Page 9 of Messy Match

I study Charlotte, trying to reconcile this new information with two years’ worth of assumptions. She catches my stare, and that familiar smirk plays at her lips, the one that always makes me want to kiss it off her face. Only now, I’m wondering if she could flip me over her shoulder if I tried.

“Something wrong, Maddingly?” she asks innocently, draining the last of her wine. But the glint in her eye suggests she’s enjoying my confusion.

“No, I…” I start, before trailing off as pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know existed start clicking into place. Like why she’s always so irritated by my protective instincts. Or how she moves with that subtle grace I’ve always attributed to her theater background.

“Plus,” Libby adds, picking up the thread of her earlier suggestion, “they’d have each other if anything were to happen.”

The hint of conspiracy in her tone has Brock’s jaw clenching visibly. And the look he shoots my way clearly conveys he’s not sure if that would makes things better or worse. And to be honest, neither am I.

Chapter six

Jake

Amomentlater,aswerise from the table, Charlotte clutches the back of her chair. She’s had two glasses of wine with dinner, and there’s a teetering to her movements. She smooths her hands down her dress and rolls her shoulders, trying to mask her true state. Just like that night two years ago, when she’d insisted she was fine right before those drunk guys cornered her outside the bar.

I want to spread my palm across her lower back for support, or offer her my arm, but I settle for keeping an eye on her as Brock and I shake hands. Fortunately, he’s too focused on his fiancée to notice, and he’s quick to tug Libby snuggly against his side after she and Charlotte hug. When his gaze flicks to Charlotte, he studies his sister for a moment, perhaps noticing the same unsteadiness I did, but the minx flashes him her most dazzling smile. “’Night, big brother. Sleep well, you two.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” Brock calls over his shoulder as the happy couple heads toward the elevators, his comment directed at me as much as to his sister.

“You okay there?” I ask quietly, spinning back to Charlotte. She’s still got one hand back on her chair and her cheeks are flushed pink.

“I’m fine,” she insists, but her voice lacks its usual sharp edge. “Just a little lightheaded.”

“It’s the altitude. Alcohol hits harder at this elevation.”

Her eyes narrow, but before she can argue, I catch movement at the bar. The bearded guy who’s been watching Charlotte throughout dinner is still there, his attention fixed on her with an intensity that makes my jaw clench. He’s been nursing the same whiskey for the past hour.

“So I’ll see you in the morning?” Charlotte says.

“Let me walk you back.” I shift closer, deliberately placing myself between her and the guy at the bar.

Her eyebrows arch, but before she can launch into a lecture about me being overprotective, I add quietly, “A man at the bar has been watching you all night.”

Bad idea. Within seconds, she’s pressed up on her tiptoes to search for him over my shoulder. “Which one? Maybe, I want to meet him.”

“Over my dead body.” The words escape before I can stop them.

Charlotte’s laugh is sharp, but her focus returns to me. “Wow. That’s rich coming from you. The man flirting with the front desk clerk at check-in. What was it she said? ‘I’ll be here every night’?” She mimics the receptionist’s sultry tone.

“That’s different—”

“How exactly?” Her silver irises flash. “You can fuck any woman who bats her fake eyelashes at you, but I can’t talk to a man who gives me a second look?”

“Charlotte,” I warn, an edge to my tone.

She lifts a hand to her waist, taking a stance. “What?”

“I don’t trust him."

“I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second. And,” I add, inching closer to her. “I’m not interested in Samantha.”

Something flickers across her face, but then she seems to catch herself. “Well, you don’t need to worry. I’m not interested in beard-guy, either.” She sways slightly. “Though, it’s none of your business if I was.”

She’s wrong. Dead wrong. It is my business, even if it’s the last thing in the world she wants. Charlotte is my best friend’s sister, and that’s enough to get me involved. And even if she wasn’t, the thought of this saucy gorgeous woman in another potentially dangerous situation makes my blood run cold. I’d step in to protect her again in a heartbeat. Truce or no truce, consequences be damned.

But I drop the subject for now. Neither of us is in a state to have a conversation like that. “Like I said, I’ll walk you back.”

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