She continued to stare at him as if waiting for more of an explanation, and as much as he kept telling himself he didn’t owe anyone anything, for some reason he felt like he owed Charlotte at least the truth.
With a weary sigh, Julian raked a hand through his hair. “I’m Julian Grayson,” he said and waited for her to recognize it.
But she didn’t.
Not a big deal, but—
“I’m the drummer for Shaughnessy,” he explained.
Still nothing.
This time his sigh was more one of agitation.
Then he spilled out the story of life: the band, his relationship with Dena, the wedding, and his road trip to escape it all.
“So now I’m back, and when you offered to buy my breakfast that day I thought you had recognized me and wanted something from me,” he said, beyond irritated that he’d been talking for the better part of fifteen minutes without her uttering a single word. Now that he was done, he was certain she’d offer some sort of apology for all he’d been through or for not recognizing him or…something.
Instead, Charlotte stiffened her spine and tilted her chin at him. “It was nice to meet you, Julian Grayson, and I wish you luck with your life.”
And she turned and walked away.
Julian blinked, too stunned to move. That was it? That was all she had to say? Even if she didn’t offer him any sympathy—or ask for an autograph!—she could at least have offered him some sort of professional advice. She was a social worker who—from everything Hank had told him—wanted to help everyone. Well, he needed help, dammit! Why wasn’t she concerned with him?
Charlotte is the kind of person who wants to help everyone. It doesn’t matter if they want her help or not.
More of Hank’s words came back to him and rather than making him feel bad, as they had earlier, this time they pissed him off. Granted, he hadn’t been honest with her, but he hadn’t out-and-out lied either. She misunderstood the situation and he just hadn’t corrected her soon enough. That didn’t make him some sort of criminal or someone who wasn’t worth her time, for crying out loud. She even worked with reformed criminals, so what made him so undeserving of help?
By the time he got out of his own head and focused on his surroundings, Charlotte had blended into the crowds enjoying sundown on the beach.
Dammit.
You know what? he thought with a shrug. Screw it. He was fine exactly the way he was and he didn’t want her help or guidance or advice, none of it.
Good riddance.
* * *
That attitude lasted until Saturday morning, when Julian opted to go out for coffee and found himself in line behind Charlotte. He’d like to say it was a coincidence, but maybe he’d lingered around outside until he saw her go in.
Maybe.
If she noticed him walk in, she wasn’t letting on. She was reading something on her phone and from what he could tell, she was fairly oblivious to anything going on around her. Sure, she moved when the line moved, but other than that she kept her head down. It left him wondering what he should do.
And if he did happen to say hello, then what? What could he possibly have to say after that?
“Hey, Carly,” Charlotte said in front of him, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. “Can I get a caramel Frappuccino and a parfait please?”
For some reason, Julian felt like this was his opportunity. “Can you add a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin to that?” he asked as he stepped forward and pulled his wallet out.
“That’s not necessary,” Charlotte quickly interrupted, looking only at the cashier. She pulled out her own wallet and had her credit card out before Julian had his. “Just for mine, please.” Then she gave him the side-eye before returning her attention to the transaction.
“Seriously?” he asked, more than a little annoyed. “Why is it okay for you to pay for my order and I can’t pay for yours?”
With a smile and a word of thanks to Carly, Charlotte stepped down to the end of the counter to wait for her order without uttering a word to him. Fortunately, he was able to pay for his quickly and was standing beside her a minute later. “Well?” he demanded quietly.
“That was different,” she hissed. “You couldn’t pay for your order. I am perfectly capable of doing so.”
Leaning in a little closer, he smirked at her. “And here I was just trying to pay it forward.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re trying to clear your conscience, and I don’t appreciate it. If you want to do something nice for someone, do it for a stranger.”
“You’re kind of a stranger. I mean…other than your job, I don’t know anything about you,” he said simply, enjoying the light feeling this banter was giving him.
The barista called out Charlotte’s name and she stepped away to pick it up. With another word of thanks, she turned and walked toward the exit and away from him.
With a huff of frustration, Julian hung his head. “This shouldn’t be so damn difficult.” His order came out immediately and he made his way out of the shop. It took him all of ten seconds to spot her walking across the street toward the benches where she could watch the waves.
Rather than jog after her like he was inclined to do, he made his way slowly over to the benches and sat down beside her—not too close, but close enough to hear her huff of annoyance.
“If paying for my coffee will put an end to this, you can just give me five bucks and go,” she said, but her lips twitched as she said it and that’s when Julian knew he had her.
“Uh-uh-uh. For all I know you’ll spend that money on something you don’t need. Face it, you’re going to have to let me buy it for you myself.” He took a sip of his coffee and felt victorious. When he lowered his cup, he grinned at her.
“Why are you like this?” she asked, but there was no heat behind her words.
“Like what? Friendly? Considerate?”
Her eyes went wide. “There are many words that come to mind when I think of you, Julian, and friendly and considerate aren’t two of them.”
“But you do think about me.”
She laughed out loud and it was an amazing sound. Laughter was something he hadn’t heard a whole lot of in a long time and he realized just how much he missed it. It seemed like every time he was around Charlotte, she made everything seem just that much…lighter.
Which should have annoyed him, considering how much he wanted simply to bask in his anger and misery. That worked for him and he was comfortable with it. This whole happy, sitting-on-the-beach-laughing thing felt weird and completely unfamiliar.
“Are you working today?” he asked.
Charlotte shook her head. “I finally have a day off.”
“You’re up and out early for your day off. I would imagine you’d want to sleep in and relax.”
She looked at him oddly. “Why? This is how I love to start my day. It’s a bit of a drive to get here, but once I am here, it fills all of my senses. I can clear my mind and relax and then I just have a better attitude and outlook for the rest of the day.” She took a sip of her coffee and pointed out toward the sand. “You see that group of people over there?”
“The ones with the mats?”
Nodding, she said, “Someday I’m going to be brave enough to join them.”
Julian looked out at the group and noticed they were all doing matching poses, then freezing, changing poses, and freezing again. He looked over at Charlotte. “Why the hell are there so many poses?”
“I’ve never taken a yoga class, but I keep telling myself that someday I’ll learn enough about it where I can join that one and not make an idiot out of myself.”
He studied the group again. “Doesn’t seem to hard. Just looks like a lot of bending and then staying still.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“Not from
here there isn’t.”
“Anyway…what about you? Why are you out here so early?”
He shrugged and took another sip of coffee, then held out his cup to her. “They make a great cup of coffee and I don’t. Plus they have muffins. It was either come here or have a bowl of soggy cereal and sub-par coffee.”
“Poor you,” she murmured.
They sat in companionable silence while Julian took a couple of bites of the muffin and Charlotte took a spoonful of her parfait.
“What do you do on your day off—you know, other than not doing yoga on the beach?” he asked.
“Today I just planned on doing stuff around the house—laundry, vacuuming…nothing exciting.”
“I’ll say,” he murmured.
“We can’t all have housekeepers,” she said under her breath.
Draping his arm along the back of the bench, he shifted toward her. “What if you did?”
“Did what?”
“Had a housekeeper and you didn’t have to go home and do all that crap. What would you be doing today?”
“Kind of a moot point considering it’s not an option,” she stated and took another prim spoonful of her parfait. She was looking straight ahead, almost as if she were ignoring him, but Julian wasn’t going to let that happen.
“But what if it was,” he said softly in a teasing tone, leaning in a little closer. “Just pretend, Charlotte. If you had a day without any responsibilities, what would you do with it?”
And that’s when he noticed she was getting tense—her back stiffened and her expression went from carefree and relaxed to strained.
Totally not the reaction he thought he’d get.
“You know what—”
“I’d sit on the beach and read,” she said, interrupting him. “I would set up one of those big umbrellas and a chair and a blanket and have a little cooler with snacks and drinks and just sit and read all day.” Then she turned to him with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It’s not exciting, but it’s two of my favorite things to do.”
“So why don’t you?” he asked, confused how her simple admission made her so emotional.
With a small shrug, she looked away. “Because it’s not a productive use of my time. It’s a little selfish and the only one benefiting from it is me, so…”
Now he fully shifted on the bench to face her. “Everybody needs some time like that, Charlotte. Hell, I just took three months to do it.”
“And did it help?”
The questions brought him up short. Had it? Yes, it had. It had been a good distraction, and he wasn’t completely delusional. Taking off the way he had hadn’t solved anything, but it had given him time to think, to breathe, to relax. Eventually Julian knew he was going to have to deal with the situation and the aftermath, and he’d be stronger for having taken some down time.
“It did,” he admitted. “At the time it was a necessity. In your case I think you—more than anyone I know—deserve a mental health day. From what I hear, you do more than your share of work to help those in need.”
Her head tilted as she looked at him curiously. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Hank talked about you quite a bit. From his point of view, you practically walk on water. And even if he hadn’t said a word, I watched you in action on Sunday. You take on a lot. I would imagine hearing the things you do on a daily basis and dealing with people who are essentially in crisis mode, it’s mentally and emotionally draining.” He paused and finished his coffee. “And that’s why you need a mental health day.”
She blinked at him, didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then shrugged again. “Maybe some other day. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to make that happen today. By the time I gathered all of those supplies, it would be late and I’d be too stressed out from wasting time to fully enjoy it.”
Unable to help himself, Julian laughed. “You’ve got to be the only woman I know who would feel stressed out by doing what you need to in order to relax.”
Finishing her coffee, Charlotte stood and gathered her trash. “I can’t help it, it’s how I’ve always been. If I happened to have a beach umbrella or one of those low chairs hanging around, maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal. But I don’t. So…again, moot point.”
“Agree to disagree,” he replied, coming to his feet.
“What does that even mean?”
Together they walked over to the trash can and tossed their cups and bags in, then began walking back toward the coffee shop.
“It means I think you’re making excuses. I think it would be easy to get those things and be back here in an hour—tops,” he challenged.
“Clearly, you’ve never had to do these things for yourself, Julian. I’m sure a man in your position just has to mention that he wants these things and people scurry around to make it happen. Well, news flash. In the real world, it doesn’t work that way.”
So much for the mild-mannered social worker. When there wasn’t a case file between them, he found that Charlotte had a bit of a snarky side to her.
“Care to test that theory?”
She studied him for a long moment. “I’m listening.”
“One hour,” he began, “and I’m not making any calls. We’ll get everything you need and have you on the beach—and relaxing—in an hour.”
The laugh she let out was part derision and part pure amusement. “Doubtful, but I think I’m honestly good with putting off my housework just to prove you wrong.”
Julian held out a hand to her. “You’re on.”
* * *
An hour later and she still wasn’t sure how it happened.
Umbrella? Check.
Blanket? Check.
Cooler full of snacks and drinks? Check and check.
And with her Kindle in her hand and her toes in the sand, she was still stumped.
Beside her, Charlotte heard a beeping sound and glanced over to see Julian grinning as he looked at his phone. “Time’s up,” he said with a little more giddiness than she thought he had in him.
As soon as she’d shaken his hand earlier, he sprang into action, taking the divide-and-conquer approach. Charlotte had gone home to grab her Kindle, a blanket, and to change her clothes, while Julian had gone for snacks, drinks, chairs, and the umbrella.
“I guess this is where you’re going to gloat and say ‘I told you so,’ right?”
Shaking his head, Julian relaxed in the chair beside her. “I have to admit, it feels pretty good to be right, but this wasn’t all that hard to do only because most of the stuff we needed was just up the beach at the house.”
Right. His million-dollar home overlooking the ocean.
She wanted to hate him a little bit for that, but she was feeling too relaxed right now. “That was kind of cheating.”
He leaned in closer until their shoulders were almost touching and whispered loudly, “Technically, but considering you didn’t have to go out and buy anything either, I’d say we’re even.”
Well drat. He had a point.
“Fine.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes and she watched as Julian pulled a tablet out of the bag beside him. Glancing over slyly so he wasn’t alerted to her curiosity, she tried to see what he was reading. What kind of stuff did a rock star read? Or more specifically, what kind of stuff did this particular rock star read?
“The latest James Patterson,” he said mildly as he swiped a finger across the screen.
Busted.
“Is it good?” she asked, keeping her gaze firmly focused on her own screen where she was reading the latest J.D. Robb thriller.
“So far. I just started it two minutes ago.”
Placing her Kindle down, she looked at him. “You don’t have to read just because I’m reading, you know. Honestly, while I appreciate you helping me out with this se
tup, I wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to stay.”
Julian continued to read quietly for another minute and then swiped across the screen again. “I’m curious about how relaxing this whole thing could be. Personally, there’s a little too much conversation going on, but…that’s just me.”
She started to sputter and rebut and then thought better of it. He wanted less conversation? Well, fine. She could do that.
For thirty minutes Charlotte allowed herself to get sucked into the story as her toes flexed in the sand and she let the sounds and smells of the beach surround her. Her stomach began to rumble and before she could make a move, Julian handed her a giant chocolate chip cookie. That’s when she realized he had a stash of his own snacks and they were much better than hers. All she had was fruit and cheese and some bottled water, but the cookie was definitely going to be hers.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She knew he must have gotten it—and the one he was eating—from the coffee shop, and it was pure bliss on her tongue. The chocolate was just a little melty and she had to lick her fingers several times as she went. When she was done, she reached into her cooler for a bottle of water, grabbed a second one, and handed it to Julian. He thanked her and she realized they were like one of those couples who’ve been together for years—they were completely in sync with each other and it felt…nice.
Really nice.
Not wanting to go there, she stretched in her seat and went back to the story. Over the next hour they shared some fruit as they read and Charlotte realized this was just as glorious as she always imagined it would be. Maybe even more so. When she finally couldn’t sit any longer, she stood and put her Kindle down.
“The ocean’s calling,” she said. “I need to put my feet in it for a little bit.”
Julian nodded but didn’t look up from the screen.
The first wave of cool water washed over her and she sighed happily. Swimming in the ocean was totally not her thing, but getting her feet wet and walking in it a little was the perfect compromise. In her practical one-piece bathing suit and floral sarong wrapped around her waist, she fit right in. She walked up the beach a ways and looked out at the people who were doing the same thing—camped out in their spots with friends and families—and when she turned to go back, she noticed Julian watching her.
Until There Was Us Page 38
