Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Charlie
I didn’t mind losing the sofa bed battle. Witnessing Bess drop the polite, distant act and bring out the sass, I knew I was, in fact, winning. She’d never been like this at the office, yet I’d always sensed she’d been hiding something. An edge. A wit. Like someone had painted over vibrant colors with beige, but hadn’t done a very thorough job.
I’d been right about her. If she had this much spunk, she’d have thoughts and ideas to share. She just needed to ditch that office persona and be herself.
I insisted on helping her make the bed with extra pillows and blankets to make sure she was comfortable and warm. When the bed was done, she picked up her phone. “I need to call my daughter before she goes to bed.”
“Sure.”
As I descended the stairs, I heard her on the phone, asking to hear every detail of Celia’s day. I held still, listening to her voice turn higher and softer. When I realized she’d dropped her volume to almost a whisper, I went to brush my teeth to give her privacy. I ran the tap deliberately loud, hoping she’d feel comfortable to say whatever she wanted to say.
The annoying guy from the office is here and I have to share.
The annoying guy broke the wall in my cabin. I wish I could send him home but I’m a nice person, so I choose to sleep on the couch.
I was pretty sure she found me irritating. She hid it well and never said anything to that effect, but I could see it in her eyes. She never flirted with me, either. Until tonight, if you could indeed count our sofa bed argument as flirting.
I closed the tap and retreated to the downstairs bed, peeling off the covers. The cabin was quiet now. I lay awake for a good hour, browsing my phone with the sound off, wondering if she was asleep or awake and if that sofa bed was as uncomfortable as it looked.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her? She was an employee and a single mother, which should have placed her deep into my friend zone. But Trevor was right. I’d been crushing on her for two years. She’d kept her distance, forcing me to keep mine. I’d prided myself on being professional, but it had been Bess holding us to the status quo. The moment she’d returned an ounce of my affection, my eyes had gone rogue, roaming her body. I’d noticed the curve of her breasts under that white top. I’d noticed that top hitching up as she threw herself on the bed. I’d stared for longer than was appropriate, filing away images I had no business saving. And now, the images came back, playing in a loop.
Bess in a tank top, lying across the sofa bed. The curve of her breast above the low neckline, nipples hard enough to pebble the fabric. That brazen smile that appeared like a sun from behind heavy clouds, blinding me with its power. She’d been brave enough to tease me, put me in my place. I needed more of that.
I imagined that smile on her face as I lowered myself on top of her, trapping her against that sofa bed. I tried to direct my thoughts to other women—past hookups and celebrity crushes, but my cock insisted on Bess, so I gave up, circling back to her. Thank God she’d insisted on sleeping in the loft. I was not ready to share a bed with this woman.
The next morning, I woke up to her presence. Startled, I jerked upright, my head swimming. Bess stood by my bed, fully dressed, the little backpack on her shoulder. “I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?” I was fully awake now and standing. “Wait, what? You’re not off right now, are you? There’s… breakfast.” The thought was triggered by the hollow feeling in my stomach, which I suspected wasn’t even hunger.
“It’s okay.” She smiled sweetly, moving towards the door.
Back to the distant, polite bullshit, were we?
“The reservation is non-refundable, you know?” It was the only thing I could think of. “I’ll tell George you wasted yours.” I winced at the words. I was playing dirty now, but I couldn’t let her leave.
Bess froze at the doorway. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she debated what to do. Finally, she turned around, her shoulders moving up and down as she took a deep breath. “What do you mean? The place is overbooked.”
I adopted a friendlier tone. “I know. It’s far from ideal, and I’m sorry. But you have a bed, right? Is it okay to sleep in?”
She gave a wobbly nod. “It’s fine.”
“And you’ve arranged to stay here for the whole week?”
She hung her head, staring at the scuffed ends of her sneakers. “I did. But I told my daughter I’d be back today. We spoke last night.”
My stomach tightened. This is what I’d missed running the tap in the bathroom. “Okay. So, your mom’s babysitting?”
“Yes.”
“Let me ask you something. Was she happy with your decision to come back?”
Her gaze flicked at the door, then at me. Trapped. I closed the distance, trying to ignore the fact that I’d slept in my boxer shorts. This was too important. I couldn’t let her lie to me. I stepped closer, close enough that I could read her eyes. “Be honest.”
Bess blew out a sigh, her eyes still roaming about like she was looking for a way out. “She was disappointed. She asked me to reconsider. Like you said, I have a bed and a loft to myself. But it doesn’t feel right. And Celia misses me. I haven’t been away from her, ever.”
“How old is she? Four?”
Her blush was instant. “Five.”
“That’s so… great. I mean, it’s great you’re always there for her. But do you think she’d maybe be okay for a couple of nights? Even if you don’t stay the whole week. How about three nights?” I was bargaining now and starting to sound desperate.
She finally looked me in the eye. “Why is it so important to you? If I go, you’ll have the cabin to yourself.”
Warmth pushed up my chest, and I wondered if I was going to blush as well. Because it was an excellent question.
“I don’t want the cabin to myself. Bess… please. I need help. I’m here because I’m stuck on this campaign. And if I don’t get this right, we’re… um… we’re in a lot of trouble. George… my dad, thought that this retreat would get me out of my rut and the ideas flowing, but I honestly don’t think I can do it in a vacuum, by myself. I’m used to spit balling with Trevor and Lee. You know that, right?”
She nodded, her face softening, until a new crease appeared between her eyes. “Why didn’t you bring them?”
Now I was definitely blushing, my mind frantically organizing the facts and fiction into something palatable. Something I could tell her. “It was really last minute. The agency had bought a bunch of vouchers for this place, one of which was gifted to you. But we have a lot of other work on. We can’t send away that many key people. Plus, the first concepts we did with Trevor didn’t test well. So, Dad thinks we need to mix it up.”
“George thinks we should team up?” Her confusion was palpable.
“No,” I said. She’d never believe me on that. “But I saw you were coming here and I thought I’d join you and maybe you’d let me pick your brain.”
“ My brain?” She repeated, looking at me like I’d suggested harvesting her organs. “What campaign are you talking about?”
“The financial literacy one for Thriver Credit Union.”
Finally, a glimpse of understanding. “Ah. You need someone financially illiterate to test your ideas on?”
“What? No. Did I say that?”
Her hand flew to her mouth and she blushed even harder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I mean, how can I help?”
“Don’t apologize. I need your unfiltered thoughts and ideas. For the campaign. Can you do that?”
For a moment, I wondered if she’d stopped breathing. I took a deep breath, to remind us both of that vital activity. When I saw her chest moving again, I relaxed a little.
“I have to call my mom.”
“Please, do.”
She pulled her phone out of her backpack’s side pocket and stepped outside to make the call.
Guilt turned my stomach. I was blackmailing her, appealing to her sense of duty and unwavering work ethic. She’d do anything to keep her job—a job she’d already lost.
I would turn things around. I’d help her tap into her creative side. Once everyone saw her ideas, she’d become irreplaceable. My determination was underscored by a foreboding cold shiver, but I shook it off. I was used to taking bold risks and winning. Why would this be any different?