Tides and Tidings

Chapter 27

Blythe

C harlie and I barely made it back to the hotel before his hands were all over my body.

“This dress looked incredible, but it needs to come off immediately.” He ordered.

“Then do something about it,” I challenged, pulling my hair to the side and exposing the zipper in the back.

Charlie’s fingers tucked my hair over my shoulder before focusing his attention on the zipper. “Why is this thing so small?”

“Why is what so small?”

He huffed, “The damn zipper—I can’t grab it. It’s a good thing we weren’t about to have sex because this would be a mood killer.”

Charlie, despite what he thinks, is dramatic. He insists he doesn’t know where Wren gets it from, but after spending an hour with them, you could tell the apple didn’t even fall off the tree. They are the same person in terms of personality and mannerisms.

“Do you want me to do it?” I offered.

“No! I’ll get it. Give me a minute…or two.”

Charlie capitulated after fondling with the zipper for the better part of five minutes. “Fine, you do it.”

I was able to grab the zipper and get it down halfway, “Can you help me get it the rest of the way down my back?”

A pouting Charlie rose from the bed, “That I can do.”

I slipped out of the dress I spent days trying to find and laid it on the bed. As I stared at it, I wondered what else Charlie had up his sleeve for tonight. I get that he was frustrated with the restaurant being closed, but he lied when he said he was looking forward to ordering a salad. The man has never gone near a head of lettuce in the time I’ve known him, hence my suspicion.

“Are you going to go into the bathroom?” Charlie asked, staring at me.

“Nope. I need to pick out something else to wear first and I can get changed right here. The bathroom is all yours if you need it.”

He froze, “Oh…I don’t. I was going to suggest you get freshened up.”

Odd . I only took slight offense to that.

I rifled through my suitcase and grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and a black corset top. “Do I need to get freshened up?”

“No!” His eyes went wide like saucers, “Um…that’s not what I was implying. I wasn’t sure if you were going to or not.”

“I think I’m good.” I glanced over at Charlie; he looked uncomfortable sitting on the bed in his suit. “Are you going to get changed?”

He nodded before getting up and scouring through his suitcase for a more casual outfit.

I went into the bathroom to get changed and admired my reflection briefly. The woman staring back at me was the happiest she had ever been. The deepening crow’s feet and smile lines were indicators of that.

I slid into my jeans before popping my head out of the bathroom door. “Question for you.”

Charlie’s head snapped up. He looked at me like he had just been caught by his mom doing unspeakable things when he was a teenager. He was shoving something into the depths of his backpack and was still very much in his suit.

“You good?”

“Yeah. I needed to get something out of my backpack.” He pulled his empty hands out of the bag.

I nodded slowly, “Alrighty.”

I’m not sure what he was doing, but he clearly didn’t want to tell me whatever it was. The greatest thing about our relationship was the trust we shared. I knew the passcode on his phone and he knew mine. Neither of us had anything to hide—we wanted each other and no one else.

“What was your question?” He turned the attention away from himself.

“I was going to ask if you could see what restaurants around here are less fancy than L’Acqua.” I paused, “Also, get changed. You were the one complaining that it was getting late, you old man.”

Charlie motioned to the clothes on the bed, “It’ll take me three seconds to get ready.” He strolled over to me, “You, however, still don’t have a shirt on. That means it’ll be another fifteen minutes before we leave.”

I stepped closer to him, “Are you insinuating that I take too long to get ready?”

A smirk played on his lips, “On a normal day, no. When we have to go out, yes.”

“Excuse me for trying to look attractive for you for once!” I feigned offense.

He slipped an arm around my waist, “You always look incredible. Don’t get me wrong, you looked beautiful in that dress earlier. However, when we’re making breakfast and you’re wearing my T-shirt with your hair in a bun is my favorite look of yours.”

A blush crept up my cheeks. I never took compliments well—especially when they came from a guy that looked like Charlie Hannigan—my word .

“What are you thinkin’ you want for dinner?”

I tapped my chin while thinking about it. I’ve been hankering for something for the last few days, but we’re trying to be responsible and save money by eating at home. “You know what sounds good?”

Charlie’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “What’s that?”

I’m typically indecisive. His asking me what I wanted to eat—at any point in the day—was an uphill battle. No sooner the question comes out of his mouth, I spiral. Options race through my head and I can never decide.

“You actually know what you want?” The shock was evident in his voice.

I drooled as this fine-ass man slipped out of his suit in front of me. His body never saw a piece of lettuce, but he somehow kept in shape by swimming in the water behind his house. Our house? That part was still a bit murky. Charlie paid the mortgage and I was just a freeloader. I’ve offered to pay half monthly since moving in, but he insisted I don’t.

“Are you going to tell me what you want to eat, or will you just keep drooling?”

My eyes slowly moved up his chiseled body to meet his. “Hm?”

A smirk danced on his lips, “I think that answers my question.”

“Run that by me once more, please.” I batted my eyelashes.

A look of amusement spread across his face, “What would you like to eat?”

“A burger.” I held my hands before continuing, “But not just any burger. I want one that drips down my hand because there’s so many condiments and toppings.”

My mouth salivated at the thought.

Charlie changed while I made my suggestion.

“That sounds good. Let’s see what we can find.” He pulled out his phone, “Greasy food is what you need before a night out.”

“I thought greasy foods were better for a hangover?”

“Speaking from experience,” he shrugged, “It’s both.”