The Bachelor (Chandler Brothers 1)

“Charlotte Bronson,” she said, extending her hand.

He shook it. “Thomas Scalia. But you can call me Tom.” He spoke to Charlotte, but his admiring gaze never left Beth’s flushed face.

Charlotte watched their wordless exchange with a combination of amusement and longing for Roman. She missed him with a desperation she hadn’t known she could feel, making their last meeting and all the hurtful words that had passed between them seem trivial. But there was nothing trivial about the coin toss and his feelings regarding commitment. Once Charlotte made peace with her own ghosts, there was still no guarantee he’d want to settle down. Especially now that he’d gone back on the road.

“So what can I get for you?” Beth’s voice resonated with a husky quality and brought Charlotte back to the present.

“Now, that’s a loaded question.” Thomas leaned closer.

Beth fingered the bowl of chocolates on the counter. Her hand shook as she lifted a wrapped chocolate egg in one hand. Charlotte watched in disbelief as Beth, the poised, accomplished flirt, popped a silver-wrapped chocolate Easter egg into her mouth with trembling hands.

“I admire a woman who’ll eat anything without regard to calories or weight,” Thomas said with a grin.

Beth spit the candy out and dropped her face into her palms.

Charlotte swallowed a giggle. Apparently even the most accomplished seductress got nervous around the right man. “I’m mortified,” Beth wailed, her voice muffled through her closed hands.

This time Charlotte did chuckle. Thomas whispered something low and obviously personal in Beth’s ear. As far as the two of them were concerned, no one else in the world existed. Time to make herself scarce, Charlotte thought.

She glanced at her watch. Four-thirty P.M. “You know what? It’s quiet today. Why don’t we lock up and leave early?”

“Perfect,” Thomas said to Beth. “I was hoping to entice you to join me for dinner. You’re more than welcome too, Charlotte,” he added politely, but she sensed the reluctance in his tone and grinned.

Beth shot her a pleading glance. Oh, no. No way would Charlotte be the third wheel at the start of a new romance. She’d let these two muddle through the embarrassing beginning on their own. Charlotte touched Beth’s hand for encouragement. Beth could handle this dinner with ease. As long as she unwrapped the butter pats first.

Charlotte forced a regretful shake of her head and began to gather her things. “Thanks anyway, but I have plans,” she lied. “But Beth is free. She told me as much this afternoon.” Charlotte felt Beth’s gaze shooting daggers at her, but she didn’t mind. Charlotte had more pressing problems. “I’ll lock up.”

“I won’t hear of it. You go on upstairs,” Beth said. “I’ll lock up behind me.”

Stalling. Charlotte recognized the tactic well. Beth obviously figured she and Romeo were safer in the shop than alone somewhere else. Little did Beth know all the erotic things that could happen in this shop. Charlotte and Roman did. Firsthand.

She swallowed over the lump in her throat caused by the memory. “It was nice meeting you, Thomas.”

“Same here.”

Less than a minute later, Charlotte had departed and ran up the stairs to her apartment. The clatter of pans and sounds of chatter greeted her as she put the key in the lock and stepped inside. So did the delicious aroma of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, which brought back surprisingly good childhood memories.

Her stomach grumbled, a combination of hunger and fear, because she had no doubt her parents awaited her.

“Honey, she’s home.” Her mother’s next words proved Charlotte right.

Inside her usually solitary apartment, Charlotte found her family and a table set for three, fresh flowers and a pitcher of iced tea in the center. Her parents met her in the small family room. Stilted hellos followed and Charlotte quickly excused herself to wash up, needing a splash of cold water on her face for bravery and fortitude.

On the way to her room, she heard the whispering sounds of two people who knew each other well. A shiver passed through her. This wasn’t how she envisioned her family at all. Yet they’d gone to a lot of trouble for this meeting, obviously taking her phone call as an overture—which it was. Now she just had to find a way to make peace with her personal ghosts.

Dinner was a silent affair. Not because Charlotte intended to treat her parents to an uncomfortable meal, but because she didn’t know what to say. It was years too late for anyone to ask how her father’s day at work had been, or how Charlotte had enjoyed her job. She wondered if it was too late for everything. If so, it was too late for her and Roman, a notion Charlotte refused to accept.

With the main meal over, Charlotte stared into her coffee cup and twirled her spoon around and around, mustering her courage. “So.” She cleared her throat.