Shattered Dreams (Dream #1)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Charlie

“The water is ice,”

I complain, getting out of the shower and leaving her in there. “It’s like ice pellets hitting my back.”

“Stop being such a princess.”

She laughs as she puts her head back and lets the water rinse the shampoo out of her hair. “You swam in a creek before. It’s not warm.”

“I swam in a creek before when I was overheated, and it felt good.”

I grab the towel.

“Well, were you not overheated from banging me against this wall?”

She hits the wall on the shower.

“It’s not the same thing.”

I glare at her, and she laughs, and it literally warms my fucking soul.

“Then maybe you aren’t doing it right,”

she teases me, and I turn my head and walk out of her bathroom.

“I’m doing it fine,”

I mumble as I pick up my boxers and slide them on before grabbing my jeans. “Do you want a coffee?”

I shout to the bathroom, and she sticks her head out.

“You’re staying for coffee?”

she asks, and I put my hands on my hips.

“Did we not have a conversation last night?”

I ask. All she can do is stare at me, but in a cute way, with her trying to hide a smile by biting the corner of her lip, and I can’t help but walk to her. “What did I say last night?”

She looks up at me, her hair wet and so are her eyelashes. I grab her face. “What did I tell you last night?”

My voice is low as I turn my head to the side and kiss her lips. It's a short, wet kiss. “So?”

“You said you were in love with me.”

Her voice is higher than a whisper.

“So that means I stay for coffee,”

I inform her.

“Oh, okay.”

She tries not to smile but fails. “Then I’ll have a coffee.”

“I’ll get right on that, baby.”

My hands drop from her freezing face. “Please get out of that fucking shower.”

“I have to condition my hair still,”

she says. “It’s fine. You get used to it.”

“I also don’t think that’s how it works.”

I shake my head.

She pushes me away as she steps back in the shower, and I walk to her bedroom and then outside to the kitchen. I’m grabbing things to make coffee when I see movement coming from the front of the house through the window. I put the mugs down as the hair on the back of my neck sticks up. “What the fuck?”

I move my head to the side and see him: the fucking reporter. He looks around to make sure no one is looking in his direction when he reaches out for the mailbox at the curb. I rush to get my boots on, head to the door, and open it before storming out there. There’s a stack of letters in his hand. It takes me three strides to be in front of him, shocking him enough when I grab the front of his shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

His face pales, the letters falling from his hand. “Oof,”

he grunts, his hands going to my wrist.

“I asked you a fucking question,”

I hiss at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Get off me.”

He tries to fight me off him, but I’m holding on to him for dear life. The rage fills my whole body. “Get the fuck off me.”

He moves side to side to try to get my hands to get off him. “I’m fucking suing you for assault.”

“Not assaulting you if you are on private property and I’m defending the person who lives here,”

I inform him, my teeth clenched together. “Now, I won’t ask you again. The next person I’ll call is the sheriff, who I think would be interested to know why you were touching someone’s mail. I think that’s a federal crime.”

There is literally no other color on his face. “Now, what’s it going to be? You answer my questions, or I call the sheriff and you can answer his questions?”

I ask, but I’m so far gone, the second the question comes out I expect him to answer me. “Tick, tock,”

I say, moving my hand to me and then back again, shaking him.

“Fine, fine,”

he concedes, and I loosen my fist and push him away from me.

“Talk.”

I fold my arms over my chest to stop from punching him in the face. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hired by the Cartwrights,”

he says and everything in my body gets tight. “They are looking for anything that will prove she”—he points at the house—“was responsible for the accident in one way or another. That maybe the two of you were the reason he was drinking since you two are now, you know.”

“You’re shitting me right now.”

“I’m not shitting you.”

He smooths down his shirt that is balled at the chest and wrinkled. “They feel like their son was done a disservice by Ms. Thatcher, so they would like anything that would make her look like she was a liar and an opportunist.”

I count to ten, or at least I know I should count to ten, but I don’t.

“Get the fuck off her property, and if I find you even sniffing in her direction, you’ll have to deal with me. And, buddy, word to the wise.”

I take a step forward. “I would not fuck with me.”

He holds up his hands. “Yeah, yeah,”

he backpedals, “this town is shot to shit anyway.”

He turns and gets into his truck. I take out my phone and snap a picture of his license plate and send it straight to my grandfather.

The phone rings two seconds later. “We have a situation,”

I say, bending and picking up the mail as I fill him in.

He doesn’t even tease me about being at Autumn’s house at the ass crack of dawn. “This just shot up to the top of my to-do list,”

he states and then hangs up.

I look up to the sky before turning and walking back into the house at the same time she walks out of the bedroom, wearing the T-shirt I wore last night, a white towel wrapped up on top of her head. “Where were you?”

she asks, looking at me standing here in my jeans and boots.

“Went to get your mail,”

I lie to her, holding it up.

Her eyeballs go big. “You went out to get my mail half naked?”

“I’m not naked.”

I put the mail on the kitchen table. “I’m wearing pants. If I went out in my boxers, then I would be half naked.”

“Charlie,”

she hisses, “people could see you!”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Are you embarrassed?”

I tease her as she glares at me, and I snatch her around her waist. “I like seeing you in my T-shirt.”

I kiss her neck.

“Is my coffee ready?”

she asks but wraps her arms around my neck, not letting me move away from her. “Say it,”

she urges, looking up at me. All night long if she woke up, she would whisper to me for me to say how I feel about her.

“I,”

I say, kissing her lips, “love”—another kiss—“you.”

This time, I slide my tongue into her mouth. I’m about to pick her up when my phone rings, and I know it’s my grandfather. “I have to get that,”

I say, her arms let go of my neck.

“How about I make coffee, then?”

She turns and walks into the kitchen as I put the phone to my ear.

“Not a good time,”

I mention, knowing I can’t talk.

“Good, so you can listen,”

my grandfather says, and I watch her make us coffee. “I think it’s a good idea you guys come visit us this weekend. Make sure this guy leaves town, and if not, there might be blowback. I don’t want the two of you involved in whatever I have planned, since you are now involved with each other.”

He slides in that comment, and if this wasn’t a tense moment, I would laugh.

“Got it,”

I confirm, knowing I probably don’t got it. There is no way she is going to leave town so close to the event and knowing how busy the bar gets on the weekends.

“See you tomorrow,”

he replies and hangs up the phone.

“Everything okay?”

she asks, and for the second time, I lie to her, and the guilt eats at my stomach.

“Yeah, I have to get to the barn,”

I say, and she nods, walks over, and grabs a travel mug.

“If you give me ten minutes, I can get dressed and drive you over there,”

she offers. I nod as she walks by me but stops to kiss my chest where her bite mark is before pulling my shirt over her head and leaving her naked in front of me.

“That’s not going to get us out of here in ten minutes.”

I slap her ass as she walks away from me giggling. I prepare us both to-go coffees, and when she drops me off at the house fifteen minutes later, I make out with her like it’s the last fucking time I’m going to kiss her. “See you later.”

I get out of the truck and walk up the steps to my front door. Walking in, I grab my truck keys before turning and heading right back out.

Hoping like fuck he’s home, I pull up to his house, which is farther away from town. The fixer-upper he bought a couple of years ago looks brand new compared to the one that is falling down beside him. Walking up the steps, I pull open the storm door and knock.

I hear him on the other side of the door before he pulls it open, wearing what I was wearing not too long ago. “Charlie,”

he says my name.

“I need a favor,”

I state and he moves away from the door and I step in to see that the front isn’t the only thing that is new. The whole inside looks like it was redone. I also know he did all this shit by himself over the last eight years.

“What kind of favor?” he asks.

I explain to him everything that happened this morning, his face filling with fear and then anger. “What the fuck?”

he hisses out. “Like can’t they just leave her the fuck alone?”

“I need to get out of town and I need your sister to come with me.”

“She won’t go.”

He shakes his head, thinking exactly what I was thinking.

“I’m going to come in tonight, sit with you at the bar, and ask her to go with me,”

I say. “I’m going to need you to take my back on this. I’ll hire a couple of people to help you at the bar. If she thinks you’re okay with it, she might go with it.”

“I’ll take your back.”

He nods. “You sure about this?”

I know the question isn’t about the plan to take her away for the weekend. He’s asking me if I’m sure about his sister.

“She’s it for me,”

I confirm and his mouth drops. “Told her I love her yesterday. Only one other person I said that to. Not going to be another one. I’ll be at the bar tonight and you take my back.”

“Yeah,”

he agrees and I nod at him, turning and walking out of the house and heading to the barn. I walk in searching for Emmett, who is sitting on his desk.

“Why is it every single time I find you, you’re sitting on this desk?”

I joke with him.

“Why is it that every single time you are supposed to be here, you’re not?”

he jokes back with me.

“Need a favor.”

I look around to see if anyone is within earshot.

“Your card is all used up.”

He smirks. “Front and back.”

“You know anyone who could serve in a bar for about a week?”

“Do I look like HR to you?”

He laughs.

“Is that a yes?”

I put my hands on my hips.

“I know a couple of the guys who are looking for extra money,”

he says, motioning to the young kid who we just hired. “I’m sure he can take drinks to a table.”

“Good, bring him to the bar tonight,”

I say and turn to head to the house.

“Are you working today?”

he asks, and I flip him the bird over my head.

That night, the three of us are walking into the almost full bar. “Time to see what you can do,”

I tell Bishop. I slap him on the shoulder as I walk to the bar. Autumn looks up at me as she slings her shaker over her shoulder. “You’re swamped.”

“Yeah.”

She smiles. “Two tour groups came this afternoon and haven’t left yet.”

I look to the side to see Brady stepping behind the bar, and we share a chin-up.

“I’ll help, and so will my guy, Bishop,”

I volunteer, and Brady just looks at his sister. “He has experience,”

I lie to them. The kid just turned twenty-one and has yet to be in a fucking bar.

“Good,”

Brady says. “Come with me,”

he tells Bishop, who follows him as I walk around the bar.

The four of us work nonstop for two hours, while Emmett sits his ass down on his stool, surveying. Bishop comes back and is all excited about the extra tips he’s earned, not bringing up the fact I’m also paying him double his salary at the bar for the weekend.

Emmett leaves with him, and Brady comes behind the bar. “You need to stop giving those tours.”

He glares at his sister, who shrugs. “When I do those tours, they leave. You do them and they all think they can be your best friend.”

“It’s not my fault.”

She laughs and then looks at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I have to go home this weekend,”

I explain and her face suddenly changes. “Have to check out a couple of things.”

Lie three today.

“Oh.”

That’s all she says, grabbing the rag and wiping down the bar.

“Come with me?”

I ask and look at Brady, who shares a quick glance with me.

“I can’t leave,”

she replies.

“Yes, you can, and she is going with you,”

Brady declares. “It’ll be a holiday not having you here.”

She glares at him. “Who is going to help you?”

“Bishop, kid is good and he’s looking for extra work,”

Brady cuts in. “Can’t do many weekdays since he works for this one.”

He points at me. “But he said he can do Friday and Saturday since he’s off on the weekend.”

I walk to her and put my hand around her waist and pull her to me. “Come home with me,”

I urge as she looks up at me. “I don’t want to be without you.”

She looks at me, then at Brady, who puts his hands together. “Please leave.”

He even closes his eyes, and if I would be able to give this guy an Oscar, I would.

“You’re a dick,”

she tells Brady, then turns to me. “I have to be back by Sunday night. I have a meeting on Monday morning with vendors.”

I nod. “We can do that.”

I will agree to anything to take her away and I was even okay with kidnapping her, but this is much better. “Let’s get you home and packed.”