Play Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  "Look—I’d love to help you but as if you can’t tell, I am currently in the process of bringing life into the world.”

  “You sure you can’t make a few phone calls between contractions,” I tease. Well actually, I’m only half-teasing. I’ll take all the help I can get right now.

  She’s not amused. “Charlie—figure it out yourself. I've been in labor for eight hours and I'm only three centimetres dilated. I need a demolition permit for my uterus! So really, I can't help you. Now, go get my cowardly lion of a husband and get the hell out of here."

  "You're right. I'm sorry." I walk over to the bathroom door and give it a good pound. "Time to man up, dude. Get on out of the bathroom." There's shuffling on the other side of the door and within a few seconds, he emerges with pale skin and glazed over eyes. "I'm handing back the reins to you. Hold down the fort. Take care of her and that baby. You hear me?"

  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and nods weakly.

  Always knew the guy was a chump.

  I go over and kiss Sharon on her freshly-painted cheek. She swats me away and I laugh. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

  She nods. "Okay."

  "I'm serious," I tell her.

  She starts to smile but it quickly fades as yet another contraction rises in her belly. I give her squeamish husband a little push. "Get in there, man!"

  When he approaches the bed, Sharon takes siege of his hand. He throws a 'help me!' look my way. I just chuckle and head out into the hallway.

  I've got problems of my own. I can't play this game with Helena any longer. There’s only one thing left to do.

  I punch at the screen of my phone and let it ring. Her nasally cadence travels over the line. "Helena Yorkville's office?"

  I turn on my smoothest seductive tone. "Helena, it's Charlie Hartley."

  "You know my terms, Charlie and until you're ready to give me what I want—"

  "That's just it, sweetness. I'm ready." I hear the hitch of her breath. "I want to see you. In something sexy…Let’s make it a date."

  Without even waiting for her response, I end the call, my stomach roiling. I hate myself for this but I see no other choice.

  Chapter 27

  Charlie

  “Dammit, man!”

  In a non-thinking moment of frustration, I kick at a can of varnish. Of course, it isn’t closed properly and it tips over, creating a thick, pungent pool on the floor.

  Today, I’m really not in the fucking mood.

  Nothing seems to be going right. Everything around me is turning to shit. One of these idiots nailed a round-head right through his finger and had to be taken to the emergency room. The hinges for the kitchen cabinets we’re supposed to be installing today never showed up. A major client’s cheque bounced in my account. Sharon decided to go into labor last night even though I told her she wasn’t allowed to until I got that damn Silverberry demolition permit.

  …And Nova won't take my calls. She isn't in my bed, breathing softly on my chest at night. I need her. I’ve never needed anyone like this before. It's driving me crazy.

  Leo saunters over, sidestepping the mess to set the paint can upright. “What’s going on with you, man?” He claps a huge hand on my tense shoulder.

  I scrub my fingers over my chin. "Nothing, man. Nothing."

  He squints. "Sure doesn't seem like nothing. You've been flying high all week and now, it's like you've crashed. Something's up."

  The last thing I want to do is pour my heart out like a little chump but that's essentially what I am. I'm stressed out. I can't eat. Can't sleep. I just wish there was a way to get back on Nova's good side, to show her that I can be a good guy. That I will be a good guy. For her.

  Leo reads the angst on my face like a blog post. "It's a woman, isn't it? All those women chasing you—did one of them finally catch you?"

  I yank my hard hat off of my head and he follows me outside with his lunch bag in hand. "It's not like that," I say.

  "Then, what's it like?" He leans against the side of my truck, and pulls out a little zip-up bag of deli meat sandwiches that my sister probably put in his lunch bag this morning.

  And suddenly I'm wishing that Nova were packing my lunch bag every morning. The fantasy fades quickly because spreading peanut butter on toast is a struggle for her. The thought puts a bittersweet smile on my face.

  He shoves the bag my way. I grab a sandwich and chomp down. "She's a friend. But I want more..."

  "You want more?” Why are people so surprised that I’m capable of emotion? Leo should remember better than anyone what happened the last time I let someone into my heart.

  "Yes, I want more." It singes my insides to admit the next part. "She doesn't trust me, though."

  When he surveys my expression, he chokes back a laugh and watches me inch closer and closer to a mini breakdown. "So make her trust you." He makes it sound so simple.

  "How am I supposed to do that?"

  "Sometimes when you love a woman and you fuck up, you've got to walk across hot coals to get her back…Or run into a burning building."

  "Stop being poetic, man. I need practical solutions."

  He shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and lifts a big shoulder. "I don't know. Get creative. Listen to some R&B songs. Those are always full of good ideas."

  "Jesus, Leo."

  He peels off of the truck, headed in the direction of the port-a-potty at the edge of the yard. "I have a John Legend CD in my car. Let me know if you wanna borrow it."

  "What do I look like to you—a pre-teen cheerleader?"

  He laughs in his chest. "Fuck, you. I'm just trying to help. Anyway, I've gotta go take a piss. You'll figure something out."

  He walks off, leaving me standing there as hopeless as ever.

  Chapter 28

  Nova

  The front door of Gallo’s swings open and my heart leaps into my throat. My attention jumps from my customer—a bumbling little boy who can’t be more than five and who is taking an insane amount of pride in ordering for himself—over to the boisterous group of seven entering the restaurant. My eyes scan the gathering and my pulse batters my veins at the possibility that maybe, just maybe he might be in the crowd.

  He isn’t. Obviously.

  But that’s what happens when you fall hard for someone you have no business messing with in the first place. You start seeing them everywhere. Wishing that they’ll show up. Craving their touch. Even though you know it’s wrong.

  God, I’m paying the price for that mistake now.

  He planted an idea in my head, implying that he may want to be more than my friend. I said ‘no’ because Charlie and I can’t be more than friends. He wouldn’t know what to do with my heart if I placed it in his hands. So, I’ve decided to play it safe and stay away from him. Too bad sticking to this decision is so hard.

  Every night that I’m not in his bed, feeling the pressure of his body crushing me into the mattress feels like a famine. I’m starving for him. I miss the way he kissed me, the way he teased me, the way he looked at me like he might actually mean the words he said. But he’s Charlie—seduction is his currency, flattery is the product he barters in exchange for a night of satisfaction.

  I can’t buy in to what he’s selling. I just can’t do that to myself.

  “So, you want a Happy Meal with an Oreo milkshake and an Avengers toy, huh?” I smile down at the little boy. He bounces excitedly in his seat, so thrilled to have placed his order.

  “Yes! Yes, please!” His little face splits and a mouth full of teeny, tiny teeth grins up at me.

  I furrow my brows, exaggerating my disappointment for his benefit. “I’m sorry. We don’t sell Happy Meals here but guess what?”

  “What?” he asks around his pout.

  “We’ve got pizza. Any kind of pizza you want!”

  “Happy Meal pizza?!”

  I burst out laughing. “Okay, how does fried chicken pizza sound?”

  His eyes go rou
nd. “That exists? Fried chicken pizza?”

  “In our kitchen, it does.”

  The little boy turns to the older woman he’s sitting with. “Can I, grandma?”

  “Of course you can, honey.” She laughs, ruffling his hair.

  Still wearing a hint of a smile, I recap their order. “So, it will be a vegetarian lasagna, a fried chicken pizza and two orange juices?”

  “Yes, yes!” The boy claps his hands together enthusiastically.

  I smile. It’s nice to get a little reprieve from the heavy-heartedness I’ve been living these last few days. “Coming right up,” I assure him as I turn toward the kitchen to deliver their request.

  As I’m brushing by the booths lining the restaurant’s brick walls, I feel a grip on my arm. It’s soft but firm and I feel a reaction in the pit of my stomach. My shoulders heave, almost in relief, when I see him. “Charlie…”

  He looks beautiful. Breathtaking. His jaw is freshly-shaven and he’s just had a haircut. He’s wearing a black suit—the one he wore to my grandmother's wedding—with a white shirt underneath. The first few buttons are undone, showcasing a hint of his strong chest. My tongue darts across my lips when I remember the sweet, salty taste of his skin and the many hours that I spent exploring it with my mouth.

  I wanna do it again…

  A crooked smile tilts one corner of his lips. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of my customers. “Cute kid, huh? Sort of looks like a little Pokemon.”

  I laugh through my nose. “What are you doing here?”

  And I immediately wish I hadn’t asked the question because the answer is obvious. He’s here to meet a woman.

  Fuck. He's on a date.

  My knees nearly crumble under the weight of the sucker punch to my heart.

  Y'see—this is exactly why I didn't want to get involved with Charlie.

  He's a player. The type of guy who can steal your heart, your mind and your panties, all in one fell swoop. And then walk away without a nick, without a scratch. Meanwhile, I’m wrecked. Ruined. Destroyed.

  I straighten my shoulders, hold my head up, attempt to appear unaffected.

  But the arrogant glint is missing from his eyes tonight. There’s something raw, almost vulnerable in his stare. “I’m here to take you on a date.”

  Everything around me screeches to a halt. “What?” My thoughts are swimming in molasses. My comprehension of the English language appears to be failing me.

  He rises from his seat, tall and wide, the fabric of his fitted suit barely enough to withstand the strain of the sinewy muscles beneath. “I’m here to plead my case, Nova. I want you. I’ll do whatever it takes. And I want you to see that I’m serious.”

  My pulse batters the poor vein in my neck. My stomach is tied up like the cord of a cellphone charger. Because suddenly, I’m the heroine in an Amazon bestselling billionaire romance serial. And this scene feels a lot like the cliffhanger.

  I look down at my shaky hands where my waitress pad is clenched in my fingers. “I’m working,” I whisper.

  “I’ll wait.” He slides back into his booth and extends his long legs beneath the table, clenching his dark beer bottle with both hands.

  “I don’t get off until midnight.”

  “That’s fine.”

  That waitress that Charlie fucked—the one with the award-winning gag reflex—she passes by and gives me the stink eye. This is a bad idea. “And I have plans afterwards.”

  “Then, find a way to include me in those plans.” He leans toward me, his gaze piercing, his jaw set. “Nova, I’m not leaving until you agree to hear me out.”

  Realizing that he’s not going to take no for an answer, I swallow in a breath. “Okay. Fine.”

  He falls back against the tufted seat with a victorious grin. “Good.”

  Three and a half hours has never passed more slowly in my life. But Charlie sits patiently, slowing going through an order of bruschetta and two beers. When my shift ends, I retreat to the changing room and slip into my long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. I’m so fucking nervous. Too nervous to double-check my tips. Too nervous to worry about the other waitresses and their whispering. Too nervous to swing by the kitchen and grab some leftovers for the night.

  A part of me wants to get to Charlie and hear what he has to say. The other part of me wishes I could just run away.

  My shaky legs take me out to the parking lot where he’s waiting for me, leaning against the side of his truck. As I stumble out the back door with the garbage bags in my hands, he hustles over and takes them from me. With zero effort, he lifts open the dumpster and flings them inside.

  “Thank you.” Bringing my eyes to his was a bad idea. I should have known it would leave me feeling needy and breathless.

  He wipes his hands together then shoves them into his pockets. “You’re welcome.” His eyes explore my face and if I weren’t so lost in his rugged masculine beauty, I’d probably have the strength to turn away. “You said you had plans?”

  I give him a weak smile. “I do.”

  “Care to elaborate.”

  Biting down on my lip, I try to insert a certain amount of gravity into my voice as I lift my hands and flip them to face him.

  “Gotta paint my nails.”

  Chapter 29

  Nova

  The expression on his face is fucking adorable.

  He’s seated on the floor with my foot on the hardcover book in his lap. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he carefully drags the brush across my big toe and sparkly blue polish spreads across the nail. His complete attention is focused on the task at hand. He leans back and tilts his head to the side to examine his handiwork. A slight frown comes to his brow then he pushes his nail across the edge to pick up the excess polish.

  This is too much.

  The sight of this big, tough, tattooed man sitting at my feet in his expensive suit, painting my toes is too much. The feel of his warm, rough hands gently cradling my feet is too much. The look of undivided dedication in his eyes is too much.

  “Charlie, you don’t have to do this.”

  He looks up at me and shrugs. “There’s really nothing else I’d rather be doing, Nova.” His eyes go mischievous. “Except maybe…”

  “Don’t even go there,” I warn even as my body begins to tingle. Can you blame me? We’re alone in my house at 1:00 in the morning and his hands are on my skin, he’s already on his knees. This is dangerous. You can’t blame me for the places that my mind has ventured off to.

  His face remains serious, confident when he says, “We’ll get there. Trust me.”

  My defenses surge up at that comment. I pull my foot out of his grasp. “Charlie, you and me…I don’t think we’re a good idea.”

  “And why’s that?” He slides the wand into the little nail polish bottle and screws it shut.

  “You know why…” I say quietly.

  His gaze narrows and his nostrils flare. “Why? Because I’m a player? Because I’ve been with a lot of women? Is that it, Nova?”

  “I can’t throw a rock in Copper Heights without hitting a woman you’ve slept with.”

  Frustration pleats his brow. “There’s more to me than that. How about you get to know me? I want you to get to know me.”

  I lift a brow. “I do know you.”

  “No—you don’t.” I hear the edge of anger in his voice.

  Why is my resistance so weak right now? Why can’t I just say ‘no’ and stand by it?

  “Please don’t do this to me, Charlie. I know everything I need to know about you. I know that you don’t do relationships. I know that you break hearts…”

  He plants a hand behind him on the carpet and leans back, looking at me. “Did you know that I’ve been in love?”

  The announcement hits me like a blast of cold air on a January morning.

  “You’ve been in love?” I repeat skeptically. I’ve been in his life for years and not once have I heard mention of this mystery woman who appa
rently caught his heart once upon a time.

  He gives a curt nod. “Yes.”

  I sit back against the cushions and wait for him to expand.

  An array of emotions cycles across his features. A version of Charlie that I’ve never met sits on the floor at my feet.

  “When I was deployed.” His voice gets deep, scratchy, weighed down by a burden that seems to suffocate him all of a sudden. “It was a friendly village. She was a local girl. Pretty. Dark hair. Small body. But a smile…that smile was trouble.” He scrubs his hand over his head. “I was stupid. Horny.” He chuckles bitterly. “I snuck off the base almost every night, following her scent like a damn dog. The nights I couldn’t be with her were agonizing.”