Fall Into You (33 page)

Charli reached for the phone, the caller ID flashing
unknown number
. “Hello?”

“Ms. Beaumonde?”

“Yes, this is Charli.”

There was a long pause, and Charli thought the call had dropped, but then the man
cleared his throat. “This is Rodney Wilson. I’m sorry about the last time we met.
I’m ready to talk now. For real.”

Charli lost her ability to speak for a moment. And the first words that jumped to
her lips were
holy shit
, but luckily she managed to choke those down. She gripped the bedpost, the reporter
inside her jumping up and twirling. “On the record?”

“Yes. This whole thing is getting out of hand and needs to stop. They’re trying to
buy my silence now. I’ve sent my wife and kids to stay with her family for a few weeks.
These assholes need to be outed. I can name names for you and give you some documents
that may help.”

“Pick the time and place. I’ll be there,” she said, searching the drawer in the bedside
table for a pen.

“How about tomorrow morning around eight? You know where the Southern Pancake Hut
is?”

“Yep. Perfect.” She jotted down the time and place on the back of a napkin. “Thanks
so much, Rodney.”

“And, Ms. Beaumonde, watch your back. There are lots of powerful people who have their
hands in this.”

The warning sent a dart of anxiety down her spine, but not enough to outweigh the
excitement of knowing she was finally going to get the truth and break this story.
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”

She ended the call and did a little spin for real this time, her
dress swirling around her. This was it. Not only would she be able to expose some
nasty cheaters, but she’d prove that she was capable of handling a big story.

With a smile on her face, she hurried to the bathroom to finish getting ready. A few
days and she’d be able to go back to her normal life. No more worrying about someone
trying to hurt her. No more hiding out.

And no more Grant.

Her smile faltered in the mirror.

Grant stared down at the scalloped-edge invitation he’d discovered in his mailbox.
He read the words again, each sentence settling in his gut like heavy boulders.

Georgia Eleanor Waters and Barry Sparks request your presence at their wedding…

Grant sank onto one of his barstools, the combating emotions too much to process standing
up. His mom was getting married again? To someone who wasn’t his father. The notion
seemed too preposterous to even comprehend.

And who the fuck was this Barry guy?

Did he treat his mother well? Did he make her happy? Did he have a job or was he just
after the family’s fortune?

You wouldn’t know, asshole,
his conscience whispered at him.
You never go home.

Grant’s front door swung open, banging the wall and startling him from his thoughts.
“What the hell?”

Charli burst through the doorway like a cyclone, all smiles and flushed cheeks. “Oops,
sorry, the wind took the door right from my hand.”

She pranced inside and pushed the door closed behind her, her red mane whipping around
in one final gust. She spun back around, a wide grin still on her face.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. The outfit he’d chosen for her looked even better hugging
her body than he’d imagined. And knowing what she had on underneath had him almost
forgetting what he was so upset about a moment before. He glanced at the clock over
the fireplace. “You’re early, freckles.”

“I know,” she said, a bit breathless. “But I couldn’t wait to tell you my good news.”

“Oh?”

“The guy I tried to get information from that day someone broke into the car is now
ready to talk—on the record. He said he can name names in the cheating scandal.” The
words spilled out of her like a river overflowing its banks as she made her way across
the living room toward the kitchen. “He’s going to meet with me tomorrow morning.
Isn’t that great? I’m going to get my story.”

Her excitement was contagious, and Grant couldn’t help but return her smile. He tossed
the invitation and accompanying note onto the counter and pulled her close when she
reached him, caging her between his thighs. “That’s awesome, darlin’. Congratulations.”

Without warning, she wrapped her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug, almost knocking
him off the stool. He closed his eyes, absorbing the scent of her shampoo and the
feel of her body against his, a thread of regret knitting through him. If she landed
her story, this would be one of the last nights she’d be here with him.

She pulled back from the hug but remained standing between his knees. “So I thought
maybe tonight, I should stay at my house instead of coming back here. I have to meet
him early, and it doesn’t make sense to come all the way back out this way.”

Grant frowned. “I’m not leaving you unprotected, Charlotte. Even for one night.”

The little shiver she gave at the use of her full name, her sub name, brought Grant
more pleasure than it should’ve. She shrugged. “So stay there with me.”

The suggestion was a simple one on its surface, but the idea of sleeping next to her
in her own house had tension gathering in his shoulders. He didn’t sleep with anyone.
And his nightmares wouldn’t care if he was alone or otherwise. They’d come anyway.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tightness. There was always
the couch, and he could pull an all-nighter, keeping guard. God knows he’d pulled
enough of them in his military career.

“All right, we’ll stay at your place.” He slid his palms along her waist, then over
the curve of her ass. “Hope your neighbors aren’t too close. Having you on my arm
all night, looking this edible, is going to have me ready to get you screaming the
minute we’re alone.”

Her nipples hardened behind the soft material of her dress, her body instantly responding
to his suggestions. She poked his chest. “Hey, you said this was going to be a normal
date. Strictly business.”

“What? Vanilla people have sex after dates, too,” he teased. “Just with less…bells
and whistles. Or ropes and violence, as the case may be. Poor bastards.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“So I’ve been told, but we’ll see how the night goes.” He stood, pulling her fully
against him, letting her feel how hard he was for her already. “And we’ll see if I
give good enough date to be asked in for a nightcap.”

“Cocky cowboy.” But the desire in her eyes belied her flippant response.

Reluctantly, he released her. “I need to get changed and pack an overnight back. Feel
free to pour yourself a glass of wine. I shouldn’t be long.”

Before he realized what he was doing, he leaned over and kissed her on the corner
of her mouth. Just a quick I’ll-see-you-in-a-minute peck, but it was the kind of comfortable
kiss lovers share when they’ve been together forever.

He froze for a second afterward, and Charli blinked at him, obviously surprised.

“Wineglasses are in the cabinet above the sink,” he said gruffly, trying to cover
his own shock, then turned on his heel and headed toward his bedroom.

Maybe it was for the best that Charli was about to walk out of his life. He liked
his world steady and solid beneath his feet. And right now he was balancing on goddamned
Jell-O.

Charli fiddled with one of her bracelets as Grant drove along the two-lane highway.
They’d made small talk about her story for a few minutes, but as dusk had settled
in around them, cocooning the truck’s cab in hazy blue-and-orange light, Grant had
gone silent. Clearly, that little peck he’d given her had sent him retreating into
his cave.

She shifted in her seat, the quiet becoming suffocating. It was a long ride into the
city. Broody silence was only going to make her more nervous about the event tonight.
She scrounged her mind for some neutral topic. “So who’s getting married?”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “What are you talking about?”

“You had an invitation on your kitchen counter. I didn’t read it, but I could tell
what it was for.”

That little muscle in his jaw twitched. “My mother, apparently.”

“Oh,” she said, sensing that she’d picked anything but a safe topic. “I didn’t realize
your parents weren’t together.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten.
“My dad passed away a few years back.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, knowing that was the pat response, but truly meaning it. Losing
her father had been one of the hardest things she’d ever faced. She still had trouble
thinking about him without getting teary. “Were you close?”

“Very. Talked every day until…well, until I lost my wife. I went into the army after
that and didn’t really want to talk to anyone,” he said, regret tingeing his voice.
“He died after I joined the CIA. My family owns a dairy farm, and Dad always insisted
on being hands-on. He had a heart attack while checking on the herd one morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again, wanting to reach out and give his hand a squeeze but
sensing the sympathy wouldn’t be welcome. “I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”

He shrugged, though the move seemed stiff. “It is what it is. The truth is, I should’ve
been there. I should’ve been home running the farm so he could retire. But I was too
caught up in my own shit to take on the responsibility.”

She frowned. “You were serving our country. That isn’t exactly shirking responsibility.”

He glanced over at her, then back at the road. “Yeah, that’s what I told myself, too.
It sounds so brave and noble. But all I was doing was running—running fast and far.
I let my family down.”

“Grant—”

“Doesn’t matter now,” he said, cutting her off. “They’ve managed just fine without
me. My younger brother and sister are running the farm these days.”

Charli could tell he wanted to close the subject, but it took all she could not to
press more. His guilt was so palpable it was like cigarette smoke filling the cab
of the truck—acrid and invasive. She stared out the window, watching the sun sink
below the horizon and the city lights come into view in the distance. “Are you going
to the wedding?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He groaned. “Are you always this relentless, freckles?”

“Yes,” she said without apology.

He put the blinker on and merged onto the interstate. “Because I don’t go home.”

The stark statement was like a door slamming shut and locking.
You’re not welcome here, Ms. Beaumonde.
She sighed and leaned against the seat, closing her eyes. It was going to be a long
few miles before they made it to their destination.