You're Still the One (4 page)

Ella laughed at her ridiculousness, but this time, a genuine smile curved her lips.

“Chardonnay for the lady,” a husky voice murmured near her ear, and Arabella startled before turning in her chair. Charlie grinned at her as he set the wineglass on the bar and claimed his seat. “What’s so funny?”

A blush warmed her cheeks as his hazel eyes held hers. Flirting wasn’t something she did very often—more like never—but that was the name of the game tonight, and thanks to her newfound cloak of anonymity, her chest suddenly felt lighter.

“You mean
other
than the memory of that guy’s face in the bathroom?” she asked, widening her eyes playfully. She was rewarded with a chuckle, a deep rumbling sound that tickled low in her belly. “I think it’s safe to say he’ll remember me for a while.”

It was a dumb thing to say. Charlie had taught her just how forgettable she was, but Ella quickly brushed that sad truth aside and pressed on. “Actually, I was wondering how many women were cursing me for sitting with you.”

A dimple ignited in his cheek. “Cursing, huh? That’s a heck of a lot better than boiled rabbits.” When she raised an eyebrow in confusion, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

Placing his forearm along the smooth mahogany bar, he swiveled his chair to face her. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m the one getting nailed for taking
your
time.” He motioned to the room with his beer bottle. “I guarantee you every man in this room has noticed that fantastic dress of yours, sweetheart. They’re all plotting to steal you away from me.”

Ella hid her smile behind her wineglass. She seriously doubted anyone, other than her ambitious waiter and the few acquaintances she’d caught gawking at her wardrobe choice, had even noticed her presence. But it was nice to pretend otherwise.

Behind the bar, an Elvis clock caught her eye, its second hand taunting her. She was running out of time. Her dad was the master of late entrances, preferring to let his artists steal the spotlight before he arrived at events, but even he showed up before midnight.

The King’s hips swiveled again, and the hour hand landed on eleven.

“Steal me away, huh?” She took another quick sip of wine. “Well, that’s impossible.”

Her fingers tingled as she set down her glass. As much as she’d love to sit and flirt all night, pretending that this was real—it wasn’t. This was a fantasy, a blip in time until Charlie realized who she was, and the interest faded from his eyes. If she was going to cross off the first item on her top-ten list, she had to do it soon.

Charlie’s head tilted for an explanation, and she sat up tall before declaring, “I came here tonight for you.”

Boom!
Mic dropped.

A surge of adrenaline hit Arabella’s empty stomach and the tips of her ears burned hot—but she didn’t regret her words. She’d finally done it, she’d put herself out there and taken the all-important first step. Now all she could do was wait and see how Charlie responded.

He didn’t disappoint. His hazel eyes grew intense, the golden brown irises sharpening under the club’s neon lights as his tongue worked the pocket of his cheek. He dropped his hand into his lap and, when his fingers rasped along the stiff fabric of his pants, Arabella’s gaze fell to follow the movement. A rush of heat flooded her core.

Charlie’s legs straddled either side of her chair, and the position pulled the material of his suit pants taut against his strong thighs. Tree trunks were smaller than this man.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Charlie asked, and Ella peeled her gaze away from the intoxicating
V
of his legs.

New rule: no more glances south of the border.

“Call it a hunch,” she replied breathily, actively trying to regain control of her thoughts. They were derailing faster than she could shake. “I, uh, heard you were back in town, and knew this was your label. I rolled the dice.”

She swallowed hard and forced a smile, not wanting to arouse his suspicion. In reality, she’d asked her father’s assistant, who was in charge of the guest list, but admitting that would give away her identity—and
that
would bring an end to their flirtation.

“And just what would a
sweet
girl like you hope to do once you found me, huh?” A tight smirk accompanied the question, and Arabella frowned as he lifted his beer to his mouth, hiding the flash of emotion behind the bottle.

The Charlie she knew from afar, the one she studied via photographs and interviews, was rarely sarcastic or bitter. On the contrary, he wore an ever-present smile and had a laid-back approach to life. This new, real-life version threw her slightly for a loop.

Charlie craned an eyebrow as he swallowed, clearly awaiting her reply, and Ella fought to remember the question. When she did, she stammered. “Um…w-well…I don’t know…”

Seriously
?
This was the big moment she’d been waiting for, and
that
was her response?

Say something…be flirty!

“Maybe admit that she’s fantasized about you for years?”

She winced the second the words left her mouth. Flirty and psychotic were two
very
different things…but then, Charlie sputter-coughed and dragged the back of his hand across his open mouth, and Ella decided there was something to be said for bald-faced honesty, after all. Awkwardness could be sexy, right?

Betting on yes, and beginning to feel the tingly effects of alcohol on an empty stomach, she trailed her fingers across his arm. “Also perhaps mention that you’re on her to-do list?”

The corded muscles beneath her questing fingers turned to steel, and Arabella frowned, wondering why on earth that was so shocking. If anything, her earlier confession was much more scandalous than a silly top-ten list. But then her sluggish brain caught the double meaning of her words, and she flushed to the roots of her hair.

“Oh! No, not like
that.
” Her heartbeat roared in her ears. “I meant, I have a list…a top-ten list…of things I want to do this summer. And you’re number one.” Crap, that hadn’t sounded any better. “
Flirting
with you is number one, not
doing
you. Shit!”

She smacked herself on the forehead.
This
was why she didn’t flirt. When left to her own devices, she always got foot-in-mouth disease—but this was by far the worst case yet.

Unable to look at Charlie, possibly ever again, Ella reached for her wine and downed the rest in one big gulp. The slight acidic burn gave her something to focus on other than what a supreme loser she was, but once the wine was gone, and the glass was empty, it was time to ponder an exit strategy.

Was there a dignified way to abort?

Could claiming temporary insanity work? Perhaps fake an asthma attack?

A low chuckle came from the seat beside her. “You’re not as innocent as you look, are you?”

Arabella lifted her eyes and gave a slow shake of her head. “No. I’m
exactly
as innocent as I look. Just a frigging lightweight when it comes to drinking and a black belt in scaring hot guys away.”

Charlie’s dimple flashed, and she fell back against her chair. “You’ve gotta give me style points, though.
Any
woman could throw themselves at you, but it takes a true gem to foul it up as well as I have. It’s a talent, really. Behold, Tucker, you’re in the midst of greatness.”

He chuckled again and then did something that truly shocked her. He reached over and took her hand, enveloping it in his warmth. “So, this is you throwing yourself at me?”

Her heart rate spiked but she quickly put the kibosh on any attempt at a sexy one-liner. Clearly, she wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes and said, “What, you couldn’t tell?”

His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and her belly dipped and soared. No, she wasn’t a seasoned seductress…but she could make him smile. That had to count for something. Charlie watched her for a moment, a soft smile on his lips and a strange look in his eyes, before lowering his gaze to their linked hands where he began drawing a slow, lazy circle across her palm.

“Tell me more about this list.”

Ella’s breath caught as his trimmed nail rasped across her tender skin. An electric shot zinged straight through her core, and she blinked through the sudden haze clouding her vision.

Charlie Tucker wrote the book on living free. If he wanted to do something daring, he probably just did it. He didn’t research or make a list, hemming and hawing over each and every entry. She couldn’t tell the bad boy of country music about her silly list.

But then he raised his eyes, and she saw genuine interest. Her defensive walls crumbled.

“It’s just a list of things I’ve always wanted to do,” she told him. “
Daring
things. I know to an adventurous guy like you that probably sounds dumb, but I never leave my comfort zone. I don’t do anything spontaneous or crazy—aside from walks in the men’s room, that is. This list is about changing that.”

Charlie nodded like he somehow understood. “Why now?”

He was honestly curious. About
her
. It boggled her mind. Sitting there in the middle of a crowded nightclub, Ella decided she wanted him to know.

“My dad…he’s a busy man. He owns his own company, and he works a lot. After my mom died, it was hard finding that balance between work and being a single parent, so I did whatever I could to make things easier. Mostly that meant staying out of trouble, making good grades, and keeping quiet.”

She lifted her shoulder. “I don’t regret my choices. I have an incredible life, and I love my dad more than anything. But even when I was at TSU, things didn’t change. My apartment was ten minutes away, and I stayed stuck in the same tight circle. This summer will be the first time I ever leave Nashville on my own, and it’s my chance to break out. Do the things
I
want to do without worrying what anyone else thinks.” She looked at her lap. “I’ve never done that.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, like he was letting that sink in, and then he scooted closer on his chair. “So what daring things made the cut?” She raised her head and watched his mouth curve in a sexy grin. “Other than me, that is.”

Arabella laughed, feeling freer than she had in a very long time. Normally, she considered herself a private person. She had to be; too many people tried to gain her confidence to get to her dad. But Charlie’s easy acceptance gave her confidence to open up. Plus, this entire night felt like a dream. If everything was pretend anyway, what was the harm in being honest?

“I want to drink a beer in a biker bar,” she confessed, grinning in satisfaction when Charlie’s eyebrow quirked in surprise. She hardly ever surprised people. “I also want a tattoo, but I haven’t decided where or of what yet.”

Her gaze dipped to Charlie’s broad shoulders where hints of vibrant red ink could be seen through his dress shirt. It was tempting to ask about
his
body art, and steer the conversation away from herself like she usually did when things got personal. Instead, she extended three fingers so she could tally the activities on her hands.

“I want to finally learn the country two-step.” She rolled her eyes as she added, “And yes, I’m aware that by not knowing this I’ve basically committed a crime here in Nashville.”

Charlie laughed, and the sound did crazy things to her insides. She loved being the reason for it. Smiling to herself, she wiggled back in her seat. This was actually sort of fun.

“Ask a stranger for his number.” That was number four. “I’ve never done it before, and I figure it’s a rite of passage for single women everywhere.” She bit her lip as nervousness tightened her belly, and she leaned in to whisper the next thing on her list. “Experience a toe-curling kiss.”

Charlie’s gaze dropped to her mouth.

Lana’s words floated in her mind. She’d been the one to add kissing to tonight’s game plan—the list on Ella’s phone only ever said
flirt with Charlie Tucker.
But as the man in question’s stare flicked between Arabella’s eyes and suddenly parched mouth, she couldn’t help thinking her best friend was on to something.

If Charlie kissed her, her toes would definitely curl.

Sadly, that wasn’t in the cards. Ella could never pull off a brazen move like that, especially not at a Belle Meade event, and Charlie wasn’t shy. If he’d wanted to kiss her, he would’ve done it already.

“Um, as for number six, I’m a sucker for random acts of kindness. I love hearing about folks getting free coffee at Starbucks or a free meal at a restaurant. But I want to take it a step further. I want to make a
real
difference, you know? Something bigger than saving someone a few bucks or helping out at Christmas. Something…I don’t know…long-lasting.”

Charlie stared at her with that strange look again, and she wondered if he thought she was too idealistic. When he finally murmured, “That’s honorable,” she ducked her head with a smile.

“My best friend calls me a dreamer. I think it’s possible, though, if I keep my eyes open. Who knows, it might even bring me to another thing on my list…discovering my passion.”

A career in music was a given, and Ella was good at it, too. But she’d yet to feel the inner fire her dad had about the industry or Lana had when she talked about law. Hopefully, her summer internship at Strange Wheel would help her discover her strengths.

Charlie nodded, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and Ella again got the impression that she didn’t know him nearly as well as she’d once believed. After a moment, he asked, “What are we up to now, seven?” She nodded, and he raised both eyebrows. “I can’t wait to hear the final three.”

And
this
was where it got embarrassing.

“Er, well, you know the one about flirting with you.” Stalling, she wrung her hands and searched for the exits. Why was she telling him this again?
Oh, right.
Because it was Charlie. And for the first time ever, he was interested in
her.

Her heart melted, and before she could overthink it, she spit out, “Skinny-dipping.” Charlie blinked, and a warm flush flooded her skin. “Not like in broad daylight,” she told him with a laugh. “Definitely late at night. But I don’t know…it’s something I’ve secretly wanted to do but never had the guts to try.”