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“What’d you like best?” she asked, surprised her question carried down the table over the buzz of conversation.
“Fourth one.”
Tatum leaned in again to read Charlie’s notes. The second one said creamy mouthful and hot, lingering finish. She arched her eyebrows and glanced at him. She liked a creamy mouthful and a hot, lingering finish. Just in other pursuits.
35
They looked for Sutton sometimes. But their search was half-assed and disheartening. Even with the Internet, Bill Smith in Iowa wasn’t much to go on. A White Pages search turned up over a hundred hits. According to Tatum, all she knew was his name, he was in his forties, and the fact that he’d hurt his back and wasn’t working.
Charlie asked Tatum once if she wanted to hire a private investigator. She’d reacted badly to that, gone cold and hard and spent a few hours in silence. He let her stew, assuming she would explain her reaction later. When she did, he learned that she’d done that once. Hired an investigator to find Sutton. Someone her father knew. She’d used her father’s money, and the guy had found Sutton. Living with three guys, all of them strung out on heroine. Charlie had been relieved to learn that was before Sutton had Bryony.
“I brought her home with me,” Tatum told him. “And got her into a treatment program. Used my dad’s name to get her in. She got clean. Got out. Got pregnant. And started all over again.”
Sometimes Charlie had a suspicion that Tatum didn’t want to find her sister. That she didn’t want to know how bad things might be. Because she would go through the whole process again—dragging Sutton back home, now in Long Grove, getting her into detox, helping her find a job—and then Sutton would crash again and break Tatum’s heart again.
And yet, the not knowing what was going on with Sutton was eating Tatum alive. She might claim to worry only for Bryony, but Charlie knew that was a bluff to protect herself. Hell of a situation to be in, he knew. He’d seen Pete and Vianne go through a rough patch. He’d hated to see Joy a wreck when Falk left her. But he couldn’t imagine the waiting game for Tatum, how exhausting it must be to live each day, wondering if she would get a phone call from her sister or about her sister.
His mom had taken both Everleigh and Tatum in as her own. Tatum helped at the coffee house anytime they got overwhelmed with customers. The three of them talked all the time now; he knew Tatum had told them both the whole sordid story about her childhood. It had taken her a while to confide in them; Charlie could see the hesitation in the lines around her smile and her eyes. She was scared to let herself love them, afraid they would turn their backs on her. Seeing her give her trust to his mom almost meant more to him than when she’d finally given in to him.
At least they had the wedding to look forward to. Mal’s friend Roman was like part of the family; that’s just the way his parents worked. The wedding would be a fun night for the whole family, and Charlie couldn’t wait to spend an evening dancing with Tatum.
She’d gone shopping with his mom and Everleigh and his sisters. Charlie had been happy to step back and let that happen. While he could have run to the mall and waited while she looked for a pair of jeans or something, he wasn’t sure he had the stamina for a shopping spree for a new dress and heels and purses and whatever else the girls said they needed.
Tatum had come home happy and tired, full of stories about the day. Coffee to get started. Some preliminary shopping. Lunch and mimosas for the rest of them, iced tea for Tatum. Serious shopping. Laughter. Girl talk. Tatum Pettit filled his heart and his family. He wondered what she would think if he bought her a ring. He didn’t plan to do it anytime soon. But Charlie had no doubt she was the one, and he wanted to propose.
He thought about asking Mal his intentions with Everleigh. Only because he didn’t want to step on his brother’s toes. If Mal was thinking about an engagement, Charlie wouldn’t do the same. Not for a while, anyway.
“You look incredible.” His mouth was so dry, he found it hard to swallow. Tatum stood in her open door with her arms out to her sides, showing off the pastel blue dress. Charlie didn’t know much about fashions, but this dress left her shoulders open and buttoned behind her neck, like a halter. The pale blue was perfect with her toned, tanned skin. She’d swept her long, loose curls into a loose ponytail, and when she did a little spin for him, he saw rhinestones sparkling in her hair.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I’m having second thoughts about taking you anywhere. I just wanna eat you up right here.”
She rested her hands on her hips and kicked a leg out. Charlie had sisters, so he knew that meant he was supposed to look at her shoes. The spiked heeled open-toed nude sandals were sexy as fuck, and her red toenails made his dick throb.
“Breena picked them out.”
“Well. Tell Breena they are sexy as fuck, and I can’t wait to see you naked in them.”
“You don’t wanna see the thong and the heels?”
“Sure as fuck do.” He nodded. “Right now, I wanna kiss you.”
“Nope.” She turned her head. “You’ll mess up my lipstick.”
Charlie groaned. “Okay. You’re right. We should get going.”
With a small smile, she leaned close to him and brushed her lips over his cheek.
“But can I mess up your lipstick later?”
“Of course.”
“Actually…” He narrowed his eyes at her and focused on her ruby red lips.
“What?”
“I’d kind of like to see what the color looks like on me.”
