The Bachelor (27 page)

She pulled her hand back and held her head in her hands. He waited, giving her time to think and regain her composure. When
she glanced up, he didn’t like the cool look in her eyes or the taut expression on her face.

“Tell me something. Did you plan to leave me behind in Yorkshire Falls while you went back to your beloved job?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what I planned except that I want like hell to make it work. I’ve had a job offer from the
Washington Post
that would keep me based in D.C. I thought I could go check it out—we could go check it out,” he said, inspired by the sudden
idea. “And together we’d come up with a livable working arrangement.” His heart pounded in his chest as he realized just how
much he wanted that.

The fear he’d experienced earlier over changing his lifestyle was gone, replaced by a new and much more credible fear—of losing
Charlotte forever. At the thought, he broke into a cold sweat.

Sad green eyes met his. “A livable working arrangement,” she repeated. “In the name of love or in the name of the lost coin
toss?”

He narrowed his gaze, hurt despite it all. “You shouldn’t have to ask.”

“Well, forgive me, but I do.” She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap.

He leaned closer, getting into her personal space, inhaling her scent. He was irrationally angry at Charlotte for not trusting
him, though he hadn’t done anything to earn her trust. He was also furious at himself and ridiculously aroused all at the
same time.

“I’m going to say this once.” He’d already thought it through in his head when talking to Chase. “The coin toss led me to
you. It was the catalyst for everything that’s happened since. But the only reason I’m here with you now is love.”

She blinked. A lone tear trickled down her face. On impulse, he caught it with the tip of his finger and tasted the salty
water with his tongue. He’d tasted her pain. Now he wanted to make it go away. She was softening. He could feel it and he
held his breath while he waited for her reply.

“How will I ever know?” she asked, taking him off guard. “How will I ever know if you’re with me because you want to be, or
you’re with me because you promised your brothers you’d be the one who gave your mother a grandchild?” She shook her head.
“This whole town knows Chandler family loyalty is strong. Chase is the prime example, and you’re following his lead.”

“I’m proud of my big brother. It’s not a bad lead to follow. Especially if it takes me in the right direction.” There wasn’t
anything more he could say. He’d already told her he was only going to state his case once. Nothing he said now would change
her mind unless she wanted to believe.

“Take a chance on me, Charlotte. Take a chance
with
me.” He held out his hand. His future stretched before him—would it be full or as empty as his palm was now?

His guts shook with real fear as he watched her clench her fists tight. She couldn’t even meet him halfway.

“I … I can’t. You want me to trust while I know damn well you Chandlers are confirmed bachelors. None of you wanted commitment.
You had to toss a coin to decide who’d have to give up his life for the family this time.” She rose to her feet. “And I can’t
even claim to be a prize you won, but a penalty for losing everything you held dear.”

She’d put up walls he doubted he could breach. At least not now. He stood and grabbed her hand one last time. “I’m not your
father.”

“From where I stand, I don’t see much difference.”

And that was the problem, he thought. She couldn’t see past her family’s troubled history. She was obviously afraid. Afraid
of repeating her mother’s life, her mother’s mistakes. He’d damn Annie and Russell to hell and back, only he couldn’t blame
them any longer. Charlotte was a grown woman capable of seeing the truth and making her own decisions.

The urge to pull her into his arms was strong, but he doubted it would do any good. “I never figured you for a coward.”

She narrowed her gaze and glared at him. “You’re an equal disappointment.” She pivoted and ran from the kitchen, leaving him
behind.

“Son of a bitch.” Roman walked into the outer room and kicked the first garbage can he saw across the room. The heavy metal
clunked across the floor and hit the wall with a dull bang.

“I take it things didn’t go well.” Chase met him at the bottom of the steps that led to his upstairs office.

“That’s an understatement.” He let out a groan. “This isn’t the way it was supposed to be.”

Chase swung the door shut. “That’ll keep out any more stragglers. So whoever told you life would go easy? You’ve just been
lucky for a while. But no more coasting, little brother. You’re going to have to work for this.” He turned and leaned against
the doorframe. “If it’s what you want.”

Roman should want to get the hell out of this town and away from the pain and aggravation. From his mother’s heart condition
to Charlotte’s broken heart. Unfortunately there was nowhere left to run. The emotions dredged up would follow him wherever
he went. This trip back had taught him Yorkshire Falls wasn’t just a place to visit, it was home, with all the baggage that
word entailed. All the baggage he’d been running from his entire life.

“You’re damn right it’s what I want.
She’s
what I want.” Yet after avoiding burden and responsibility for years, now that he was ready to shoulder all the ups and downs
of a committed relationship, the woman he desired wanted nothing more to do with him.

“So what do you plan to do about it?”

He had no idea. “I do need to look into D.C.,” Roman told Chase, at the exact moment Rick let himself into the front office,
keys dangling from his hand.

“What about D.C.?” Rick asked.

“Roman’s going to look into a desk job.” Chase’s tone held surprise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he obviously
digested the information.

“Don’t get carried away,” Roman muttered. “I’ve been offered a senior editor position at the
Post.
”

“You’re leaving town?” Rick shoved his hands into his front pockets.

“He might as well. No one here’s going to miss him,” Chase said with a grin. He slapped Roman on the back.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rick laughed. “Charlotte problems? Then I guess she can’t vouch for your whereabouts last night?”

Roman’s head began a steady, dull throb. “Don’t tell me.”

His middle brother nodded. “Panty theft number six. So once again, I have to ask. Just where were you last night?”

Chase and Rick chuckled aloud, always enjoying a laugh at Roman’s expense. He didn’t answer, knew he didn’t need to. But despite
the ribbing and laughter, Roman wasn’t fooled. Like him, neither of his brothers were thrilled to know they still had an unsolved
crime spree in Yorkshire Falls.

Charlotte left the
Gazette
at a run, slowed when she got winded, and began a slow walk back to town. A twisting pain in her stomach made the pickup
truck bumping down the road a welcome sight.

Charlotte stuck out her thumb and hitched her first ride ever. Fred Aames, the town’s only plumber, offered to drop her off
at her doorstep. She was halfway back to her shop and away from Roman when she realized she hadn’t taken an ad in the paper.
She’d just have to call Chase later. No way in hell was she going back to face the Chandler brothers and their stinking coin
toss. She wondered if they were laughing about it, then shook her head.

Roman wouldn’t be laughing. He was out a candidate and would have to start over. Find another woman he could screw and leave
behind, pregnant.

Her stomach churned and it took all her willpower not to ask Fred to pull over so she could puke in someone’s rhododendrons.

“So did you hear?” Fred asked. Before she could respond, he continued, obviously used to talking from beneath cabinets as
he worked on plumbing, oblivious to the outside world. “Marge Sinclair had her panties stolen.”

Not again. She began a steady massage of her temples. “Marge? I just delivered those myself yesterday.”

He shrugged. “You know what they say. Here today, gone tomorrow.” He let out a laugh that was interrupted by his old pickup
truck hitting a pothole and jarring her shoulder into the door. “I don’t put any stock in old man Whitehall’s comments about
Roman Chandler, though.”

At the mention of Roman’s name, Charlotte’s stomach twisted in pain. Small-town life, she thought. She loved it, but sometimes
it meant she couldn’t escape no matter how badly she wanted to. “No, I don’t suppose Roman Chandler would steal panties,”
she said, holding up her end of conversation.

“Or, he’d steal panties if it were a prank, but he wouldn’t pilfer ’em the way the papers are saying.”

“Mmm.” Maybe, if she didn’t outright respond, Fred would catch on and change the subject.

“He’s got too much character.”

“He’s got character, all right,” she muttered. She’d rather not get into Roman’s character right now or she’d give Fred an
earful that would quickly travel through the town’s grapevine. She didn’t want that any more than Roman would.

“He stood up for me back in high school. I’ll never forget it and I won’t let anyone ’round here either. You can bet I’m telling
everyone I meet Roman Chandler’s no thief.” He slammed on the brakes in front of her shop.

She rubbed the bruised skin on her shoulder and gathered her bag. Who could be stealing the underwear? She mentally ticked
off the victims so far. Whitehall, Sinclair … all over fifty, she realized and wondered if Rick or anyone else on Yorkshire
Falls’ police force had come to that same conclusion and whether it meant anything at all. Odd, Charlotte thought. To say
the least.

“Did you say something?” he asked, rising in his seat.

“I said I wonder if you realize that you’re a life saver. Thank you for driving me back here.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned over and placed a hand behind her seat. “There is a way you can repay me, though.”

“What would that be?” she asked warily.

“Move my Marianne up on your panty list.” His full cheeks colored a furious shade of red. “At least in time for our wedding
night.”

She grinned and nodded her head. “I think that could be arranged.” Charlotte hopped out of the pickup before she could laugh
out loud and embarrass the man further. “Thanks again, Fred.”

“You’re welcome. And when your customers come in discussing these thefts, remember to tell ’em Roman Chandler wouldn’t steal
anything.”

Except her heart, she thought, sadly.

Fred drove off, leaving her standing on the sidewalk. She stared first at her business, then at the upstairs window leading
to her apartment. Neither place beckoned to her right now. Since Roman had spent the night, her small apartment was no longer
a safe haven to which she could escape. Her office smelled too vile for words, and in her shop, Beth’s chatty presence would
have Charlotte revealing painful secrets in no time. And her mother’s house was off limits because Russell was home.

She felt like a displaced person with nowhere to go— until she realized there was one place she could curl up and be alone
in peace. She stopped by the shop only long enough to tell Beth she was taking the day off, detoured into Norman’s for a sandwich
and soda to go, before going up to her apartment, changing her clothes, and ducking out onto the fire-escape-cum-terrace,
her treasured book,
Glamorous Getaways,
in hand.

Some people chose comfort food. Charlotte chose comfort books. One in particular. A breeze fluttered the pages and she turned
to the one she studied most, the famous HOLLYWOOD sign. She sat back against the wall, legs out in front of her, book resting
on her knees. She sighed and traced the letters she knew by heart, then propped her chin in her hands and stared at the glossy
pages.

Ironic, that this same book that gave her peace also represented her greatest pain. Charlotte understood why.
Glamorous Getaways
brought her back to a simpler time. A time when she still believed in Prince Charmings and happily ever afters. A time when
she thought her father would come home and sweep Charlotte and her mother off their feet and onto an airplane to Los Angeles.
To join him and give her back the security she’d lost. He never had.

So this book should be unsettling, yet it soothed her in a way only innocent childhood beliefs could. Charlotte didn’t delve
deeper. Life was complicated enough. And the Chandler brothers’ coin toss had certainly mixed up her life and emotions in
a way she’d never imagined possible.

Charlotte wasn’t into pity, nor did she believe she’d done anything to deserve this twist of fate. But, all things considered,
she couldn’t say she was surprised. Psychiatrists had a field day with the notion that girls fell in love with men who reminded
them of their fathers. A statement she’d once have disputed with a vengeance, but of which now she was living proof.

The Chandler brothers were many things: dedicated bachelors, devoted sons, and intensely loyal men. She knew Roman had never
set out to hurt her. She believed he’d discounted her from his list of available women because of her family history. But
she’d certainly simplified his life by falling into his baby-needing arms.

After finishing with his brothers, Roman locked himself in Chase’s office and got lost in what he did best. Writing. He tuned
out everything and everyone else and spent the late morning and better part of the afternoon typing up an article on small-town
life. Slice-of-life articles weren’t his thing, but somehow, this time the words poured from his gut.

Big cities, bigger stories. Large continents, even larger human interest stories. But at the heart of each of those broader
pieces, Roman realized he could find the essence of people—their ties to each other, their community, their land. Just like
the people of Yorkshire Falls.

When Roman wrote a news piece—whether he was driving home the inequities of poverty or famine, the brutal truth of ethnic
cleansing in foreign lands, or the need for a variance or new zoning laws so someone with degenerative arthritis could own
a pet and walk him without pain—the stories centered on people and what they needed and did to survive.