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I turned and looked at him. He was leaning against a stupid Range Rover that was probably worth more than my existence. It looked brand new, and I’d bet money he didn’t drive that thing around the city.
His arms were crossed as he stared at me, a ridiculous, cocky smirk on his annoying face. The only thing an expression like that should do was make me dislike him, but weirdly, it made me want to smile. My reaction to him was confusing, to say the least, so much so that I banged my forehead against the steering wheel a few times, hoping to knock some sense into myself.
When I looked at him again, he was laughing. He did that so easily. Most people did, but it felt even freer when it came from Charles, and damned if part of me didn’t wish he could teach me how, give me some of what he had so I wasn’t so…me. How much different would my life be if I were more like him? I probably wouldn’t have loved Nadine for so long, wouldn’t have put complicating thoughts into her head before she died. I probably would have been a better uncle for Sutton too.
I rolled down the window, mentally screaming at myself the whole time.
Charles got the hint, pushed off his vehicle, and walked over.
“You play piano?” I asked because it was the only thing I could think to say.
“Yeah. I have a small digital piano. Funny thing is, with the back seats down, it fits perfectly in my SUV.”
It was weird how he knew I wouldn’t go to his place—somehow, I knew he did.
“I guess it can’t hurt to play some music…have a beer and grill some food, if you want.” The cockiness in the quirk of his lips grew. “Don’t say a word.” Again, somehow I knew he wanted to, that he would give me shit and call me out on wanting to spend time with him. This was so foreign for me. I couldn’t work through it, and honestly, didn’t want to try.
“What’s your phone number?” Charles asked, pulling his cell out. I grabbed mine. The screen was cracked, but I hadn’t made the time to get it fixed. The thing was six years old, but it held up, so why stress about it too much?
I muttered the number, and immediately got a text.
“Send me your address.”
“Okay.”
“Now, Brian, before I walk away. If I leave before I get it, I don’t trust you not to change your mind.”
I groaned, pushing the hat off my head and running my hand through my hair. I texted him the info.
“Great. I’ll head home and grab the piano and meet you at your place. Do you need me to grab anything from the store? I can bring wine or—”
“If that’s what you want to drink, you can bring it, but it ain’t what I drink.”
He rolled his eyes. “Too macho for that?”
“Nope. Just think it tastes like shit.”
Charles laughed. “That’s fair.”
“You don’t have to bring nothin’ except the piano. Bring that.”
“Okay.” There was a glint of what looked like excitement in Charles’s brown eyes. He was the most perplexing man I’d ever met. “See you soon.”
“I think you’re expectin’ this to be more fun than it is. You’re gonna be disappointed.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” With a quick flash of a smile, Charles walked away.
I didn’t know why, but I sat there, watching him go.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charles
I hurried back to the house I’d rented on Cherry Plum Lane. It was outside of town, a newer three-bedroom ranch on half an acre of land.
Unexpected bubbles of excitement floated around in my gut. This was what I’d been hoping would happen, though I never thought it would happen quite so easily. Maybe Brian wanted a friend more than he let on or even knew. Or hell, maybe I’d just gotten lucky. What came as an equally big surprise was how much I was looking forward to it. I hadn’t played music with anyone since I was in college. I used to do open-mic nights and things like that with a few friends. I hadn’t thought about that in years. Honestly, I hadn’t realized I missed it. Now that I thought about going to play with Brian, it opened a door inside me I’d apparently locked down.
I jumped in the shower quickly, then changed into another pair of jeans and a short-sleeved button-up shirt. I got the piano into the back of my SUV, skipped the wine because clearly that wasn’t his thing, and tried to decide what else I could bring. My parents taught us never to go to someone’s house empty-handed, at least not the first time.
I had some cookies. That felt ridiculous, but then I remembered the stand on the side of the road where a woman was selling bundles of flowers. That would have to do.
