Page 74 of The Charm of You

The intimate moments we shared are too seared into my skin to be an illusion.

And the vibrations of his dirty words have burrowed too deeply into my nervous system to ever be unearthed.

Sure, the ride afterward was quiet, but I was sincere when I told him it was because I was content. The honest truth is that I was beyond sated and limp from the life-shattering pleasure I experienced thanks to him.

I figured the honest truth was a bit excessive, but the little he gave me this morning was rude… or endearing. I can’t decide.

He seemed to be tongue-tied, which I found wildly charming.

But what if I’m wrong about him? The hardheaded man is nearly impossible to read.

As I approach the coffee truck, Maren leans over the counter and jokes, “Did Austin hate the nickname so much he sent you back here to return it?”

She might be kidding, but I detect a hint of genuine plausibility in her tone. After all, it does sound like something the brooding and confusing-as-hell mechanic would do.

I huff out a frustrated breath in response.

Maren hops down from the truck, an apron tied around her slim waist, and brushes the loose strands of chestnut hair out of her eyes. “Step into my office.” She gestures toward the picnic table, where she and I chatted the other day.

I follow her lead and sit opposite from her, my coffee cup between us. My drink is now cold, and although I plan to get a fresh, hot one before I leave, this is comforting me now.

I need something to keep my hands busy.

“Talk to me,” she gently urges.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” My laugh is humorless.

How many times have I thought and uttered that exact statement this week? I should be getting tired of it by now. People around me should definitely be tired of hearing it.

In New York, I told Melissa about my juice cleanse twice in one week, and she gave me the strongest eye roll I’ve ever been on the receiving end of. I could almost feel her annoyance like a slap on the wrist.

But this is Sapphire Creek. The people around here are my friends and family. They never tire of helping a neighbor, or a distressed former homecoming queen.

Honestly, if they knew the truth about me, they probably wouldn’t bat an eye. Knowing them, they’d rally behind me and form some kind of campaign to restore my image. It might not help, but it would be cute and quirky and meaningful.

But the realization doesn’t alleviate my adamant resistance. In fact, it just fills me with a different kind of humiliation. If the truth were out, all eyes would still be on me, and I’d cave under the pressure like a potato under the force of a masher.

It’s a lose-lose.

“I had sex with Austin in the bed of his truck last night,” I blurt, and a gasp from behind jolts me in my seat.

A young girl suddenly appears next to us, her mouth agape and thumbs frozen over her phone screen like she’s halted mid-text.

“You have an antenna hanging off the top of your head, don’t you?” Maren tsks.

“An antenna?” The girl cringes.

My friend rolls her eyes. “Caroline, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, I’m sure you’ve heard of Caroline.”

“You make me sound like some mythical legend,” I mutter with a wince.

“It’s true—I’ve heard of you. And I know Austin. He comes to the Tap to hang with Mr. Bigshot, and I like to give both of them shit. They can take it. They’re big boys.” She nods playfully, and then her eyes widen. “And I’ve heard about you and sour-faced Austin. I just didn’t know you two had gone so far. When I showed up here for coffee, I did not expect to get such delicious tea, instead.”

Maren slides out of the bench and nudges Scarlett along. “Let’s get you that coffee, babe.”

“But—but—I need the deets!” she argues. “Nothing exciting has happened around here since Cole surprised us all last summer and fell in love with Ivy from Atlanta. I need something to keep me busy while I waste away at that bar, and it’s fallen into my lap by my new friend Caroline.” She tilts her head toward me, and I suddenly feel like a neon sign is pointed right at me.

A small line quickly forms in front of the truck as more people seek their caffeine fix for the day, and I hear my new “friend” mumbling something about needing to get to work.

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