Business Casual (Lovelight, #4)

by B.K. Borison

Beckett has always believed in me. Even when I haven’t necessarily deserved it.

Charlie Milford is the biggest goddamn flirt on the planet. He is made up of equal parts charm, charisma, and misplaced confidence. The first couple of times I talked to him, I couldn’t figure him out. But now I know that’s just how he is. He’s happiest when he’s making the people around him happy too. Or, in my case, blushing furiously and scowling at his big dumb face. I have no idea why. He is not my type. He’s probably the furthest thing from my type. He works for some sort of wealth investment firm in New York and has an affinity for three-piece suits. Wristwatches that cost the same as the rent for my tiny studio. Color coded spreadsheets and terms like ideal fiscal environment. He buys truffle oil. He has pocket squares. If there was ever a man to be more my opposite, it would be him.

Nova Porter is walking toward me like she can’t decide if she wants to dance with me or tear me limb from limb. Storm cloud eyes. Dark blond hair twisted in a low messy bun. A dress that was either made in my dreams or my nightmares. It shimmers as she walks, a soft gray material that looks like it would slip through my fingers like water. Plunging neckline and a skirt that flares out around her ankles. Bare feet. Pink cheeks. Tattoos all along her arms and down her shoulders. She looks like she could eat me alive. I fucking love it.

“How’s it going?” She falls into me with a huff, both of her hands flat against my chest. I get half of an eye roll and a quirk of her lips. “It’s going.” “Oh yeah?” “Better if this giant buffoon of a man would stop yelling across a tree field.” “Hmm.” I pick up one of her hands and fold it in mine, taking care to trace my thumb over the delicate bouquet of flowers inked from her wrist to her knuckles. I arrange her into a proper dancing stance. “That sounds embarrassing.” She gives me a droll look, unimpressed as ever. “You’ve been bellowing my name across the dance floor, Charlie.” “Wouldn’t have to bellow if you joined me sooner.” Closer like this, I can see the deep navy-blue halo that rings her irises. The one, single freckle under her left eye. “But let’s let bygones be bygones. The end result remains the same.” “And what is that?” “You, dancing with me. I didn’t even have to bring out the big guns.” One eyebrow pops up. “I’m afraid to ask.” “It involves a string of lights, the bottle of moonshine Clint spiked the apple cider with, and a very elaborate choreography routine.” I tip my head closer to hers. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll show you later.” She snickers under her breath. I grin and spin us around.

The song switches from a Spice Girls remix to something smooth and sultry, Duke Ellington’s horn echoing out the long notes to “Stardust.” It’s a deep swelling beat, slow and romantic. Her entire face collapses in dismay. I laugh, grip her hand, and spin her once, watching the material of her dress flare around her legs. I get a tease of ink on the smooth line of her calf before I tug her back to me and set us across the dance floor. “This isn’t what I signed up for,” she grumbles up at me. “What did you sign up for?” “A perfectly respectable top hits pop song and four feet of distance between us.” I tug her closer. My nose nudges her ear. “Liar,” I whisper. She tilts her face until her nose brushes against mine, wide gray eyes blinking up at me. I think it’s the closest I’ve ever been to her. I like it a lot. “Yeah,” she smiles, slow and teasing. “You’re right.” A deep, rumbling groan rushes out of me. Only half of it is for show. “Say that again, but lick your lips a little when you do.” She laughs. “Maybe later.” “That sounds promising.” I adjust my grip on her and ease our steps into something slower.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask. “What do you mean?” I glance pointedly at where her hand is still toying with my suspender strap. She smiles at me, all predator, and slips her hand from my chest. I should probably be afraid, but I’m too entranced by her fingers playing along the neckline of her dress. It’s like silver ink poured over her skin, clinging to her curves. The cut of it frames the tattoo between her breasts almost perfectly. She traces it with one manicured finger. “A gentleman would probably tell me he likes my tattoo.” I clear my throat and stare at it. I can’t seem to drag my eyes away. “I like all your tattoos.” “But especially this one,” she encourages. She leans back in the hold of my arms and glances at herself. She has a deep red rose between her breasts, the long stem dipping down her sternum. I can’t stop looking at it. I’d like to bite it. Very much. I drag my attention back to her eyes. It takes me a full minute to figure out where we are in the conversation. Luckily for me, Nova is focused on our footwork and not the length it takes me to reply. “All right,” I snap. Explain yourself.” She blinks up at me innocently. “Explain what?” “Why are you flirting with me?” A faint blush rises on her cheeks. I think I like that more than the rose between her pretty tits. “You always flirt with me,” she points out. “And you usually tell me to get lost,” I say with a laugh. “Take, for instance, about three minutes ago. When I had to yell across the dance floo...

“Okay, so I was thinking—” “Whoa.” “Shut up. Let me finish.” A thrum of heat pounds once, right at the base of my spine. I love an authoritative woman. My hands flex and release. “Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Well. You know I’ve been busy with the tattoo studio. It’s been brought to my attention that I could”—she scratches once at the back of her neck—“relax a little bit.” She stares at me meaningfully. I stare back. If she wants me to infer something from that, she’s going to need to elaborate. “Relaxation is great,” I try. She gets a little line right between her eyebrows. A frown on her pretty lips. “Do you need a referral for my acupuncturist?” I offer. “Because he’s really…great.” I swear I know more words than great. She blinks at me. “No, Charlie. I’m not asking for your acupuncturist.” “Massage therapy?” “No.” “Goat yoga?” She sighs. “Shockingly, I am not asking about goat yoga.” I swear to god I need a road map with this woman. I never have any idea what she’s thinking. “What are you asking about then?” “I’m asking—” She exhales sharply and looks up at me with her bottom lip between her teeth. She lets it go and I barely track the indents left there before she releases in a rush. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me.” My face twists in confusion. “Sure, Nova. I can walk you home.” “No, you idiot. I want you to come home with me.” I stare at her blankly. “For snacks?” She drops her head back and looks up at the night sky, pleading for help. I’m distracted by...

“Nova.” “Forget I said anything.” I don’t mean to laugh, but I feel slightly hysterical. “It is burned into my brain.” I’ll be hearing her murmur come home with me in her husky, sweet voice for the rest of my life. She frowns. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” “That makes one of us.” She makes a frustrated noise under her breath. Finally, she meets my eyes again. “Charlie. Please. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s just…let’s just talk about expense reports instead.” A faintly pained noise leaves the back of my throat. “I don’t know how you expect me to talk dirty to you on top of everything else.” Amusement flickers across her face. “You’re ridiculous.” I am ridiculous. I’m also confused. “Nova,” I say gently. “Last week I told you that your hair looked nice and you told me to get a grip. I’m trying to figure out how we got from there to here.”

“That’s how we got here,” she explains, her voice still a low hush. “You’ve been flirting with me forever, Charlie. You’re surprised I want to flirt back?” “I’m surprised you want me to take you home,” I murmur.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” “Enough to make me feel warm and fuzzy, but not enough to have me asking for things I don’t want.” She pats my chest once, a resigned look on her face. “It’s okay, Charlie. We’re going to finish this dance. I’m going to go find something else to drink. And we will never discuss this again.” My hands tighten against her. I do not like that plan. “Nova—” “Please,” she whispers, eyes still carefully averted from mine. “Please, can we not?” I give her a jerky nod, but my mind is still racing. My thoughts slip through like tiny grains of sand, slowly piling up until I feel overwhelmed. My brain is excellent at catastrophizing. I spin us around, one thought screaming louder than the rest. “Are you going to find someone else?” “Hmm?” The song plays out its final slow notes, a lone trumpet echoing out over the field. I panic. I’m not ready to let her go yet. I nudge us farther into the trees until shadows are clinging to our ankles. “Are you going to find someone else?” I ask again. She loosens her hold on me but stays in my grip. “For what? A drink?” Now I’m the exasperated one. “To go home with you.” “Ah.” Understanding lights her eyes and her lips twist to the side. “Maybe—” “Don’t.” I cut her off.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Color blazes in her cheeks. Anger this time, instead of embarrassment. She pokes me again. I am a bizarre combination of scared and turned on. I hold up both hands, palms up. “I know.” “Especially after you said no.” “What? I didn’t say no.” “You said no.” “I did not. You didn’t even let me answer the question.” I curl my hand around the finger digging into my chest and pull our hands to the side. “If you’d like an answer, ask me again.” Her eyes flash in the fairy lights twinkling over our heads. She has a faint dusting of something sparkly on her cheeks. She looks like she’s glowing. And glowering. She’s definitely glowering. “Excuse me?” “If you want me to take you home, I’m going to need you to ask me again.”

She scoffs and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m already halfway to pretending this never happened.” I step into her space, closer than when we were dancing. Her head tips back as she watches me with heavy eyes. She acts like she’s unaffected by me, but I’m on to her now. She’s been hiding a big ol’ secret beneath all that indifference. Little Miss Grump put all her cards on the table when she asked me to take her home. “You’re not going to pretend it didn’t happen.” I take a chance and drag my knuckles down her arm, delighting in the goose bumps that rise in response. “You’re going to ask me again.” “Oh yeah?” I nod. “Yeah. I can be patient.” I let my hand drop to my side. “You don’t need to ask me tonight. You can think on it.” A disbelieving laugh bursts out of her. “Oh, thank you very much.” I smile because she’s not moving out of my space. She’s shifting closer, one of her hands curling beneath my suspender strap. She tugs on it, testing, and my hand finds her hip above the silky material of her dress. “The only thing I’ll be thinking on—” She tips her face toward mine, her breath ghosting over the hollow of my throat. Fuck. She smells incredible. Something wild and dark and just out of reach. “Is the look on your face when you almost dragged us both into a spruce tree.” “It was a Douglas fir,” I mutter back. I slip my hand up her side until I can curl my palm around the back of her neck. I’ve just unlocked a new level of flirtation with Nova Porter, and it’s my fav...

By the time I make it to the table, Stella is smirking at me. “What?” She flicks me in the shoulder. “You know what.” I cast a quick glance at Beckett at the other side of the table, but he’s busy with his wife in his lap, his chin on her shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around her waist. They’re probably talking about pet adoption or the best soil for planting carrots. Not that I have anything to be worried about. Nova and I were just dancing. It doesn’t matter that she’s one of my best friend’s sisters. His youngest sister. His favorite sister. The one he is still kind of scarily protective over. The one who asked me to take her home for a night of no-strings sex. I force my gaze back to Stella. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry about how much it costs. Don’t worry about the farm. We have a plan.” Her eyes narrow. “Who is we?” “Beckett, Layla, and I talked.” She crosses her arms. “So, there was collusion?” “In the name of your honeymoon? Yes. Yes, there was collusion.” I make no move to take the ticket that she is dangling limply between us. Thank god it’s just a printout and the tickets are digital. That thing looks like it’s been to hell and back. “Layla packed both of your bags, and they’re waiting in the living room of your house. There’s a car coming to pick you up at the end of the night to take you to a hotel by the airport. Your flight leaves in the morning and everything has been taken care of. You just need to go where you’re told.”

“It’s too much.” “It’s really not.” I make a boatload of money. This is a drop in a very large bucket. “It is. It’s way too much.” Her eyes fill with tears. “Charlie, I can never pay you back for any of this.” I grab both of her hands with mine, plane tickets crumpled between us. “I don’t want you to pay me back. It’s a gift, Stella. You don’t repay those.” My throat tightens again and I have to clear it. My voice drops and I rub my thumbs over her knuckles. “Do you remember that day you came to the house? All those years ago?” Her mom had just died and she wanted to know her birth father. So she looked him up and found our address, brought all the letters her mother wrote over the years but never sent. She didn’t know about me, didn’t know about my mom, and didn’t know our dad was a giant disappointment with a track record of horrendous decision-making. “When you were walking out the door, you told me, ‘We can be family, if you want.’ Well, this is what family does. I know we’re both on a bit of a learning curve, but I have around twenty birthdays and Easter holidays and Christmases to make up for. Just…bundle it up together, okay? Let me do this for you.” She sniffles. “You don’t give presents for Easter.” “There are baskets, I’m told.” “Easter baskets don’t have plane tickets in them.” “Stella.” She grips me harder. “You don’t have anything to make up for,” she whispers. I shrug. She deserves to have a family member who’s not a disappointment. I want to be that for her....

“Stella, just say yes.” I exaggerate a head nod, my eyes wide. “Come on. It’s easy. Just say, ‘Yes, Charlie. I will go on this very nice vacation that I deserve with my husband.’ ” She looks at Luka over her shoulder. He wipes a streak of eyeliner off her cheek. They have a silent conversation and then her body curves into his. She turns back to me with a wobbly smile. “Okay.” “Let’s hear it.” She blows out a noisy breath. “Yes, Charlie. I will go on this very nice vacation with my husband.” “Ah.” Luka grins behind her. “I love that word.” “What? Vacation?” “No.” His smile melts into something satisfied. “Husband.”

“I still have a question though.” I jerk my eyes away from Nova. I guess Stella has emerged from her impromptu make-out session with her husband. “What’s that?” “Who is going to run the farm while I’m gone?” Her forehead scrunches up until she has that narrow line between her brows. The same one I get when I stare at my computer screen too long. “There’s the pumpkin patch and the bonfire and hayrides start up soon and—” “Relax. Everything will be fine, okay? It will be taken care of.” “How? Who is going to take over for me while I’m out of town for the month?” “Isn’t it obvious?” I slip my thumbs under my suspender straps and pull them away from my chest. I’m about to enter my farmer era. Cowboy Charlie, unlocked. “I am.”

“Sorry.” I hold up my hands. “No apology necessary.” She shrugs and continues whipping whatever batter is in that big metal bowl of hers. “I just—I know how it can be.” “What?” She waves her hand around her head. “All of this. The love at Lovelight. We can be extra and I know it.” I grab a hand towel and fold it into neat squares, just for something to do with my hands. “You deserve extra, Layla. Don’t tuck away your happy on my account. I’m doing just fine.” Maybe that’s it. It’s when they feel the need to walk on eggshells that it bothers me the most. It’s like they’re all waiting for me to fall apart at my perpetually single lifestyle when the truth is…I don’t want what they have. I don’t want to be held to another person’s expectations and fall short. I don’t want to build something with someone only to have it sour with time. Casual suits me best, and while I’m certainly no stranger to wanting things I don’t deserve and cannot have, a relationship isn’t something I yearn for. Layla arches an eyebrow. I laugh. “I am! Why does everyone always look at me like that when I say it?” She clicks her tongue and finally sets down her bowl on the edge of the counter, reaching for a filling bag. She makes the work here look easy when I know it’s anything but. “Because you deserve better than fine. You deserve—” She glances around her kitchen, gaze landing on a stack of miniature cakes by the ovens. She points at them. “You deserve the whole cake, Charlie.” I blink at her. “Okay?”...

“What’s this face for?” I push his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say again. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want—” I huff out a breath. “I don’t want to be a joke.” It comes out more vulnerable than I’d like, a wobble at the edges that frustrates me. His lips twist down in a frown to match mine. “Who said you’re a joke?” He did. When he laughed in my face. “I’m sorry, okay?” I kick at the loose rocks by my feet. “I shouldn’t have asked you for…what I asked you for. I was caught up in the moment, and I misread the signs between us. I’m sorry I shocked your delicate sensibilities, or whatever, but I don’t want you to dangle it over my head. It makes me feel stupid and I hate feeling stupid. So, let’s just…agree to move on.” He stares at me for the stretch of three heartbeats, his face unreadable. “You think I’m making fun of you?” “Aren’t you?” “No,” he says simply. He combs his fingers through his dark hair, dragging his hand over the back of his head to squeeze his neck. “No, I’m really not.” “You said no,” I supply quietly. “You laughed at me.” “I didn’t—Nova. You gave me twenty seconds to respond before you tried to take it back. And I didn’t laugh at you.” “You told me to ask you again.” His eyes flare, a comet streak across midnight-blue skies. He takes one step closer to me, the toes of his boots pressed up against my Converse. I have to tilt my head back to keep staring at his face. Sometimes I forget how tall he is. Besides our dance through the trees, I...

“I thought you were making fun of me,” he explains quietly, eyes on mine. All I hear in his voice is honest sincerity, a touch of bashful restraint. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, a shallow dimple flashing in his cheek. “Why?” “Because I didn’t think that was something you wanted from me,” he answers simply. “I thought you were—” He coughs on the edge of a laugh. “I thought you were making some sort of commentary on my love life, not extending an invitation. I am—honestly, Nova. Of course I’m interested. Very enthusiastic, actually. Flags, confetti. Exclamation point.” He closes the space between us, dipping his head to hold my eyes. “But the ball’s in your court here, yeah? You ask me again if that’s what you want.” “I’m not looking for a relationship.” He shrugs. “Neither am I. But that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?” “To be honest, Charlie, I’m not really sure what we’re talking about.” A slow smile unfurls across his mouth. His eyes slip to my mouth and hold. “You keep telling yourself that.”

He opens my palm and drops my phone in it. I notice he’s given me a new wallpaper photo. A close-up picture of his face, smile lines by his eyes, cup of coffee to his mouth. He must have taken it as soon as he got home from the wedding, those damn suspenders in the very edge of the shot. “For your viewing pleasure,” he explains. “I went back and forth between that and me shirtless in front of the mirror, but this felt more appropriate.” I roll my eyes and slip my phone in my back pocket. “Thank you.” “I can send you that shirtless picture, if you want.” “Noted.” He grins, back to the aloof version of himself that I’m used to.

“And New York is okay with you being here?” “My work is fine with it.” He closes the space between us again, and I shuffle backward until a pine tree branch pokes at the space between my shoulder blades. “I’m more interested in what you have to say about it.” “I’m fine with it.” I clutch my cupcake to my chest. “Why wouldn’t I be fine with it?” “Because,” he says, his hand reaching so he can toy with the zipper of my jacket. He tugs it up and then down. Up again. “Now you can’t avoid me like you were planning to.” “I wasn’t planning on avoiding you.” I lie through my teeth. “Mm-hmm. That’s why you sprinted from the bakehouse as soon as you saw me.” “I didn’t sprint.” I walked at a very brisk pace. There’s a difference. He hums, amused. “Well. Get used to looking at this pretty face, Nova. I’ve got a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of one another.”

Charlie’s smiling face stares up at me from my screen, and I have to swipe my thumb along his jaw to unlock the device. It feels like a personal attack every time.

And twenty-seven are from Charlie, starting around the same time I found Nessa in the trees. No shirtless pictures though. Unfortunately.

CHARLIE: Did I tell you how beautiful you looked in that silver dress? I can’t remember. CHARLIE: Sometimes I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I bite my bottom lip and tap my thumbnail against the edge of my phone case. CHARLIE: Also, one hundo percent down for a night of hot, passionate sex. For the record. CHARLIE: With you. If that wasn’t clear. CHARLIE: Ready when you are, Nova girl.

“I didn’t even know you were thinking of proposing,” she says. “You didn’t tell me. You told me about Clarabelle biting through her fourth leather leash, and you told me about the duck’s feeding schedule, but you never once mentioned that you planned to make Evie your wife.” She sniffs. “I should have been there. With a cake and a very tasteful speech. But instead, you snuck off in the middle of the afternoon and got married by some—by some hot dog cart vendor.” Beckett blinks, shifts in his chair, and then clears his throat. He looks uncomfortable and for good reason. No one likes to see Layla cry. “He didn’t marry us. He was just the witness.” “Who was?” “The hot dog cart vendor.” “Whatever.” She turns her face away. “I don’t care.” She very much does care. It’s why the three of us are sitting in an awkward silence that’s only interrupted by Beckett’s cat digging her nails into the wood beneath Stella’s desk. “Layla,” Beckett says. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. It was…it was a spur of the moment decision.” Layla snorts, but Beckett sits up in his seat, hand messing with his hat again. “Really. It was. I didn’t even propose, I just—I woke up and saw her in the kitchen making coffee. Her socks were mismatched, and she had this line from her pillow on her cheek, and I don’t know, I asked her to marry me. I didn’t even have a ring. Or a plan. Obviously.” Layla glances at him, weighing the truth of his words. “Where did that fancy emerald come from, then?” I reach across ...

A picture of her in front of a long mirror, one hand on her phone and the other on the buttons of her shirt. She’s clearly undone a few for the sake of the photo, the rose between her breasts on full display. One shiny black fingernail traces the stem of it. NOVA: You gave me a new wallpaper. It seemed fair that I send you one back.

CHARLIE: Have we unlocked sexy texting? Is this a thing we do now? NOVA: You started it. Didn’t realize that the picture I set as her wallpaper did it for her, but good to know. CHARLIE: I’m enjoying this development. NOVA: I bet you are. CHARLIE: Anything you want to ask me? While we’re both here? NOVA: Yeah. I watch the three dots on my phone with laserlike focus. NOVA: Did you see Ms. Beatrice is doing brown sugar lattes? I hide my smile in my fist, knuckles rubbing roughly against my jaw. Nova Porter is a tease. CHARLIE: Cruel woman. CHARLIE: And no, I didn’t. Appreciate the info. NOVA: “Everything okay?” Beckett asks. I keep my head ducked. I’m grinning like an idiot. “All good.” I’m better than good. Nova is flirting back.

“You talking about spreadsheets, Nova girl?” I tuck my chin to my shoulder and glance up at him. “I don’t know if you know this about me”—I lick my bottom lip just to mess with him, wanting to see what pretty color his eyes flash in the muted light of this tiny room—“but I love a good spreadsheet.” He groans, a soft unconscious sound from the very back of his throat. “Do you like torturing me?” I smile at him. “So very much.” He grins and leans back in his chair, widening the space between us and pretending to listen to whatever it is Alex and Montgomery are arguing about. A dunking booth made of…apple cider? Charlie’s knee nudges mine. “For the record,” he says. “I like it too.”

it’s just me and Charlie and a single string of globe lights at the front of the store. I watch him watching me in the open doorway. Strong shoulders. Long legs. Loose limbs. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so still. “All right,” I say, tilting my head. “You can walk me home.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” I stand and shrug on my coat, one of the sleeves twisted at my wrist. “What?” I ask, struggling harder the longer he stands there watching me. He blinks once. Slow and heavy. “What, what?” “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Like what?” Like he’s just won some argument I wasn’t aware we were having. He steps forward and wraps his hand around my forearm, lifting my sleeve and untwisting it with careful fingers. My hand pokes through, and he grabs it. His hand is so much bigger than mine, my inked fingers a sharp contrast to his unmarked skin. He presses our palms together, comparing their size, his thumb tap-tapping at the side of my palm. “I’m just looking at you.” He lets my hand go with a squeeze. “Don’t get a big head over it.” He smiles, those damn lines by his eyes crinkling, and nods his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“You’re not getting that.” His bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Why not?” “I thought you wanted a Taz. That character from Looney Tunes.” I make a whirling motion with my finger and poke him once in the center of his chest. “Right there.” “Can I not have multiple tattoos?” I step into his space and let my finger drag down the buttons of his shirt. Flirting with Charlie is fun, and a solid distraction from the anxieties bubbling up in my chest. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll pick out something special for you.” He makes a low sound of interest and wraps his hand around my wandering finger. “Is that what you like? Good boys?” A laugh slips out of me, even as heat curls low in my belly. Temptation, anticipation. I don’t know which one it is, and I don’t really care. “I like lots of things. Is that what you want to talk about?” He eyes me. “If it’s what you want to talk about.”

“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes?” “I would like your help.” A bemused smile curls his lips. “Okay.” “With the business thing and with another thing too.” He nods, confused. “All right. I’ll help you with whatever you need, Nova. You know that.” “Good, because I’d like you to walk me home.” I swallow down the butterflies. “And then I’d like for you to stay.”

I could spend all night learning the art that decorates her body. I just might. But she needs to ask me first. She still hasn’t asked me. I dip another marshmallow into the peanut butter. Nova sighs. “Charlie.” “Hmm?” She sighs again and I roll my lips against my smile. “What are you doing?” I pop the marshmallow into my mouth. “Waiting for you to ask me a question.” Also waiting for her to change her mind. I don’t want to pressure her. I don’t want to make assumptions about what she does or doesn’t want. I want to hear the words. “This is the longest buildup to a one-night stand I’ve ever had in my life.” She sighs. “Is that what we’re doing?” She is unamused. “Charlie.” “You know what I want to hear,” I tell her. Though her repeating my name like that in that sassy tone of hers is sort of doing it for me too. I busy my hands with closing the jar to the peanut butter while Nova pushes back her chair.

“Charlie,” she says, her voice a honeyed rasp, “would you like to stay for a night of hot, passionate sex?” She’s done teasing, I guess. I swallow hard and shift in my chair. “I would. Thank you for asking.” She lifts herself up, sliding back on the table in front of me. Her knee nudges the bag of marshmallows. Her foot taps the side of my chair. “I need to tell you something first.” I clear my throat, staring hard at where her skirt rides higher against her thighs. “Before our night of hot, passionate sex.” Her eyebrows climb her forehead. “If you tell me you want me to bark like a dog while we do it, we’re going to have some problems.” A laugh sputters out of me and I rest my hand on her thigh. I spread my fingers wide and squeeze gently. She shivers. “No. I don’t want you to bark like a dog. Do you want me to bark like a dog?” She shakes her head. The color in her cheeks deepens with my hand on her. I blow out a deep breath. “I did bribe the DJ.” Her forehead creases. “You what?” “I did bribe the DJ. The night of the wedding. I told him if he saw me dancing with you, he should immediately change the song to a slow one.” “Ah.” Her face lights up, delighted. “How’d you know I’d dance with you?” I squeeze her thigh again. “I’m a persistent man.” “That you are.”

“I wanted an excuse to touch you. That night. That’s why I wanted a slow song.” A smile hitches the corner of her mouth. “You’re touching me right now.” “Yeah, that’s the thing about it. I touched you once, and I only wanted to touch you more. I want to keep touching you. I want to make you feel good.” I’m hanging on by a thread here. I slip my hand higher until it’s beneath her skirt. Her skin is warm, her tights smooth beneath my palm. “I want a lot of things, Nova.”

My fingertips brush something lacey at the top of her thigh. I glance down at my hand and rub my thumb back and forth, considering. When I flip up the edge of her skirt to take a look, she laughs at whatever dumbstruck expression paints itself across my face. Thigh highs. She’s wearing thigh highs. I pull my hand back from her thigh and drop it to safer territory down by her ankle, letting my forehead fall against her knee. I rock my head there, back and forth, and try to get control of myself. “I need a minute,” I mumble. “Take several minutes. I didn’t mean to send you into a tailspin.” She combs her fingers through my hair. I squeeze her ankle. “Sure you did,” I mumble.

“I’ll take care of you. You’ll take care of me. We’ll do what feels good, and if you get uncomfortable, you let me know. We don’t need rules for that.” She nods and her nose brushes against mine. “Okay.” “Okay,” I repeat. “I do want one thing though.” She smiles, her mouth a millimeter away from mine. “I want more than one thing.” A laugh slips out of me. Yeah, I do too. But I want this one thing more than I want all my fantasies combined. It’s not worth it to me otherwise. “You’ll talk to me tomorrow. You won’t hide from me. I refuse to be a regret, Nova.” She leans back slightly, just far enough so that her eyes can peer up into mine. Understanding flashes there. “Of course I’ll talk to you. We’ll still be friends tomorrow. This is one night. We’ll get it out of our systems and everything will go back to normal, yeah?” Relief is a swift undercurrent to the anticipation making my skin feel hot. I slip my hands beneath her thighs and lift. She makes a cute little squeak and wraps herself around me. “Good. Let’s go.”

“Nova,” he pants into my mouth, his other hand fisting in the material of my skirt. “Tell me which one is your bedroom.” “Or what.” “Or I’ll fuck you on your hallway floor.” There’s a deep clench between my legs, a flood of electric heat down my spine. I drop my head back against the wall and grin. His hand flexes against my throat, his thumb gliding up and then down. “That’s not the deterrent you think it is,” I tell him. “Nova.” I tug on the ends of his hair and drop a kiss to his mouth. His bottom lip is swollen and I bet mine is too. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed so thoroughly in my life. “Kiss me again, first. Just—real quick.”

“It bears repeating.” I toy with the edge of my high-cut underwear. “They were very expensive.” “A worthwhile investment.” I grin up at him. “Thank you. I think so too.” He blinks down at me and his hand curls around my thigh, squeezing once. “Do you usually wear pretty underwear like this?” I nod. “Yeah. Usually.” I like the way it makes me feel. I like putting on something just for myself. I like the dainty fabrics and the different colors. I like looking at myself in the mirror when I get dressed and seeing the lace draped over my intricate designs. It makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel strong. Charlie makes a sound. “I’m going to have a hard time with that.” I glance at his pants and the thick, hard line of his cock pressing against his fly. “It looks like you’re having a very hard time.”

“All right, Nova girl. How do you want me?” I arch an eyebrow. “Do you need instruction?” He shrugs and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers working nimbly against the light blue material. “I don’t need it, but I like it. I’d like to hear you tell me what you want.”

“This is more in line with what I expected,” he says. “What?” I shimmy out of my skirt and toss it in the same direction as his shirt. “You, bossing me around.” He watches with interest as my hands curl in the hem of my sweater. I tug it over my head. “Glad I could meet your expectations.” I prop one foot up on the edge of the bed and reach for the top of my tights. Charlie sits up. “Don’t,” he says. My hands still. “Don’t, what?” He drags his hand down his jaw, palm working at the scruff he’s started sporting since he started farm life. I like it. It suits him. I want to feel it between my legs. “Leave the tights on,” he says, voice low. His eyes dance their way up my body until they hold mine. “Please,” he adds. “So polite.” I leave them where they are and crawl back on the bed. Charlie watches me move up his body. He curls his hands around my hips when I finally settle in his lap, thumbs tracing indistinct shapes against my waist. I peck a kiss on his waiting lips. “Such a good boy.” Charlie makes a low rumbling sound, the hands on my hips clenching tighter. “Nova. You need to tell me what you want.” My lips brush over his again. “Or what?” “I don’t know,” he breathes against me, eyes shut tight. I like this unraveled version of Charlie so very much. “I didn’t really think through the second part of that statement.” “How about this?” I wrap my fingers around his wrists and guide his hands up to my breasts. I place them there, over my lace bra. He peeks open one eye, and...

I make an embarrassing noise when I feel her, but I don’t care. It’s Nova. She’s already seen me moonwalk in a reindeer costume at the tree farm during the holiday season. I’m not trying to impress her. I’m just trying to make her come.

“Do you think you’re close?” I drop a chaste kiss to her bottom lip and move my hand faster against her. Another finger. More sloppy circles. She doesn’t answer with words, just a sharp inhale through her nose. “Yeah.” I smile. “Yeah, you’re close.” “Again with the”—she moans—“smug. It doesn’t suit you, Charlie.” “Sure it does.” I drop a kiss to the corner of her mouth, the curve of her chin, the secret little spot I’ve discovered below her ear. “I want it so bad, Nova. Probably more than you do.” She laughs, fingers curling tighter around the edge of her bed frame. Her knuckles strain white. “I don’t know about all that,” she moans. “I want it pretty bad.” I nod into her neck. “I can feel it,” I whisper. “I can feel you. You gonna take it?” She grabs the back of my neck and pulls. My body goes tight like she’s got that hand on my dick instead. She tips her chin up and watches me with half-closed eyes, a flash of blue-green gray. Storm clouds gathering. “You gonna give it to me?” she breathes, her lips curled in a smile. “I’ve already told you. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“How would you like me?” “Back to this, huh?” I nod. Yes, back to this. I want to do exactly what she wants. I want to be everything she needs. Fuck getting out of her system. I want to be so far in her system I’m all she ever thinks about.

“I’ve got bad news, Nova.” I deliver it in staccato bits. I can’t figure out how to catch my breath. She lifts her face from my neck and rests her chin on my chest. Her cheeks are pink and some of her hair is stuck to her jaw. “What’s that?” “I’m not sure that worked anything out of my system.” “Oh?” She lifts herself off me and slips to the bed at my side, one hand propped beneath her head. I match her position and trace the flowers on her thigh with my fingertip, all the way over her hip and back down again. “Should I be a little bit mean? See if it helps?” I shrug. “Might as well try it.” “That was the best you’ve got?” She snaps, voice sharp. “If I wanted a mediocre lay, I would have picked someone up at Applebee’s.” I groan and flop back on the bed, my arm thrown over my eyes. My cock gives an eager twitch against my thigh. Nova bursts out laughing. “It didn’t work,” I mutter, peering at her from behind my bicep. “In fact, I think it’s worse now.” She curls up with a pillow. “Does Applebee’s still exist?” “I don’t know. You’re the one hanging around them, looking for prospects.” “Prospects,” she snorts. “I’m not trolling through the streets, Charlie.” “Thank god for me, you’re just trolling through tree fields.”

“I’m heading out.” He finishes with his shirt and drags his hand through his hair, a massive yawn tipping his jaw open wide. His body slumps and he rubs his palm over his chest. “But I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” “Bye,” I mumble, wiggling farther down in the blankets. I don’t remember putting the blue knit quilt on the bed last night. I don’t remember grabbing the pillows either. But I am sufficiently tucked in, everything just where I like it. He huffs a laugh. “It’s like that, huh?” I grin into my pillow. “Help yourself to some coffee.” “Already made some,” he says, voice still rough at the edges. “I’m taking a cup.” “That’s fine.” “It’s my souvenir glass.” I snicker into my pillow. “Bring it to the shop later and I’ll etch it for you. ‘Nova Porter rocked my world.’ ” He laughs again, louder this time, a rumble in the stillness of my bedroom. He leans forward and slaps my ass through the blankets. “Hell yeah, she did. Maybe that’s the tattoo I’ll get.”

“Nathan sucks.” “Yes, he does.” “I’ll probably let you key his car.” “Excellent. I’ll let Beckett know. He had some ideas.” Vanessa shifts to look at me. “You told Beckett?” “It may have been discussed in the sibling chat.” “The sibling chat?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Is there a sibling chat I’m not a part of?” There are multiple sibling chats with rotating members depending on who we’re talking about. I’m sure there’s a sibling chat that I’m not a part of.

NOVA: Did you mean to send me this attachment? CHARLIE: Course I did. I told you I’d help with the business visits. Selene helped me with the color coding. Isn’t it nice? NOVA: Selene? CHARLIE: She’s my assistant. CHARLIE: At work. I swear I’ve mentioned her before. He sends a string of emojis, three little yellow faces with smirking mouths. CHARLIE: Why? Are you jealous, Nova girl? I scoff. NOVA: Hard to be jealous when I can still feel you every time I sit down, Charlie. CHARLIE: Fuck. CHARLIE: Fuck. CHARLIE: Nova, you can’t say things like that. Your brother is going to wonder why I have a boner while he’s talking about fertilizer. NOVA:

“You can ask my mom about it.” Beckett tosses a shovelful of dirt over his shoulder. It narrowly misses my shoes. “At dinner.” I prop myself up with my shovel. Nova and I have texted a few times since I rolled my way out of her bed, but I’m not sure where this falls on the how to behave after a one-night stand spectrum. “Will, ah—” I scratch at my chin. “Will your sisters be there?” Beckett doesn’t look up from his shoveling. “At family dinner?” “Yes.” I drag out the word until it’s seven syllables long. I am not doing an excellent job of playing it cool. Beckett grunts. “Yes. My family will be at family dinner.” “And your mom wants me there?” “That’s what she said.” “You’re sure?” Beckett straightens with a huff, thoroughly done with this conversation. He nudges his hat up so I can appreciate the full force of his glare. “You can come willingly, or you can disappoint my mother when I drag you in through the back door. Those are your choices.” There’s an implication with the second choice. That disappointing his mother will result in another action as well. Potentially with the knuckles of his left hand. “I’ll come willingly.” Beckett goes back to digging his hole. “Good.”

“There’s some left. I’ll bring it to the next harvest festival meeting.” “Ah yes, the harvest festival committee.” Alex’s dumb face slips into something smug. “I heard you volunteered to help Nova with her business visits.” “Where did you hear that?” Alex shrugs. “The phone tree.” Goddamn it. I knew it. I slap both hands on the counter. I knock over a cup of pens and a haphazard stack of novelty Post-it notes. “Why the hell am I not getting phone tree messages?” Alex picks up his book and flips through the pages, trying to find his place. He dog-ears the corners every time he stops, like an absolute barbarian. “The text chain is on hiatus. Barney over at the farm ran out of minutes.” “You don’t need minutes to text.” Alex waves his hand over his head. “You know what I mean.” I have no idea what he means. “How are you getting information if the phone tree isn’t working?” Alex’s eyes flick up from the book, then back down again. He turns two more pages, then flips back three. “I never said the phone tree isn’t working.” He’s being deliberately obnoxious. I glance at my watch. I don’t have time for this. I’m already cutting it close to dinner, and I won’t be late because Alex doesn’t feel like being forthcoming. I grab the book and shove it under my arm. “We’re talking about this later,” I grumble. “Sure.” He nods, not looking up from his book. “Tell Nova I say hello.” “I’m not having dinner with Nova.” He flips another page. “She will presumably be there.” “Yes.” “Then tell ...