Beyond Lace Read online

  Charlie glanced his way one last time. She brought the beer bottle to her lips and swallowed a significant mouthful. No sense avoiding him. That would be childish.

  She wended her way to the other end of the bar to see him chatting with a guy ordering drinks. She hadn’t seen Blake in eight years. She didn’t know what she would say once she reached him. Her palms went slick.

  The breath she took in did nothing to calm her wildly beating heart.

  “Hi, Blake,” she said to his back.

  In what felt like an eternity, he slowly spun around. “Charlie. What are you doing here?”

  What? That was certainly not the greeting she’d been expecting. They may have had a tragic breakup, to put it lightly. But after eight years, shouldn’t their history be just that—history?

  “Well, I live here. And it’s nice to see you again, too.” She couldn’t help herself. Sarcasm was in her nature. Her arms crossed over her chest.

  His eyes lowered, then met hers. “Hi, Charlie. You look well. You’ll have to excuse me. I’m not in a very social mood tonight.”

  Is that right? “So, what brings you to town?”

  He let out an audible sigh and scratched the side of his head before smoothing his rich chocolate hair.

  “My grandmother had a heart attack. I’m here to take care of her and help around the house.”

  Her shoulders slouched. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She wanted to reach out and touch him somehow—his arm or his face—but she resisted. “How long will you be in town?”

  “Likely not very long. In fact,” he glanced quickly at his wristwatch, “I need to head back. I left her sleeping, but I should be there in case she wakes up.” He rose from the barstool, pulled some bills out of his wallet, and left them along with his unfinished beer on the bar top.

  “Enjoy your night.”

  She stepped back to give him room to pass, and just like that he was gone, as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Her jaw slacked.

  Frozen in place, she wondered what the hell just happened. She stared at the front door, then back at the bar. What was that about?

  She strolled back to Lori, dazed.

  “So, how did it go?” Lori asked.

  “Um, badly. He completely blew me off. No warm greeting. No how are you. In fact, he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  Lori’s lips scrunched tightly. “Asshole,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, seriously.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. Let’s just get drunk and forget about him.”

  “Good idea,” Charlie said as she raised her bottle to clink against Lori’s. Good plan, except forgetting about Blake Strickland was no easy feat. She would know. She had eight years of trying.

  Blake slammed the door of his rental car harder than he intended.

  “Fuck!” he yelled to no one. “What the fuck was she doing there?”

  His ears grew hot. His fingernails scratched the side of his face, and he stared at the streetlights. This trip, he wasn’t supposed to see her. She was supposed to be in Lace. And he definitely wasn’t supposed to give two shits.

  Get a grip, he cautioned himself.

  He took a few deep breaths. After fifteen minutes on the road, he calmed down enough to get to his grandmother’s without incident.

  The house was just as he’d left it.

  He peeked through the bedroom door left ajar to find Grandma sound asleep. With the house locked up, he retreated to his bedroom, whipped off his shoes and clothes, down to his briefs. He entered the adjoining bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. On the outside, he looked mostly calm. A sign of the professional coolness he’d cultivated over the past few years.

  Inside. Inside was another story. Inside residual anger bubbled up.

  He hadn’t seen Charlie in eight years. In some respects, it felt like forever, and in others, it felt like last week.

  Shit. She was beautiful. She’d gotten more beautiful since college, if that were possible. And she’d let her hair grow long. It suits her, he thought. He could feel himself getting aroused.

  “Stop it.” Stop thinking about her.

  Departure to Chicago could not come soon enough. Being near Charlie was bad fucking news.

  Maybe he should call Adam and convince him to come to Fort Collins early.

  He scrubbed his face, not really caring that the water was cool. He grabbed the toothpaste and his toothbrush. At this point, staying clear of Charlie was really his only option until Adam relieved him and he could get his ass back to Chicago.

  Christ! He’d been in Fort Collins two lousy days. His cousins would have a field day if they knew he was leaving so early.

  He could hear it now. Wimp. Pussy. Can’t handle a little girrrlll, Blakey?

  Shit! He’d say he was in a rock and a hard place, but ironically that was the upside. Some of the best rock-climbing in the country was minutes away from here. A corner of his mouth quirked. That’s how he’d keep his sanity, so . . . time to plan a trip.

  Blake checked his email one last time and then hit the lights. Even though the temperature was perfect for sleeping, he lay there, staring into the darkness. The only thing he could see was the face of a brunette angel.

  The next morning his nerves were on edge, and his grandmother seemed to notice. He needed to get to work. Sweat it out.

  “What’s wrong, Blake?” she asked with a wrinkle in her brow.

  “I slept wrong. That’s all. Grandma, I’m going to do some work outside today. The downspout needs to be repaired. And then I’m going to trim the bushes.”

  “It’s supposed to be nice today.”

  “Yeah, I saw that.” He shoveled another bite of eggs into his mouth. “What are you doing today?” he asked her.

  “I thought I’d go outside and pull weeds in the flowerbeds and my herb garden.”

  “Okay, don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t,” she said as she rinsed her coffee mug and set it in the sink. “Oh, I need to help set up for the church rummage sale on Friday. Can you take me there in the morning? I’ll be there for a few hours, and Dorothy said she’d bring me home.”

  “Sure, Grandma.”

  “Blake, are you sure you’re alright?” Her head tilted to the right.

  “I’m sure,” he said and rose to set his plate in the sink and kiss the top of her head. “See you outside.”

  His grandmother’s concern was touching. But really, there was nothing to discuss. Running into Charlie was a fluke. It likely wouldn’t happen again.

  Chapter Three

  Charlie stood before the natural and homeopathic skin creams searching for the right brand of eczema cream. She sighed.

  When her mother called, asking for a favor, Charlie had a sneaking suspicion something was up.

  Charlie’s mom told her that she needed to drop by the health food store and pick up some cream for Mrs. Strickland’s eczema. Apparently Rosie had a breakout on her back, and in this case, she didn’t want help from her grandson. Her mother said she would drive into town from Lace, but knew Charlie was much closer.

  She sighed for the second time.

  “Can I help you?” a friendly, homely looking woman asked from the side.

  “Yes, please. I need to find this cream.” Charlie showed her the paper with the brand name written on it.

  “Oh, that’s here, on the end. It’s one of our best sellers.”

  “Great. Thank you,” she retrieved the bottle and headed for the checkout.

  Several minutes later, she found herself in front of Rosie’s house. She’d gotten here later than expected. The sun had almost set, and the view was breathtaking. Colorado is God’s country, she thought.

  All afternoon Charlie could think of one thing—Blake. She dreaded seeing him. For the past several days, she’d successfully avoided accidentally running into him like last week at Catwalk. He’d said hello, but she could see his defenses were up. After all these years.
She shook her head. She didn’t understand it. He blew her off, and it surprised her how much it hurt.

  She exited her car and closed the door. An SUV was parked in the drive. She took in a deep breath and made her way up the walkway.

  She rang the doorbell and waited.

  Blake opened the door, and his eyes went wide. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Blake. Nice to see you too. Is your grandmother home?” Keep calm, she reminded herself.

  His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Yes. Why do you need her?” His voice sounded only vaguely less defensive.

  “I got a call—” She stopped herself. She closed her mouth and pursed her lips, and glared at him straight on.

  After a few seconds, he spoke. “What?”

  “Any chance you can dispense with the hostility toward me? Or are you actually hostile toward everyone?” She tipped her head to the side.

  “Charlie, I don’t have time for this,” he huffed. “If you want to see my grandmother, come in, and I’ll go get her,” he said curtly. He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing her to walk through.

  He pivoted on a heel and proceeded up the stairs in search of his grandmother. He returned a short while later without her, and said, “She’s asleep.”

  Charlie furrowed her brows and stared down at the paper bag in her hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your grandmother’s eczema cream.” Her tongue swiped her upper lip. What should she do now?

  She raised her arm before her. “Would you please take this and give it to her? I can return later if she needs help putting it on.”

  He huffed again and grabbed the bag from her.

  Her eyes rounded. “Blake, what the hell is your deal?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s my deal?” He pointed to himself. “Seriously, you’re going to ask me that? I think you damned-well know what my deal is.”

  There it was again—a big ol’ bucket of blame.

  Willing an even temper, she replied, “Blake, it’s been eight years. Don’t you think we’ve moved passed all that?”

  He stepped closer, invading her personal space, and pointed at her chest. “You may have moved passed it, but I haven’t,” he growled.

  He was so close, she could feel his hot breath on her face. She could barely move a muscle, but she wouldn't back down. She raised her head to meet his stare. His body heat fell across the whole front of her. At this range, she could see the flecks of gray and green in his blue eyes. Even in his anger, he looked handsome as sin.

  But still, she wanted to slap him and say Stop acting like a three-year-old and grow up. Wouldn’t do any good. This was a pissing match without end. He had thought she cheated—clearly still thought she had—and there was nothing she could say to make him change his mind.

  She relaxed her shoulders. “Well, that’s a shame. I thought at least while you were here we could be friends, go hiking and climbing, maybe take in a movie.” She held his gaze and as she spoke, for the briefest moment, Blake’s eyes softened. In fact, she was so certain of it that now the stern, defiant look he presented seemed contrived.

  Charlie blinked a few times, turned to open the door, and walked out.

  The desire to cry was stronger than when she’d run into him at Catwalk. She blinked feverishly and willed the tears to go away.

  She’d been doing well for the past eight years. The first year had been rough, but slowly she adjusted to losing him. Now it was like every hurt, every pain was new and fresh. Dammit!

  She knew she shouldn’t have gone to Rosie’s house.

  Damn her! How was it that after all this time she still got under his skin?

  She was the last person he expected to see at his grandmother’s front door. She looked heavenly in her hip-hugging skirt and sweater. If he didn’t despise her so much, he’d put on a full-court press to win her back—kiss her soft skin causing her to sigh, tell her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, and bring her to orgasm after delicious orgasm in his arms.

  Christ! What was he thinking?! She slept with her ex while they were dating. That’s something not to be forgiven.

  A footfall on the hardwood floor sounded behind him. He spun around.

  “Grandma.” He strode to his grandmother in earnest. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, dear. I must have dozed off. Did Patrice come by?”

  Blake sighed and shook his head. “No. She sent her daughter, Charlotte. But you were sleeping so she left. She brought your cream.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I missed her. Lovely girl. Didn’t you use to date her? Charlie. Wasn’t that what you called her?” She said, looking up at him as an eager smile graced her lips.

  “Yes.” He really didn’t want to discuss Charlie.

  “So, why isn’t she here?” his grandma asked with a lilt in her voice. Her eyes twinkled with concern and love.

  Shit! How could he explain what Charlie now meant to him? Years ago, she was his world, and that world came crashing down like a bomb to earth. All their hopes and dreams exploded into millions of tiny, useless bits with that betrayal. Her betrayal.

  He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away.

  “Grandma, she means nothing to me now.” Damn! That didn’t come out right.

  “What? No,” she stretched out the word. “You were so close once. Talked about marriage.”

  He circled and made his way back to the kitchen. “I don’t want to talk about it, Grandma.”

  She followed him. She sat at the table and waited for him to pop the cap off his beer bottle. He knew trying to escape this discussion would be futile.

  “Blake Strickland,” she started in a firm tone, “I am very disappointed.”

  He turned her way. “Grandma, please.”

  “I don’t know what happened between you two. But it takes two to tango. I suspect you are as much to blame.”

  His face flushed at her words. He could not correct his grandmother, but she was flat-out wrong. His hand gripped the bottle tighter.

  “Now, Blake, several years have passed. The past needs to stay in the past,” she insisted. She exhaled. “And you were raised better than that.”

  His jaw dropped. He shut it immediately because he had no words to reply.

  “I want you to think long and hard about how to correct this. I expect you to at least be civil with her.” She rose, went to him, and patted his cheek. “I love you, Blake. Now that’s all I have to say. I’ll be in the TV room should you care to join me.”

  Blake was stunned, to say the least. He shook his head. When did his grandma become so perceptive? Maybe she’d always been that way. He was being a jerk. And there was no good excuse for it. Anger boiled inside him when Charlie was near—an irrational anger considering the time that had passed.

  His grandma was right. For his remaining time in Fort Collins, he should at least be civil toward her.

  Chapter Four

  Charlie grabbed one more apple and made her way down the produce aisle at the grocery store. She had far too much on her mind to work that day. Her latest graphics project had stalled. Her usual creative genius eluded her. The project would usually “tell” her what it wanted to be, but nothing special came to mind this time. Not since last week when she saw Blake at the bar.

  Then seeing him the night before at his grandmother’s house. He was so devilishly handsome. Emphasis on devil because truly, he was rude to her. What the frick was his deal?

  Eight years ago when Den sent him pictures of the two of them naked, she knew. It would not be an easy mountain to conquer. In some respects, Blake had a fragile ego. At the time, Charlie was convinced the truth would win out. Blake would see what Den was up to and dismiss it. She practically begged him to see the truth.

  Well, it turned out, even after so much time had passed, it still didn’t matter to Blake.

  Dammit! She needed to snap out of it. The pain of seeing him, being rejected by him, being mistreated by h
im, still felt raw. And frankly, distracting. The emotion got in the way of work and creating a beautiful project her customers had come to expect.

  Why should I even give a flip?

  The past was long gone. She had moved on. Dated a few super nice men—nothing earth-shattering—but decent men nonetheless. She knew Mr. Right was out there somewhere.

  Suddenly, loading the bags of groceries in her trunk, a plastic bag gave way and spilled the contents all over the pavement.

  Damn! See, distracted. Remembering my canvas bags could have prevented this!

  As she crawled after her minestrone soup, a hand reached down and grabbed it. She froze and looked up. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the sunshine, but when they did, she could see who it was. She gasped.

  “Blake, what are you doing here?”

  “You look like you could use a hand,” he said as the squatted down to pick up her black beans and hot sauce.

  He stood and laid them in her trunk. Why was he helping her?

  She rose and looked at him, not able to formulate words.

  “Is that everything?” he asked as his eyes combed the area.

  “Yes, but you didn’t have to do that.” She furrowed her brows still wrapping her brain around why he was being so . . . nice.

  “I saw you were having trouble when I came out of Bradley’s.” He motioned with his head.

  The shopping area shared a common parking lot, so that explained why she ran into him.

  Still rooted in place, he lifted the few grocery items from her arms, placed them in her trunk, and shut the lid.

  Say something! “How’s your grandmother?”

  Softened eyes looked back at her.

  “She’s good. I gotta watch that she doesn’t get too tired, but otherwise, she’s doing well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Charlie, I want to apologize for my behavior recently. It was inexcusable.”

  She adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder and felt the crawl of hot blood over her face.

  “I’m not going to argue with you there,” she said in an even tone. “In fact, I would choose several other more poignant words to describe your behavior.”