Yet for some reason, I could barely look at Charlotte over the last week since Josh had called with information on her birth mother. Of course, I knew withholding was the right thing to do until Josh could verify everything he’d dug up. Especially since a lot of it was word of mouth. There was no way in the world I was delivering that kind of unverified intel to Charlotte.
Then there was also the fact that I had no idea how Charlotte was going to react to what I’d done. The two of us weren’t strangers to invading each other’s privacy. Oddly, it seemed to be our thing. I’d stalk her social media and open her Fuck-It List. And in turn she’d buy me a Christmas mug featuring my most personal childhood dream that I’d never shared with her. But digging up her mother, finding out her true identity and history, that took things to a whole new level of “fucked up.” It didn’t help that what I’d turned up wasn’t good.
Earlier this afternoon, I’d messaged Charlotte to find out what time she planned to leave the office tonight. She’d responded with six, so I waited until six thirty to drop off the files at her office that I needed her to work on tomorrow. I used my master key to unlock her door, expecting no one to be inside.
Only, Charlotte was definitely still there.
“Shit. Don’t you knock?” She yanked the dress that was at her waist up, covering her bra.
I stood frozen and staring, rather than doing the polite thing and turning away. “Sorry. You said you were leaving at six, and your door was locked.”
“I locked it so I could change.”
I blinked a few times, finally managing to snap myself out of it. “Sorry.” I backed out and began to pull the door shut, but Charlotte called after me.
“Wait!”
I kept the door partially closed so I couldn’t see her. “What’s up?”
“Can you . . . help me with this zipper? It always sticks.”
I looked up at the sky and counted to ten in my head. “Are you covered now?”
“Yes.”
I opened the door and got a look at what Charlotte was wearing for the first time. I’d been so distracted by the contrast of her lacy black bra against her creamy skin that she could’ve been pulling on a clown suit and I wouldn’t have noticed.
I tried to keep my eyes on her face but failed. The little black dress she wore—one with a low neckline that showed off a good amount of cleavage—was just too irresistible to pass up. It cut a few inches above her knees, which made her toned legs look endless as they slipped into a pair of spiky, high-heeled shoes. I’d have given my right arm to feel them digging into my back.
I swallowed. “Going somewhere?”
She turned, giving me her back, and pulled her hair to the side. Charlotte’s dress was half-zipped, stopping at the black lace of her bra. “Can you zip me? I’m already running late.”
I walked over and stood behind her, taking in a big, deep breath of her scent. “You look beautiful. But where are you going?”
“I’m meeting a friend for drinks.”
My hand at her zipper froze. She was wearing a little black dress and smelled fucking amazing, and yet somehow I was shocked at her response. “A friend?” It felt like a Mack truck had just hit me.
“Yes. And I’m late. So if you wouldn’t mind . . .”
Miraculously, I managed to pull up her zipper even though all I wanted to do was rip the fucking dress off and tell her she wasn’t going out with a friend.
She turned around and smoothed out her dress. “How do I look?”
How do you look? You look like you’re mine.
I made a conscious effort to un-ball my fists. “I told you. You look beautiful.”
I felt her staring at me but couldn’t meet her eyes. After a minute, I turned to walk away. “Have a good night, Charlotte.”I should’ve gone home. But I didn’t. Like an idiot, I went to the bar that my buddies and I used to go to before I met Allison. I have no idea what I was thinking, but whatever it was, it was a stupid fucking thought.
I guzzled the third drink; it was watered down enough to taste like shit but still did the trick. Digging in my pocket, I tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar and spoke to the bartender. “I’ll take another.”
“You sure? You’re downing ’em pretty fast there, buddy.”
“The woman I’m fucking crazy about asked me to help her zip up the sexy little dress she wore on her date tonight.”
The bartender nodded. “I’ll keep ’em coming.”
While I was drowning my sorrows, a woman slipped onto the stool next to me. “Reed? I thought that was you.”