Page 25 of The Charm of You

“What? I’m serious. You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you about that.”

“What is your problem?” She huffs.

I stand upright to my full height, which brings me to tower over her. “I don’t like strangers waltzing back into town and pretending they care about me. You didn’t know me yesterday, and now, you suddenly want me to open up to you about my old man. It cheapens the sentiment, and we’re both better than that.”

“I’m just trying to be kind.”

“You’re trying to be kind because you feel guilty.”

Her nostrils flare as she peers up at me.

She doesn’t budge. Instead, she purses her lips and stands her ground. Why the hell do I find that so intriguing?

I lower my voice when I say, “You feel bad you didn’t remember me, and now you feel sorry for me because of my father. The only thing I hate more than ice cream on my pie is fake pity.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you?” Eyes ablaze, she jabs a stern pointer finger into my chest while she continues, burying it there as punctuation for each word. “If you didn’t automatically assume the worst of me, you would’ve stopped to see that maybe I just wanted to extend a truce. That maybe I know what it’s like not to have anyone in your life you can talk to. Someone who gets it. But no,” she sarcastically draws out. “You jumped ahead and made me a monster because I didn’t remember you yesterday, which was an honest mistake. It’s not because I’m self-absorbed or believe I’m the queen of the world, like you so harshly insist. You’re going out of your way to purposely be spiteful, and that’s just rude.” She finally tucks her finger away, her cheeks flushed with fire like it’s radiating from her soul.

This is one side of her I never believed I’d witness. I didn’t know if it even existed.

“Nothing left to say now?” she prods.

“Oh, I have plenty to say.” I work my jaw back and forth as I train my gaze on her pouty lips.

Her breathing is erratic, and her heaving chest causes her breasts to rise against me in waves. I’ve never been this close to her, and standing here now, my body instinctively hardens.

Like I’ve completely forgotten who this woman is.

Or maybe it’s because she’s right—I don’t really know her, and a large part of me might even want to remedy that.

“Well?” She gulps, and the sound echoes between us, stirring up something unfamiliar in my chest.

“When was the last time you were this fired up?”

She licks her lips. Were they dry? Is her throat dry? From the way she’s practically panting, I’d bet both are true. I’d gamble her pulse is racing too, especially when her eyes dart all over my face like she’s tallying the number of days since her last outburst. “I… don’t know.”

“It looks good on you.”

chapter

seven

CAROLINE

“The first round is on me!” Addie leads the way through the Sunday night crowd at The Tipsy Tap. She’s mentioned before that the weekly karaoke night is a big draw around here, but I never knew exactly what that meant for Sapphire Creek until now.

There are a lot of people here.

Maren, another member of our graduating class, catches up with us as soon as we reach the bar. She brings with her a faint scent of coffee, which makes sense given how many hours she puts in at Cream and Sugar Coffee Co.

While Addie has been the one I keep in touch with the most, Maren is also a good friend from back when.

If memory serves, she’s not the biggest fan of hugging, but it’s been years since I last saw her. This moment warrants a hug, so I wrap my arms around her neck and squeeze.

“Did I hear Addie’s buying?” she asks, raising her voice over the woman currently screeching the lyrics of a classic Tanya Tucker song.

“You hear about free shit from seven miles away,” Addie teases.

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