Page 20 of If My Wishes Came True
“But you had other plans,” Charlie guesses, an amused gleam in his eye.
“I looked like hell the next morning, because I’d been up crying half the night. My mom figured I was coming down with something…so I let her believe it. My family left me at home, took off for the country club, and within twenty minutes, I was in a cab on my way to the museum. I felt like Ferris Bueller,” I say, grinning.
“I think I see where this is going,” Charlie says with a knowing smile that almost moves me to tears. He’s interested in my story. Interested inme.Sadly, this isn’t a typical experience I have with men. If they’re interested in anything at all, it’s getting in my shorts. They certainly don’t want to hear about my high school shenanigans.
But Charlie does. “You’re at the art museum, and you run into your art teacher. Am I right?”
I nod, relishing in the look of satisfaction on his face. “Mrs. Swanson.”
“Did you tell her why you were there alone?” he asks, his brow furrowed with belated concern for fourteen-year-old me. And it occurs to me, again, how safe I feel with Charlie. And how rare that is.
I sigh. “I was too embarrassed to admit that my parents chose a country club over me. So I told her they were home sick, and she took me under her wing. We walked through the entire museum together, discussing the different emotions each painting evoked. I felt so grown-up. She was my parents’ age, but treated me like an equal, which is something that didn’t happen at my house. And before we left, she took me to the café and bought me my first cup of coffee. Maybe it was because I’d had such a wonderful day, but it was love at first sip.” I laugh. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about coffee ever since.”
“I know the feeling,” he replies, his dark eyes sending heat to my cheeks. Suddenly, I’m not sure if we’re talking about coffee anymore.
“Want to tell me about your first time? Um—drinking coffee, that is,” I add, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.
Charlie smiles. “It was pretty memorable, too, although I was a little older. Coffee never interested me much in high school. Don’t laugh—but I was really into chocolate milk.”
“Your sweet tooth,” I say matter-of-factly, like I’ve known him for years. The more time we spend together, the more it feels like I have.
“Exactly,” he says, his cheeks now the rosiest I’ve seen them.His skin is the most beautiful bronze color, mixed with the pink hue that deepens when he looks at me—and I have the sudden urge to paint him. His coffee-colored eyes make me feel as warm inside as my all-time favorite drink.
Charlie’s so gorgeous, he takes my breath away.
“Maybe it’s fitting that I had my first cup of coffee on the day I got into college. I really did feel like I became a man, that day.” He chuckles. “I’d just found out I was going to follow in my father’s footsteps and go to Dartmouth…and I knew he’d be proud.”
This time, I nod with a knowing smile.
“So, I get my acceptance letter, and of course he’s the first person I want to tell. But he was on a business trip and wouldn’t be home until later that night. That’s when I decided to pick him up from the airport. Which was basically pointless…because he had his own driver.”
“A driver? That’s fancy,” I say before taking another sip of my iced latte.
Charlie laughs. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. My dad runs his own business, and he’s pretty successful.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, intrigued. “What kind of business?”
“Have you heard of Sutton’s? The?—”
“Grocery store?”
Charlie nods. “That’s the one.”
“It’s my favorite place to shop. Your dadownsSutton’s?” I ask, my eyes wide.
“Yep.” He lets out a wry laugh, then puts his iced latte down on the pavement beside him. “I guess I didn’t properly introducemyself,” he says, extending his hand. “Charles Sutton.”
“Jenna Andersen,” I say. And when I put my hand in his, he holds it for several seconds, smoothing his thumb over my skin before he lets go, leaving the spot he touched warm and tingly.
“Thank you for your patronage, Jenna Andersen,” he says with a wink that gives me butterflies.
Now blazing hot, I take another sip of my cool drink. “So, you decide to pick your dad up at the airport,” I say, trying to steer my mind away from thoughts of bringing Charlie back to my apartment.
“Right. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he found out, so I called his driver and told him I’d pick Dad up myself,” he continues. “Well, it turned out his flight got majorly delayed. I was waiting for him at the airport for three hours, and I’d been up late the night before studying for an exam. I didn’t want to make my dad drive us home, because?—
“You were a man now,” I finish for him.
“Exactly.” He laughs. “So I bought myself a large cup of airport coffee. It wasawful. Basically brown water. But when my dad finally arrived, and I told him the news…” Charlie sighs. “I’d never seen him so happy. He had tears in his eyes, and he’s not an emotional guy. When we got in the car, I took another sip of that coffee and, let me tell you—it tasted pretty damn good.”
