4. Charlie Hearts Zoe

Chapter 4

Charlie Hearts Zoe

"Well, that was interesting. Can't remember the last time I threw a woman out of my bar," Noah mumbled beside Charlie as he scooped crushed ice into a glass.

"Well, you didn't exactly throw her out, and that woman is Germaine, so …"

"Good point, baby bro." Noah fastened his eyes on Hailey's retreating form as she sashayed into the dining room to deliver drinks.

Baby bro. God, Charlie hated that. They were only two years apart.

"Jesus Christ, you live with the woman! You can't peel your eyes off her for one second?"

"What's eating you?"

Charlie slid his gaze toward Joy Holiday. She had pulled out a notebook, whose white pages she was attacking with a sloppy scrawl. Huh. She was left-handed too. She glanced up at him, frowned, and quickly looked away. Her writing seemed to speed up. What the hell was she doing? Cataloging his every move? Writing down bullet points for all the reasons she wanted to fire his ass before he could even get started ?

"Besides you calling me ‘baby bro'? Just frustrated that they're dragging their heels on the train depot reno."

"That's it? If that's the case, then ‘baby bro' definitely fits. I thought you resolved yourself to the long haul just a week ago. Figures your patience didn't go very far."

"No, though having all my cash tied up is making for some sleepless nights." Charlie puffed out a breath.

"Ha! Don't whine to me about your cash being tied up."

Charlie ignored him and groused, "There's also this job that isn't lining up the way I expected. As for that little scene, the bony dark-haired one started it when she bragged about her eight-hundred-dollar shoes."

"Her what ?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Who is she anyway?"

"Joy Holiday. My new client."

"Oh shit."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Charlie flashed his brother a fake smile before handing Neve her margarita. "There you go, Doc. Sweet and salty, just like you."

"Aw, Charlie, you say the nicest things." She raised her glass to him and took a sip, her blue eyes twinkling.

Neve Embry was the town vet and had grown up with Charlie and his brothers. She was one of Charlie's closest female friends—without benefits, though most of the town believed they swapped benefits on a weekly if not nightly basis. Usually, their assumptions didn't bother him. Neve was beautiful, funny, smart as hell, and an awesome vet. What man wouldn't want people thinking they were together? His oldest brother, Reece, was the only one Charlie could think of. Reece was sure something was going on between Charlie and Neve, and Charlie couldn't convince him otherwise. What a dumbass.

Charlie helped Noah prepare an assembly line of cocktails which were whisked away by Hailey and Luanne, one of the tavern's longtime waitresses. With a break in the action, Noah nudged him to the end of the bar, out of Joy's earshot. "So she's Helene Holiday's other daughter?"

"Yeah, and she's a real piece of work. She wanted to demolish Helene's store! "

Noah's mouth twitched with a knowing smile. "Got it. She definitely started off on the wrong foot with you."

"Her foot in an eight-hundred-dollar sneaker. Or a red stiletto."

"Come again?"

"How could she be Helene's daughter? She's from a completely different gene pool. Helene was the female counterpart to the Pillsbury Doughboy."

"What's the other daughter look like? I never got a good look at her."

"I had to go over there a few times while she was taking care of her mom, and she's the spitting image of Helene … when Helene was alive, of course."

"Of course," Noah replied dryly.

Charlie tipped his head toward Joy, whose nose was glued to her notebook. "Look at her! She's all snooty high-rise Chicago big-city girl. She struts around town in her expensive clothes, blows past the speed limits like they don't apply to her, and generally throws her weight around … as if she has any to throw."

"Wow! She really pissed you off. How fast was she going?"

"What?"

"You said she blew past the speed limit. How much?"

"I don't know! I didn't have my radar gun on me at the time. Five, ten miles over."

"So she was going a whole twenty to twenty-five miles an hour." Noah mock-whistled. He stole a glance at the object of Charlie's ire. "She reminds me of a skinny Zoe Saldana."

"What?" Charlie had a serious crush on Zoe Saldana—he'd even set up his screen savers with images of the actress—and Noah knew it. "Now you're trying to piss me off. Not gonna work, bro."

"I'm not trying to piss you off. Look at her. She has the same long, dark hair and that tan complexion. I think her eyes are a prettier color than Zoe's, though. Kind of a light brown with gold."

"Does Hailey know you're checking out the customers?"

"I'm not checking her out. I just notice things. That's what good bartenders do. Now listen and learn. See the guy at the other end of the bar? What branch of the military do you think he served in?"

"How do you know he was in the military? "

Dixie poked her head between them, and they both jerked in place. "Boys? Are we all done discussing customers? Can you get back to filling their drink orders before they take it out on me and short my tips?"

"You're hostessing tonight," Noah pointed out. "They don't give you tips."

She perched a hand on her ample hip and gave each one of them the look .

"Yeah, sure," they replied in unison. Dixie was Noah's manager, and even though she was playing hostess tonight, there was never any doubt at any time that she was in charge.

Charlie returned to his station just as Hailey slid a hamburger plate piled high with sweet potato fries in front of Joy. Joy thanked her and immediately picked up the half-pounder and chomped into it like she hadn't eaten in three months. Ketchup and juice from the meat dripped down her chin. Setting the burger back on the plate, she closed her eyes as if she was in the throes of ecstasy and followed this up with a prim dab at her mouth. She jotted in her notebook and attacked the burger all over again, methodically repeating the steps, pausing occasionally to shovel in a fistful of fries.

Charlie watched covertly, unsure why Joy Holiday chowing down mesmerized him; it was completely at odds with her buttoned-up personality. Something about her gusto when she tackled the burger was sexy as sin, though, and before he could stop it, his mind zoomed to whether she was as voracious in bed.

Where the fuck had that come from?

From your neglected libido, dude. It had been too long, but he had solid reasons for sticking with celibacy.

Admonishing himself for his mind's detour down Sex Lane, he got back to work, looking over from time to time to see her either writing or talking to Neve. Well, Neve talked—more and more with each margarita—and Joy listened, chiming in on occasion without once cracking a smile. He wasn't sure her facial muscles were even equipped for it. The woman was a stone wall … until Micky waltzed in.

It was after nine by then, the kitchen was closed, and the out-of-town diners were gone. This was the time the locals took over, and though the pace slowed, the place grew rowdier. Sometimes Charlie sat at the bar and bent elbows with the regulars, but mostly he went home and unwound with his dogs. That plan derailed the minute Micky set his eyes on Joy.

With the usual smarmy smile plastered on his face, Micky sauntered over to Joy and Neve. "Why, hello, ladies," he greeted in a buttery voice.

After introductions, Neve explained to Joy, "Micky owns the town's garage."

Micky was the epitome of a Fall River resident. He'd been born there, grew up there, and knew everyone. He was also a barfly and a manwhore-wannabe with a sweet girlfriend who put up with his crap for reasons no one understood. Charlie had always heard there was someone for everyone. If that was true, it seemed unfair a guy like Micky had been allotted a someone. Right now his boyhood friend was turning his charm—if one could call it that—on Joy Holiday.

To Micky, Neve said, "Joy is Helene Holiday's daughter. She's here to wrap up Helene's affairs."

Micky's eyes popped wide. "Is that your black M3 parked in front of her place?" It wasn't that nice cars never graced the streets of Fall River. With the work Noah was putting into making the town a magnet for rich tourists, a higher-end clientele had been trickling in. Once the depot was renovated and the train was running again, the floodgates would really open. And while Noah was excited about this new future, Charlie lagged in his enthusiasm. He was all for fixing up the town and making it a historical jewel, but he didn't necessarily want strangers stampeding through the future pristine setting.

Joy gave Micky a long, cool look. "It's a rental, but yes, it's mine."

Micky began rattling off questions laced with terms Charlie wasn't sure were English. To his shock, a smile formed on Joy's face and spread from ear to ear, transforming her from a borderline shrew into someone almost … appealing. Apparently, cars were her jam because she tossed numbers right back at Micky. The two seemed to speak their own language, each one's exuberance climbing as they motorheaded out.

"Have you opened her up yet?" Micky wanted to know.

"You bet your boots I did! That drive on the Million Dollar Highway? It's the whole reason I rented the car in the first place."

"No shit! Where'd you learn to drive?" Micky plopped onto the barstool next to hers .

"My uncle was into racing. When I got my first big-girl job, I saved up and enrolled myself in a performance driving school."

More locals trickled in. Among them was Lauren, Neve's receptionist. Unfortunately. Neve was too busy eavesdropping on Micky and Joy to notice Lauren's arrival—not that it would have prevented Lauren from fastening her eyes on Charlie the entire way. Every time Lauren eyed him like that—as though he was a five-course meal—he squirmed, and tonight was no exception. Lauren was one of the local women who had enticed Charlie into suspending his better judgment and letting his libido take charge. She was also one of the reasons for his self-imposed celibacy. He'd slept with her—once—and regretted it ever since. She, on the other hand, had made it her mission to get him back into bed.

Dragging his hand over his jaw, he mentally kicked himself for volunteering to work at the tavern tonight. He returned to the car conversation, pretending to be enthralled with the topic.

Micky was still quizzing Joy. "Which driving school?"

"Spring Mountain, in Nevada."

"Spring Mountain?" Micky chortled. "No shit?"

Joy nodded, a triumphant grin in place.

"What'd you drive?"

"A CT5-V."

"A Blackwing?" Micky threw his head back and laughed. "Oh my God! You're shitting me!"

Joy's nose inched up in the haughty way she had, though it looked as though it was strictly for show this time. "I would not shit anyone about anything that serious, and before you ask, yes, of course it was awesome."

The two chattered on like old friends. Micky was so caught up in the conversation he forgot to ogle Joy—and even more telling, he forgot to order a drink. Charlie had never witnessed anything like it.

Neve, meanwhile, was trying to suck margarita from an empty glass. She wobbled a bit on her seat, and Charlie slid a water toward her. "Hey, sweetheart. Drink this."

She gave him a feeble smile. "You always take such good care of me, Charlie." She took a sip, then another, and finally gulped half of it down. Her eyes softened with a plea. "Take me home?"

Normally when she asked that question—and she asked it with regularity—he didn't hesitate. But tonight he found himself wanting to stick around and listen to Micky and Joy yammer on about race cars, even though it wasn't a subject that ever topped his list of twenty favorites, and even though he had a mound of paperwork and an early morning meeting with his project manager ahead of him.

"And then you can take me home," Lauren mouthed at him from behind Neve's back.

Jesus! Germaine, Neve—well, not really Neve—and now Lauren. Not to mention the myriad come-ons he had already evaded tonight. When he'd been younger and stupider than he was now, he used to imagine having a harem and floating in a state of perpetual sated bliss. He'd be the stallion servicing the fillies. But reality was a far cry from that fantasy. What he glimpsed through this narrow window of possibility convinced him that if such a reality was ever offered, he would turn tail and gallop away, screaming, "Hell no!" No, one was enough for him, but she had to be the right one, and while he wasn't sure exactly what "right" looked like, he was positive he hadn't met her yet—and possibly never would.

He'd had a number of women tell him he was the right one for them, which completely baffled him. He couldn't tell if they were serious or after something because, honestly, he didn't get it. When he looked in the mirror, he was unimpressed. Sure, his profession kept him in decent shape, and he wasn't ugly. Beyond those underwhelming qualifications, though, where was the appeal? Six years ago, when he'd been twenty-one, he'd let a girlfriend talk him into modeling for a book cover—yeah, that was a thing—and the photographer had waxed on about his bone structure, his eye color, his hair, his body in general while he'd slicked him in oil and posed him. The guy had even asked Charlie to return for another photo shoot, but Charlie had turned down the offer. He'd only agreed in the first place so he could get into the girl's pants, and once he'd accomplished that mission, he saw no need to spend another shirtless afternoon under hot lights in front of a camera.

He had never told anyone in his family, and the girlfriend, who lived out of town, had never had the chance before they broke up. Thank fuck none of the pictures had seen the light of day. He would have been mortified.

"Charlie?" Neve drilled him with worried eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Give me a minute to let Noah know I'm headed out, okay?" He pointed at her. "Finish your water. "

Lauren pouted. "What about me?"

"You want water too?"

She gave him a roll of her overly made-up eyes. "No, you know what I want."

Unfortunately, he did. "Not sure I do, but either way, I gotta take care of your boss."

Neve seemed to realize Lauren was behind her, and she swiveled on her stool. "I have dibs, Lauren." End of discussion.

Charlie nearly barked a laugh.

He found Noah at the end of the bar and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm out, bro."

"Let me give you your tips." Noah counted out a stack of bills into Charlie's hand.

Charlie thanked him and immediately tracked down Dixie. She raised a russet eyebrow. "What's on your mind, handsome?"

He turned her palm up and pressed the bills into it. "Didn't want you getting shorted because of me."

"I was joking."

"Too late." He bent to kiss the top of her head, thought better of it when he didn't see a clear path through her hair-sprayed strands, and kissed her cheek instead. "Night, gorgeous."

He spun, leaving Dixie to shake her head in his wake as he made his way back behind the bar. Joy's and Micky's heads were bent together in serious conversation. He jerked his head at Neve. "Let's go."

Her eyes widened with fake innocence. "Go where?"

"I'm taking you home, remember?"

She leaned across the bar, and a naughty gleam lit her eyes. "Yeah? And what are you going to do to me when you get me there, Charlie?"

"Only one way to find out. Come on, sweetheart."

This was a game he and Neve were comfortable playing, but as he hustled her toward the front door, she leaned into him. "I hope I didn't go too far. I was trying to throw Lauren off your scent."

"When it comes to her," he whispered back, "I don't know if anything will throw her off the scent short of me getting it on with someone else right in front of her."

"Which you would never do because that would be cruel."

"Which I would never do because I'm also not an exhibitionist. "

Neve elbowed him in the ribs. "What about that one time—"

"Come on! That was high school. Can we let it go?"

"You mean like you ‘let it go' under the bleachers with that cheerleader?" Neve cackled.

"I hate you."

"Maybe, but you need to be nice to me because your dogs love me."

"Maybe it's time we switched to the clinic in Ridgway. I'm gonna talk it over with them."

She swatted his chest, and he burst out with a laugh. Outside on the sidewalk, he felt eyes on him, and he turned and looked through the window at the people lining the bar. They either faced each other or away from him. All of them except Joy Holiday, who watched him as if appraising him, and he couldn't help but wonder how much she'd overheard and what her impression of him might be. It shouldn't have mattered, but it kinda did.