The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

Charlotte escaped into the aisles while she had the chance and breathed a sigh of relief. In the seven days Roman had been gone, she had developed an odd sort of respect for her mother’s ability to stay disconnected from life in a small town. It wasn’t easy.

Aside from the general chit-chat with neighbors, everyone in Charlotte’s life wanted something from her. Beth wanted to know what was wrong, why Roman had left so suddenly. Her mother wanted to know when she’d come for dinner with her family. Rick wanted an updated list of customers and any hunches she had, and those customers wanted the panties they’d ordered.

Since Beth was running the shop, Charlotte was able to spend her days crocheting. Another word for avoiding, she admitted, but at least her customers would be satisfied, even if the rest of the people pulling pieces from her were not.

The only person not asking a damn thing from her was the one she’d turned away. Her throat constricted and hurt from the ever-present lump that had settled there. She blamed herself for falling into Roman’s trap as much as she blamed him for unintentionally drawing her in. Though she knew he’d never meant to hurt her, the fact remained, he had.

She still had message he’d left on her answering machine. Not that she intended to torture herself by replaying it, and she refused to analyze why she hadn’t just deleted his voice.

Half an hour later, she’d returned to her apartment to unpack the groceries and straighten up before going to work. She’d spent the last week hiding from the world. Charlotte figured everyone with a broken heart was entitled to healing time. Unlike her mother, she didn’t plan to make it a lifetime.

She looked out the window into the bright sunshine. It was time to get back into her routine, starting with tonight’s baseball game.

When the game ended, the Rockets had continued their winning streak, and though she’d shown her face, Charlotte had continued parental avoidance. She was ready for many things. Dealing with her father wasn’t one of them. He was too much a reminder of all that hurt, past and present. She had no doubt if she stalled long enough, he’d leave too. And leave was something she had to do, before Russell could attempt to corner her again. As he’d done in the general store and outside her apartment. She’d ducked out on him those times as well.

“Here. Toss this for me, will you?” Charlotte handed Beth her soda can. “And don’t forget to recycle.” She hopped down off the bottom bleacher. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Coward,” Beth called after her.

Charlotte kept walking, though she couldn’t deny her friend’s words cut deep, partly because Roman had called her the same thing, and mostly because Charlotte knew Beth was right. Eventually she would have to face everything she was avoiding, including her parents. She just wasn’t ready.

Halfway back to town, she decided to cut across the Sullivan Subdivision, through George and Rose Carlton’s yard. The Carltons were still at the baseball game, as were most of the other townspeople, so when Charlotte heard a rustle near the front hedges, she turned around, surprised.

“Hello?” she called out.

A lanky man in forest-green pants, button-down top, and a baseball cap was skulking around the bushes. When he heard her voice, he ducked down, but not before she caught a glimpse of his face.

“Samson?” Her surprise turned to complete shock. She ran up the bluestone walk. “Get out of the bushes now.” She pulled on the green shirt that blended with the foliage. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

He rose to his full height. “You don’t belong here.”

“Neither do you. What’s going on?” Her gaze dropped to his gloved right hand, full with what looked like her panties in his fist. The crocheted panties she sold, Charlotte mentally amended. Of all the bizarre things … “Hand them over.” She extended her hand.

He muttered a growl. “None of your concern.”

“If you were just cross-dressing and not theft, it wouldn’t be my concern. But since you’re stealing, I’m making it my business. And I intend to find out why. But first, you get inside and put those panties back.”

“No.” He folded his arms like a sulking child.

“The Carltons will be back from the game any minute, so you’re going to return those and then we’re going to talk.” She glanced toward the front door, which she assumed had been left unlocked.

This damned town was still living in an age when everyone trusted everyone else. Even with this panty thief business, no one took the threat seriously enough to lock their doors. In George and Rose’s case, they probably figured they had Mick as lookout, though what the aging, slightly arthritic beagle could do to an intruder was beyond her.