Page 122 of Love Me Steadfast
“Nothing of real value was taken,” I add. “A couple of record books are gone. And the hard drive.”
Zach and Charlotte exchange hellos, then he ducks into the office.
Charlotte’s gaze returns to me. “I can come back later?”
“Actually, I could use your help. I need into that booking software.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her top lip. “Okay.”
I lead Charlotte to the dining area, where I left my messenger bag.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. Her hair is clipped back in a twist, revealing the delicate slope of her neck. Her silver beaded earrings flash in the warm light coming through the windows.
Every fucking time I see her, she stops me in my tracks. Today, she looks almost regal. Poised and confident, her fair skin the perfect contrast to those tiny freckles across her nose and the raspberry pink of her lips.
“It looks different in here,” she says, scanning the room. “New windows?”
“A few, the rest just got a good cleaning.”
“The booths,” she says, smiling softly in approval. “Nice.”
I flick on the main lights in the dining room, then pull up a chair at one of the small circular tables and grab my laptop and reading glasses from my bag.
Her eyes brighten. “Since when do you wear glasses?”
I laugh. “Just for reading. They help with…not getting headaches.”
She gives an appreciative hum. “They look good on you.”
I can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “Happy to leave them on anytime, sweetheart. Just say the word.”
She tries to frown but fails miserably. To my delight, she’s even blushing.
It takes everything in my power not to lean in and nibble on the edge of her ear, maybe make her a few more promises while I’m at it.
“Shall we?” she asks, nodding at my computer screen blinking to life.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHARLOTTE
William’ssurprisingly adept at navigating the folders and systems Dad used to run the club. After those first tutoring sessions together, I suspected he had some kind of vision issue, but how could that be when he was able to throw a football with such incredible accuracy? It’s clear pursuing a STEM degree continued to build the skills he acquired at Finn River High.
After I show him how to use the software, while he meets with Leslie, his bookkeeper, I reach out to the Tickled Punk’s manager about filling The Limelight’s next open slot.
My phone rings from my back pocket. I’m expecting a call from the new farrier, but when I check the caller ID, a cold flush pulses over my skin.
“Hello?” I brace myself for a beat of staticky silence like last time, but instead there’s a low huff that makes my neck prickle.
“Charlie.” It’s a man’s voice. Cool. Efficient. Familiar, though I have only heard it a handful of times, and it’s been six years.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“Just checking in.”
“Bullshit.”
