With a heavy heart, she looked away. She’d finish her coffee, go back to her hotel to pack, and forget about Derek West and dreams that were never meant to be.
“Thought that was you.”
The deep, rumbling voice sent her pulse into a tailspin. Putting on the fake smile she'd become so accustomed to wearing, Charlotte turned her head and looked up at him.
“Hello, Derek.”
Dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a black t-shirt, he looked even better than he had last night. The shirt stretched tightly over his strong biceps, shoulders, and chest, but became loose around his taut, narrow waist.
He gestured toward the empty chair across from her. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Resting her forearms on the table, Charlotte clenched her hands together in a nervous fist. She should’ve left when she had the chance.
No, you never should have come here in the first place.
“I see you found my card.” He nodded to where it lay on the table then gave her the same, goofy grin she remembered so fondly. “Pretty slick, wasn't I?”
“Yeah,” she smiled back, unsure of what else she should say.
“I have to admit I'm surprised to see you here. Caleb made it sound like you wouldn't have time to meet up today.”
Charlotte swallowed. These days, just the sound of her husband's name made her nauseated. “Mrs. Hamlin, the woman I was supposed to have brunch with, called this morning. She’d gotten a migraine and had to cancel.”
“I see. So, why didn't you come up when you first got here?”
He saw me?“What do you mean?”
“I was in our office's reception area and saw you standing on the sidewalk. Why didn't you come on up?”
“Oh,” she tried to smile, hating that he’d been staring at her while she'd been fighting an internal battle of the wills. “I-I figured you were busy and didn't want to bother you.”
Derek reached across the table and covered her hands with one of his. “You could never bother me, darlin'.”
Just like last night, his touch and the sweet term of endearment were like sharp claws ripping into what was left of Charlotte's heart. Add in those sapphire eyes and that sweet, southern smile, and the circle of torture was complete.
Clearing her throat, Charlotte pulled away from his grasp and politely asked, “Would you like some coffee? My treat.”
Looking a bit surprised by her standoffishness, Derek recovered quickly. Scrunching his slightly-crooked nose, he shook his head. “I'll drink coffee if I have to, but to be honest, I’m not a big fan.”
She hesitated a few seconds before asking, “Still prefer sweet tea, I suppose?”
A genuine smile lit up his eyes. “You remembered.”
Charlotte balked. “How could I forget? You used to walk around with a jug of the stuff in your hand.” She laughed, the unfamiliar sound nearly catching her off guard. “Do you remember that one summer when Eric kept hiding it from you?”
“Hell, yeah, I do.” Derek’s smile grew. “He'd wait until I went to sleep, then steal it. I'd wake up the next mornin' and my jug would be gone. Didn't seem to matter where I hid it, the fu”—he cut himself off—“the jerk would always find my hidin' spots.”
His self-censorship made her grin. “Eric always was good at solving mysteries.” Charlotte took a sip of her cooling coffee. “Speaking of your brother, what's he up to now?”
One corner of Derek’s lips curled up. “He's a detective with the DPD.”
“Really?” Putting a hand to her chest, she laughed again. The feeling still so foreign, but wonderful.
“Yes, ma'am. He's even got the badge to prove it.”
As they continued to talk and reminisce, Charlie found herself feeling more relaxed than she had in years.
