Page 31 of Fire in My Heart

“I’m not so sure that’s true. You have some set of rules in your head that you have to follow, but I think it’s internal. It isn’t coming from anyone else.”

I waved a dismissive hand. “What are you talking about?”

Wes crossed his arms over his chest. “You blame it on Dad or the department. But your impossibly high set of expectations is yours. You can change them at any time. You don’t have to work at the farm all the time or oversee the employees. We can chip in.”

“You know I have to be the one to do it,” I felt a little out of control, as if someone had tipped me off the edge of a cliff and I was flailing.

Wes raised one cocky brow. “Do you?”

With a disgruntled roar, I stalked toward my truck. Thankfully, Wes didn’t follow me. I didn’t feel good about our conversation.

I stretched the kinks out of my neck as I backed out and headed toward my garage apartment. I missed my house. I wanted to get off the farm and be alone in my house. But I was stuck here for a while longer.

I’d been so busy with Charlotte; I hadn’t even checked in on the house progress in a few days. At home, I jumped in the shower, then found clean jeans, and a long-sleeve Henley towear. I wasn’t trying to look nice. This wasn’t a date. Then why did I feel like I’d drank a gallon of caffeine?

Why was I wondering what I should bring, since she was cooking me dinner? I hadn’t had anyone make me dinner outside of family. I always saw it as an expression of love, which wasn’t what this was.

This was a coworker making dinner so we wouldn’t be hungry while we discussed marketing strategy. I hadn’t told Wes about our plans because it was more than just work. It felt like a whole hell of a lot more.

I was attracted to Charlotte. She drove me crazy, yet I wanted to kiss her. It was confusing as hell. Not to mention irritating. I normally didn’t feel agitated when I went to see a woman.

It was a release. A way to break up the monotony of my life. I didn’t want to get to know them. Or why they smiled.

Before seven, I walked toward Charlotte’s cottage. It wasn’t far from my apartment, and I didn’t need to advertise that I was spending time at her house. Not that my family ever came down this road.

There was no reason for them to, but I wasn’t going to give Wes more of a reason to give me shit.

I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t need my family questioning it. Especially when I didn’t have answers.

I knocked on the door, and Charlotte answered barefoot in a short, flowy skirt that showcased her legs, and a blue T-shirt that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was tantalizingly low. The globes of her breasts were visible, and I was fighting a losing battle to keep my gaze trained on her face.

When my gaze dropped, I noticed that her toenails were painted a pale pink. It was romantic and sweet. I would have expected Charlotte to wear a louder color, like hot pink.

“You want to come in?” Charlotte asked, confusion filtering into her voice.

I’d been standing for too long on the porch, not saying anything. When had I ever been struck dumb by a woman? “Of course.”

I stepped inside and waited for her to close and lock the door. I couldn’t erase the police officer from my brain if I wanted to. Then I followed her into the kitchen, which gave me a lovely view of her hips swaying from side to side. I wondered if she wore panties underneath the skirt, and whether they were providing any coverage, or she was wearing a thong.

I hoped for the thong or maybe even nothing at all.

Charlotte turned abruptly, her hair flying over one shoulder. “Do you like tacos?”

“I love them,” I said without thinking, but I might have been talking about her ass or even her breasts, which were bouncing from her movement.

Charlotte’s lips twitched as she placed taco shells on a plate and filled them with meat. Then she slid them over to me to add the toppings. Blindly, I added cheese, peppers, lettuce, and tomatoes. Then I took one large bite, then two. One taco down.

Charlotte stood there watching me. “I thought we’d eat at the table.”

I chewed then swallowed, grabbing the first glass of liquid I could find and downing it. It was sweet yet full of alcohol.

“That was a margarita. I wasn’t sure if you’d want one.”

“I walked.” And I didn’t ordinarily drink margaritas, but it was good. “It’s good.”

“Um, thanks,” Charlotte said as if she wasn’t sure who I was.

I could relate to her confusion. I was acting so out of character; I felt like I was flying without a safety net. Charlotte handed me another shell, and I quickly loaded it up and followed her to the small two-person table. I made sure to grab the drink because it was tasty.

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