Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(62)

“Oh. Before I forget . . .” I heard a chair scrape against the floor, the rustle of fabric before she continued the thought. “I meant to tell you when we were unloading the boxes earlier, I put the rye behind the bar. Louis said we were running short. Is it okay for the liquor to be exposed to such high heat?”

Finally, a safe subject. “The hard stuff should be fine for the short term, and the wine is all in the fridge. But Louis? Our new bartender? How would Louis know what we’re running low on?”

“This morning, when you didn’t arrive after I gave him the tour, I told him to do an inventory of the stock up here.” Charlotte sounded like she stood directly in front of me and I fought the temptation to sneak a peek. “He made a list of what was low and I put the list on your desk after I looked it over.”

I grinned at her thoughtfulness and cleverness. “Thank you, Charlotte. That’s very, very helpful.”

“You’re welcome, Hank. But you know—” She paused again and I waited, the beat of my heart urging me to open my eyes. Anticipation caused a little death of my self-control every time I inhaled the smothering atmosphere. “If you really wanted to thank me,” she finally said, her tone teasing, “you’d tell me if you plan to offer that job to Hannah. And if you really wanted to thank me, you’d offer her the job today. You can open your eyes now.”

Blinking, I found her wearing my cotton button-down shirt and—as I’d suspected—standing directly in front of me. My chest tightened. She hadn’t buttoned it fully. Compelled by the sight, I shuffled forward, officially jealous of my shirt. Charlotte had crossed her arms. This drew my attention to the swell of her breasts, the too-small triangles of her black bikini just visible in the open collar.

I felt my grin stretch. Hannah must not have told or thanked Charlotte earlier before their water fight. Interesting.

“Hmm. How else can I express my gratitude?” I asked, wanting to tease her back.

“Hurry the hell up and make up your pretty little mind about Hannah so I can get someone trained.”

My feet carried me an inch closer, my attention affixed to her mouth. She had a great mouth. “Little mind?”

“No. Pretty little mind. Don’t forget the pretty. It’s so pretty.”

I noted how several strands of her hair had sprung free from her long ponytail and pasted themselves to her neck.

“That a compliment or an insult?” I asked, taking a long look at her bare legs.

“Why can’t it be both?” Smiling, she leaned closer, intercepting my gaze and filling my vision, so close.

Fire in my lungs, I spoke nonsense, not considering my words. “You wound me, Charlotte. And here I thought you respected me.”

“I do. Mostly,” she said on a laugh. God, she was so beautiful, especially when she laughed. And I loved her laugh, how easily she laughed, how funny she was, kind, sweet. Not two feet separated us now. She was the only thing I saw.

“Mostly?” I said, just above a whisper.

Charlotte’s always-assessing eyes seemed to darken, dance, her voice mimicking mine: low, intimate. “When you offer Hannah the job, you’ll have my full respect.”

“And what, precisely, does your full respect get me?” I truly wanted to know.

She cocked her head to the side, her gaze sliding to my lips. My heart kicked up.

“Well,” she whispered. “What do you want?”

I bit my tongue to keep from answering, the words on the tip of my tongue too honest. Halting the momentum of our effortless but dangerous banter felt like walking into a wall, and looking down at her wearing my shirt, at the hazy look in her eyes, the urge to close the distance between us was almost unbearable.

Did she feel it, too? She had to, right? This thing—this distraction and preoccupation, this pull—it couldn’t be one-sided, could it?

“Charlotte—” I licked my lips.

Her eyes remained fastened to my mouth as she breathed out, “Yes?”

I struggled to swallow. I hated this. I wasn’t used to it, this indecision, the second-guessing.

What were we? I wasn’t her boss, not really. She could leave whenever she wanted. By her own admission, she only gave me two weeks’ notice because she wanted to stay and help, not because she needed to. She wasn’t my employee. We weren’t colleagues. We were barely friends. Acquaintances, certainly. An acquaintance I admired, and respected, and desired, but what did that—

“Fuck it.” I grabbed her arms and tugged her close, silencing her startled gasp with a kiss.





CHAPTER 16





HANK





“So she thoroughly taught him that one cannot take pleasure without giving pleasure, and that every gesture, every caress, every touch, every glance, every last bit of the body has its secret, which brings happiness to the person who knows how to wake it.”

HERMANN HESSE, SIDDHARTHA





Her surprise yielded, quickly becoming unconditional surrender, and she sighed against my mouth, her body melting. But her hands were grasping, greedy, her nails digging aggressively into my sides. I rewarded her fervor by grabbing two handfuls of her backside and giving the generous globes an enthusiastic, lascivious squeeze.

Who the hell am I kidding? It was a reward for me, and she felt fantastic.