Page 4 of Take Two

When we finished our workout that evening, he was in the kitchen cooking dinner while giving Evan a lecture on the history of Major League Baseball. The part about baseball bored me to death, but I was still captivated by the tenor of his voice, and his southern accent turned me on in a way no accent ever has before. And whatever he had been cooking had made my stomach growl. I’m sure the man checks all the boxes for most women, so why is he standing on the sidewalk of this busy street all by himself? Especially when he’s dressed like that. I got a whiff of him when I walked past him earlier, and he smells even better than he looks.

Maybe he’s toxic.

I doubt it.

How would you know? When was the last time you were in a relationship? The last guy dumped you.

Who cares? Obviously, he wasn’t the one.

Who’s the one? That pink vibrator you keep in your top drawer?

I ignore the annoying voice in my head and take a few quick steps closer to Charlie.

“That doesn’t look like the face of a man who had a good first date,” I say. If he tells me to mind my own business, I’ll say goodnight and go home.

He sighs and slides his phone into his pocket.

“That’s because it was anythang but good,” he says.

My body does something at the way he says his words.I’ll let him do anythang he wants to my body.

He runs one of his big hands over his face. He has long fingers, and his nails are well-manicured. I take a step closer, and he smells so good, I’d bury my face in his chest, but that would make me look crazy. So, instead, I stand there and wait for him to say more.

“Her loss, I’m sure,” I say, hoping that will encourage him to keep talking.

“Yeah, sure, but I’m the one standin’ here like a fool.”

He’s about the finest fool I’ve ever seen. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, but I restrain myself.

“Well, then, don’t. It’s Friday night and summertime in New York City. Come have a drink with me,” I offer. “I know a local bar that’s not overpriced,” I tell him with a smile. “And trust me, that’s almost an impossibility in this city.”

He looks down at me, and something changes in his brown eyes. It looks like utter defeat. He closes his eyes before I can read further into it.

“A drink? Right because that’s something two consenting adults should do. We should be able to sit at a darn bar, have a drink, and talk.” He takes a breath. “But I can’t. You want to know why?” I open my mouth to tell him that I do, but hespeaks first, “Because I’m a flippin’ alcoholic, that’s why. An alcoholic loser who can’t get a date.”

He exhales as if he’s relieved to get that off his chest.

So, that’s what I’ve sensed from him. He has to be in recovery because from what I know about Vickie Chastain, she’s extremely protective of her kids, and there’s no way she would let a drunk in her house.

“Forget the drink then. How about pizza instead?”

I don’t think he was expecting that. He takes a step back, puts his hands on his hips, and damn is that sexy. I crane my neck up. I’m a tall woman at five feet seven inches, but Charlie Chastain must be close to seven feet tall. He’s lean, and I know whatever is underneath that button-up shirt is tight and hard.

I’ve seen him in basketball shorts and a wifebeater. He’s lean but his body is muscled and well defined. His long legs have only a smattering of hair on them, but they are muscular too. I can tell he spends a lot of time working out.

That five o’clock shadow and curly dark brown hair make my body feel all kinds of things, and every single one of them is X-rated.

“Pizza sounds pretty good right about now,” he admits. “Are you sure you want to have it with me?”

“Come on, Charlie Chastain. Don’t do that.” I take a step closer and say, “Either that or I go home to an empty apartment. At least you have an apartment full of people waiting for you.” Unlike me who doesn’t even have a dog. Or a plant because I can’t keep them alive.

“Waiting to interrogate me on a date that lasted less than half an hour,” he says.

“Come with me, and we’ll make up a story to tell them. We’ll have to make her just crazy enough for them not to want you tosee her again,” I tell him. I throw that in only because I can tell he cares what they think.

“Oh, no. I can’t lie.”

“Lie? More like embellish. Come on. The pizza is not going to eat itself, and after the week I’ve had, I need some comfort food.” I surprise him when I wrap my arm through his. “This way.”