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“If I could afford it, I’d take you up on that,” she said with a wry smile.
Right. No paycheck for a month. I’d need to have a chat with the estate attorney, because something like that shouldn’t have slipped through the cracks.
I reached for my wallet and quickly counted out some of the cash I had with me. “I don’t know exactly how much you’re owed at this point,” I said. “But this is a start. I’ll go to the bank from here and figure out how to pay you from the estate.”
When I tossed the small stack of hundreds on the table, I expected her to grab it immediately. Instead, Charlotte was studying my face.
I met her gaze unflinchingly. And even though I didn’t want to, I wondered what she saw staring back at her. If she hated me, I wouldn’t be surprised.
More than that, I probably deserved it.
My chin rose a notch. “You gonna conduct all our business in handcuffs?”
“I sincerely hope not.”
I eyed her mass of hair. “Do you have a bobby pin?”
“Oh! Yes.” She reached up, digging into the root of her ponytail.
Our fingers brushed when she handed me the small piece of metal, and I ignored the quick pulse of electricity from that tiny touch. Charlotte watched quietly as I plucked the plastic cap off the end and twisted the pin into the correct angle.
“May I?” I asked, holding my hand open.
Her throat worked on a swallow before she placed her upturned hand in mine.
Charlotte’s hand was so much smaller than my own, her skin cool and smooth under my calloused palm.
Neither of us spoke while I pushed the bent pin into the keyholes on the handcuffs. It felt far too intimate for something that should’ve been funny. Something that should’ve been ridiculous. Especially after how we’d faced off across the table for the last thirty minutes.
Instead, I couldn’t help but think about what she’d said. It was symbolic.
I was stuck with her, and she with me, at least for a while.
On the fair skin of her arm, there were red marks from the handcuffs, and I did my best to ignore them. Just like I ignored the delicate map of blue veins along her wrist.
Charlotte sucked in a breath when I turned the pin into the correct position, on the first and then the second, and the telltale click when she was free had our eyes locking together. The handcuffs opened, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled her hands closer, rubbing at the skin of her wrists.
“That’s a very handy skill,” she said.
I dangled the cuffs off my fingertip. “Want these back?”
Delicately, she cleared her throat. “I suppose.”
Once I’d dropped them into her waiting hands, we lapsed into silence again.
I could tell by the look on her face that she was going to offer the tour, even though she damn well knew I wasn’t going to say yes. Because she was nicer than me. And she was going to try harder to make this work. So I stood from the table with my teeth locked tight together. My knee was screaming at me.
Or maybe it was my conscience screaming because I was still acting like a dick.
Her eyes tracked my movements. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
“Try to find your phone,” I instructed. “And text me if you need anything.”
Charlotte stood as well, blowing out a slow breath. “You got it, boss.”
I cocked an eyebrow, and she met my look evenly.
Instead of offering a polite goodbye or a promise of when I’d return, I strode past Charlotte Cunningham and left.
