Page 25 of One More Chance
Charlotte looked around the room. The gambling tables were jammed, and the silent auction table items all had bids well over what they were worth. “It looks like they did,” she agreed. She pulled Megan away from Josh. “What’s the deal with Freddie? I think he’s made Lauren blush more than ten times tonight.”
“Oh no,” Megan groaned. “Tell Lauren to stay away from Freddie. He could make a goldfish blush. That guy is the town Casanova.”
“Good to know,” Charlotte replied. “Speaking of town Casanovas, where is that brother of his?”
“I don’t know,” Megan replied. She looked down at her watch. He was supposed to be here three hours ago. I’m starting to get a bit worried.”
“Bit worried, about what?” Josh came up behind Megan and wrapped her in his arms.
“Logan. He should’ve been here ages ago.”
“He’ll be here. He’s got the prizes for the raffle. He won’t let us down.” Josh swigged his beer and walked away.
A wave of déjà vu flooded over Charlotte. He wasn’t going to show, all this anticipation and build-up for nothing. It looks like some people don’t change at all, she thought to herself.
“Actually, Charlotte, there is something you could do for us,” Freddie piped up over Megan’s shoulder. We need more people to buy tickets for the drawing.
“You mean the drawing with the MIA prizes?”
“He’ll be here,” Freddie muttered and shoved a roll of tickets into Charlotte’s hand. “Five dollars a piece or five tickets for twenty dollars.
“And what are the prizes?”
“Oh, signed jerseys, season tickets, and stuff. Trust me, those tickets are going to sell themselves, but I heard that you could sell a ketchup popsicle to a woman wearing white gloves, so, you know, do your thing.”
Charlotte laughed; Freddie was right. She was going to sell every one of those damn tickets for Megan and Josh. She had managed to go the entire evening without being recognized and other than Freddie, she didn’t recognize anyone else. I guess everyone else got the hell out of Dodge too, she thought to herself as she made her way through the crowd. She had just started to relax and let her guard down when she felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck. Cheers erupted through the room and she turned to see him standing there. His massive silhouette framed by the doorway, the light from the streetlamps shone behind him, and the cold air swirled around him like smoke.
“The man sure knows how to make an entrance,” Megan whispered to Charlotte.
Charlotte gripped the roll of tickets with all her might as her gut wrenched into a giant knot. Charlotte made her way back to the table with Freddie and Lauren. While her first instinct was to hide in the bathroom, she realized that she had to stand and face her past.
Logan was wearing a hockey jersey and a flat brim hat with matching team logo. He was carrying a large cardboard box with one arm and fielding high fives with his other.
Freddie jumped up from the table and ran over to grab the box from Logan.
Charlotte was thankful for the darkness of the bar, her face felt like it was on fire and she was sure it looked like a tomato. She slung her arm over the back of the chair and took a sip of her beer, trying her best to look calm and collected. Freddie dropped the box on the table, “You get all those tickets sold yet?” he winked.
“Almost,” Charlotte replied and held up the remainder of the tickets. “I’m just waiting for the smokers to come in from outside.”
The band broke into Brown-Eyed Girl and Freddie grabbed Lauren by the hand and dragged her to the dance floor. Charlotte wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Lauren dance, but to her surprise, she let Freddie whirl her around the dance floor, squealing as he dipped her down low and then twirled her away only to pull her back in close.
Logan was leaning up against the bar, his foot on the rail, talking to Charlie, the bartender with the man bun. Her eyes took in Logan’s wide shoulders and trailed down his V-shaped torso until they reached his butt. She paused and felt a stirring deep within her abdomen, not nerves, but attraction. His ass filled out his jeans the way only a hockey player’s can: round, full, and hard.
She glanced around the room and saw that she wasn’t the only woman appreciating the view. The table of blondes was back from their smoke break, their pink frosted lips agape as they unabashedly stared at Logan. Charlotte realized that they were the only people she hadn’t approached with the raffle tickets. She sighed as she grabbed the roll of tickets and headed over to make her final sale. Halfway there her eyes locked with the mascara-caked eyes of the bleachiest blonde of all the women. The woman’s skin was caked with foundation and lines from years of smoking were etched deeply into her lips, but Charlotte knew those eyes and stopped in her tracks when she saw the telltale glimmer that the recognition was mutual.
Shit. Charlotte muttered to herself. She knew the evening had been going too smoothly. The originator and biggest perpetrator of the Billie Jo Bunkman Blow Job queen rumors had just figured out who she was. Stacy narrowed her eyes at Charlotte and leaned into the group of women, gesturing wildly until every one of them stared in Charlotte’s direction, their drunken eyes studying her every move. Even from across the noisy bar, Charlotte could hear their cackles, a coven of leopard print wearing witches.
Charlotte took a sip of her beer and glanced back to the bar over the top of her mug, but Logan was gone, his spot filled with some other guy in a plaid shirt and snow boots. Her eyes frantically searched the room in an effort to locate his position. If she could see him coming, she could be ready. Right now, she was shaken, and her defenses were down. She knew it was only a matter of time before she heard the name Billie Jo Bunkman spoken out loud, and not in a nice way.
Charlotte balled her hands into fists and was mortified to discover that they were as sweaty as a hot yoga studio floor. She grabbed a napkin from the table and squeezed it in her palms, hoping to blot up the telltale sign of her nerves. She didn’t know which confrontation was going to be worse, the one with Logan, or Stacy.
There. She breathed out as she spotted him with a bunch of guys wearing Search and Rescue jackets. He glanced over to where she was sitting and their eyes met. Shit. She whipped her head to face the opposite direction so hard she almost got whiplash. He had caught her staring. She glanced back ever so slightly and saw that he had turned away from her, but then he turned, and their eyes met again. Maybe he hadn’t caught her staring, maybe she had caught him instead.
Every time she would ‘casually’ glance around the room, she would catch him also casually ‘glancing’ around the room. Every time their eyes would meet her stomach would flip and adrenaline would whoosh through her body. She didn’t want to be attracted to him. She wanted to hate him with a capital H.
“Hey, I won a hundred bucks on the roulette table,” Lauren exclaimed as she slid into the chair beside Charlotte.
“Where’s Freddie?” Charlotte asked. Lauren and Freddie had been cutting up the dance floor all night long.
