Page 48 of A Secret Chance
Was he flirting with her?
“I thought that carrion or vultures was too harsh,” she quipped and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips.
“Thanks, I think.”
“Too harsh for them...” She nodded to the group of women who were circling just out of earshot.
“Ouch, I’m carrion?” He clutched his chest. “Now, there’s the vicious lawyer I know.”
For someone who had just been called roadkill, Baxter was taking it quite well. “To carrion, and the...” he pursed his lips and looked up, “What do you call the person who picks up roadkill?”
“I don’t know,” Lauren laughed.
“To the road scraper.” He held up his cup in salute. Lauren laughed and shook her head as she reluctantly tapped hers to his.
“I could easily throw you back,” she said.
“You wouldn’t,” he mock gasped. “I barely made it out alive.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” she laughed.
“You’re right, I guess I barely made it out in one piece then.”
“Much better,” Lauren said. She hadn’t met his eyes since they sat down. “Nice move, by the way.” This time she looked directly at him.
“What move?” he said.
Lauren held up her cup of beer. “Buying off the town with beer.”
He took off his hat. “It was a show of goodwill, I don’t think that a few free beers are going to change anyone’s mind about the development.”
And there it was. The reason that they shouldn’t even be sitting together. “You might be surprised.”
“Listen, Lauren. Charlotte and I have a deal. One that I’d like to extend to you.” He paused. “I mean, Miss Bunkman.”
Lauren turned to face Baxter head-on. “A deal?” Her damn sister. Charlotte swore that she was going to stay away from the Caldwell fiasco.
“Easy, tiger,” Baxter held up his hands. “It’s nothing serious. We made a deal that we aren’t going to talk about business today.”
Lauren exhaled. “Sorry about that. I’ve been a bit on edge lately.”
“All the more reason to take a break and make friends with the enemy – for the day.” When he smiled, Lauren’s stomach flip-flopped. He was easily the best-looking man Lauren had ever seen; Baxter Caldwell made Brad Pitt look ordinary.
“Like the soccer match in World War One,” she smiled. She was referring to a soccer match that the two sides played on Christmas day with their fighting on hold. “That’s when the Allied—"
“I know what you’re referring to.” He smiled, “The Christmas truce,” Baxter said. “A bit extreme, but I see where you’re going with that.” He turned so that his body was facing Lauren’s and held out his hand. “Truce?” he said. “A temporary truce,” he added and then held out his hand.
Lauren pulled off her mitten and turned her body toward his. “A temporary truce,” she agreed and slipped her hand into his and the world disappeared around them. His hands were soft, like those of a man who indulged in manicures, but strong like he took those manicured hands and scaled mountains with them.
“How do you know Charlotte?” Baxter asked.
“Pardon?” Lauren leaned in. The band had started up again, and someone had found the volume button.
Baxter shifted so to straddle the bench seat. He leaned in closer to Lauren, and she swore that the temperature surged two degrees from the heat of his body in her personal space. “Charlotte O’Hare,” Baxter pointed to the crowd watching the band. Logan and Charlotte were standing at the back, Logan’s arm draped over Charlotte’s shoulder, hers around his waist, while they swayed to the music. “How do you know her?”
Baxter had leaned in so close that his lips brushed against her earlobe, and a shiver ran up her spine. Lauren squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the flutter of desire spark deep within her abdomen. She pulled away and brushed her hair behind her ear, letting her fingertips linger on the spot were his lips had touched her lobe. “Charlotte is my sister,” she said.
“Sister?” Baxter said. Or rather shouted, over the electric guitar.
