Kiss Me If You Can (Bachelor Blogs 1)

“My parents did the same,” Sylvia said sadly.

“When all options run out, when you’re hungry, you’ll do just about anything,” Charlotte said, her old eyes filled with the same determination she must have had back then.

“So what did you do?” Coop asked, filling in the silent void.

“I began to clean apartments. From there, wealthy families would offer me work serving during lavish dinner parties. I was grateful and it helped pay the rent on the hellhole of an apartment Sylvia and I shared.”

“While I was lucky enough to have had Ricky hire me at the jewelry store,” Sylvia said.

“See? I’m the good guy in this scenario,” the other man said, puffing out his chest.

“Shut up!” Charlotte and Sylvia yelled at him in unison.

Lexie and Coop stared at each other, surprised.

Sylvia cleared her throat. “It was Ricky’s idea for the three of us to use Charlotte’s cleaning connections to vandalize big parties. He was also the one who made sure we spaced out the jobs so people wouldn’t get suspicious. Does that sound like a good guy to you?” she asked.

Ricky frowned. “Isn’t that just like a woman to shift the blame?”

The older women glared at him.

“Did Grandpa know about this?” Lexie asked, trying to put together the time line of her grandmother’s life.

Charlotte shook her head. “Oh, no. No. You see, all the original jobs took place when I was eighteen, before I met your grandfather,” Charlotte said. “Then the three of us, we…umm…”

“We broke up for a while,” Sylvia supplied helpfully. “And your grandmother and I lost touch.”

Lexie narrowed her gaze. She’d never heard about Charlotte and Sylvia losing touch with each other, but then again she hadn’t known her grandmother had been disowned by her family or had worked cleaning houses, either.

“I met your grandfather a short time later, we fell in love and I accepted the traditional role I’d initially turned my back on,” Charlotte explained. “But then Henry was drafted and I didn’t have many friends. I was terribly lonely. Sylvia and I reconnected and that helped. But then this bozo contacted Sylvia for one last job.” Her grandmother jerked her thumb toward Ricky.

“Hey, I needed the money!” Ricky exclaimed.

“And we were bored, I’m ashamed to admit.” Charlotte glanced toward the wall, unable to meet Lexie’s stare. The beginning robberies were because they’d needed money to live. This last one was pure fun and games, at least for the women. And that disappointed Lexie to no end.

Coop leaned forward, his arm braced on the chair. “How did you pick the Lancasters?” he asked.

“My dear Henry worked for them as a chauffeur. That much was true. But they were a pretentious family and didn’t treat your grandfather well at all. He had told me about their eclectic jewelry collection, and how during various times he drove for them, the matriarch, as she liked to call herself, used to brag to her friends about how she didn’t need a safe. She just spread the items throughout her various closets. So I suggested we find a way to hit their home. But that was the last job. I swear. Your grandfather came home and we lived happily ever after!”

Lexie closed her eyes and groaned. When she opened them, she snuck a glance at Coop, gauging his reaction to the story. He stared at the trio, clearly fascinated by the dynamic, the byplay, the history and reasoning behind it all.

“So now that you know everything, can I have my necklace back?” Charlotte asked hopefully.

“And what are you going to do with this information?” Ricky asked.

“Wait just a minute. I have a question first. We took the necklace because you’ve been avoiding me and any questions I had, but why did all three of you show up here now?” Lexie asked.

“Well, these old bats tied me up and demanded some goods back they think I still have,” Ricky said before anyone else could answer. “I told ’em I’d give them what they wanted as long as they made this all go away. I can’t afford for my past to get out. It’ll ruin my business and destroy my daughter.”

“Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?” Sylvia asked.

“People can change. I returned your laptop, didn’t I?” he asked Coop.

Coop nodded. “You did. But you stole it first.”

“It was a distraction, nothing more. I didn’t want you to put two and two together and come up with the ring!” Ricky explained. “So what’s it gonna be? Charlotte says you’ll keep the past buried because you’re in love with her granddaughter. That true, Mr. Reporter? If so, I’ll give these two pains in the ass the pieces they’re looking for.”

Lexie’s jaw dropped.

Coop’s mouth ran dry. How the hell had this man verbalized something he’d never said aloud? How had Charlotte pegged his feelings when he’d only just admitted them to himself?

He glanced at Lexie who looked like she was about to faint. Considering the mere hint of him more than liking her had sent her running, he could only imagine what this declaration would do. If he chose to confirm it.

He didn’t—at least not yet—and decided a good offense was the best defense. “What pieces would that be?” he asked Ricky, avoiding the statement altogether.

“He’s had my wedding ring for the last half century!” Charlotte said on a wail. “Your poor grandfather died thinking I’d accidentally flushed it down the toilet while he was overseas fighting for his country.” She sniffed, the exaggerated gesture not lost on anyone in the room.

“Hey! It’s not like you’re the queen of England. The damn thing isn’t worth more than a washer.”

“But it’s my washer and I want it back!” Charlotte’s voice rose.

“Grandma, calm down. It’s not good for your blood pressure,” Lexie urged the older woman.

Without warning, Sylvia stood, strode up to Ricky and kicked him in the shin. “That’s for upsetting my friend. Oh. And did I mention I want my bracelet back? If Charlotte gets her Lancaster necklace, I want my bracelet from the same job.” She adjusted her polyester shirt and reseated herself in her chair, crossing her ankles like a lady.

Coop couldn’t write anything like the dynamic between these three older people. They were priceless, shameless and yet endearing all at the same time. The stuff of fabulous, fantastic fiction, he thought.