Page 87 of The Fixer

He also liked lending her his shoulder to cry on, being able to bolster her. Comfort her. Yeah, he liked that a lot.

Sterling didn’t look dangerous, but what if the asshole got mad and hurt her? Charlie pulled out his phone and texted her as he hoofed it home.

Charlie:I still don’t feel right leaving you there with him.

It only took a few seconds for her to respond.

Joy:I’m fine.

Charlie:Where’s he sleeping tonight?None of his business, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Joy:No idea. Not here.

“That’s my girl!” He stopped smack in the middle of a yard he was cutting through. “Wait. She’s not my girl.” A few kisses—even scorchingly hot ones—did not make her his. He didn’t evenwanta full-time anyone. Did he?

“Depends on the girl,” he told the inky sky.

If hedidwant a woman in his life on a permanent basis, Joy ticked the boxes, and that admission shocked the hell out of him. Damn, she’d added new boxes he didn’t even know mattered, like the way she tussled with him for control. God, what a rush! He was finding himself growing more addicted to her sass and fire. He loved seeing the way her eyes flared when she got excited or mad. And uncovering her vulnerable center? He loved that too. Loved that it tugged at him to safeguard. He found himself wanting to be that guy, a pull he’d only ever had for the women in his life like his mother, Hailey, Neve, Dixie.

When he reached home, he was a tightly coiled cable read to whip loose. Romping with the dogs did little to release the pressure building inside him.

He plopped onto his couch and turned on the TV. Nothing caught his attention. In his office, he picked up a pair of weights and did some curls before losing interest. Exhausted yet restless, he poured himself a glass of milk and made himself a snack. Took a shower, slipped into bed, and stared at the ceiling while he replayed the evening in his head. Had Joy accused him ofstruttingon stage? He laughed into the darkness. She wasn’t wrong. He’d strutted like a damn rooster, but he’d done it strictly for her. It was as if he’d been performing for an audience of one. Working his ass off to impress the girl.

Shit. It was possible his heart was in a heap of trouble.

Or not. He told himself he was merely intrigued because getting her to let down her guard had taken a lot more effort than he was accustomed to.

Was she letting down that guard with Sterling at this very moment?

“Knock it off, dumbass,” Charlie huffed at himself. He rolled over and punched his pillow, followed by tossing and turning as his imagination conjured what might be happening at Crystal Harmony Haven.

A couple of different scenarios might be unfolding: one) SterlingfuckingCalloway was trying to convince Joy to sleep with him, two) SterlingfuckingCallowaywassleeping with her, three) she had thrown him out before any sleeping occurred, or four) the slimeball wasn’t taking no for an answer and was manhandling her. Joy might be a tough cookie, but could she physically fight off a guy with sixty pounds on her?

Shit! Maybe she really dug the guy and was riding him at this very moment. There was a picture Charlie needed to bleach from his brain. It took him several more minutes to convince himself that no way was she swapping spit with the guy.

He shut his eyes so he could turn back the clock and relive the sight of Joy at the bar tonight. She’d been smoking hot and a completely different woman than the one tapping her foot on the sidewalk a few weeks ago. The harsh lines and hard angles had been replaced by softened features and mouthwatering curves he wanted his hands on. Everything he loved about women, and then some, had been wrapped up in her form.

When he finally settled, dreams drifted through his mind like clouds across the night sky, tormenting him with images of her in the back seat ofthat dark car. In one frame, she was relaxing against the door, knees primly pressed together, much as she had been hours ago. A breathless moment later, she was straddling him, that denim skirt hiked past the tops of her thighs, and nothing on underneath. She rocked against him, getting herself off, but he was paralyzed and couldn’t touch. She wore a puffy winter coat, but a beat later she was topless, pressing her breasts to his chest as she moaned someone else’s name.

Charlie lurched upward, a sheen of sweat slicking his body. The time glowing on his phone screen told him it was 4:11 a.m. The dogs snored softly on their beds.

There were no texts from her, no missed calls, and his mind whirred. He hadn’t expected either because it had been so late, but he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering into dark places. Was she all right?

In Chicago, it was 5:11 a.m. If her body clock hadn’t adjusted to mountain time yet, she’d be awake or getting up soon, wouldn’t she? A go-getter like her? Okay, so his reasoning was lame, but he had to know if she was okay.

He tapped out a text and waited. And waited.

You are such a dumbass.The inner admonishment could have come from himself or either of his brothers, who would relish having this kind of ammo in their arsenals whenever they fired their next “baby brother” salvo at him.

His phone pinged, startling him in his keyed-up state.

Joy:Im K.

His thumbs flew over his phone screen.You’re not making sense. Is everything all right?

Joy:Fine. Sleeping now.

Sleeping? Alone? Yeah, she had to be, judging by the vibe rolling off her in waves when he’d last seen her. Right?

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