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Unabashed, her eyes check me out from head to toe. Backing away, closer to her door, she says, “Maybe I am drunk. Good night, Charlie.”
That’s odd. I’ve never caught her eyeing me so blatantly. “Good night.”
As she swings the door open wider than necessary, I hear her mumble, “Very skillful indeed.”
She’s going to be the death of me if I’m not careful, but her mumbling and how exposed we were with each other tonight makes me think she’s in just as deep.
Finally.
Chapter 22
Charlie B
Admiring the neighborhood and brownstones, I smile while walking to Charlie’s apartment after work. I like coming over here. We don’t spend much time here, because we both prefer my large comfy couch, but today he called and said he was making me dinner.
When I open the door into his renovated building, I almost trample an older lady. “Oops, I’m sorry. Please excuse me.”
“No worries, dear.”
I start up the stairs, opting to skip the small elevator, but stop when she asks, “You’re Charlie’s girl, right?”
Huh? Interesting question. Turning around, I say, “I’m not sure. We’re friends, though.”
She gives me a warm smile. “Your name is the same as his, right? Charlie?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I reply, smiling for so many reasons, the main one being that Charlie has talked about me. “Please forgive me. I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Charlie’s neighbor, Mrs. Lackey, but you can call me Veronica.”
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Veronica.”
“You, too. I’ve tried to get a few juicy details regarding you out of Charlie, but the boy doesn’t kiss and tell.” She scoffs, snapping her fingers like she’s out of luck.
That’s funny, so I laugh. “Maybe that’s because we don’t kiss, so there’s nothing to tell.”
“No kissing?” She sighs. “I miss kissing. My Johnny was a great kisser.”
“Kissing is very romantic. Was Johnny your—”
“My husband of fifty-three years. He left me too soon, but I know he watches over me now.”
“He sounds wonderful,” I say, moving closer to the wall so I’m out of the way of the door.
“Why don’t you and Charlie kiss?”
She’s not shy, that’s for sure. “We’re friends, not dating.”
Her expression is surprised, which means Charlie didn’t explain all the details regarding our relationship to her. I’m curious how he explained “us” to her. I have a feeling he’ll get out of delving into this matter, so I decide to invite her to join us. Plus, I like her moxie.
“You know, I’m heading upstairs to dinner with him. I’d really like if you joined us. I know Charlie would enjoy that, too.”
She waves me off. “No, no. You two lovebirds need your time alone. I don’t want to impose. I’m going out for my evening walk before that August heat wave hits us.”
“It’s no imposition at all. If you change your mind, you know where he lives.”
“Thank you. Go off now and have fun, and kiss that hunk of yours. It doesn’t have to be all about the sex these days. Sometimes pleasure can be found in the simplest ways. Goodbye now.”
“Oh, we don’t hav—” The door swings closed before I can clarify that Charlie and I are just friends, friends without benefits. Well, at least none of those types of benefits.
I head upstairs, knock on his door, and wait. He never keeps me waiting long, and the door swings open. I walk past him and say, “I just had the most interesting conversation with Veronica from next door.”
He takes my purse from me and sets it down on the bar as I pull off my work jacket. “Who’s Veronica?”
I look at him astounded. Veronica knew about our sex life. Well, kind of, so I assumed they were close enough for him to know her first name. “Veronica. Mrs. Lackey?”
“Mrs. Lackey’s name is Veronica? That’s all kinds of sexy.”
I tilt my head, annoyed. “I’m gonna pretend you did not just say that. Anyway, how is Veronica sexier than Charlie?”
He laughs and sets a glass of iced tea in front of me. “No name is sexier than Charlie. Just saying.”
Now that cracks me up. “I sort of set you up for that one.”
“In more ways than one.”
“What are you cooking me tonight?” I ask, being nosy and heading into the kitchen. “It smells amazing.”
“I roasted a chicken.”
“Really? You know how to do that?”
He looks at me funny. “I know some cooking basics. Do you cook or stick primarily to baking?”
“I don’t burn toast and I know how to make scrambled eggs, but I’m a baker.”
He hip bumps me out from in front of the oven. “We’d make a killer cooking team. I can cook and you can make dessert. We could eat and get fat and live—”
“Happily ever after?”
“Yeah,” he says, a smile overtaking his features. “Or something like that.”
I stretch across the counter for my glass of tea. When I turn back, I catch his eyes on my midsection, but he quickly looks away. He’s so busted! Cool air hits my exposed stomach as my shirt rises up. I pull it quickly back down and drink my tea, pretending like I didn’t just catch him eyeing my bare skin.
