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“Sounds good.”
Sam and Grey excused themselves to stow the equipment, leaving Charity to glare at Miles, who was still giving her a leisurely once over.
“This is going to be uncomfortable,” Charity pointed out, from between gritted teeth and that drew his wandering gaze up to her face.
“Why do you say that?”
“Miles, I’m your housekeeper. I shouldn’t be having dinner with you and your peers.”
“Well,” he said, shoving his balled fists into his trouser pockets, ruining the cut of the well-fitted slacks. “That’s some medieval bullshit right there. Stop being such a snob.”
“But this is really weird, they know I work for you.”
“Technically, Brand works for me too,” he said, with frustrating male logic.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Brand and Lia are your friends, I’m the interloper.”
“Oh my God, that’s so untrue. I barely know her.” Charity moved until her body was brushing against his and breathed the urgent whisper directly into his ear. Brand was returning, and she didn’t want him to hear her words.
She instantly regretted the move, when Miles hooked his arm around her waist to keep her in position. He turned his head until his mouth was right beside her ear, and his whispered response feathered against her sensitive skin and ruffled the fine hairs at her temple. “Well, then it’s high time you get to know her.”
“Why?” she fired back indignantly.
“Why not?” This time the infuriating practicality left her mute. Because she honestly had no answer to that question.
He grinned and planted a quick kiss on her nose before relinquishing his hold on her waist.
“We’re in this together, you know how awful I am with people.” He kept saying that, but Charity had thus far seen little evidence of his so-called ineptitude with people. “And I’m counting on you to stop me from making an arse of myself.”
Charity sighed huffily and pasted a smile on her face, mentally preparing herself for a long evening of painful small talk.
“I’m so happy that you decided to join us for dinner tonight, Charity,” Lia said, her sincerity evident in the warmth of her voice. The women were in the kitchen preparing some salads to accompany the barbecued meat that the men were grilling on the patio. A task that Charity did not envy in the icy temperatures. The kindergarten teacher was still in her yoga gear, her dark hair up in a high ponytail. It made Charity—in her sweats and with her hair tied back in a messy bun—feel less gross.
“Thank you for the invitation. I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience,” she murmured politely, and Lia smiled brightly.
“Are you joking? Myself and a few others have been wanting to invite you to hang out for absolute ages, but Sam advised us to back off because you’re shy and he suggested easing you in to the idea first. I didn’t think his idea of ‘easing’ you into it would take literal years.”
“I may have been a little reclusive.” Charity was pleasantly blown away by the knowledge that Sam Brand had kept the over eager citizens of Riversend—including his own fiancée—at bay. It confirmed the suspicion that he was more aware of Charity’s background than she had wanted anyone to be.
Lia handed her a cucumber and knife. “Slice this, will you? There’s nothing wrong with keeping to yourself, but if you want a friend, or friends, there are so many of us who would love to get to know you.”
“I know.” Charity shot the other woman a quick smile, before refocusing on her assigned task. “I’m not really shy. But Sam was right to a certain extent…I wasn’t ready to be around people.”
Lia pursed her lips as she considered Charity’s words and then nodded.
“Fair enough. And do you think you’re ready now?”
“Maybe.” For some reason, despite there being absolutely no pressure or judgment from the other woman, or perhaps because of it, she felt compelled to explain herself more. “My husband died a couple of weeks before I moved here three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” The words were out before she could stop them. But the ones that followed were voluntarily offered. “He wasn’t a good man. And I didn’t want to watch my family mourn him.”
It was getting easier to admit that. Lia nodded again.
“I’m sorry that was intense, wasn’t it?” Charity said with a grimace, and the other woman squeezed her forearm reassuringly.
“I get it. I was engaged to a complete a-hole a few years ago. Possibly a different kind of jerk to your husband, but he wasn’t a good man either.”
The lack of probing questions and the unflinching acceptance of Charity’s claim that her husband had been a bad man was humbling to say the least, and strengthened her resolve to tell her family of everything she had endured at Blaine’s hands. If a complete stranger could be so accepting of her truth, then she owed the same opportunity to the people who loved her.
