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She’d seen his picture on the news and she knew how handsome this man was. And even now with black eyes, a broken nose and an unshaved face, he would turn heads. But there was something missing and she didn’t know him well enough to know what that something was. It was more of a feeling.
He handed her the cocoa without a word and moved back to the breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen. Maybe he liked the shadows. Maybe he liked not being seen.
“Thanks,” she said slowly, jumping when the kettle whistled. “Would you like a cup?”
Several seconds ticked by without an answer and Charlie felt heat stain her cheeks as she moved to the counter. “Sorry, I’ll make this and leave you alone.”
“You don’t have to go,” he replied. “And thanks for the offer, but I’ve already got something.”
Charlie got busy making her cocoa and after placing the box in the pantry, she tucked the kettle back into its spot in the cupboard. She grabbed her cup and turned around, unsure if she should stay or go.
“Turn the light on if you want,” Teague said.
Charlie took a sip from her cup. “I don’t mind the dark.” It wasn’t all that dark anymore anyway. The shadows were giving way to early morning light that crept in across the horizon.
She watched him take a sip from a tumbler. “Little early for whiskey, isn’t it?”
“Sweetheart, it’s never too early for whiskey.” He paused and held his tumbler aloft as if they were toasting and then tipped his head back. He finished the glass in one long gulp, inhaling sharply as he slammed the tumbler down onto the table.
“Son of a bitch,” he said under his breath, shoulders hunched. He rubbed the arm that was in a sling and swore again.
“Is there anything I can do?” Charlie asked, taking a step forward.
“Nope, not unless you can locate another bottle of Gibson’s Finest.”
She shrugged. “Sorry.”
He was quiet for a few moments, his
eyes studying her with an intensity that was missing before now. “I’m Teague by the way. I take it you belong to Maverick.”
Okay, the guy was hurting and had been through something horrific. She got that. But Charlie wasn’t the kind of girl to take a comment like that. Not from anyone.
“You can call me Charlie,” she said, walking toward him. “But this girl doesn’t belong to anyone. I’m not a pet.”
For a moment his expression was blank and then something kind of wonderful happened. A soft, slow smile crept over his face and she got a glimpse of the real man.
Damn, Ava was right . The Simon men were hot.
“Guess she told you. I like this girl.”
Charlie and Teague turned as Cooper walked into the kitchen. He was tall, like the other men, but unlike Rick or Teague, this Simon was blond.
“You look like shit,” Teague said.
“I’ve been up all night.” And he looked it, with his bloodshot eyes.
“Doing what?” Teague asked.
Cooper ignored his cousin and smiled at Charlie. The man looked like he could be Beau Simon’s brother, not his cousin, and she blushed as his smile deepened. Bastard. He knew exactly the kind of power that he had. It would take some kind of woman to tangle with a man like him.
She thought of the shop and began to wonder. She knew the musical stuff belonged to Rick but the office tucked away in the back was all Cooper. And from what little she’d read, she didn’t think the guy had any sort of passion aside from parties and the odd Simon family foundation event. And yes, she knew this because she’d Googled pretty much every Simon that there was—including Rick. And that was something she wasn’t going to think about right now.
Seeing all those photos of him with so many glamorous women had made Charlie realize just how big the divide between them was. And then there’d been the pictures of him naked on some patio with the allusion that some Hollywood starlet was just out of range. He was so far from her world that it was laughable.
Maverick Simon was Hollywood and Nashville, while she was just a mechanic in a small town in Maine. It almost sounded like some hokey country song.
“What is it that you do out there anyway?” she asked, deflecting and pushing aside her thoughts.
