Page 155 of Always You

She opens the door, lowering her body onto the concrete, before she gives me another stern look, the door in her hands.

“Just call me next time, okay?”

I suppress the smug grin that wants to appear when she says “next time,” so instead I give her a small nod, doing my best to show her I’m serious.

That I’m listening to her.

“Okay, Charls. I’ll call first.”

“Thank you,” she says, closing the door behind her, and I watch her walk away toward her front door. I don’t want to drive away, but I know I have to. I need to give her just enough time and space to make sure she’ll keep me around, just long enough for me to fix everything I’ve broken. And it’s a goddamn long list.

“Hey, Charls?” I bellow through the window after I lower it with the button on the center console.

She turns around with those mesmerizing eyes, instantly capturing my attention while her dark blonde waves bounce around her head, giving me a questioning look.

“Thank you for tonight.”

A smile forms on her lips. “You’re welcome,asshole.”

She turns back around, moving into the house while I make my way out of her driveway, knowing I will sleep better tonight.

Knowing I’m making progress.

Seven more dates to go.

62

“I’m in front of your door.” The next morning, I sit in my truck in her driveway, looking up to the window of Charlotte’s room. I have no idea if she still sleeps there, but I keep my eyes focused on the glass, waiting for her to appear any second now.

“What?!” she screeches in a sleepy voice. “You said you’d call first!”

“I’m calling now.”

“I hate you,” she says, and I can feel her glaring through the phone, a chuckle escaping my lips. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”

“What?! The fuck, Hunter! Why?!”

“You agreed to full days. You only gave me a few hours yesterday. I want a full day today.”

“It’s the middle of the night.” She’s drifting off again, so I push the horn of my truck to make sure she stays awake.

“Dear Lord!” she yelps, and I snicker. “What is wrong with you, Hansen?”

“If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

“What? No!”

“Then get out of bed, get dressed, and get out of here. We’re running late.”

“I hate it when you’re cryptic,” she growls.

“Nine minutes, Charls.”

“Fine! I’ll get up,” she huffs.

“Wave in front of the window.”

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