Charlie walked into Catwalk, a local bar, with her good friend, Lori. They have been best friends since the fourth grade and loved to blow off the stress of the day at the local haunts. The crowd seemed like the usual Fort Collins group for a Friday night.
Lori and Charlie scanned the room for any open tables, and Charlie’s eyes landed on a man sipping a beer with his back to her. He had a familiar frame, but she couldn’t place it. Was he someone who worked with one of her clients?
“I don’t see a table. Do you?” Not waiting for a response, Lori suggested, “Let’s go to the bar and wait for something to open up.”
Charlie nodded, then focused her attention back to the stranger. He sat at the far end of the bar and slanted her direction when he called out to the bartender.
She stumbled for a second.
That looks like Blake. The thought popped into her head with a suddenness of a bottle rocket. She stared. Her heart pounded in her chest, on the verge of exploding.
Lori asked her something, but she couldn’t even hear it. “Hey.”
She glanced at her friend. “What?”
“What do you want to drink?”
“Um. A beer.”
Her attention back on the man, she strained to get a clear view over the horde of people. It was very unlikely Blake. Her imagination was getting the best of her. She watched as he ordered another drink from Larry. Even his mannerisms seemed like Blake’s.
She turned straight ahead. The blood thundered in her ears.
“Oh shit,” she breathed.
“What is it?” Lori asked.
She faced her friend.
“You alright, sweetie?” Lori asked as she placed a hand on Charlie’s arm. “Your face is sheet-white.”
“Lori, the man at the other end of the bar, third stool.” She motioned with her head. “Doesn’t that look like Blake?”
Lori wrinkled her nose and peered in his direction. After several seconds, her eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”
“Exactly.”
Charlie had no desire to turn his way, but like a wreck on the side of the highway, she had to. She examined his features again. His profile still just as chiseled and defined and masculine. The scruff on his face made his jawline more pronounced. If it was possible, he’d gotten even more handsome, and sexier.
As if reading her thoughts, Lori leaned in closer. “He looks even better than he did in college.”
His jawline appeared stronger, his hair darker, and his shoulders broader. When he smiled at something Larry said, she knew. It was him.
Christ almighty. What is he doing here?
His gaze traveled casually down the bar when it met hers. Her heart stopped, and her limbs froze. His mouth gaped. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, could hardly do anything but stare. He finally broke away and lifted his beer to drink.
“Here, sweetie,” Lori called from beside her and set her beer on the counter in front of her.
Charlie glanced at the bottle like she didn’t know what to do with it.
“You should go say hi,” Lori spoke in a soft tone.
Charlie glanced his way one last time. She brought the beer bottle to her lips and swallowed a significant mouthful. No sense avoiding him. That would be childish.
She wended her way to the other end of the bar to see him chatting with a guy ordering drinks. She hadn’t seen Blake in eight years. She didn’t know what she would say once she reached him. Her palms went slick.
The breath she took in did nothing to calm her wildly beating heart.
“Hi, Blake,” she said to his back.
In what felt like an eternity, he slowly spun around. “Charlie. What are you doing here?”
What? That was certainly not the greeting she’d been expecting. They may have had a tragic breakup, to put it lightly. But after eight years, shouldn’t their history be just that—history?
“Well, I live here. And it’s nice to see you again, too.” She couldn’t help herself. Sarcasm was in her nature. Her arms crossed over her chest.
His eyes lowered, then met hers. “Hi, Charlie. You look well. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m not in a very social mood tonight.”
Is that right? “So, what brings you to town?”
He let out an audible sigh and scratched the side of his head before smoothing his rich chocolate hair.
“My grandmother had a heart attack. I’m here to take care of her and help around the house.”
Her shoulders slouched. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She wanted to reach out and touch him somehow—his arm or his face—but she resisted. “How long will you be in town?”
“Likely not very long. In fact,” he glanced quickly at his wristwatch, “I need to head back. I left her sleeping, but I should be there in case she wakes up.” He rose from the barstool, pulled some bills out of his wallet, and left them along with his unfinished beer on the bar top.
“Enjoy your night.”
She stepped back to give him room to pass, and just like that he was gone, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Her jaw slacked.
Frozen in place, she wondered what the hell just happened. She stared at the front door, then back at the bar. What was that about?
She strolled back to Lori, dazed.
“So, how did it go?” Lori asked.
“Um, badly. He completely blew me off. No warm greeting. No how are you. In fact, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
Lori’s lips scrunched tightly. “Asshole,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah, seriously.”
“I’m sorry, babe. Let’s just get drunk and forget about him.”
“Good idea,” Charlie said as she raised her bottle to clink against Lori’s. Good plan, except forgetting about Blake Strickland was no easy feat. She would know. She had eight years of trying.
Blake slammed the door of his rental car harder than he intended.
“Fuck!” he yelled to no one. “What the fuck was she doing there?”
His ears grew hot. His fingernails scratched the side of his face, and he stared at the streetlights. This trip, he wasn’t supposed to see her. She was supposed to be in Lace. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to give two shits.
Get a grip, he cautioned himself.
He took a few deep breaths. After fifteen minutes on the road, he calmed down enough to get to his grandmother’s without incident.
The house was just as he’d left it.
He peeked through the bedroom door left ajar to find Grandma sound asleep. With the house locked up, he retreated to his bedroom, whipped off his shoes and clothes, down to his briefs. He entered the adjoining bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. On the outside, he looked mostly calm. A sign of the professional coolness he’d cultivated over the past few years.
Inside. Inside was another story. Inside residual anger bubbled up.
He hadn’t seen Charlie in eight years. In some respects, it felt like forever, and in others, it felt like last week.
Shit. She was beautiful. She’d gotten more beautiful since college, if that were possible. And she’d let her hair grow long. It suits her, he thought. He could feel himself getting aroused.
“Stop it.” Stop thinking about her.
Departure to Chicago could not come soon enough. Being near Charlie was bad fucking news.
Maybe he should call Adam and convince him to come to Fort Collins early.
He scrubbed his face, not really caring that the water was cool. He grabbed the toothpaste and his toothbrush. At this point, staying clear of Charlie was really his only option until Adam relieved him and he could get his ass back to Chicago.
Christ! He’d been in Fort Collins two lousy days. His cousins would have a field day if they knew he was leaving so early.
He could hear it now. Wimp. Pussy. Can’t handle a little girrrlll, Blakey?
Shit! He’d say he was in a rock and a hard place, but ironically that was the upside. Some of the best rock-climbing in the country was minutes away from here. A corner of his mouth quirked. That’s how he’d keep his sanity, so . . . time to plan a trip.
Blake checked his email one last time and then hit the lights. Even though the temperature was perfect for sleeping, he lay there, staring into the darkness. The only thing he could see was the face of a brunette angel.
The next morning his nerves were on edge, and his grandmother seemed to notice. He needed to get to work. Sweat it out.
“What’s wrong, Blake?” she asked with a wrinkle in her brow.
“I slept wrong. That’s all. Grandma, I’m going to do some work outside today. The downspout needs to be repaired. And then I’m going to trim the bushes.”
“It’s supposed to be nice today.”
“Yeah, I saw that.” He shoveled another bite of eggs into his mouth. “What are you doing today?” he asked her.
“I thought I’d go outside and pull weeds in the flowerbeds and my herb garden.”
“Okay, don’t overdo it.”
“I won’t,” she said as she rinsed her coffee mug and set it in the sink. “Oh, I need to help set up for the church rummage sale on Friday. Can you take me there in the morning? I’ll be there for a few hours, and Dorothy said she’d bring me home.”
“Sure, Grandma.”
“Blake, are you sure you’re alright?” Her head tilted to the right.
“I’m sure,” he said and rose to set his plate in the sink and kiss the top of her head. “See you outside.”
His grandmother’s concern was touching. But really, there was nothing to discuss. Running into Charlie was a fluke. It likely wouldn’t happen again.