With one last glance at the ocean, Julian turned to go back into the house. Entering the living room, he sat down and turned on the TV.
For several minutes, he simply channel surfed. That was something he hadn’t done in ages. When he was home and not on tour, Julian spent his spare time either playing or writing music. He found that he hated being idle.
But right now, he didn’t want to think.
He didn’t want to feel.
And if he had his way, he wasn’t going to any time soon.
* * *
The sun was coming up and Julian didn’t remember seeing it go down. He’d been watching all kinds of boring documentaries since he’d first turned on the TV. Slowly he rose from the couch and stretched. With a quick glance around he spotted a clock and saw it was barely six a.m.
“To sleep or not to sleep,” he murmured, walking toward the kitchen. “That is the question.”
It didn’t take long for him to realize he hadn’t eaten anything the night before and there really weren’t any options that were appealing for him to make now.
His body ached, and after three months of either camping out or sleeping in crappy motel rooms on lumpy beds, he needed a decent night’s sleep in a real bed.
With a shrug, he slowly made his way to the master bedroom, stripped down, and slid beneath the sheets. Everything in him began to relax. He had forgotten what Egyptian cotton sheets felt like or how incredibly satisfying a soft pillow was.
It was the little things he was learning to appreciate and as he closed his eyes, he felt at least a small sense of contentment.
But after three hours of tossing and turning and willing his brain to shut off, Julian gave up the fight to get some sleep. It was annoying as hell to realize that after staying up for over twenty-four hours straight, he just couldn’t relax enough to sleep. Off in the distance he heard his phone ring and kicked the sheets off. Naked, he stalked to the living room and grabbed the phone from the coffee table just as it stopped ringing.
“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. A minute later a text came through.
Mick: Housekeeper not coming today. She’ll be there Wednesday.
So much for the hope of just hanging around and not having to be responsible for anything. Just what he needed on top of his mental and physical exhaustion. Now he had to leave the house and actually go back into the real world.
To buy groceries.
If this was the start of his new life, it seriously sucked.
* * *
The line in the coffee shop was longer than usual and Charlotte Clark was thrilled that she had no place pressing to be until later in the afternoon. It would have been even more thrilling if she didn’t have to work on a Sunday, but that was the way it went. Being a vocational rehabilitation counselor had her working more hours than she would have imagined, and sometimes those hours weren’t conventional.
Some of the people she found jobs for were fresh out of rehab or even prison, but most of the time they were simply people who were down on their luck.
Sort of like the guy standing in line in front of her. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was unkempt, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. Silently she cursed herself for being judgmental. Maybe he was just a guy who didn’t care about his appearance. That certainly wasn’t a crime and she’d known many people like that, but everything about this guy had all of her senses on alert.
With a background in social work, Charlotte had learned to read people and notice things about them that maybe they were trying to hide or simply didn’t want to share. If she had to venture a guess, she’d say this guy was tired and a little agitated. His posture and the way he kept shifting from one foot to another…and then the way he sighed—loudly—multiple times. Maybe it was the long line or the fact that the line wasn’t moving that was bugging him, or maybe it was something else.
She shook her head and reminded herself that she needed to quit analyzing people so much. The guy was simply here to grab a cup of coffee, just like she was. End of story. And even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t any of her business. There was no way she could help everyone and there certainly was no way she would approach a total stranger. How could she walk up to him and ask him if he realized that he needed to fix himself up a little bit?
Bad Charlotte! Ugh…she hated when she couldn’t get out of this mode. It was a beautiful day outside and she should be thinking about finding something fun and relaxing to do. Later she’d need to go over to the homeless shelter in Santa Monica and meet with her group to see about setting up interviews for the coming week.
The line moved forward and she was relieved to see that she was almost to the front. Unkempt guy stepped up to order and she couldn’t help but listen.
“Large black coffee,” he snapped. “None of that overpriced fancy crap. Just your basic, regular coffee. Three sugars.” He paused. “And let me get a blueberry muffin and…actually, make that two.”
“Anything else?” the cashier asked.
He shook his head and waited.
At that point, Charlotte put her own focus on the menu board and thought a blueberry muffin sounded good too. Originally, she had only planned on getting herself a coffee—one of the overpriced fancy ones—and a fruit cup, but now that the idea of the muffin was there, she knew she’d be changing her order.
In front of her, the guy reached into his back pocket and cursed.
Loudly.
“Um…cancel my order,” he told the cashier, his voice so low and deep it was almost a growl. “I forgot my wallet.”
Without hesitation, Charlotte stepped forward and smiled at the young cashier. “Hi, Carly,” she began, reading the girl’s nametag, “if it’s okay, you can add his order to mine.” She was feeling pretty good about herself and her gesture, but when she turned and looked up at the man she was helping, she couldn’t help but gasp.
Jet-black hair and silver eyes—which were currently glaring at her. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile and if anything, he was borderline snarling.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
Charlotte had met enough people who were down on their luck to know that sometimes pride was a huge deterrent to them accepting help in any form. “I heard you say you had forgotten your wallet and just figured I’d help.”
“Why?”
Her shoulders relaxed even as her smile grew and she laughed softly. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”
“Ma’am?” the cashier asked. “What can I get you? The line’s getting backed up.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Although she was a little miffed at being called “ma’am.” At twenty-seven, she didn’t consider herself old enough for that title, but she’d deal with that later. “I’ll have a tall mocha Frappuccino and a blueberry muffin, please.” Then she handed her credit card over before looking back at the angry man.
“I don’t need anyone to buy me coffee,” he growled.
Undeterred, she smiled and accepted her card back from the cashier. “Oh, please. I know I get cranky when I can’t have my coffee, and you look like you could use it. It’s not a big deal. Really.” She stepped around him to go wait at the other end of the counter for their order. For a minute, she didn’t think he would follow, and she had to hide her smile when he finally did.
“I could have just gone and grabbed my wallet and come back,” he argued. His voice was low, but there was still heat in it.
She shrugged and offered him a smile. “Now you don’t have to.”
They stood in silence until their order was placed on the counter, and Charlotte thanked the barista and then smiled at the man. He still hadn’t picked up his coffee or muffins, and she wondered just how stubborn he was going to be.
“Look, if it bothers you that much, just…pay it forward,” she said.
“Pay it what?”
“Forward. You know, next time you’re in line and notice someone in need of a hand, help them out.” Her smile broadened even as he looked at her as if she were crazy. “Anyway, enjoy and have a great day!”
Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the coffee shop and across the street toward the park benches where she could sit and see the beach and enjoy the fresh air. It really was a beautiful day out and there was no way she wanted to waste it sitting inside.
Sitting down, she pulled the muffin out of the bag and was about to break off a piece when someone sat down beside her.
Her unkempt man.
With her sunglasses on, she was certain he couldn’t read her surprise, and she did her best to sound casual as she asked, “Would you like to join me?” For the life of her, she had no idea why she would even suggest such a thing. It was obvious he was annoyed with her and really, just because she tended to be trusting didn’t mean it was always the right thing to do. For all of her speculation, she had no idea who this man was.
“What is your deal?” he asked a little suspiciously, but not snarling or growling nearly as much as he had been inside the coffee shop.
“My deal?”
He nodded. “Why’d you buy my breakfast? What’s it to you if I didn’t have my wallet?”
For a moment Charlotte could only stare. Was this guy for real? Here she was doing a nice thing and he was giving her crap for it?
“It was just coffee and two muffins,” she reasoned pleasantly. “It wasn’t a big deal, and like I said, just pay it forward.”
That should have been the end of it, but considering he didn’t move or say anything, she figured it wasn’t.
Now she started to feel a little uneasy.
Looking around, she tried to see how many people were nearby. It was early and people were out walking on the sidewalk and down on the sand, so she relaxed. She could handle this.
“What is it you want from me?” he finally asked, his scowl back in place.
Charlotte frowned at him. “Excuse me?”
He sighed in agitation. “You heard me. What is it you want? You want me to sign something?”
Sign something? What the…?
“Look, Mr.…?” She paused and waited for him to fill in the blank, but when he didn’t, she was the one to sigh. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. Charlotte Clark. I’d prefer not to keep calling you ‘angry guy’ in my head.” And when he still didn’t answer, she stuffed her muffin back in the bag, grabbed her coffee, and stood. “I honestly didn’t mean to offend you, okay? I just thought it would be a nice thing to do and then we’d both be on our way—me feeling good and you feeling thankful. Obviously, I was wrong. So… I’m sorry if I was mistaken and if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and enjoy my breakfast elsewhere.”
Her heart was hammering in her chest as she moved around him and walked back along the sidewalk to the crosswalk in hopes of finding someplace else to sit and eat. The whole time she complained in her head, because she seriously enjoyed sitting and watching the waves crash and all the sights and smells of the beach.
Stupid angry guy messing with my good morning.
Standing on the corner, she waited for the signal to change when she felt someone walk up beside her. She didn’t even have to turn her head to know it was him.
“Julian,” he said gruffly and Charlotte had to hide her smile. She was used to dealing with some belligerent people, and it was always satisfying when they had that moment where they started to trust her.
This was that moment for her.
Looking up at him, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Julian.” A last name would have been nice, but for now she’d take what she could get.
He nodded. “So…are you going back to eat by the coffee shop?”
“Well, I normally sit and enjoy my coffee while watching the waves crash, but…”
Another nod. “Sorry I ruined that for you. You should go back and do that. I…” He paused and Charlotte got the impression he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.
Unable to help herself, she was instantly in social-worker mode. Touching his arm gently, she shifted so she was facing him. “If you’d like to join me, that would be okay.”
It was clearly the wrong thing to say, because he stiffened and the snarl was back.
“Or not,” she quickly added and stepped away. And without another glance at him, she turned and walked back to the bench. She primly sat down and took a sip of her coffee before pulling out her muffin and taking a huge bite.
Normally, she would pick at such a large item, but she was annoyed and frustrated and just… Gah! Why did people have to be so distrusting? It was just a friendly gesture; why was she being punished for it?
Her jaw almost hurt from chewing so hard and fast and when she finally swallowed, she had to force herself to take several deep breaths—to let herself simply inhale the sea air that she loved so much—and relax. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back and willed some of the tension to leave her body.
When she straightened and took another sip of her coffee, she felt more like herself. Overhead the seagulls flew and made their noises, in front of her people walked and talked and laughed, and in the background were the waves—the glorious sound of the waves, which never ceased to calm her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julian slowly walking toward her. A few minutes ago, this would have pleased her, but right now she wanted to tell him to go away. And she totally could—he wasn’t one of her clients. She didn’t owe him anything. As a matter of fact, he owed her. And when he went to sit down beside her, she held up a hand to stop him.
“There are like a hundred other places for you to go and sit,” she said curtly. “And I would appreciate it if you would.”
He was a big man—easily over six feet tall—and with his broad chest and muscled arms, he could have been some sort of linebacker. Add the scowl into the mix and he was beyond intimidating. Standing at only five-six herself, she knew better than to get up and try to intimidate him into moving away.
But she was tempted.
“Can we just…start over?” he asked.
Now? Now he wanted to start over?
“Please,” he added, and that was when he had her. She was a sucker for someone who seemed to know when they were wrong and tried to make amends. Everyone deserved a second chance and Julian was no different. Without a word, she motioned to the space beside her, but immediately went back to her meal—opting to pick at the muffin this time rather than biting into it again.
They sat in silence for a solid five minutes as they each ate and sipped at their coffees. She heard him groan with appreciation several times, and she had to wonder if it had been a while since he’d had a decent meal. So many questions sprang to mind—things she asked all of her applicants—but she was afraid to voice any of them and risk upsetting him again.
Beside her, Julian put the muffin wrappers back into the bag they’d come in and gulped down the rest of his coffee. Charlotte figured he was done and would get up and leave and that would be the end of it.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said quietly, looking at the waves, just as she’d been doing.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’ll pay you back if you want. I don’t live far from here.”
That was surprising. They were in Malibu—one of the nicest communities on the coast—and he lived here? Looking like this?
Stop judging! she admonished herself.
“It’s fine. Really,” she said. “We’ve been over this.”
Silence.
Deciding to let herself admire the view for a few more minutes, she finished up her muffin and placed the wrapper and napkin back in the bag, and then slowly sipped her coffee.
Unfortunately, her mind wouldn’t shut up and she couldn’t help but start tal
king again.
“You looked like you needed it,” she said and glanced over at him. “I could tell you were annoyed at the long wait and you look tired and…I don’t know. It just seemed like it was one of those situations where it was kind of a big deal to have to cancel your order.”
And for the first time, she caught a hint of a smile on Julian’s face.
Aha! she thought.
“Let’s just say it was par for the course,” he said after a minute.
I knew it.
“Sometimes it certainly feels like that,” she agreed. “And it’s usually the little things that can set you off, like not getting your morning cup of coffee.”
“You have no idea.”
“But I do!” she replied earnestly. “I deal with this sort of thing all the time.”
“You often miss your morning cup of coffee and want to snap?” he asked with a small grin.
She laughed. “No, but I work with people who feel like everything is working against them and just need a little help to get back on their feet.”
He looked at her oddly.
“I’m a vocational rehabilitation counselor.”
“Um…I have no idea what that is,” he said flatly.
“I help people find jobs—homeless people, some who have just gotten out of rehab or prison—that sort of thing.” She paused. “When I meet them, they’re all overwhelmed and feeling like they don’t know what to do or where to begin and sometimes it’s the little things that throw them off the ledge, if you know what I mean.”
Nodding, Julian studied her for a long moment. “That sounds like it can be a challenge. Do you always find these people jobs?”
“Usually I do. They’re not always permanent jobs, but I get them working. That gives them the confidence they need to rejoin society. Having a job is so important—not just for financial reasons but for our self-esteem and mental well-being too.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But jobs aren’t always the answer.”
“For the people I work with, they are,” she countered. “When someone needs to put a roof over their head or feed their family, a job is always the answer.”
Until There Was Us Page 33
