“We worked it out,” Owen was saying, “and she agreed to come back, but only if I retile her bathroom for her—for free. So yeah, that’s what I’m doing tonight.”
Nate laughed, then offered a rueful look. “I bet it’ll be more fun than what I’m doing. Who the fuck wants to catch up with people they haven’t seen in more than a decade? I’m already bored and ready to leave, and the thing hasn’t started yet.” Rolling his eyes, he reached for his coffee and took a long swallow.
Owen’s dark brows drew together. “You don’t even want to see Charlotte? She should be getting in any minute now. I thought—”
Nate choked. Loudly. Several patrons in neighboring booths craned their necks to see what was up.
Coughing, he grabbed the glass of water next to Owen’s coffee and gulped the liquid down to clear his clogged windpipe.
When he finished, he found Owen staring at him in bewilderment. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
Nate ignored the comment and said, “What do you mean, she’ll be here any minute? How do you know that?”
“It’s all over town. Charlotte’s assistant booked a room for her at the Anderson B&B, made the reservation last night. According to Mrs. Anderson, Charlotte said she’d check in sometime in the early afternoon.”
“How do you know this?”
Owen shrugged. “Someone told me. Can’t remember who. Oh, and Charlotte RSVP’d for the reunion with Mayor Price. Our good old mayor tried to make a huge production out of it, but apparently the assistant said Charlotte wouldn’t show if he alerted the media. She wants the visit to stay under the radar.”
Nate was absolutely floored. He had no clue how Owen had amassed so much information when Nate hadn’t heard a damn peep from anyone. Then again, he didn’t open the pub until noon, so Owen had had all morning to accumulate the data.
Charlotte was coming back to Paradise.
Holy shit.
Those were six words he’d never imagined he’d hear. He’d followed Charlotte’s career over the years, from that first pop album that didn’t suit her throaty voice at all, to the later string of folksy-type contemporary that made her the star she was today. He owned every record she’d ever made, and each time he listened to that smoky pitch, his heart ached with regret and lingering emotion.
Fuck, he’d loved her.
And she’d loved him back. Charlotte had been the one girl who was able to look past his undeserved reputation and see him for who he really was. With her, he could truly be himself, and he’d clung to each second they’d spent together.
In the end, though, he’d pushed her away. Back then, it had seemed like the right thing to do. When Charlotte had been accepted into Julliard—with a full scholarship to boot—he’d been ecstatic. But the happiness faded into panic when he realized she was going to throw away her future so she could stay with him. The thought of forcing her to live in a town she despised had torn him apart. So he’d ended it.
But not before he allowed himself a taste of her.
He regretted that now. He should have never slept with Charlotte. Not just because it had been a shitty prelude to a breakup, but because, to this day, sex had never been as good as it was with Charlotte. She’d spoiled him for any other woman.
“I get why you’re freaked,” Owen said, jerking Nate from the past to the present. “It’ll be tough seeing her again, huh? Since she dumped you and everything.”
Nate frowned. “Why does everyone assume she dumped me?”
Owen blinked in surprise. “Well, because she’s Charlotte Hill. She’s one of the most famous singers in the country.”
“She wasn’t famous back then,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but she got that scholarship to Julliard. I always figured she dumped you before she left.”
“Sorry to burst that bubble.”
Owen gaped at him. “You dumped her?”
The abrupt exclamation made Nate glance around to make sure nobody had overheard his brother. The people in this town were nosy enough to begin with—no point giving them fuel for their fires. Fortunately, no one seemed interested in what was going on at the Bishop brothers’ booth.
“Yeah, I did,” he replied in a low voice. “But I’d appreciate it if you kept that to yourself.”
“Huh. So…what are you going to say to her when you see her?”
The image of Charlotte’s pale green eyes and wavy red hair flashed across his mind. He’d just watched her most recent televised concert a few weeks ago, alone, in the dark, and had wondered that exact same thing. What would he say to her if they ever crossed paths again? He hadn’t had an answer then, and he didn’t have one now.
He did know one thing, though, and, in a strained tone, he voiced the thought to his brother.
“I doubt I’ll get the chance. She won’t want to talk to me.”
Sympathy flickered in Owen’s gray eyes, the same stormy silver as Nate’s. “You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.” He spoke through his suddenly tight throat. “Believe me, I’m the last person Charlotte will want to see. Tonight…or ever.”