Tattooed Troublemaker - Elise Faber Page 0,57

junk food and empty calories, and that was bound to make anyone feel better.

My hands were full of bags, so I used my foot to knock.

The familiar thunk-thunk-thunk made my lips twitch.

The sound of footsteps echoing through the door as Charlie came to answer my knock made my heart skip a beat.

There was a pause and I could feel her on the other side of that panel of wood, probably staring at me through the peephole and trying to figure out a way to get rid of me since I’d left her at the hospital.

I wasn’t sure how long she’d be, and I’d wanted to be prepared for any outcome.

With chocolate.

Thanks, Sam.

I managed to extract the ice cream carton from one of the bags hanging on my arm, held it up. “Should I just eat this by myself then?” I held up a plastic-covered spoon.

More silence.

Another long pause.

Then the sound of the lock disengaging and the handle turning.

Charlie extended an arm through the opening, reaching for the ice cream. “Give me,” she said.

I tugged it out of reach. “Only if you let me in.”

She sighed. “Garret. I think we’ve had enough for today.”

“Look,” I said. “I get it. I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. Let’s eat some shitty food, watch that reality show Tig is always teasing you about, and then I’ll go.”

A pause. “You sure that you’re not doing this to make yourself feel better?”

“Oh no,” I said. “I’m definitely doing this to make me feel better.”

Piercing blue eyes glaring out at me. “What flavor?”

“Double fudge brownie.”

Silence.

Then the door closed, I heard a rattle as the chain came off, and it re-opened. “Give me,” she ordered, putting her hands out.

I dropped the carton and spoon into her outstretched palms.

“Mmm.”

My cock twitched, but I ignored it and pushed my way into her apartment. “Nice place.”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling open the lid, tearing the plastic off the spoon, and digging into the ice cream. “Thanks.” She shoved a huge bite into her mouth. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”

And now my cock was hard.

More ignoring, more pushing through, brushing past Charlie and the ice cream and setting the snacks on the table. “Come, sit down.”

“You’ll try to steal my ice cream.”

“Technically, it’s my ice cream,” I pointed out, “since I bought it.”

“Possession is nine-tenths of the—” She broke off on a gasp when I snagged the carton from her hands and pulled out another plastic-wrapped spoon, this one from my pocket. “You can’t do that!”

I grinned. “Possession—”

She smacked me.

I laughed. God, she was pretty when her eyes were sparking fire at me.

Charlie licked her lips, my cock—

Yes, I know. It was still hard, aching as it pushed against the zipper of my jeans.

“I’m sorry I hurt you the other day,” I said softly.

The fire faded, eyes clouding with sadness, but then she seemed to visibly shake herself and the gloom faded. “It’s fine, Garret. Both of us have been working through some pretty heavy shit lately, and we’re bound to—” She yawned. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“I should go,” I offered, not wanting to, but also not wanting to make her even more tired when she’d already had a tough day.

I felt like I’d laid the first brick in repairing the bridge between us.

I didn’t want to knock it loose again or worse, build something that was unstable. Because if the weekend with Sam and Lane had taught me nothing else, then it had at least pulled my head out of my ass. Maybe I’d fucked up, maybe I’d run scared and been distant.

But if I was smart and built it carefully . . . then maybe I could stay in New York after all.

Make myself at home next to a supremely talented plumber named Charlie.

“Garret—”

I waited.

She glanced toward the couch and me, and I felt a pulse of hope when I saw the inner debate playing out on her face. But then it faded, and she inclined her head toward the door. “Yeah, it’s getting late,” she murmured, “and I have an early morning.”

I nodded. “Of course. I’ll go.”

Two steps toward the door.

“Garret?”

More hope. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to take some of the snacks with you?”

“No, sweetheart, they’re all for you.”

Her eyes cut to the floor. “Oh. Okay.”

I grabbed the door handle. “Goodnight.”

“’Night.”

And then I left, waiting in the hall until I heard the lock engage, understanding for the first time how much of my heart the curvy, brunette spitfire owned.

All of it.

She held the entire organ