Resurrecting Charlie's Girl (5 page)

BOOK: Resurrecting Charlie's Girl
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"We
should probably get up, huh?" Tom lifted the corner of his mouth.

She
shoved his chest. "Tom, you need to stop—"

He
pecked her lips. "I know. There's something happening between us. We've
got to make you safe first, though. We'll figure us out later."

"There
is no us," she muttered.

He
swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. "Right now, I could
really use some coffee. You?"

She
shot out of bed. "Fine. Breakfast sounds good. I'll be down in a few
minutes."

Tom
headed downstairs and Charlise padded into the bathroom. Rummaging around in
the bag Sally'd left for her, she found a dark blue sweatsuit and pulled on the
top and pants. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair. When she went back
into the bedroom, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted up the stairs. She
inhaled and hurried downstairs. Maybe the caffeine would wake her up and the
conflicting thoughts in her head would make sense.

Tom
met her with a steaming mug of coffee. "Here you go, Charlie's girl."

The
cup wobbled in her hand and she sat it down on the counter. "Why did you
call me that?"

"Huh.
I don't know." Tom ran his hand over the lower half of his face.
"Charlise sounds a lot like Charlie's girl." He shrugged. "You
don't like that nickname?"

She
shook her head. "No, it's fine. You surprised me, that's all."

Taking
a sip of coffee, she sighed as the caffeine entered her body. "My dad used
to call me that. His name was Charlie." She smiled. "Hearing that
name always made me think I was the most important person in his life."

Tom
nodded. "He passed away?"

"Yeah.
Cancer, three years ago. Right after I married Jared." She waved her hand
changing the subject. "Go ahead and eat if you want. I usually don't have
breakfast."

Tom
spooned sugar into his mug. "I was thinking after we have our coffee, we
could take a walk along the beach."

"Do
you think it's safe? There's nowhere to hide on the shoreline."

Charlise's
heart pattered eagerly. A walk along the shore—such a silly thing to wish
for—but it didn't stop her fantasy from forming. Real life, as simple as a walk
on the beach, was something she never took time to enjoy because of the
dangers.

"I'll
check things out. Sometimes being out in the open is safer and we'll pull our
followers out into the open." Tom drank from the cup and sighed.

"You
want them to find me?" she asked.

"Maybe."
He moistened his lips. "We can't run forever, but you will be safe with
me. That I can promise. You'll have to trust me."

"I
don't trust anyone," she mumbled.

He
winked. "Maybe it's time for you to learn, some men are trustworthy."

Charlise
sipped the strong coffee and the warmth radiated through out her body. A
morning cup of caffeine settled her nerves, but the dark cloud of the last
couple of years had the tenacity of a pit bull. A walk along the shoreline
might be the perfect remedy for her damaged soul. If Jared stayed away.

"Well,
if you think we'll be safe." She bit down on her lower lip.

More
than anything she wanted to rediscover Charlie's girl. If she could discover
when she'd become the victim, maybe she'd regain something in her life. Maybe
the woman, Charlene Blatwell, could be buried, never to return.

Tom's
idea that she trust him had merit. If only she could forget about the past.
And, the present situation.

"Go
get ready. I'll check the area outside and see how everything is looking."
Tom finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink.

Charlise
hurried upstairs. Deciding she didn't want to risk wearing one of the borrowed
outfits and have it ruined in the sand, she kept her sweatsuit on and pulled on
her sneakers.

She
found a hairbrush in the bathroom and fought the tangles in her hair. Going
without a hair stylist and a huge supply of makeup on the run, she'd learned
how to be fast and efficient in her personal hygiene.

Eager
to get started, she went downstairs and perched on the couch. Tom was still outside.
Musing, she realized how much she wanted to explore the sand and surf and hoped
that Tom came back with good news. The roar of the waves crashing against the
shore always made her feel at peace and she hoped for a little while she'd
relax enough to gain some clarity over her situation.

The
door swung open, and she stood up from the couch. She bit her lip, but a giggle
escaped at the delicious sight before her. Tom's jeans were rolled up to his
knees and a baseball cap was pulled low on his head. Best of all, he held a
small kite in his hands. How he pulled off sexy and childlike at the same time
amazed her.

"Are
you laughing at me?" He moved the kite aside, gazed down at his legs, and
wiggled his toes.

She
covered her mouth with both hands. Suppressed laughter brought tears to her
eyes. Tom's dimple winked. She had the wild urge to grab his hand and run away
from life—if only for a short time.

"One
of the neighbor kids let me borrow his kite." He lifted his eyebrow.
"You don't like flying a kite?"

She
opened her mouth, but no words came. A kite? Seriously?

He
shook his head when she merely stared at the kite. "I swear I had you
pegged for a kite flyer."

The
seriousness etched in Tom's eyes stopped Charlise's laughter. She wasn't going
to disappoint him by telling him she didn't know if she enjoyed flying a kite
or not. Her childhood years included hanging out at the corner boxing matches
and working on cars with her dad, not weekend outings to the coast or flying a
kite.

"I
would love to fly a kite." She raked her teeth over her bottom lip, and
Tom awarded her with a grin. More than the excitement of a couple hours on the
beach, she wanted to give Tom a day of happiness. No bad moods, no drama, and
especially, no Jared.

"Good.
For a moment I thought I was out ten bucks." He clicked his tongue and
wiped the imaginary sweat off his brow.

She
cocked her head. "Ten bucks?"

"That's
how much it cost me to bribe the kid across the street to give up his kite for
a couple hours."

Chapter Six

Tom
popped his finger in his mouth, held it up in the air, and tested the direction
of the wind. "You want to be the runner or the holder?"

Charlise
crossed her arms and tapped her chin with her index finger. Tom acted like it
took an N.A.S.A employee to fly a kite, but she played along with his game.

"I'll
be the runner." She leaned to the side, stretching her hamstring.

It
bewildered her how something so simple made her happy. If Tom had asked her
several months before what she wanted to do today and not have to worry about Jared,
she might have suggested a day at the spa or a shopping spree. Never in a
million years would kite flying have registered with her. Yet, she wanted to
fly a kite more than anything in the world this morning.

"Let's
get this baby up in the air." Tom grinned like a little boy.

He
unwound the string and passed the handle to Charlise before taking off jogging
in along the coastline. Closer to the water, the wind was stronger and she
figured it would help the kite stay in the air.

Tom
stood thirty feet away from Charlise with the kite held above his head. She
shielded her eyes with one hand and waited. He yelled, but over the whir of the
wind, she didn't know what he said.

She
held her arms up with her palms facing the sky.
What?

He
pointed at Charlise, back at his legs, and ran in place.

"Oh!"
Charlise held the string draped over her shoulder and ran.

She
pushed her legs to move through the thick bed of sand. Her muscles screamed
from the exertion. She sucked in air and promptly lost it in a gush.

Charlise
glanced behind her. The kite dragged along the sand. She came to a stop and
dropped down on her butt in the sand.
What am I doing wrong?

She
sat dejected in the sand as Tom ran to her. He seemed to have no problems
breathing, and yet, here she sat winded from the run and she tried to keep
herself in excellent shape.

"I
can't run anymore." She patted her chest. "It's like running in
quicksand."

Tom
dropped the kite and stepped on the string to anchor it. She grabbed the hands
he offered, and she was instantly on her feet again.

"You
can hold the kite this time." He handed the kite to her. "Let's try
this again, okay?"

Tom
jogged away a few feet and turned around. "When the string gets tight and
I start running, throw the kite straight up in the air."

The
muscles in Tom's legs bulged below the jeans cuffed at his knees. The kite
pulled out of her hand, and she scrambled after it.

"Come
on Charlise, pay attention to the kite," she mumbled. Not the sexy legs on
a super hot body.

Tom
ran, and she flung the kite up into the air.

"It's
flying, it's flying," she yelled, clapping and running along behind Tom.

The
kite climbed higher and the silly tails made it appear to dance in the air. She
kept her gaze on the kite and stumbled over to where Tom stood, piloting the
contraption.

"You
ready to fly it?" Tom held out the spool of thread. "Got a good wind
going."

She
hesitated. "I might make it fall."

He
pinched the extra material of her sweatshirt, pulled her over in front of him,
and wound his arms around her. He leaned close to her ear. "You won't let
it fall. Trust me, huh?"

Trust
him. Huge words in her vocabulary, and she held them close to her heart knowing
he wasn't talking about the kite flying.

"Okay,
but stay by me. I don't want it to crash and break." She laid her hands on
top of his. "Give me a minute to make sure I can keep it in the air. Don't
let go."

The
motion of his nod against the back of her neck tickled. She shivered.

"Are
you cold?" He gathered her closer, and tucked her body into his, her head
protected by his chest against the wind.

Contentment
came swift and hard to Charlise. The roar of the waves breaking on the shore
hid the tremble that came from the closeness. She blinked and a lone tear fell
down her cheek.

The
masculine hands under hers blurred, and she moved her thumbs over them to make
sure this whole day wasn't something she dreamed up. Last night, those same
hands stroked her back better than any lover had, and he asked nothing from her
in return.

Tom
never threatened or scolded, and the way his eyes followed her made her think
something about her still appealed to a man. She tilted her head to the sky,
closed her eyes, and let the cool wind dry her cheek. Tom's strong heart
thumped against the back of her head. He had no idea what kind of gift he'd
given. She'd never be able to repay him.

"You
ready to try this on your own?" he asked.

She
nodded her head. He helped her believe she could do anything.

Tom
transferred the spool to her hands. She held on tight with both hands, and the
kite dipped. The pressure on the string slacked off.

She
ran a few steps to the left. Quickly darted sideways and backward in an attempt
to keep the kite elevated in the air. She yelped and hurried to turn the spool
in her hand to wind the string up.

Tom
appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her. This time, he linked his
hands around her waist and coached her with his words.

"Relax.
Let your hand feel the direction the kite's going." He kissed the side of
her neck. "Pull a little. Let it go." He moved his head to the other
side, and trailed his lips down the other side of her neck.

"Left."
His tongue came out to taste her skin. "There you go."

He
thrust his hips forward, pulling her back. "Good. Hold it."

She
lost all concentration on the kite and focused on the warm air on her ear, his
words, and the delicious way he sucked on her neck. Her stomach fluttered.

"Look
up Charlie's girl." Tom's hands moved in little circles over her stomach.
"You're flying a kite."

Still
swimming in a fog of desire, she gazed up. The child's toy hovered in the sky
with barely any help from her. The kite gently pulled on the string, seeking
permission to fly farther away.

She
turned her head to smile at Tom. "It's beautiful."

With
one last kiss on her check, he stepped away from her, and she flew her very first
kite. She studied the colorful spot in the cloudless sky, and the minute she
realized the kite wasn't going to fall, she laughed.

"Tom?"
Charlise glanced over to show him how good she flew the kite.

Tom
faced away from her, his attention drawn to the dunes.
Oh, no.

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