Page 41 of Never Kiss and Tell

Lionel catches my eye and we burst into laughter. That seems to calm her down, as she laughs along with us, taking the time to smooth down her fiery hair.

“She’s just annoying. I don’t know why Charlie even hired her back. I would rather deal with anyone’s attitude any day of the week than Pippi Longstocking.”

Lionel gives her a side-eye as he flips the burger on a bun. “You really have to wonder that?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know. Casanova can’t say no to a pretty girl with big tits.”

Something desolate stirs in my chest, a slight ache forming. They clearly know something I don’t.

“So, she’s worked here before?” I ask and Lionel catches myeye. I don’t like the look he gives me.

“Honey,” Marybeth says, rearranging the money in her pocket. “She worked here a couple months ago when her and Charlie was shacking up together. She was piss-poor then, and I doubt she’ll be any better now.”

My heart sinks, my gut wrenching. Not that I have any kind of claim over Charlie, but I did just have his tongue down my throat the other night. That has to count for something, right?

How did I even get myself in this situation? I know he’s a player. I’m just one of the few he hasn’t slept with. He’s probably running out of girls in this city.

The back of my neck burns back and when I look back over my shoulder, I catch Charlie’s eye. He watches us from the bar, curious as to the topic of our conversation while he pours a round of shots for a couple of co-eds. If only he knew the topic of our conversation is his sex life. No doubt, he’d be pissed.

“I’m back” a voice singsongs and I cringe. “Did you miss me?”

“Like a toothache,” Marybeth grumbles under her breath, grabbing her plates and leading Candy away.

May in southern Louisiana is pretty damn warm during the day, but she makes up for it at night.

It’s nice out, so I lay back on the picnic table while I wait for Charlie after we close. The stars are out, even if they’re hard to see through the city lights, so I start finding all the ones I know. I could go to sleep staringat the night sky.

“Sleeping on the job?”

I don’t have to look up to know it’s Charlie. I can feel the energy shift as soon as the door shuts behind him.

Awareness tingles through me, remembering his kiss this afternoon. Why do I have to be so attracted to this man? It’s like there’s a magnet in my underwear that draws me to the biggest, grumpiest asshole I can find.

With a sigh and tingles of nervousness, I climb from the table as he waits by the back gate.

“Don’t you ever watch the stars?” I ask, slipping under his arm. I’m not sure what cologne he uses, but it has to be made with something illegal because there’s no way it should smell that good on its own.

“No. Do they do tricks?”

I roll my eyes, starting toward home.

He looks up at the sky. “Which one were you staring at?”

I join him at the curb to cross Bourbon Street and look up. It’s harder to see out on the street, but I point out the three bright stars above us. “Orion’s belt.”

“I didn’t take you for a stargazer,” he murmurs, looking back at me.

“I’m not,” I shrug as we cross the street. “My dad was before — you know . . .” I suck in a deep breath. “He had a telescope up on top of the garage he owned.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie says, after a long moment, surprising me.

I look at him, narrowing my eyes. “Charlie Coulter, did you just show sympathy?”

His jaw clenches, but I can see the smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t get used to it.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I neverasked you how he died.”

I didn’t know it was possible, but my stomach cramps even harder. I hate telling this story because it’s one I don’t fully remember. My memories of the night Dad died are filled with flashes of light, the loud noises of metal grinding together, and strange visions as my mind danced in and out of consciousness.

“Car crash,” I murmur. “We were on our way back from seeingGone with the Windat some fancy theatre. I used to love that movie and Dad took me for my birthday. I’m sure it was more than he could afford after the divorce,” I grumble, the same sense of guilt eating at me as it had when I was twelve. “A semi driver fell asleep and drove across the highway.”

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