Page 26 of Unearthed Dreams
CHARLIE
My nerves were shot.
The moment I’d handed over my manuscript to Kai, I’d broken out in hives and had been applying Calamine lotion ever since.
When I was awake, I thought about him reading the words that had come straight from my soul, the ones I’d poured over for months and months, unsure if anyone else would ever see or read them. And when I was in bed, I’d thought about his lips on my skin and his hands on my body.
I hadn’t had a moment’s peace from the man, except, apparently, for when I was in his presence.
When I’d opened the bookstore this morning, there’d been a small scrap of paper taped to the door.
Bar after you close
-K
That’s all it had said, and I’d been giddy ever since.
Having the attention of a man like Kai felt a little dangerous, exciting, freeing. I hadn’t been allowed to so much as go out on a date in high school, and here I was getting notes from a man ten years older than me who was drop-dead gorgeous.
Any woman would be flattered, but me? Giddy.
This had felt like the beginning of an epic love story, a fairytale romance. Until he’d opened his dumb mouth.
You don’t know me.
I’m not a good man.
I was not naïve enough to believe he didn’t have a past. He had awifewho he’d known most of his life. He was probably still heartbroken over the loss of her. And then to find out Billy was sick? He’d been through so much in the past few years. Maybe he just needed time to heal.
Until then, I could be his friend. I could keep the secret fantasies of him in my bed, kissing me breathless, to myself.
I’d bask in his attention. I’d revel in the way I felt more likemearound him than I ever had around anyone else.
Then I’d go home, put on the mask I wore for everyone in my life who worried about poor, innocent Charlie who couldn’t handle the big bad world and had to be sheltered at all costs.
But what had that version ever gotten me? A temporary job, poor self-confidence, and a nonexistent love life.
It was time I started doing things for myself, not worrying about what my parents or my brothers or my classmates thought of me. And right now, I wanted to sit at Kai Callaghan’s bar and have a beer.
The words tumbled from my mouth before my brain caught up. “You know what? I think I’ll have a beer.”
Kai raised his brows, his fingers pausing on the glass he’d been polishing. “A beer?”
My spine straightened, channeling confidence I didn’t quite feel. “Yes. I said it as a statement.”
“You did.” His lips twitched, the barest hint of amusement playing at the corners.
The bar’s ambient noise filled the silence between us—the clink of glasses, murmured conversations, the soft whir of the ceiling fan. “Well?”
He set down his cloth, those magnetic hazel eyes studying me. “What kind of beer?”
Heat crept up my neck. I fidgeted with a cardboard coaster, peeling at its edges. “I don’t know. I don’t drink beer.”
A deep, rich sound burst from him—a genuine laugh that made my stomach flip. I grinned in response, proud to have cracked that stoic exterior.
“Surprise me.”
With practiced efficiency, he moved to the taps, his strong forearms flexing as he tilted a frosted glass at the perfect angle. The amber liquid swirled, forming a perfect head of foam before he placed it in front of me.
