Page 14 of Second Chances

“He bought it the year it came out, before I was born. My parents didn’t think they could have kids, so I think he saw it as his baby until I came along.” Jacob and Saloma Sherk were fifty-three and forty-five, respectively, when Charlotte was born. After giving up all hope of children after twenty years of marriage, they considered their daughter not just a blessing but a miracle, something she had taken full advantage of, until the day her pregnancy test was positive. Charlotte, angry and resentful, at first blamed her parents for not restricting her with more rules. However, had Charlotte not gotten pregnant so young, her parents probably wouldn’t have been grandparents, since both passed in quick succession of each other when Isobel was five. “I grew up with it being a part of every one of my milestones in life. A few months before my dad passed, he gave it to me.” Charlotte choked up. “My ex-husband hated it when I drove our daughter around in it—didn’t think it was safe, but my dad had installed seat belts after I was born.” Anticipating her need, Henry handed her a tissue from a box on his desk, and she flashed him a grateful smile. “He was like that—he thought of everything.”

“I’m sorry about your dad. He sounds like someone I would’ve gotten along with.” Charlotte nodded. Her dad spent hours discussing his beloved Tempest with anyone who would listen, and he would’ve had a rapt audience with Henry.

“He was the best. My mom, too. Not a strict bone in her body. She always wore aprons around the house because she baked for everyone in the neighborhood. So every time I hugged her, she smelled like flour.” A deep breath kept her tears at bay, and the following silence made her aware of how they had gravitated toward each other. Henry was so close, the spicy scent of his aftershave quickened her pulse. She desperately needed a diversion. “I have to know—what are you brewing back here that smells so insanely delicious?” Rewarded by his deep chuckle, his smile made her breath catch in her throat. “Is this your secret to making an auto shop smell just as good as the coffee shop across the street? Do you get your own specialty blend delivered or something?”

Scruff bristled against his hand when he scratched his chin, an action that drew her attention again to the sexy cleft in the center, and she shivered in response. When he lifted his cap to drag a powerful-looking hand through his blond hair, the silver at his temples sparkled under the low light glowing from his desk lamp. Without the overhead fluorescent lights on, the office felt intimate. “Believe it or not, I make my own blend.”

Lord help her, what had he just said? He makes his own coffee? He crafts benches…he makes coffee…he knows about the Tempest. He was irresistible, and she wanted him. “I’m sorry,” she responded, somewhat incredulously, “you do what? Is that a thing—making your own coffee blend? I mean, I saw it in a Hallmark movie once, but I figured they were making it up,” she laughed.

“Well, I don’t know about Hallmark,” Henry chuckled, “but at least for me, it’s true. I buy my beans from a fair-trade coffee purveyor on the internet, and after I roast the beans, I add oils to get whatever flavor I want. I brew a different flavor every day.” The pride on his face made him more than just attractive—he was charming and compelling. “Would you like to taste today’s flavor?” Most definitely, she would love a taste of anything he offered, she thought as he poured her a cup. “This is a new blend I’m working on: a pumpkin and pecan blend that merges my favorite pies. Cream and sugar, right?”

I want it all, Charlotte lasciviously thought. If you are giving it to me, I’ll take it. “You remembered. Yes, please.” Breathless, she fanned herself while he pulled out a container of half and half from a small refrigerator. “Can I say thanks for having the good stuff?”

“I can’t waste my coffee on corn syrup and artificial flavors, can I?” Handing her the coffee, his calloused finger brushed hers, jolting them both. Charlotte’s tongue darted out of her mouth, an action his sky-blue eyes caught. Henry softly reminded her, “You know, you haven’t told me your name.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—it’s Charlotte.” She held her breath as his hand captured hers.

“Nice to meet you.” With her much smaller hand in his, his work-toughened palm pressed against her smooth one all too briefly, disappointment flooding her when he released her. His aftershave mixed with the scent of his day’s labor, and his aroma enveloped her. Distracting herself with a sip of her coffee, she sighed with appreciation. “Wow, this is amazing, Henry. The pumpkin and pecan blend so well together, but I can still taste them each individually.”

He was a magician, and his coffee was truly the most flavorful she’d ever had. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

Her name on his tongue did nothing to quell her racing heart, and she lifted her cup for another sip, her hand shaking. “You know what would be delicious in the summer? S’mores coffee. If you need any inspiration.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, tapping the side of the cup before tearing off his baseball cap and tossing it onto his desk. “That’s better. Sometimes, by the end of the day, I feel like my brain is getting squeezed.”

“When I got here, I thought for a minute that you were gone.” Putting her cup down on the desk, she placed her hand alongside it. He did the same, their pinkie fingers within a breath of touching. “I’m glad you weren’t,” she admitted, taking the chance to be bold.

“Me, too.” His blue eyes flashed, and she felt the air shift between them. His finger grazed hers, so lightly she could have imagined it. The pull between them intensified until his ringing phone broke them apart. He picked it up, frowning as he turned it face down. With a small sigh, Henry said, “Okay, let me take a look at your car.” Waiting for her at his office door, he was so close that her shoulder brushed his chest as she left the room first.

Neither one seemed in a hurry to get to the front of the garage, and they walked down the hallway practically side by side. “I parked in front of the door on the right.” When they reached the bays, Henry flipped a switch, whistling when the ‘69 Tempest was in full view.

“Wow, this looks like it came from a showroom, Charlotte! You’ve done an excellent job maintaining it. Do you have the keys?”

“Yes.” She took them from her pocket, and when she spun around to hand them over, discovered his body mere inches from hers. Her eyes traveled up his chest, so close it took every ounce of her strength not to touch him, her body yearning to absorb his heat.

The muscles in his throat clenched, and her eyes locked with his. His voice was low and sexy. “Charlotte.”

“Hi, Mom!” Isobel, whose headlights shone from directly behind the Tempest, yelled from her car.

“Isobel! I thought you weren’t coming until later!”

Her daughter gave her a quizzical look. “Mom, I’m right on time. Or I was, but you weren’t at your house. You’re the one who’s late.”

What? How long had she been in the shop with Henry? Of course, she was delighted her daughter was here, but also dismayed her time with Henry was over. “How did you find me?”

“I activated the Find My Phone feature. Remember, I wanted to make sure you were safe? I like knowing where you are.” Isobel squeezed her shoulders in a side hug. Who was the child here? For crying out loud, she was only fifty, not quite geriatric.

While they had been reuniting, Henry popped her hood. Turning to her, he said, “I can check if it’s just the battery and change it out tonight, or you can leave it here and pick it up tomorrow, in case it’s the alternator?”

“Yeah, we’ll pick it up tomorrow.” Her daughter spoke without giving Charlotte a chance. “Hi, I’m Isobel.” Would Henry have offered to give her a lift home if her daughter hadn’t shown up? She could have forgone the football game, maybe offered to make him dinner at her place? She had a nice bottle of red wine that Adam and Paul had gifted her the week before school had started. Her fingers itched, imagining what his scruffy face would feel like touching it before she slid them up to his hair—that golden hair that curled at the back of his strong neck. How his slim hips would fit between her-

“Mom? Mom? MOM!” Isobel’s voice snapped Charlotte out of her daydream. “Henry says we’re good to go and can pick up the car tomorrow, okay?”

“Yes.” Reluctant to leave, the word caught in her throat; she cleared it and tried again. “Yes, that sounds fine. Thank you, Henry.”

“No problem. It will be ready any time after two.” Her eyes lingered on his before she followed Isobel out of the shop. Carrying the heat of his stare with her, she climbed into her daughter’s car, lifting her head to look through the windshield as she buckled her seatbelt. Something about him standing alone in the glow of the headlights struck her as forlorn, tempting her to tell Isobel to go to the game without her. She’d have fun with Adam and Paul, whether or not Charlotte was there.

As her daughter backed up, she questioned, “Okay, Mom…what did I just interrupt?”