underwear lying on the floor near the door, a spark of impish mischief flared to life, and she swooped down and grabbed them with a laugh.
“I wondered, you know. Boxers or briefs.” She held up the dark blue briefs before whipping them behind her back when he snatched at them.
“Give those to me.” His cheeks red, Charles was clearly embarrassed as well as trying not to laugh.
He stalked her, making her walk backward across the room, and didn’t stop until she’d bumped into the wall beside the chest of drawers. With deliberation, he placed one hand, then two, on the wall beside her shoulders. Very slowly, he leaned in, resting his weight against her.
“Now what are you going to do?” he asked, his voice soft as his gaze dipped to her lips and back to her eyes.
Dropping the underwear, Kathy brought her hands up and framed his cheeks. The skin was smooth with just a hint of bristle. Barely breathing, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him. He didn’t move until she’d slid her lips away from his, then he followed her, nipping gently to bring her mouth back. The move was so tender it destroyed her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she sighed.
Charles pulled back a fraction of an inch, just far enough to take his glasses off, and he laid them aside. This time, he cupped her face when they kissed. Happy to let him lead, she wound her arms around his neck as he gently bit her lip. When his tongue flicked out to tease where he’d nipped, she clenched her hands on his shoulders, electricity shooting from her head clean through her toes. The anxious, hot anticipation it left behind had her catching her breath as she moved against him.
At her response, Charles took the kiss to a level of heady sensuality that devastated her. It was the best kind of onslaught, a slow, welcome attack on her senses that was erotic without being vulgar, and it seemed to go on forever. When she turned her head, needing a break as the stimulation became a bit scary, he rested his cheek alongside hers. They were both breathing hard, and Kathy was trembling.
“Are you okay?” he rasped.
In response, she caught his lip with her teeth then soothed it in much the same way as he had with her earlier.
Charles groaned and pushed his fingers into her hair as he kissed her again. This time, he was the first to break the contact. He stared at her in the warm light, his eyes twinkling. “You do like me a little, I guess.”
Kathy traced his lips with her fingers. “I’ve always liked you. Well, after New Year’s.”
He smiled softly. “Yeah? That long ago, huh?”
“Maybe before then. You just scared me too much, so I tried my best to keep you at arm’s length.”
“Scared you how?” He frowned and moved back a short distance as he put his glasses back on. “Like this?”
She shook her head vehemently, missing his warmth with an ache that was startlingly swift. “No. Emotionally. You still scare me emotionally. I’m a mess, Charles.”
“As you’ve seen, I’m a bit messy myself.” He moved his head toward the unmade bed. “That doesn’t bother me in the least.”
Kathy groaned and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him again. “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
He laughed. “That is part of my job.” He rocked her for a moment, then he stepped back and held out a hand. “How about that coffee?”
She couldn’t help but glance at the bed, and when he saw that, he snickered. Kathy gave him a stern look, which made him laugh even harder.
“You are absolutely one hundred and twenty percent decidedly odd, Charles Kelly.” She moved past him to the door then looked over her shoulder. “But I like you anyway.”
He caught her in the hall, swinging her into his arms and dancing her toward the kitchen. “I like you too, Kathy Browning. One hundred and twenty percent.”
When he lifted her off her feet to twirl her, holding her tight against his chest, she laughed with sheer joy. The moment was so simple and happy, so pure in a way that she’d never expected, it took her breath away. That moment in time was a priceless gift, and she wanted to cling to it forever and never let go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Somehow, Charles managed to take his attention off of Kathy long enough to get the coffee, two mugs, and all the fixings on a tray and get the tray into the living room without tripping or breaking anything. Probably because he’d banished her so he could do all that without maiming himself.
“Here we are,” he said as he set the tray on the coffee table.
She turned from where she’d been perusing his record collection and smiled. “Jazz and rock ’n’ roll, huh?”
He shrugged. “Mostly, but there’s some gospel and a good mix of classical and blues in there too. What do you like?”
“The same for
the most part. I’m not much on gospel and classical though. Not these days,” she said quietly as she sat and reached for the coffee pot to pour. “I never was a fan of classical, and gospel… well, I leave religion to Mama these days. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”
Her eyes were wary when she handed him his mug, the coffee fixed exactly the way he liked without him having said a word.
“It doesn’t offend me, no. And it doesn’t really surprise me either.”
She sat back and looked into her coffee. “You’d be amazed at how many people take my loss of faith personally. Nancy, for example. She doesn’t know what to make of me.”
“Roy’s wife, Nancy?” Charles hadn’t been expecting that. “I was under the impression they think a lot of you.”
“They do. Roy more than her, I think, if you want the truth. It bothers Nancy that I haven’t picked up the pieces of what was left of myself and moved on already. It’s almost like every time she sees me, she’s reminded of what happened, and she endures it so stoically that I leave her presence feeling like I’ve offended her.” She shook her head. “I’ll admit I’ve tried to avoid being around her in recent months. She thinks that because I’m in therapy, I should be ready to forget that part of my life ever happened.”
Charles set his cup down then took hers and did the same. He didn’t say anything, just slid his hands over hers.
Kathy smiled, the expression somewhat sad, and traced the tips of his fingers. “Nancy tries to get Mama to go back to Kentucky with her for a visit. She and Roy go a couple of times a year, you see. But Mama doesn’t want to go any more than I do. She’s still so hurt from having lost Daddy she can’t bear to contemplate it. But Nancy won’t hear that. She blames Mama’s reluctance on me, and she isn’t subtle about putting on the pressure.”
