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Chapter Seventeen
Settling down on his long, plush gray sofa, a light fuzzy throw over his legs, Blake rubbed his hands together, still sticky from cleaning up the wine mess.
Whatever possessed Candy to drop by the one night he wished her on another planet? Sure, they’d had some fun times, and he’d let her in last week on one of the very few nights he’d stayed home to watch a game on TV.
They’d made out, had pizza delivered and gotten drunk from too much wine. But he’d made it clear; this wasn’t to be a habit… just a one-time fling.
Hopefully, after the little session they’d had tonight where he’d told her that the one woman he’d ever truly loved was back in his life, and he meant to work at building a relationship with this ex-fiancee, she’d play-acted a few tears, wished him luck, and reminded him she only lived three doors down if things didn’t work out.
All in all, she’d been a pretty good sport up until she left with the parting quip, “I expect a replacement for my bottle of wine. That shit cost me big bucks, Blake honey.”
“Sure, Candy. I’ll get it to you tomorrow. Thanks for understanding.”
“Hell, dude, I just hope she’s good enough for you. Seems to me she has a helluva long stick up her ass and a pissy attitude, too. But… if she’s who you want, and there’s no making sense of some guys’ choices, then good luck.”
Funny thing was – the real Charlotte, whose nickname had also been Charli, he’d known back in college had the same pissy attitude and had ignored him for the first few months of the semester. He’d had the hots for her, but whenever he’d approach, she’d give him a disdainful look, like he wasn’t good enough for her to wipe her feet on.
Later he’d found out she had a boyfriend back home and was faithful to the promises she made to others.
Her boyfriend… not so much. After the Christmas vacation when she’d caught him playing around on her, she’d come back ready and willing to be friends with Blake. Good friends.
One thing she’d insisted on that surprised the hell outta him, she wanted to keep their affair a secret. “Are you ashamed of me?” He’d asked her, teasing, yet kind of serious, swallowing his hurt feelings.
She’d giggled in the cute way she had that made his heart trip all over itself and hugged him, “Are you kidding me? I’d be the envy of most of the girls who’re making fools of themselves to get your attention. No, I’m not ashamed; just don’t want to get caught up with those party animals you hang around with. I need to focus on my studies, okay?”
Who knows, maybe that ploy worked in her favor? Secrecy added spice and he’d fallen hard; even hit the point where he’d begun begging her to let him tell the world – “Charlotte Anglo’s my girl.” It wasn’t allowed.
Okay, he’d admit the lying and sneaking had added an element of excitement to their fling, so much so that he’d fallen hard. Excited yet nervous, dressed in his best during one of their last dates before graduation, at a restaurant that would cost him a week’s wage, bearing his heart in a small, silver-wrapped box sporting a fluffy, pink satin bow, he’d given her an engagement ring.
Her hesitation shocked him. “What are you doing?” Stunned, she’d whipped her hands behind her back and shook her head.
“I want us to get married. I figured we’d get hitched after our finals next month. I thought you’d be happy.” By her actions, it was pretty fucking clear to him, she wasn’t.
Not knowing how to handle rejection, his heart broken, he’d tried to be the good guy, the understanding mate. So, he’d told her to keep his ring, take it with her when she went home for the Memorial weekend. Then, when she’d made up her mind, start wearing it.
Full of expectations that she would be showing it off the next time he saw her, especially after the passion they’d shared that night, the shock hit him hard. Not onlywasn’tshe wearing his ring, she wore another’s instead.
Seems his loving gift, the diamond he’d sweated and saved for over long months of working every job he could fit between his few hours a week with her and his classes, had pushed her old boyfriend into growing a pair.
The cheating bastard had apologized for his past behavior, promised fidelity and… gave her a solitaire too. Not one to brag, but it that made Blake’s look like the Krupp Diamond.
He’d learned well from that event. The so-called weaker sex – which was pure fallacy – could not be understood and never trusted. He should have known as soon as he’d seen the color of her hair. Carrot red and frizzy, like his mom, the nasty control freak his dad had put up with until he and his two siblings had left home, and the old man right behind them.
From then on, Blake disliked and distrusted red-headed women; stayed as far away from them as possible. Something about their mean temperament and cheating ways brought back bad memories.
He flipped his covers off and wriggled to find comfort. Just thinking about his mother made him twitchy, uncomfortable… with the urge to reach for the closest bottle. She’d been a real piece of work. Crabby on her good days and unbearable when she wasn’t feeling good, which happened more often than not.
He’d left home at sixteen and never looked back, other than to connect with his brothers every so often and get the lowdown on his dad who lived alone in a trailer park somewhere in Florida. Old bastard deserved a decent retirement, peace and quiet from the harping and a few bucks in his pocket that he’d never had while living with her.
Those early traumatizing lessons had given him an insight into the twisted labyrinth of the minds of God’s creation called Woman, and he’d never made the mistake of trying to get close to one of the strange creatures again.
Keeping his heart protected, he’d fooled around with them sure, but made his rules clear from the start. He’d give them as much enjoyment as he’d take. If the ladies offered, and they did a lot of offering, well what kind of a fool would turn them down? No male on the planet would blame him and very few women would either.
Very early on, he’d gotten a glimpse of the reality women live with, the almighty clinging to their youth; heaven forbid a wrinkle should appear, a rogue hair on a chin, or even worse – a pimple.OMG!!As the years passed, he’d noticed their penchant for clutching at their youthfulness with an increased desperation and that floored him.
Sure, men can be equally careful about their bodies. Watch their weight, some even have hair fetishes and go crazy on products that promise miracles. But in his experience, females were hands down bat-shit-crazy in their quest to stop the inevitable.
Strangely, Charli seemed not to care. He’d seen the way she controlled her curly hair with combs at the side or even bobby pins, like he’d seen his mom use back in the day. Not that it looked bad on Charli. Hell, quite the opposite. Her soft curls were bouncy and attractive.
