All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)

He bent over the railing and scraped the peeling paint. As the bare wood was exposed he found himself thinking of Charlie and her unexpected request. Just as surprising was the fact he was considering what she wanted.

He liked being around her. He liked her toughness and competence. She wasn’t like everyone else. He supposed he wasn’t immune to being flattered by her request—her assumption that he could be the one to heal her. Which sounded great, but there was reality to deal with. Heal her? How? With his incredible magnificence?

He dropped the scraper and reached for a piece of sandpaper. The sun was warm, the sky blue. There were birds chirping and another burst of laughter from inside the house.

With Diane, he’d been unable to get enough. No matter how many times they made love, he wanted more. Wanted her. Since then, he’d gone through the motions but little else.

He tried to imagine touching Charlie and found the idea appealing. She wouldn’t make it easy, he thought with a grin. Knowing her, she would make it difficult and yet that was okay.

She thought she needed to get over her fear of having sex. He knew what she needed was to learn to trust. And he needed... He drew in a breath. He needed to care about someone again. Not love, obviously. But something. Right now attraction and compassion would be a step forward. Charlie wasn’t the only one who needed a good healing, he thought. Maybe they could figure out a way to fix each other.

* * *

“I’M INTRIGUED,” Dakota said as Charlie walked into her office. She smiled, amusement brightening her brown eyes. “As you requested, I’ve cleared my schedule for the whole hour. Now what is this about?”

Charlie had been friends with Dakota for years. She’d met all three of the Hendrix triplets within a week of moving to Fool’s Gold. They were bright, funny women who cared about other people and understood the value of loyalty. While Charlie believed in the latter, she liked having added security.

She handed over a check for a hundred dollars.

Dakota took the offered paper, studied it for a second, then raised her eyebrows. “Is this what I think it is?”

“I’m hiring you as my therapist for the next hour. It’s a onetime thing.”

While Dakota didn’t have a private practice, she was still a trained and licensed psychologist.

“If I’m your therapist, patient confidentiality applies,” Dakota said slowly, motioning to the chair on the far side of her desk. “This must be important.”

“It is.” Charlie studied her friend. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she began, aware that Dakota could take the whole check-writing thing wrong. They were friends. As such, Charlie should trust her. And she did. It was just...

Dakota leaned forward. “I understand,” she said gently. “No explanations are required. You need the added security to feel safe so you can talk about whatever’s bothering you. Of course I’ll be your therapist for this hour and I will keep everything you tell me confidential.”

Damn. While she appreciated the support, right now she was uncomfortably on edge. If she were anyone else, she might even admit to being emotional. But she wasn’t, so that wasn’t an option. Still, Dakota’s support made her eyes burn. Which wasn’t the same as crying. No way.

“Okay,” Charlie muttered. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now what’s this all about?”

“The baby thing.”

Dakota already knew about Charlie’s past and her desire to have a child. In fact, Dakota had been the one to point out that Charlie needed to consider curing herself first. Not advice she’d wanted to hear, but words that had made sense.

“You were right,” Charlie told her. “About me getting better before having a kid.”

Dakota leaned toward her. “I also told you I wasn’t the person to take you on that journey. I do have the names of several trauma specialists. They’re in Sacramento, so you wouldn’t be dealing with anyone local. It’s a drive, but more private.”

“I may have to do that,” Charlie said, then wished she was standing so she could shuffle her feet or pace. Sometimes, sitting still was difficult. “But first I’m going to try something else.”

“Okay, and what is that?”

Charlie swallowed, squared her shoulders, then looked her friend directly in the eye. “I talked to Clay Stryker about having sex with me. Getting me, you know, ready. So I can do it without freaking.”

Dakota’s mouth dropped open. Charlie was pretty sure there was a rule that therapists weren’t supposed to show emotion of any kind, let alone shock.

“Clay Stryker?”

“Yes.”

“The underwear-model guy?”

Charlie nodded. “I’ve met him a few times. He wants to be a volunteer firefighter. He’s more than a pretty face. We’ve talked a few times and we’re sort of friends. So I asked him.”