Keep My Heart (Top Shelf Romance Book 7)

by Lex Martin

  It doesn’t take long for the group of girls on the dance floor to draw more men in and for Ann to decide her time is up. She rushes out, her husband waiting for her in the parking lot.

  With her gone, and Charlie... preoccupied, my mind goes exactly where I don’t want it to.

  It’s crowded, it’s loud and I feel like shit. In a room with all these people, I have to force the smile on my face and I just want to go home.

  This was a mistake and the second I know that, I sneak out and get a cab home. Not looking back to say goodbye to the girls or to Charlie. I’ll make up some excuse tomorrow but I just have to get out of there. I don’t know what my first mistake was, but coming here tonight sure as hell was a mistake.

  Charlie

  My alarm clock goes off, but I’m already up. I slap my hand down and the incessant beeping stops. I couldn’t sleep for shit. The whole night, all I kept thinking was that I’m an asshole for trying to be with Grace without giving her a commitment. What’s even worse is feeling like she’s done with me.

  She didn’t say a word and she left the moment she got there. She’s most certainly done with me.

  I don’t want to be done with her.

  Sinking back into the bed, I stare at the thin opening between the dark curtains and watch the stream of light pouring into the bedroom. My only sliver of hope is that she said she’d go to the wedding. I don’t know why I’m holding onto her as hard as I am. We haven’t even kissed. She’s not tied to me in the least.

  The bed groans as I slowly slip off the edge and stretch my arms high above my head. I blow out a tired exhale as my bare feet pad across the wooden floors. They’re cold, and I’m pretty sure the furnace went out last night. Every hair on my arms stands on end as goosebumps travel up my back to the base of my neck.

  Damn, I hadn’t even noticed. I grab my phone off the nightstand on my way out of the bedroom. I have to call her or text her. Something; I can’t let her think I’m just some prick.

  That’s exactly how she looked at me last night. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I climb down the stairs, not bothering to grip onto the iron railing. I don’t go around kissing random women. Maybe I did once, but that was a long time ago.

  This house is old, built in the '30s and in need of a little more TLC. I bought it just before I bought the bar from Mac. I round the stairs in the foyer and take in the progress I’ve made. The slate flooring at the entry is fucking freezing against my bare feet. The furnace definitely went out.

  I was able to get more work done on the house before I started spending all of my time at the bar. The first floor is completely remodeled, with new practically everything and fresh paint. Gray tones and dark blues are the theme throughout the open floor plan, including the black granite and steel backsplash in the kitchen. I spent all the money I had to make this place into the modern bachelor pad I wanted it to be.

  But now when I look at it, it’s just cold. Empty. Devoid of life. The lines are too straight, and the furniture practically looks brand new. 'Cause it’s barely been touched.

  The door to the basement opens up with a creak and I switch on the light, a single bulb at the bottom of the rickety stairs. I never did get around to making the downstairs what I wanted it to be. A half-built bar is in the very back. Drywall's been put up and screwed into place, but I haven’t spackled it yet.

  I don’t even want to finish it anymore; I think I just wanted to believe I was loving the bachelor life.

  The truth hits me hard, like a bullet to the chest, but I keep moving, heading toward the furnace to mess with the electrical box. I know the right cords that need to be wiggled and tightened to get it to kick back on. I should get Joseph to come down here and fix this shit.

  As I’m messing with the cords in the box, I think back to how pissed off I was when I bought this house.

  It was the first one on my list. The realtor showed it to me, and I bought it right then and there. All the money that I had saved up for the wedding became a down payment instead.

  The furnace clicks on with a loud swoosh and clink.

  Shutting the thin metal door to the box, I stare at it as the fire burns high and the sound of air running through the house kicks in.

  I didn’t give a damn about anything other than getting as far away as I could without being so far that I’d lose my family.

  Now here I am, all these years later, in a cold house, alone.

  And pushing away the cute little sweetheart who made me happy for the first time in God knows how long. Why? Because I couldn’t give her an answer to “what are we doing?” that she’d accept.

  I kick the basement door shut, feeling more and more pissed at myself, and head to the island to have a seat and call her, but before my ass even sits, the phone goes off in my hand.

  And it’s her.

  My breath stills for a moment, the only thought being that she’s telling me she’s not going to the wedding. I’ll figure it out one way or the other, but she’s coming. I’ll make it up to her… but she’s coming to that damn wedding, and I’m finally going to get a taste of my sweetheart.

  I hit the button and answer the call.

  “Hey there sweetheart,” I say easily as if I’m not tense and waiting for her to try to back out of this. As if I’m not trying to figure out exactly what I need to say. I’m not letting her go. I’ve fucked up so much in the last few years, but letting her walk away from me before I’ve had a chance to make a move on her isn’t going to be my next mistake. “Missed talking to you last night.”

  “Charlie,” her soft voice pours through the phone, and the tone catches me off guard. It’s apologetic. I hear her breathe into the phone. “Look, before you say anything, I just want to say, I’m very sorry. I shouldn’t have told you off-”

  Oh fuck no. I’m not taking this lying down.

  “Sweetheart, you can stop right there.” I can practically hear her sharp intake and see her sucking at her teeth. I’ve seen her do it before, when she’s worried about something. The picture in my head of her doing it makes me smile and I relax against the island, the granite cool on my forearms. “You aren’t backing out of our deal. You still haven’t even told me what you want and I can tell you,” I hesitate, remembering what she texted and feeling like this is a turning point and more importantly, like I’m risking hurting her. I’d rather risk that, than risk letting her go. Call me a prick, but I can’t let her walk away again like she did last night. “I really like you too.”

  It’s quiet on her end. Too quiet. I don’t even know if she’s still there. Doubling down, I tell her, “There I admitted it. Now you have me by the balls, Grace.”

  Her small laugh fills the phone. I can imagine her blushing.

  “Well… I’ll see you soon then?” she says, like it’s a question.

  “You better,” I tell her.

  “Alright then, bye Charlie.” I realize as she says the words that I don’t like her telling me bye.

  “Bye, sweetheart.” I don’t like telling her bye either. The phone clicks dead and I drop the phone on the counter.

  I shake my head. This is bad. It’s real bad. I already like her too much. I already want to keep her.

  Staring at my kitchen, I try to remember the last time I used it. I can’t keep her because we have different life plans. The biggest problem though, is that I don’t actually have a plan. Not one that makes me happy.

  I text Grace on a whim, Do you like funnel cakes?

  Grace

  I dress myself to go to the Piedmont Park Festival in a strappy linen-colored cotton sundress. It’s my favorite. I twist around in front of the mirror in my bedroom, my mind on the upcoming event and a smile on my face.

  It’s an outdoor festival. I chew my lip as I try to decide on a jacket, since it’ll be cool outside this early in the morning. A smile curves my lips up as I pick a light denim jacket, pairing it with light brown leather ankle boots.

  I look in the mirror, and my expression twis
ts. A pale redhead peers back at me, her blue eyes anxious.

  Do I really look like that?

  I need emotional support today, someone to lean on. I pick up my phone and scroll through the contacts and find Ann.

  She’s logical, whereas I’m… emotional. Although sometimes it’s vice versa.

  Without much time to waste, I put it on speaker once I get to my car.

  “Okay, spill it.” The first words out of her mouth make me laugh out loud.

  “Spill what?” I rest my elbow on the car door and put my head in my hand as I drive down the interstate, listening to the GPS.

  “You wouldn’t call if it wasn’t about Charlie.”

  “You remember what I told you?”

  “How could I forget?”

  Deep breath in. “Well, he decided I’m not allowed to back out of our deal and that he wanted to take me on a date,” I practically squeal.

  Ann’s reaction is everything I needed. From the: oh my God, oh my God. To asking what I’m wearing and if I put on cute underwear… just in case.

  The only time my smile slips is when I remember I haven’t told Ann about the IVF and baby issues. In fact, Charlie’s the only one I’ve told that to.

  Ann wishes me all the good luck in the world, telling me she loves me and that she has such good feelings about this before I hang up.

  When I park I have to remind myself, I’m on a date with my fake boyfriend.

  A man who isn’t right for me, and I know it. Heck, I doubt I’m right for him either.

  A man who doesn’t want the same things I want. That much we both know.

  It’s stupid of me. I’m wasting time.

  But I can’t help thinking he’s a man who’d make a cute baby…

  The chill in the air is more refreshing than cold when I get out to search for Charlie. Although I’m distracted, busy scrolling through an email on my phone. My doctor’s office emailed me information about IVF and how to find a donor. My eyes widen as I look through it all. There are a ton of big numbers -- ten thousand dollars, forty thousand unique donors.

  It’s too much for me to try to take in right now, especially if I’m supposed to be on this date. Stashing my phone, I wait at the entrance to the park, next to the big white sign waiting for Charlie.

  When I see Charlie, everything in me clenches, the good kind of way. From his simple white tee pulled tight across his broad shoulders, to his bulging biceps and worn jeans… he is my kind of man. I try not to stare at him as I hand him an iced coffee, but his deep green eyes are all over me.

  “Thanks,” he says, eyes roving down my figure. “You look… nice.” Heat creeps up high in my cheeks, all the way to my temple.

  “Yeah, well,” I can’t help but smile, blushing as I play off the compliment. I swear, when Charlie’s around, my cheeks are a permanent shade of tomato red, made even more apparent because of my fair complexion. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  “You ready?” he says, nodding toward the park.

  “I am,” I answer. I have to hold onto my coffee with both hands to keep from reaching out for his with one of mine.

  Sipping my iced coffee, I ignore the feeling that something’s different between us as we stroll down one of the paths, under a banner declaring this the Piedmont Park Festival in bright blue scroll. Each side of the path is dotted with individual booths full of food and games or larger showcases of handmade trinkets and art to buy, which take up several tents measuring twelve by twelve feet each.

  I sip my iced coffee, but I can’t help smiling as Charlie tells me a story about his younger sister Ali and how she had a fit one year over her funnel cake dropping.

  “I mean… she was only, what did you say? Six? And I’d have a fit today if I dropped a full funnel cake.”

  The conversation is easy. The laughs are genuine. It’s different. The small touches, the quick glances. It makes my naïve heart think there’s something here.

  “Alright, your turn. What about your family?”

  “Well, it’s just my mom now. My dad died in a car crash when I was little.” I talk easily, but stare at the grass as we climb up a bit of a hill. I wish I had a big loving family like his.

  “I’m sorry.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look back.

  “It’s been a long time. But thank you.” It’s quiet for too long. I want to tell him that I talk to my mom often but she’s busy and travels a lot. It’s all clogged at the back of my throat though, so I try washing it down with the rest of my coffee.

  “What about your parents?” I question him, “What do they do. Your mom seems really sweet.”

  His grin is asymmetric and that’s when our hands brush for just a moment. Ripping my gaze away so he doesn’t see my blush get even hotter, I wait for him to answer. “Dad’s a pilot. Ma’s a homemaker. And you’ve met one of my sisters.”

  “That I have.” I can feel my eyebrows raise up, remembering Ali. “I still have to message her,” I admit to him. He only laughs and tells me he’ll give me her number. I move the cold coffee cup to my other hand, wiping the water off on my jacket before taking another sip.

  “What’s Ali do?”

  “She’s a nurse. Just graduated two years ago.”

  I turn to look at him as we walk to the top of the hill and pause there, “And your other sister?”

  “Cheryl’s a homemaker, like my ma. She has a fancy English degree, and she’ll probably go back to teaching at some point. She loves kids.”

  “Kids,” I repeat the word, feeling a low tension roll over me.

  “They have a baby now, so she’s adjusting to being at home and all that.”

  The mention of a baby makes my heart flip. My lips part to ask him more about his sister, but my eyes catch sight of exactly what I want right now.

  On cue, my stomach grumbles with hunger, “Want one?” I question

  “The pickle on a stick or the waffle fries?” he questions, grinning from ear to ear.

  Shrugging I answer, “Either or both.” Fried food and big pickles on a stick are exactly what I think of when I think festival. That and funnel cake of course.

  “Well what are you getting?” He asks me and I answer, “The doughnuts. They are fried heaven with powdered sugar.” My stomach grumbles again as the smell gets stronger and the line we’re standing in gets shorter.

  Charlie takes his time, eyeing the menu written out on the board to the right of the stand. “It’s kind of like funnel cake, but in ball form.” I whisper getting closer to him, as if it’s some big secret I’m confessing.

  “I guess I’ll take one and I want the whipped cream too.”

  I order easy enough and reach into my clutch, ready to pay since I offered. Charlie beats me to it though.

  “Hey,” I protest watching him hand over the cash. “It was my treat,” my tone is wounded.

  “Nonsense,” he answers, taking the change and then both of our paper boats of dusted donuts. “It’s my date,” he nods and passes me the fried deliciousness I’ve been craving.

  “Well thank you.”

  It’s obvious by the way his lips part that he was going to say something, but a bit of cream slipped off the top of a hot donut and hits his wrist.

  I must be crazy, because Charlie licking off that dollop of whipped cream turns up the temperature around me to about a thousand. A second passes as we step out of line.

  My body heats, igniting with desire as I bite my lip, and see his gaze drop to my lips. I suddenly realize that I want him to kiss me. No, need him to kiss me.

  I lean in just a fraction, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him and close my eyes, his lips mold against mine. The touch is electric, filling my whole body with a restless energy. The kiss is slow, not pushing for anything more, but that just makes it all the sweeter.

  When we pull away, my whole body is covered with goosebumps, my breathing labored.

  What really gets my heart racing, though, is the fact that the same expression is on
his face. Our eyes meet, and it’s so intense that I wimp out.

  I look away and laugh, and the tension breaks.

  “Is that how you say thank you for donuts all the time?” he asks mildly. “I could add these to the menu.”

  Another laugh leaves me at his joke. “Maybe,” I say with a shrug.

  Silence stretches, but it’s easy. Everything suddenly feels easy and like it’s supposed to be this way.

  I try not to think of the details because, right now, it’s just perfect.

  Charlie

  As I walk Grace back to our cars, I can’t help thinking that I don’t remember the last time I took a day off.

  There’s a reason I work my ass off.

  I go after what I want, and what I want right now, more than wanting the bar to be stable, is her.

  I lean close to her ear, letting my warm breath tickle her neck and sending goosebumps over every inch of her body as I ask, “You have a good time tonight?” The sun’s setting, the crickets are out, and everything about this moment is picture perfect.

  “You know I did.” Her shoulders shake with a soft laugh and she pushes me away slightly, a bit of space coming between us as we walk through the grass of the park. I’m quick to close the gap, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze before pulling her back to me.

  “Does this count as a first date?” my voice carries through the dark night.

  “A date? All you asked was if I wanted funnel cake,” she answers with a wide grin as she looks straight ahead.

  “Well who doesn’t love funnel cake?” I respond without thinking.

  Grace rips her hand from mine, covering her face with a laugh before shaking her head. I love that sound. She practically skips a few steps to get back to me, that beautiful smile still etched on her face. My chest feels warm and full.