“That’s bullshit,” Charlie said, sniffling.

  “They were just tryin’ to do the right thing.”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” Charlie snapped.

  “No argument from me,” I replied. “I loved that old lady and it killed me knowin’ that she needed me and I couldn’t help her.”

  “I want to punch something.”

  “Don’t,” I said with a chuckle. “Believe me, I punched enough shit back then for the both of us. It turned out all right. The house I went to was close enough that I could hop on a bus and check on her a couple times a week.”

  “Is she still there?” Charlie asked softly.

  “Nah,” I replied and cleared my throat again. My eyes started to burn at all the shit I’d willingly dredged up. I was a fucking idiot. “She passed away in her sleep when I was nineteen.”

  Charlie didn’t say anything as she threw back the blankets and got out of bed. Without a word, she came to me. I scooted back a little as she sat on the edge of the couch, her hip pressed against my stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” She whispered, draping the top half of her body over mine, her arms wrapped around me. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Hey now,” I said, running my fingers through her hair. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. I coulda told you that you tasted like honey or some shit.”

  I laughed as she pinched me.

  “I would’ve known you were bullshitting me,” she said with a huff.

  “I’m pretty convincin,’ you woulda ate that shit up,” I teased.

  Charlie let go of me and leaned back, but she didn’t stand up.

  “You’re named after your uncle?” She asked, smiling.

  “Yes,” I replied, propping my head on my bent arm so I could see her better.

  “Your first name is Beauregard?”

  “Where you goin’ with this?” I grumbled.

  “Beauregard Augustus Bishop?” Her voice was wobbling with suppressed mirth.

  “You got a problem with my name?”

  “Your name is Beauregard Augustus Bishop,” she repeated.

  “You sayin’ it fifty times ain’t gonna change the fact.”

  “And you go by Bishop?” She hit my shoulder lightly. “Why the fuck would you go by Bishop when you have that epic fucking name?”

  “Well, I wasn’t gonna go by Beau,” I said with a laugh. “One Beau was enough for our tiny trailer. Went by Gus growin’ up.”

  “You don’t look like a Gus,” she said immediately. “Did your mom call you Gus?”

  “You know, I can’t really remember,” I said, thinking back. “My memories of her are bits and pieces, ya know? I remember her calling me son and baby and buddy, that type of shit.”

  “Huh,” she said.

  “She called me her sunshine boy,” I said, remembering the woman with soft hands and the perfect shape for curling into when I was tired.

  “That’s really sweet,” Charlie said softly.

  “She was a good mom,” I replied. “I remember that much.”

  “She must have been to give you that incredible name.”

  “Hell, she copied it,” I replied with a laugh. “So, you know, good mom—but no imagination.”

  “She must’ve really loved your uncle.”

  “From what he said, they were tight when she was growin’ up. He and my grandpa were best friends and since my uncle was a bachelor, he was always at my grandparents’ place hangin’ out.”

  “I can understand close knit families,” Charlie said dryly. “You can’t pick your nose in my family without every single person making fun of you for it by dinnertime.”

  I laughed. “You pick your nose a lot?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, pretending to stick her finger in her nose.

  “You’re gonna be tired as fuck in the mornin,’” I said, rubbing her back.

  “I should probably try to sleep,” she said with a sigh. She stood and stretched then looked down at me. “You comfortable all curled in a ball like that?”

  “I’m good,” I assured her. “Slept in worse places.”

  “Come on,” she replied, jerking her head toward the bed. “You can sleep with me.”

  “Charlie,” I said, drawing her name out in warning. If she was expecting me to keep my hands to myself, inviting me to share a bed with her wasn’t a good idea. Could I keep to my side of the bed? Yes. Would it be torture? Also, yes. Not my idea of a good time.

  “Beauregard Augustus Bishop,” she said, climbing back into her bed. “We’re adults. We can sleep in the same bed and keep our clothes on.”

  “You’re blurrin’ the lines here.”

  “It’s too late to go round and round with you,” Charlie said easily, snuggling into her pillow. “Come to bed.”

  I laid on the couch for a few more minutes. Finally, when she flounced onto her back dramatically I stood up and rounded the bed.

  “It alright if I take off my jeans?” I asked, my hands on my belt. “Who knows what shit’s on them from bein’ out today.”

  “You wearing boxers or boxer briefs?” she asked.

  “A thong, actually,” I replied deadpan.

  In a split second a pillow came sailing at my face.

  “I just wanted to make sure no one would come popping out to say hello,” she said with a laugh. “Boxer briefs keep wardrobe malfunctions to a minimum.”

  “Then it’s your lucky day,” I replied, dropping my pants.

  Charlie hummed. “It is my lucky day,” she said hoarsely.

  “I feel like a piece of meat,” I replied jokingly, getting in beside her. “So, I’m keepin’ my shirt on.”

  “If you must,” she teased.

  I laid down on my back and stared at the sloped ceiling. I was far more comfortable in Charlie’s bed, but I probably would’ve had better luck actually sleeping if I’d stayed on the couch.

  “Good night, Beauregard Augustus Bishop,” Charlie said softly, reaching out to touch my shoulder before retreating back to her side of the bed.

  “Goodnight, honey,” I replied.

  At some point the impossible must’ve happened and I’d dozed off because when I woke up a few hours later, Charlie had moved to my side of the bed and was wrapped around me like a piece of ivy. Her face was in my armpit, her arm wrapped around my chest, and one of her legs was thrown over mine, her knee perilously close to my balls.

  “Hey,” I said, reaching down to put my hand on her knee in case she woke up with a jerk. “Honey, your alarm’s goin’ off.”

  “What?” Charlie asked, her head popping up as she looked around blankly.

  “Your alarm’s goin’ off,” I repeated. “You gotta get up?”

  “Fuck,” she muttered, dropping her head back down.

  I was pretty fastidious about personal hygiene—another thing Uncle Beau had instilled in me—but I was still fighting the urge to push her head away from my damn armpit.

  “You got work?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she replied, her breath tickling me so bad I jerked in response.

  “You think you should maybe get up?” I asked in amusement.

  “Need a second,” she mumbled.

  I waited.

  A minute or two later, Charlie lifted her head and went about untangling her body from mine.

  “Just wanna point out that I stayed on my side of the bed,” I said, as Charlie got out of bed and switched on the lamp next to it.

  “Reb called me an octopus the other day,” she responded oddly as she moved around the room grabbing clothes. “Sorry about the light, but I need it to get ready.”

  “It’s your room,” I replied. “Do what you need to do.”

  I wondered if I should get up and get moving. If it was any other situation where I woke up in a woman’s bed and she had to leave for work, I would’ve already been out the door. Unless, of course, she wanted to share a shower first. I wouldn’t turn that shit down.

  I grit my teeth and readjusted the pillow beneath my head, trying and failing not to imagine Charlie in the shower I’d just heard come on. Glancing down, I glared at the erection making its presence known under the quilt. Before I could get my body to relax, Charlie was walking back into the room fully clothed, her wet hair slicked back in a fancy braid.

  “Sorry,” she said with a grimace as she turned on the overhead light, making me flinch.

  “You get ready quick,” I said as she sat down on the floor in front of a full-length mirror.

  “Only in the mornings,” she replied with a rueful smile. She reached for the zipper of the toiletry bag on the floor in front of her. “If I’m going all out, it takes forever. But this early? Pfft. I go the easy route.”

  I rolled toward her and braced my head on my hand so I could watch her.

  “I’ve tried going into work with no makeup on,” she said as she went about her routine. “Because I always forget to turn the stupid fan on and the mirror gets all fogged in the bathroom. But I can’t do it. I feel naked without makeup. Like I forgot to put my pants on or something. I blame my mother.”

  “I like your mom,” I said, fascinated by the efficiency and grace of her movements as she dropped a little tube of something and picked up a tiny brush.

  “I like her, too,” she said, glancing at me for a second. “But she’s always done up, and I guess it was just programmed into my psyche. I can’t go out barefaced. It feels too weird.”

  “You’re beautiful either way,” I replied honestly.

  “Too charming early in the morning,” she said, waving a brush at me. “Tone it down a notch.”

  “I can install a switch in the bathroom that turns your fan on automatically when you turn on the light,” I said as she went back to what she was doing.

  “I kind of like getting ready on the floor,” she said, wrinkling her nose and smiling at me. “It reminds me of when Kara and I lived in the apartment.”

  “I get that,” I replied quietly. “Once you’re all settled in, let me know if you want that switch. Not good to steam up the bathroom like that, it could cause mold issues.”

  “Yes, dad,” Charlie replied, leaning close to the mirror to run a brush along her eyelid.

  “Never been called daddy,” I said, watching her. “But if you’re game, I’m up for anything.”

  It took her a second to catch on, and I knew the instant she did. Her eyes widened and quick as a flash she’d thrown a little squishy thing shaped like a teardrop at my face.

  “That is not happening,” she shot back, laughing and glaring at the same time. “I have a dad and thinking of him or dear God, calling his name during sex is pretty much the absolute last thing I’d ever want to happen.” She made a fake vomiting sound.

  “Noted,” I said, throwing the squishy thing back onto her lap.

  “I need to get my eyelashes done again,” she muttered.

  “The hell do you do to your eyelashes?” I asked, leaning closer. They didn’t look out of the ordinary.

  “They’re fake,” she said, batting them at me. “Well, not all of them. Just some.”

  “You have fake eyelashes?” I’d seen fake eyelashes. They were long and fluttery and well, they didn’t look like Charlie’s.

  “Yep. Semi-permanent,” she said, amused. “They glue them on and then they fall off eventually, just like regular eyelashes, but these ones obviously don’t grow back so I have to have them re-done.”

  “What’s wrong with your normal eyelashes?” I asked curiously.

  “Nothing,” she said with a shrug as she got to her feet. “But I like it when they’re fuller.”

  She studied my blank expression.

  “I bet you use the same soap for your body and your hair, don’t you,” she accused.

  “It’s made for that,” I replied.

  “No,” she shook her head laughing. “It’s not.”

  “It says it right on the bottle.”

  “While I hesitate to change your habits because whatever you’re using smells fucking fantastic and I’d hate to change what you’ve got going on—” She gestured to me, waving her hand in a circle. “You should really be using actual shampoo. You know, for hair.”

  “Why the hell would I buy something else?” I asked, crossing my arms behind my head. “One bottle of shit and I’m good to go.”

  “When you take a shower, use my shampoo,” she said merrily. “It’ll change your life.”

  “I’m not goin’ around smellin’ like you,” I replied.

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m workin’ on your parents’ house,” I said with a chuckle. “And your pop notices every-fuckin’-thing. If he smells you on me, I’m actually gonna have done somethin’ worth having my ass handed to me.”

  Charlie burst out laughing. “That’s fair.”

  “You better get to work, honey.”

  “Yeesh,” she said, jerking into movement. “You’re right. I’ll see you after?”

  “I’ll be around at some point,” I confirmed. “Might come in and grab a coffee from you.”

  “I’d love that,” she said, slipping on her shoes. She opened her bedroom door before pausing to look at me over her shoulder. “Sleep as late as you want, but as soon as the sun comes up you may want to face in the other direction because the sun will shine directly into your face.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said, grinning. “Have a good day, dear.”

  Charlie dramatically blew me a kiss and closed the door behind her. I jumped in surprise when she opened it again.

  “Sorry,” she said hurriedly as she raced over to turn out the lamp. She smiled at me. “Now you don’t have to get up to turn them off!” She hit the overhead light switch as she swept out the door again.

  I laughed and threw my arm over my eyes. She was so goddamn cute and I was so fucking fucked. Relaxing into the bed, I decided to get a few more hours of shut eye before I went to get some blinds for Charlie’s bedroom windows.

  Chapter 5

  Charlie

  Saturday mornings at the coffee cart were never as busy as weekdays so I found myself cleaning and reorganizing and daydreaming of the changes I’d make in order to pass the time. Of course, leaving a warm, rumpled, sleepy, Beauregard Augustus Bishop in my bed that morning could have had something to do with the way time seemed to drag. The more I got to know him, the more I liked him. I couldn’t say it was a problem, because how could meeting someone you clicked with ever be a problem? But the timing was so bad it made me want to scream. I didn’t have the mental capacity or enough hours in the day to spend with him the way I wanted, and that sucked.

  I wasn’t about to start something up just when I needed to focus on other shit.

  Of course, none of that mattered when he pulled up to the shop an hour before my shift ended.

  “Let me guess,” I said, leaning toward him. “Something super sweet that doesn’t actually taste like coffee?”

  Bishop shot me a look. “Americano,” he said. “With room for cream?”

  “Dang,” I joked. “I’m usually really good at guessing.”

  “You’ve been servin’ me coffee for months,” he called as I went about making his coffee. “You know what I like.”

  “I do know what you like,” I affirmed, the words instantly sounding like an innuendo even though that hadn’t been my intention.

  It was quiet for a moment.

  “So, I got a call this mornin’,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?” I carried his coffee back to the window, exactly how he liked it.

  “Yeah,” he said, watching me closely as he took the cup. “Brenna said she was gettin’ rid of the bed in her guestroom and asked if I wanted it.”

  “Imagine that,” I said with a smile, resting my elbows on the counter between us.

  “I have you to thank for what sounds like a free and nearly new bed?”

  “She’s been talking about turning that room into a craft room for ages,” I said, smiling. “So I just let her know that if she wanted that bed hauled away—” I shrugged.

  “Thanks, honey,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. He reached out and put a twenty in the tip jar, knowing without asking that I wouldn’t take payment. “This means no more sleepovers.”

  I swallowed hard. “You’ll be just down the hall,” I replied, trying to hide the twinge of disappointment.

  Okay, that’s a lie. It wasn’t a twinge, it was more like a gigantic wave of disappointment.

  “You’re welcome to come crawl in any time you can’t sleep,” he said, his eyes on mine. “Yeah?”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, holding his gaze.

  “What time you get off?”

  “I should be out of here by noon if Mary shows up on time,” I replied. “Which she never does.”

  “She know you’re gonna be her boss soon?” he asked in amusement.

  “Nope,” I said with a laugh. “It’s kind of nice to get everyone’s measure without them knowing that you’ll be in charge soon.”

  “Oh shit,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh, shit, is right,” I said. “I know exactly who’s staying and who’s going.”

  A car pulled up behind Bishop and he glanced in the rearview mirror.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied. I watched as he pulled away, then turned back to the car who’d come up behind him.

  It was a struggle to keep the smile on my face.

  “What can I get you?” I asked the man.

  “A vanilla latte,” he replied. “And your number.”

  “A vanilla latte I can deliver,” I said, keeping my voice pleasant. “But I told you before, I like women.”

  “I bet I can change your mind,” he called as I moved into the back of the cart where he couldn’t see me.

  “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, former Officer Asshole,” I mumbled quietly to myself as I made his coffee. I hated the guy. Not only had he hassled Kara for years, but he was also just a giant asshole, always making comments about how he’d turn me straight. I’d decided when he’d started the innuendos that I’d just tell him flat out that I was into women. If he had any clue that I preferred partners of both genders equally it would only encourage the garbage he spewed. I had no idea why he thought for a moment that I’d ever go out with him after the shit he’d done, but I was a bit nervous that eventually he was going to stop taking no for an answer. I glanced at the door, making sure I’d locked it when I came in that morning.