You're Still the One (13 page)

“Hey, Tucker!”

Arabella’s eyes cut to Charlie, who was frozen in place.

Tyler’s wife Sherry snickered on the other side of the fence. “I’ll see your ass here bright and early to disinfect my pool. Don’t think we didn’t see your ancient truck parked across the street. Whatever nighttime escapade you’re having, finish it up and then come by tomorrow to clean. I don’t even want to know.”

Tyler laughed and called out, “Later, man,” before a door closed with a resounding
thump.
Everything was quiet after that. They were alone again, standing on the porch dripping wet with puddles collecting at their feet.

Charlie and Ella locked eyes…and broke out in hysterical laughter.

Chapter Twelve

Two days later, everything hurt. Arabella’s head, her sinuses, and her throat felt like they were in mutiny. She could admit it; she devolved into a big baby whenever she got sick, which was why it was a good thing that she hardly ever got that way. Her daily vitamin regimen, her overall nutrition, and her quest for adequate rest were all part of her valiant effort in fighting the common cold.

Unfortunately, midnight frolics apparently kicked vitamin butt.

At the sound of the front door opening, Ella reluctantly lifted her head from where she lay in a sluggish daze on the couch. She hadn’t budged since that morning when she’d called in to Strange Wheel.

Dark, unruly hair appeared first around the doorjamb, followed by Charlie’s concerned face, and Ella frantically ducked back beneath her blanket. The door closed again, and footsteps approached.

“That bad, huh?”

No,
she wanted to say.
That ugly.

Half the reason she’d decided to stay home was to avoid seeing Charlie. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks were pink, and, due to her congestion, she sounded a lot like Mr. Snuffleupagus. As for her hair, well, it was a rat’s nest on her head because she’d had no energy to brush it. Heck, he was lucky she’d brushed her teeth.

Charlie’s hands wrapped around her ankles, lifting them as the sofa cushion dipped beneath her. He placed her feet on his lap and patted them gently. “What can I do to help?”

From beneath the blanket, Ella replied, “Nothing. I mean, I appreciate you stopping by, I really do. But I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

That was girl code for,
please leave now before you see me like this.

Evidently, Charlie didn’t speak girl code, because he tugged at her covers, then laughed when she tightened her grip. “Woman, stop being silly. I want to check on you. I brought some stuff that’s supposed to help, but to be honest, that woman could’ve sold me a bunch of crap. I’m clueless about this shit.”

A
plop
came from the coffee table, followed by the crinkling of a paper bag, and she could admit she was curious as to what he’d brought…but not enough to show her puffy face.

“That’s sweet, Charlie. Really.” She sniffled, which lead to a phlegmy, watery cough.
Lovely.
“But, trust me when I say that while I
feel
like I’m gonna die, I probably won’t. However, you seeing me like this might just do the trick. I resemble the Crypt Keeper.”

He chuckled again, that deep rumble of a sound that revved her engine even at death’s door, and gave her blanket another gentle tug. “Arabella, you couldn’t look bad if you tried.”

Admitting defeat, because the man was nothing if not stubborn, Ella sighed and folded down the blanket, exposing her red, sweaty face. Charlie gave her a soft smile and squeezed the top of her foot. “Gorgeous.”

Her heart fluttered. Trying to hide how much he affected her, Arabella looked away, her gaze falling upon the impressive collection of bottles on the coffee table. A full-scale display of waterworks seemed imminent.

“Now,” he said, leaning forward on the couch, “the woman at the natural food store suggested mixing sweet almond oil with a rotation of peppermint, lavender, lemon, and thieves on your feet.”

Charlie gestured to each essential oil as he named them, giving her a look of utter confusion when he came to the last one. “I have no clue what this is, but I bought it anyway. Did that old chick take me for a sucker?”

Arabella smiled, despite herself. “No, it’s good,” she murmured, still in a haze of disbelief. “Thieves helps boost the immune system.”

It was actually a mixture of clove, lemon oil, cinnamon bark, eucalyptus, and rosemary. She had a bottle of it, and all the others, back home in Nashville. She’d found a store here in Magnolia Springs for her lavender supply, but not wanting to break the bank, she’d withheld buying her usual assortment of oils. A decision she’d regretted terribly this morning.

Charlie nodded and palmed the small bottle. “I figured you’d know.” Then, to her supreme astonishment, he gently slid off her cotton socks, one at a time, and squeezed the sweet almond oil into his hands. After adding a few drops of the thieves, he began massaging the blend into the bottoms of her feet.

There wasn’t a chance in hell of suppressing her moan.

The scent was familiar and soothing. The almond oil felt like heaven on her dry feet. But it was Charlie’s reverent touch that had her reeling. As his magic fingers rubbed the four different products in succession over her heels, taking time to give special care to her arches and her toes, Ella’s heart thudded beneath her breastbone. It was so loud she was certain he could hear it.

Charlie was there to take care of her. His massage was meant to be calming and therapeutic. Arabella had no right getting turned on by his ministrations. But she was, desperately so. Which was unfortunate, considering it made the pounding of her headache even worse.

Charlie’s hands stilled. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and found him studying her with a concerned wrinkle between his brows. His breathing was deep, his chest rising and falling beneath his worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt.

“Megan…the woman at the store, suggested I rub these on your chest, too.” His golden-brown eyes fell to the blanket covering the body part in question, and Arabella choked on her spit.
Oh, heck no.

If Charlie’s fingers came anywhere near her breasts, her head would literally explode. And if he thought she had a fever now…

Stretching her toes to touch his rock-hard stomach, she smiled her gratitude but said, “I think I’m okay for now.”

Relief washed over his features, which she wasn’t sure how to take, and Charlie smiled as he stood, settling her feet back on the sofa cushion. “Be right back.”

On his way toward the kitchen, he grabbed the paper bag and the bottle of peppermint oil. Arabella frowned in confusion, but even that small gesture hurt her head, so she leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes.

A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps and the scent of peppermint roused her. Charlie set a glass of water on the coffee table beside a couple of gel capsules and then draped a cool, damp washcloth over her forehead. That explained the peppermint. Ella inhaled deep, drawing the healing scent into her lungs.

“The water has a few drops of lemon,” he told her, voice pitched low. “And the capsules are filled with it, too. Not sure if you want to take them now, or…”

She gave him a sleepy smile. “Thank you. I actually just took some medicine, but I’ll try the capsules in a little while.” That was all she could manage before her heavy eyelids closed and she snuggled farther into her pillow, letting the peppermint work its magic on her headache.

Everything about this was thoughtful. Charlie playing concerned nursemaid, him stopping by her favorite store and taking an interest in the natural remedies she cared so much about. “God, I wish I could’ve seen your face at Nature’s Shoppe.”

Charlie sniffed, which she interpreted to mean the experience had been a whole new world for him. “It was definitely interesting. But, I was glad to do it. I’m the reason you’re sick. Late night skinny-dipping was my brilliant idea.”

Ella opened her eyes to look at him, the dull thud of her headache already receding. “I admit, the ending was a bit awkward.” She sent him a wry grin that he returned. “But the rest of it? That was a blast. I’d gladly take a thousand sick days for one where I felt so…
alive
.”

Even the memory had her skin tingling. Charlie held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes a storm of questions. A muscle ticked in his jaw. What she wouldn’t give to read minds if only for an hour. The man in front of her was so free with his friendship, so giving of his time and good opinion, but she knew there were things, big things, he held tight to his chest.

Arabella longed to know how
he
felt about their skinny-dipping adventure. If he could still see the imprint of her body behind his eyelids, like she saw him. There was no forgetting, no running away. She knew what this incredible man looked like beneath his clothes, and even sick, it was hard not to jump into his arms.

But would he want her there?

So much about Charlie remained a mystery. He pushed himself so hard with Life & Lyrics, and Ella understood his desire to help teens like Abby, but she also sensed a deeper drive. Almost guilt. Call it woman’s intuition or just a really good hunch, but she had a feeling there was more to his position at Strange Wheel than he was letting on.

She wouldn’t force him to tell her. They were friends, yes, but he had a right to his privacy. Ella just hoped that he knew he could open up to her if and when he was ever ready.

Charlie scratched his jaw and then, clearing his throat, strolled over to her entertainment center. He thumbed through the chick flicks she had out, favorites she’d seen a million times so she could zone out all day, and picked up her angel statue. He glanced back at her.

“It was my mother’s,” she told him, straightening the blanket over her chest. “Dad gave that to me the night of her funeral. He said that every time I missed her, I could look at my mama’s statue and know that she was up in heaven, watching out for me.”

Ella traced the familiar lines of the statue with her gaze. “When I was little, I’d slip it into my bag when I went for sleepovers, and whenever a friend hurt my feelings, or a boy called me names, I’d talk to my angel.” She smiled at the memories. “And whenever I got crushes on boys? Man, did that angel get an earful.”

So many nights, the boy she’d told her mom about was
Charlie,
so seeing him holding the statue in his hands was almost surreal. “She went to college with me, to my first apartment with Lana, and now, she’s here.”

Charlie pressed his firm lips together and ran a finger over the angel’s porcelain wings. “I still have both my parents, so I don’t know what it’s like growing up without one. But I’m glad you have this. A link to help keep you and your mama close.”

They shared a look, and Ella smiled, not really knowing what else to say, but also not feeling the need to say anything at all. Quiet was comfortable with Charlie. Then she yawned, keeping her from saying anything anyway, and he laughed softly.

“Close your eyes and get some rest, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

Arabella had no intention of accepting his offer. Despite her heavy eyelids and yawns proving otherwise, she didn’t want to sleep. She enjoyed seeing this softer side to the bad boy and wanted to spend more time with him. Also, who knew what she’d say when unconscious? According to Lana, Ella had a tendency to become quite the chatterbox while asleep.

But, the next thing Arabella knew, the low strum of a guitar had her eyes popping open, and the elongated shadows on the floor told of time passing.

Across from her, Charlie sat in the love seat with an acoustic propped on his lap. When he raised his eyes and found her watching, he quickly silenced the music with his palm. “Did I wake you?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.” Gently, she pushed up to a more comfortable position and motioned toward the guitar. “I didn’t know you played.”

The soft chords began again as he nodded. “Tyler might be the front man, but he’s not the only one who knows his way around a six-string. I played this before I ever played bass.”

“Why the switch?” she asked, lapping up the new factoid like it was water.

“Don’t you know? Bass players have bigger instruments.” Charlie’s slow grin curled her toes and he added, “We also do it deeper.”

“Good Lord.” Ella snorted. The man was incorrigible. “Shut up and play me something, four-string.”

Charlie laughed at the nickname and asked, “Any requests? Not to brag, but my musical repertoire is pretty vast.”

“I’d guess so, what with you guys throwing everything from shocking covers of nineties boy bands to old school R&B into your set lists.” He raised a surprised eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “I’ve been Blue’s number one fan since before the world knew you existed. Obviously I’ve attended a few concerts over the years.” More like a dozen, but who was counting?

“Touché.” Charlie smiled, and soon the house filled with warm notes that didn’t seem to have a set pattern. Scraps of melodies from a dozen different songs, a run here, a bridge there, they blended one after another, making her smile as an intense look of concentration settled over his features. Lying back against her pillow, Ella let the music wash away the last dregs of her headache.

Charlie’s gaze drifted to the entertainment center, and he raked his teeth across his bottom lip. The notes shifted and arranged into a melody she would recognize anywhere, and her breath caught in a gasp.

“The Song Played On
.
” Her mama’s biggest hit from the mid-nineties.

As the familiar notes wrapped around her, Charlie kept his gaze on his fingers. “She was one of the greats.” His lips parted, then closed, and he said, “I remember my mom humming this song while washing dishes. I couldn’t have been more than ten, and when she turned and saw me standing there smiling, she told me,
this is real music, son.
” He grinned softly. “That’s the moment I fell in love with country music.”

Arabella’s eyes glazed with tears. He didn’t say anything more, just kept his stare trained on his fingers as he played, his low hum joining the notes a few moments later. Another piece of her heart quivered and fell. More than the essential oils, this moment, this
song
brought healing.

Mouthing the lyrics her mother wrote commemorating the day she fell in love with her future husband, Ella looked at her angel statue and confessed in a whisper, “I’m in deep, Mama.”