“You didn’t mind it when we were kids,” he teased.
“It didn’t have the same effect back then.” I nearly choked on my words. I was determined not to let him affect me. At least not until I knew where these feelings were leading us. “Look, I don’t like to talk about this, but it’s been a rough year for me. Losing my mother, losing my job—it took a toll on me. And while your sister has been better to me than I have any right to expect, coming back here hasn’t been the best thing in the world for me, either. Everyone’s moved on around here. Their lives are different … fuller. I have to find something to do with myself. This might not be the place I want to be forever, but it looks like the place I’m going to have to be for a while. And I can’t just keep mooching off your sister.”
“You could always move in with me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m sure I could find something to keep you busy.”
“Slow your roll, Puppy Dog.” I leaned back, resting my arm on the back of my chair. “Usually, a guy takes me to dinner before inviting me to move in.”
“Deal!” Dalton said, snapping his head upward. “I’ll pick you up Friday night at seven.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” I said, sitting forward again. “That wasn’t—”
“Too late. I already accepted.” He finished off the last of his coffee. “And I don’t like to be disappointed.”
“Fine,” I mumbled, following him to the door, “but—”
Before I could finish my thought, he turned toward me, putting us inches apart. The tension rendered whatever I was about to say pointless. My breath caught in my chest. I couldn’t deny my attraction, even if whatever was happening between us felt … wrong. Would I ever be able to see him as something other than my best friend’s little brother?
“There’s something about you, Char, hiding right under the surface,” he said quietly into the silence between us. “I’m not sure how I missed it before.”
I could say the same for you, I thought, blushing uncontrollably.
His arm reached past me, bringing his face a hair’s breadth from mine. Oh, no. This wasn’t good. He was going to kiss me, and I so wasn’t ready for that.
My hands shot up to stop him. “Dalton, wait!”
He pulled his arm back, coat now in hand where it wasn’t before. “Just had to grab my jacket, Char.” He winked. “See you soon.”
Then he left, and I stood at the door for a good ten minutes waiting for my heart to stop beating so wildly in my chest.
***
In the two weeks I had been working at Abram’s club, I had made several changes. I switched out the lighting (who wanted fluorescent tube lights in a club, anyway?), I canceled his furniture shipment and changed it out for something a little hipper (which wasn’t hard considering he had ordered wicker), and I even convinced him not to put mirrors on the ceiling (since, you know, it wasn’t the seventies). But the most important change I had implemented since coming here was definitely when I convinced Abram to change the name.
It wasn’t easy. Things never were with Abram. Even when he was there, which wasn’t nearly as frequently as you would expect from an owner, he was stubborn as an ox and completely closed off to the idea of change. Luckily for him, I could be just as stubborn, and I didn’t have the taste of somebody’s grandfather.
“I named it the Cellar because it’s in a damn cellar! How much more explanation does it need?” he’d said when I’d confronted him about his choice of name for his establishment.
I’d combated that quite easily: “A cellar is dark and dank, you idiot! Who wants to go there? You might as well name it The Cesspool!”
We settled on ‘The Castle” since it was old and majestic-sounding enough to suit Abram and because, well, it was better than The Cesspool. I mean, The Cellar. Either way.
As I passed the club sign, I gave it a little wink, seeing it as proof not only of my effectiveness here, but also of how misplaced Dalton’s fears had been.
‘That kind of girl’, my big, gorgeous ass.
Descending the staircase (much more gracefully this time than the first time), I was surprised to see Abram locking the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “We only have three hours until opening. We need to be inside.”
“You’re late,” he growled at me, which I absolutely expected at this point.
“Pfft, twenty minutes. I had a date. Besides, I figured you’d be—”
“It’s almost dark!” He spun toward me. The stubble on his face was fuller now, almost too full given that, just yesterday, he was nearly clean shaven.
“Newsflash,” I said, “nightclubs are open at night.”
Actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t sure if I had ever seen Abram around here in the evenings, much less at night. Certainly he couldn’t keep that up, though. We were about to open. He had to be here for that.
“Where are you going anyway?” I asked.