Page 121 of The Best Laid Plans

“I got my own room,” he said quietly.

“Oh.”

Right. So that’s what it felt like when someone took a steel beam to your stomach.

Burke leaned in closer, dropping his voice to something quiet and not easily overheard. “Don’t overthink it, Charlotte,” he said. “I thought it was best not to assume anything. I didn’t know where your head was at, and I didn’t want to ...” He let out a deep breath. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, and we hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.”

I let my eyes settle on his, analyzing what I found there.

No matter what had happened between us, from the first day until now, Burke had never lied to me. He’d go mute first, and I’d witnessed that on many occasions. This was simply the first time I had to weigh his words for how they reflected our relationship—and the presence of any strings between us.

And as we stood there, I found a man who didn’t know what to do. Who wanted to do the right thing. And who was walking into a day that would tear at every scabbed-over wound he’d left untouched since his friend died.

I sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. “What pants are you wearing?”

His brow furrowed. “I have charcoal dress pants. I figured I could wear either a polo shirt or a dress shirt and tie.”

I nodded. My hand drifted over a few hangers, trying to guess at what size shirt he’d wear. There was a nice option in the dark blue of Michigan, with thin white stripes and the maizeMover the chest.

Briefly, I held it up against his chest. “That’s nice.”

He nodded, fingers brushing mine as he took the hanger out of my hand and set it on a table. Underneath the shirt were folded neckties.

My hand traced a tie in deep navy, with small dots of white and a tasteful blockMat the bottom. “I like this one.”

“Polka dots, huh?”

My lips curved up in a smile as I pulled it off the display. I turned toward him and held it up against his chest. His eyes were locked on to my face, and even though I was doing a wonderful job of studying the edge of his jaw—what a great jaw it was, truly—I finally let my gaze drift up to his.

Just like that, the air felt thin and heady.

Just like that, I was feeling more handcuffed-to-the-bed-type things, completely swamping my more innocent desire to hug and breathe and be near him.

His lips opened slightly, and with a trembling hand, I lifted the collar of his shirt and settled the tie into place. His chest expanded on a deep inhale, and I took one small step closer.

The great thing about helping him with a tie was that I still needed to breathe. So I could stand there and fill my lungs with him.

He’d showered recently, because the scent of his soap was fresh on his skin, something clean and masculine and toe curling. Briefly, I wondered if it would be assuming too much to shove my nose at the base of his throat and ask to stay there all night.

“The tie might be too dressy for today,” I said, even as I smoothed the ends over his chest and did the first loop, then the second. I didn’t tighten it all the way, just enough that he could see what it would look like. “But I still want to see it.”

“Charlotte,” he started. My fingers brushed his neck as I folded the collar back down. His hand, hanging by his side, opened and closed into a fist, and my stomach fluttered weightlessly. “I should’ve told you about the hotel room. Before.”

My eyes were fixed on the tie as I tried to even out the ends.

“It might have been nice to know ahead of time,” I managed. “I was ... worried.”

“I was never going to skip it,” he said.

I let my gaze drift back to his. “I know.”

“You did?”

I nodded. “You’re a man of your word, Burke Barrett.”

For some reason, what I’d said caused his eyes to fill with something that looked a lot like frustration. “Am I?”

“I know you didn’t want to come,” I said quietly. “I know why it’ll be hard.”

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