I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(49)

“I just hadn’t realized you were so involved.”

The breath of silence ran like a thin thread between us, pulling taut. “I’m the president of the nonprofit.”

“Yeah, but I hadn’t realized it was . . .”

He watched me closely, and I swallowed. “Realized it was . . .?”

“I don’t know,” I hedged. “I just didn’t realize you took it so seriously. I thought maybe it was a family thing and you just stepped into the role and let other people run things for you.”

Liam’s eyebrows rose, his back straightening and the thread snapping. The motion was slight, but the effect it had on him was profound. He cleared his throat lightly. ‘“Like a bored, rich trust-fund baby who needed something to do with his time?”

“Not like that, exactly,” I said, trying to backtrack. That was exactly what I’d thought, and my cheeks burned to be called out for my ignorance. Trust-fund kids equated to lazy snobs in my head, but I hadn’t known anyone to break that stereotype for me. Or maybe my flaw was allowing the media to create that stereotype in the first place.

“I guess helping the kids is more important to me than being recognized for my work.” He narrowed his sparkling eyes, leaning closer on the sofa. “Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

He smirked, but his eyes held a playful edge that made me let out my pent-up breath. “I think you watch too much TV.”

I glanced at the screen on a reflex. I probably did watch too much TV—he had me there. Maybe I’d spent too many hours binge-watching shows about rich city kids and was now imagining where Liam fell in their ranks. My cheeks grew warm. “That might be true, but you did admit to having a trust fund.”

“Yes,” he conceded. “But my work with Teaching United is all organic. I started the nonprofit with a distinct goal, and it’s grown over the last eight years to a level I never would have comprehended.”

“A level where movie stars attend your charity balls?”

“I think they all flew up here for the wineries, and my charity ball was just some good publicity,” he said wryly.

“But how did—”

Liam reached forward, circling my wrist and tugging it down. “I think it’s my turn. You’ve asked a couple now.”

“Fine.” I grinned, unable to tear my mind from his skin on mine where he held my wrist on the sofa cushion between us.

“Why did you choose to go to school for art?”

That wasn’t too bad. I thought for sure he’d ask why I stopped painting, and that wasn’t something I could answer. I didn’t really know why myself. His hand still circled my wrist, his thumb drawing absent circles on the soft underside and completely distracting me. What was the question again? Oh, right. Why did I get an art degree?

“I’ve always loved drawing and painting. I obsessed over it for a few years, and when I went to college, it wasn’t really a question. There was nothing else I wanted to do.”

“But now you’re a banker?”

“I’m the assistant branch manager of a bank,” I corrected. “That might be asking another question when really it’s my turn.”

His phone beeped, and he slid it from his pocket, shooting me an amused smile before reading the text that came in. I watched his face transition from entertained to concerned, and my stomach clenched.

“I have to go,” he said. “It’s Spike.”

“Was he hit by another car?” I squeezed my eyes closed. “Sorry, bad joke.”

“No, he’s fine. He just wanted to know what’s for dinner. I guess he’s home, and I should be there too.”

Liam didn’t release my wrist. He didn’t stand up. He held my gaze, and I found my breath coming in quicker spurts. I didn’t want him to release me, to stand, and it felt like he agreed with the sentiment. Was this the start of something? Did I want it to be the start of something? I mean, the man’s last serious girlfriend was a world-famous movie star, and I could never compare to her.

So why bother?

I pulled my hand from his grip, glancing to the bare sofa cushion between us. “It’s kind of late for dinner,” I joked.

The silence stretched a beat too long before Liam sighed, standing. “It’s probably his second dinner. Teenage boys seem to never stop eating.”

I rose, coming to stand directly in front of him, considerably closer than I’d intended. But I couldn’t move back now without being obvious. “I thought all men just never stopped eating.”

Liam chuckled. “We need the sustenance. I’ll probably run through a drive-through for Spike and grab myself something too.” He lowered his voice. “And I have no shame.”

“Good. Own it.”

Liam grinned down at me. Our bodies were so close I could just lean in and we’d be touching, and I wanted to. But I needed to be strong and protect myself. I didn’t want to let myself fall for this guy and believe he was real, just for him to up and move to Southern California with Spike for college or realize one day that I was nothing like Naomi Price.

I stepped back, and disappointment flashed across Liam’s face. Or maybe I’d just imagined that—wishful thinking.

“I guess I’ll see you around.”