Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C HARLOTTE WALKED OUT on the porch of Port in a Storm and cursed the smell of the roses. Normally, that wasn't a curseworthy scent, but it was overpowering. That was just one of the reasons she hadn't allowed the bouquets into the house.

All fifteen of them.

Not little bunches, either, but the whopping big ones that people sent for weddings, funerals, major celebrations or groveling. The last category was the clear winner here as the arrangements were from Noah.

Thankfully, Noah hadn't done the delivering himself. He'd relied on the town's florist, Petal Pushers, for that. Good thing, too, since the fifteen deliveries would have meant three daily trips out to the ranch, and simply put, Charlotte just didn't have the time or inclination to see him. Noah, however, clearly had the time, because he'd spent the past five days not only buying flowers but also texting at an hourly frequency.

Or rather he had done that before she'd blocked him.

Before the blocking, though, Noah had thought it wise to text her old photos of them together. There was no shortage of those, since they'd been together for more than two decades. He'd probably hoped the memories would stir old feelings. It hadn't. Neither would the flowers, especially since she was cursing them.

"They're starting to attract bugs," Mandy remarked as she walked past the sea of yellow, pink, red and white roses.

Mandy was carrying yet two more gallons of paint that she'd just picked up from the hardware store, and like Charlotte, she was covered in splatters of A Hint of Sunshine washable latex, the color choice for several of the guest rooms. Charlotte had underestimated the amount of paint required when she'd done the initial order, which meant trips back to the store. More than once since she'd also underestimated Scottish Highlands Mist for the bathrooms and Barely There Bluebonnets for the kitchen and dining room.

Charlotte made a sound of agreement about the bugs, some of which were bees, which was the main reason she hadn't dumped the flowers in the trash. That, and the fact that she didn't want to take up coveted trash-bin space on flowers, not when there were so many other things that the work crews were having to haul away. Besides, the flowers would make good compost once they got the heap going in a spot she'd picked out behind the barn.

"All went well with the closing?" Mandy asked, making her way up the porch steps.

"It did," Charlotte confirmed, motioning to the pocket of her overalls where she'd stashed her phone. It held the huge volume of paperwork that her Realtor had emailed her.

Charlotte hadn't actually been at the closing because she'd presigned everything. Becker had done the same, and he hadn't gone to the closing, either, despite being discharged from the hospital. In fact, he was supposed to be at the rehab facility getting physical therapy but instead he was in the barn doing heaven knew what. Apparently, he was helping in some way or she was sure the contractor or some of the crew would have complained about him by now.

There were certainly no complaints about Cal, either, who'd been putting in a lot of hours with the renovations. She was thankful he was so eager to get the place finished, but Charlotte thought the work might also be a way of distancing himself from her. There'd been no kisses over the past five days since the scalding one at the corral fence. Just plenty of heated looks between them and some wincing, grunting and sighing at the body aches the work was giving them.

"We'll celebrate soon," Charlotte assured Mandy, who was wincing, grunting and sighing as well from the weight of the paint cans. "Maybe a girls' night out with champagne. Or some hot-stone massages," she added while rubbing her back.

"I vote for massages with champagne," Mandy said, but her words trailed off when something by the barn caught her attention.

Or rather someone. Speak of the devil. Or rather think of the devil and there he was.

Cal.

He came out of the barn, and as many of the workers had done throughout the morning, he headed to the hose. First to have a drink and then to pour some of the water over his head. Water that slid down his face and then his chest. Charlotte had no trouble watching the water's journey because Cal had unbuttoned his shirt, no doubt as a way of keeping himself cooler.

It had the opposite effect on Charlotte.

Mercy, the man was, well, hot.

As she always did when she looked at Cal these days, she got a mixed bag of emotions. All of the mess with Noah came tumbling back, but that was starting to be an annoying gnat of a thought compared to hot-cowboy-guy-with-unbuttoned-shirt who was working hard and unpaid to make her dream come true. That itself was a form of foreplay, but Cal could spur plenty of stimulation just by breathing.

Or apparently by moving.

He shifted a little, going for a second round with the hose, and Charlotte watched his chest and ab muscles respond. She responded, too, and she was certain she had a serious lustful expression when he glanced her way. He waved, the gesture freezing a little, no doubt when he realized he had an audience of both her and Mandy. They weren't exactly drooling. Well, not so that he could see, anyway.

Charlotte waved back and kept her attention on Cal when he turned to go back in the barn. While there were no exposed muscles with this view, it was interesting to see the way his jeans molded to his butt.

"Well, that might give me smutty thoughts for a while," Mandy remarked. "But don't worry, I'll keep my hands off since he's yours." She paused. "Uh, is he yours?"

"No," Charlotte said and sighed. "I'm not even sure where I stand with him. He's been avoiding me lately."

Just as she said that, she got another speak-of-the-devil moment when Cal opened the barn door, but instead of going right in, he turned to look at her again. Things passed between them. Steamy, unspoken things that whispered of forbidden lust and all that.

Mandy chuckled. "He's not doing a very good job of avoiding you," she muttered, heading inside with her paint stash.

Charlotte could have disagreed with that comment since there'd been no actual human-to-human contact between Cal and her in days, but the avoidance clearly hadn't done anything to douse the heat.

She smiled at that and muttered, "Good." Because she intended to do something about that heat very soon.

Charlotte hoisted up her own cans of paint, but she stopped when she saw the approaching truck. At first, she groaned because it belonged to Taggert, and she thought Noah might have used it to drive to the ranch. But, no, it was Taggert himself.

"Charlotte," he greeted her when he stepped from his truck.

"Taggert," she said back, but she kept her tone a little cool if he'd come here to plead Noah's case. So far, he hadn't done that. In fact, it seemed to Charlotte that he'd been avoiding her as well.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you too much." He slowly made his way to her while he glanced around. "A busy day for you."

"Yes," she quietly agreed, and did more waiting for the Noah shoe to drop. Thankfully, it didn't.

Taggert hitched his thumb to his truck. "I hope you don't mind, but I went ahead and brought over some things from Alden's old room. He's so excited about being able to come here. I can't thank you enough for making this happen."

She relaxed. A lot. "I just wish it'd happened sooner, but better late than, well, even later." Charlotte tipped her head to the front door. "Would you like to see Alden's room?" She'd sent Alden some pictures, but she wasn't sure if he had shared them with his dad.

Taggert didn't hesitate. "I'd love to see it."

He came up on the porch, glancing at the flowers and saying "Noah?" in a headshaking, exasperated tone.

"Noah," she confirmed with a scoff. "Too bad he didn't send paint instead." That wouldn't have turned the tides in his favor, but Charlotte would have been slightly less annoyed with him.

They stepped into the house, and Taggert followed Charlotte to one of the bedrooms on the main floor. It was one of only two fully finished suites in the house. Barely. She'd finished the painting in there a couple of hours earlier, and she'd had a work crew move the furniture back in.

"It's close to the kitchen and the main living area," she pointed out, hoping that Taggert didn't just see the mess of the place but also the potential.

Charlotte ushered him into the large suite that had gotten the Sea Spray walls to complement the whitewashed bed and navy blue sofa and chair. The two windows had great views of what would be the garden, once that was up and going.

"Oh, he's going to love this," Taggert said, taking it all in.

Charlotte's breath of relief was a little louder than she'd intended. "Good. Because I want him to be happy here."

"I think he will be." Taggert turned toward her. "He's anxious to move out of the rehab facility, but he didn't want to move home. Not yet, anyway. He says thirty is too old to be moving back home." He stopped, gathered his breath. "But I suspect it's because he doesn't want me to see how much pain he's in. How much he has to struggle just to get through the day."

Charlotte didn't say Bingo , but she thought Taggert was one hundred percent right. Here, he'd be with other wounded warriors. The therapy and services were geared specifically to people like him. Of course, there'd be some pity, sadness and empathy from the staff and fellow residents. From her, too. But she imagined those reactions would skyrocket if his dad were around to witness it.

"Alden might eventually want to return home," she settled for saying. "Or getting his own place nearby." Now she paused. "Though, if things go as well with him as I hope, I'm planning on offering him a job as an in-resident therapist of sorts."

It surprised her when she saw tears appear in Taggert's eyes, and he held up his hand in a "give me a second" gesture while he regained control of his emotions. "Thanks again. For that. For everything."

"You're very welcome. From the moment Alden was sent to a rehab facility, I've wanted to do something like this. For him, yes, but for so many others like him."

Harper, for instance, though Charlotte was reasonably sure Harper wouldn't be arriving with high hopes and a positive attitude like Alden.

"You're thinking about your uncle Rob," Taggert said when she stayed quiet. "You're doing this for him."

"I am," she admitted. "Of course, I wish this place had been here for him. If so, he might still be alive."

The regret resurfaced. And some guilt because she hadn't been able to save him. She'd been too young and hadn't had the resources. But that failure might end up saving others. Charlotte had to be satisfied with that.

"Rob would have loved this place, too," Taggert said, reminding her that he had known her uncle. Heck, he'd known her father, too, since Taggert had lived in Emerald Creek his whole life.

He looked at her again. "Anything you want to ask me about Noah?"

Charlotte didn't even have to think of her response. "No, thanks." But since she and Taggert seemed to be in heart-to-heart mode, she went with a question she did want answered. "What's going on with you and my mom?"

The breath he dragged in was long and then even longer when he repeated it. Clearly, he was going to need a lot of oxygen to spill about this. "I told Izzie that I thought it was a good idea if we stopped seeing each other."

There it was. Exactly what Charlotte had thought. "Stopped seeing each other for good or just a short break?" And she hoped for the break, the shorter the better. Her mom could be a pain in the butt, but Izzie had seemed happier with Taggert.

"Probably for good," Taggert said. "Yesterday, after the big blowup here with Noah, I texted your mom and told her we needed to talk."

Izzie must have known what was coming when she'd said, You've ruined everything again .

"I asked Izzie to meet me," Taggert went on, "and I told her things were over." He squeezed his eyes shut a moment. "She didn't say anything. She just walked away." He paused. "Is she all right?"

Charlotte wasn't sure as she hadn't talked to her mom since she'd blurted out the stinging remark. She'd thought it best to give them both some time and space. Lots of space because Charlotte was still reeling from her mother accusing her of ruining another of her relationships. Ruining the first one, with her father leaving, was indeed on her, but Charlotte didn't think she was responsible for this second one.

Or was she?

"Did you break up with Izzie because of me?" Charlotte came out and asked.

"No," Taggert was quick to say. "I just didn't like the way Izzie talked to you, how she was trying to browbeat you into getting back with my son."

Charlotte groaned. So this was partly on her after all. She should have just left when Noah showed up yesterday. Left and then confronted him later when they were alone. Then her mother wouldn't have tried to jump in and save things.

Well, crap.

She was quickly becoming the Typhoid Mary of her mother's relationships.

"I don't want you to blame yourself for any of this," Taggert continued. He was obviously correctly interpreting her expression. Her crap mutterings likely clued him in, too. "I know Izzie wanted me to ask her to marry me. And I nearly did. But after what happened with Noah and you, I figured if I took marriage off the table for Izzie and me, then she might back off trying to pressure you to reconcile with Noah."

Yet more confirmation that she was the reason for the breakup, and again Taggert was astute enough to pick up on what she was feeling.

"I'm making things worse," he said. "It's not your fault," he assured her. "If anyone's to blame, it's me. I knew Izzie was high-strung, but I thought I could get past that. In hindsight, I should have never started up things with her, since I'm pretty sure I ended up breaking her heart."

Charlotte had no idea if that last part was true, but it prompted her to take out her phone and fire off a quick text to her mother. Are you okay? she came out and asked.

No immediate answer came, but Izzie might be in a meeting or something. Hopefully, she would see the text soon and get in touch. Then again, it was possible Izzie was just as heartbroken by her as she was with the breakup with Taggert.

Charlotte turned at the sound in the doorway and not only saw who was there—Becker—but also got a strong whiff of the roses. She looked at his wheelchair and saw crushed petals on the wheels.

"I used the new ramp," Becker said, following her gaze. "But I ended up crushing some of the flowers. They were in the way," he added in his usual snarling tone.

"They were," she agreed. "Sorry about that. Did you need something?"

"Nope, but I found this in the barn, and I thought you might want it for some of the doors."

Becker handed her a rusted tin that had likely once held candy or cookies. The lid had already been pried open, and she saw the dozen or so old skeleton keys. She was in the process of having new locks put on the doors, but it could be fun to keep some of them as is.

"Those were the spares when they first got put in that box," Becker explained. "I used to play with them when I was a kid."

"Thanks," she muttered, and she didn't miss the wistful way he looked at both the keys and the room. It was obvious he was having a little trouble dealing with the big changes in his life. "And thanks for helping with the barn reno. I hope you're not overdoing it. I know you were supposed to be at the rehab facility starting today."

"A waste of time," he grumbled. "And it's all the way in San Antonio. I'd rather just see somebody here in Emerald Creek."

There was indeed a physical therapist, Renee Bilbo. Charlotte had gone to school with her and had contracted with Renee to provide services to the clients coming into Port in a Storm. Renee would also keep her practice in town and would likely be able to treat Becker, but that would be as an outpatient. Added to that, Becker couldn't even drive himself to appointments yet. Cal had driven him here today.

"Where will you stay when..." Her question tapered off when Becker dodged her gaze, and she mentally sighed. "Do you have a place to stay?" she amended.

"I'll figure something out," Becker insisted, and he started turning his wheelchair around.

Charlotte stepped in front of him, and she so hoped she didn't regret what she was about to say. "You could stay here."

The surprise flashed in his eyes, and she thought she saw a sliver of hope to go along with it. But then he shook his head. "I wouldn't feel right staying in the house now that it's not mine."

"Then how about one of the rooms in the barn until you're back on your feet?" she quickly countered. "Both of those rooms are finished enough that you could stay there. It'd mean putting up with work crews for a while, but you'd get your physical therapy without having to go to a rehab facility."

She could tell that her offer had touched him, but this was Becker, so he didn't have an overjoyed reaction. "I wouldn't feel right just staying here for free."

"Then help the work crews in any way you can." And then she thought of something that might seal the deal. "It'd be like you fulfilling that life-pact for me and Cal getting you to the hospital after you broke your leg."

Of course, she hadn't needed to spell all of that out. Nor did she want any deeds done in the name of the life-pact. But in this case, it was apparently the way to go, because Becker wasn't turning it down. Wasn't grabbing it with both hands, either, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes.

"I'll think about it," he finally grumbled. He got his wheelchair moving and added a barely audible thank you once his back was to her.

"That was good of you," Taggert said once Becker was out of earshot.

Charlotte shrugged and was ready to move back to her conversation about Taggert and her mother, but he checked his watch. "I have to leave to go see Alden." He glanced around the room again. "Can't wait to get him here."

She made a sound of agreement and followed Taggert out. She still wasn't able to bring up her mother as she spotted Cal making his way toward them. He'd buttoned his shirt, which meant no peep show for her, but Cal could give her a punch of lust even fully dressed.

"Taggert," Cal greeted him, and he extended his hand for the man to shake but then pulled it back when he saw the paint smears. Apparently, Cal had been doing some painting as well.

"Cal," he greeted back. Taggert opened his mouth, closed it and seemed to rethink what he'd been about to say. He settled on, "It's good to see you." He repeated that he needed to leave to see Alden and headed out.

Charlotte had trouble finding her own words when she looked at Cal. Then again, that was starting to be a trend. Her mouth and the rest of her just seemed to get flustered and downright giddy whenever she was around him. The giddy sexual buzz was fun, but they clearly had some not-fun things they needed to discuss. Charlotte started with an item she'd just added to her list of topics.

"I told Becker he could stay in one of the rooms in the barn," she explained. "Please tell me that's not a massive mistake and that Becker's surliness won't cause the work crew to leave."

The corner of Cal's mouth lifted. "The crew will stay. And Becker's helping in his own way. Whenever anyone finds something light that needs to be moved to the junk pile, Becker moves it there." He paused. "I'm sure he appreciates your offer. In his own way," he repeated.

That caused Charlotte to smile, too, and the smiles added to the buzz. Unfortunately, that feeling couldn't take over because there were other points on her list.

"Tell me the truth," she said firmly. "Did Noah pick a fight with you after I left you two alone the other day?"

"No," Cal was quick to say. "So there's no need for you to start a permanent shit list and put his name on it."

At the time, she hadn't been sure if Cal had heard that, but obviously he had. Better yet, Noah had heard it and heeded her warning. Well, he had if Cal wasn't fudging, and she didn't think he was.

"Did Noah use the life-pact to try to get you to back off from seeing me?" she pressed.

Cal shook his head. "He might have realized he's sort of overplayed that card over the years." He paused again, and his expression turned more serious. It turned out, though, that serious Cal was just as hot as the smiling one.

Oh, mercy. She really did have it bad for him.

"But Noah said he was going to try to get you back," Cal added. He reached out and moved a strand of hair off her cheek. The touch zinged through her almost effectively as a kiss.

Almost.

"He's trying with flowers," she confirmed. "He was also trying with texts until I blocked him. There's more than one form of shit list," she added, causing Cal to give her another of those temporary smiles.

"Noah also warned me not to hurt you," Cal shared, and his expression turned serious again. Very serious. Which told her that there might be more to Noah's warning than Cal was saying.

And then it hit her.

The zinger that Noah would have used.

"Noah said for you not to hurt me like Harper," she guessed. She got confirmation that she was dead-on when a muscle flickered in Cal's jaw. "Well, my permanent shit list is up and running, and Noah's the number-one shit on it. He shouldn't have said that to you. It was a chickenshit thing to do. And, yes, I'm aware I'm using the word shit a lot, but it applies."

Sighing, Cal slipped his arm around her and eased her to him. She was glad he did. Not because of the ever-stirring, ever-escalating heat but because he had turned to her for comfort. Anything she could do in that department was a bonus.

"Noah doesn't want to lose you," Cal muttered. "He's pissed off at himself. Pissed off at the world right now. He used Harper as sort of a Hail Mary pass."

She heard the pain in his voice. Felt it in the way he was holding her. So the Hail Mary had worked. It'd hurt Cal. It'd brought back his guilt and his pain. Oh, yes. Noah was totally on that shit list.

"What about you?" he asked, touching her face again. This time, there wasn't a strand of hair to remove so it was just direct-skin contact. "Did Taggert ask you anything about getting back with Noah?"

"No." She stopped, sighed. "Taggert broke up with Izzie because of me."

Cal stared at her as if she'd sprouted some extra facial parts. "You're not going to tell me that Taggert is secretly in love with you or something."

That had the intended effect. It got her to smile. For a second or two, anyway. "No. He broke up with my mother because of the way she pressured me to get back with Noah."

"And you blame yourself for that?" Cal asked.

"Rightfully so," she stated.

"Unrightfully so," he objected. "Taggert made that decision, and it was probably because he didn't think he could handle a future of dealing with your mom. Izzie can be a handful."

Charlotte couldn't argue with that last part, but still this breakup felt as if it was on her. Izzie would see it that way, too, which was probably why her mother hadn't texted her.

"Part of me wants to say to heck with it," she admitted, "to let my mother wallow in her sadness and strike out at me for contributing to it in any way. Another part of me wants to block her the way I did Noah."

"Which part is winning out?" he asked. This time he touched her cheek not with fingers but his mouth. It was a nice escalation.

"I'll let you know," she said, and did some escalation of her own.

Charlotte slid her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her for a real kiss. Full-on contact. Lots of heat. Those were the markers for a kiss with Cal, and this one didn't disappoint. The taste of him slid right through her, all the way to every nerve in her body that could get excited by such things.

Apparently, there were lots of them.

She deepened the kiss, immediately feeling the deeper jolt of heat, too. Sweet. It was amazing that something so simple could ignite so much. Then again, no kiss stayed simple when it came to Cal.

The heat started to roar. Nothing gentle about that. Heat was a greedy sucker who wanted more, more, more. So did her body. Her pulse galloped. Her breath was heaven knew where. And a whole lot of tingling was going on.

The greedy sucker urged her to go even deeper with the kiss. She did. It urged her to add some body contact. Charlotte did that, too. Her breasts against Cal's toned and perfect chest. It was sweet pressure. And some torture because it made her realize she wanted more of that pressure. She wanted his naked body against hers.

She wanted sex.

Yep, heat was doing its thing and escalating this much too fast. After all, the door was open, and with all the work crews around the place, someone could come walking in at any second. If they did, though, Charlotte wasn't sure she'd be able to hear them. A galloping pulse meant her heartbeat thudding in her ears that could block out pretty much any sound.

It couldn't block out the pleasure, however.

And hallelujah for that. Because she was all into the pleasure right now, and Cal was the supreme pleasure-giver. That deep, hungry kiss. The chest thing, too. He didn't stop there. No. He pressed her against the wall, anchoring them so he could do all sorts of stuff to her without the risk of their legs giving way and them falling on their butts.

He slid his hand over hers, cupping it and easing that part of her forward so that it created a whole bunch of contact between her center and his. Delicious, incredible contact that was on the verge of making her drag him to the floor.

But then, Cal stopped it.

Just stopped.

With his breath gusting and while whispering some profanity directed at himself, he stepped back. "Sorry," he said through those breaths. "Sorry."

Charlotte blinked and looked surprised at him because she couldn't figure out why an apology was needed. "We seemed to be on a good track there." Mercy, her breath was gusty, too, and her words hadn't had a lot of volume.

He nodded, cursed some more and looked at her as if he might dive in for another round of all that kissing and touching. He didn't.

"You need time to think," he said.

Another surprise. This didn't appear to be a thinking situation. And the moment that thought came to mind, she realized that it should have been just that. A situation where some thinking had been involved.

Because this was big.

This was foreplay. This was one snap, one heartbeat, away from sex. Not scheduled sex-date stuff, either, but the wild, impulsive kind that might lead to some regrets. Not during or immediately afterward. Later, when they'd had time to process it.

"Any regrets I might have wouldn't be about Noah," she assured him, and she hoped that made sense.

Apparently she was clear, because he nodded. "But I don't want us to have regrets of any kind or for any reason. That's why you need time. We both do."

Until he'd added that last part, Charlotte had been about to suggest they go on a date or something to test the romantic waters. But his use of both stopped her. Yes, Cal needed that, and it wasn't as if she didn't have a whole bunch of stuff on her plate right now.

The universe seemed to confirm that, because her phone dinged with a text. Maybe from her mother to start the guilt-flinging. But it was just as possible it was from someone doing the reno.

It wasn't.

"It's from Dr. Kentrell," she relayed to Cal, and since he would likely want to know anything the therapist had to say, she went ahead and read it aloud.

"‘Charlotte, I was hoping you'd be able to come up with a firm date to have Harper moved to Port in a Storm. Harper's having some adjustment problems with her physical therapist. She fired her. Actually, she fired me, too.'"

Charlotte paused, groaned and then kept reading.

"‘The physical therapist and I are staff, so Harper can't actually fire us, but she's insisting that it's either her or us. She says she'll text her father to come and get her if something isn't done soon.'"

Now it was Cal who groaned. Adding Paul to that mix would be putting gasoline on an already-blazing fire.

"‘Anyway,'" Charlotte continued to read, "‘I think the sooner you can move Harper in with you, the better. Harper agrees. She says she wants to go back to Emerald Creek, and for better or worse, she says she's ready to face Cal down.'"