When Two Hearts Collide (Game of Hearts Novels Book 3) Read online

  “Charlie’s mad,” Ed answered, snickering. “Lost himself down the rabbit hole about four pints ago.”

  I rolled my eyes and clutched said fourth pint closer to me.

  “Oh? And that’s different from any other Wednesday?” she asked as she continued to unwrap herself. “The weatherman said spring is in the air. Did ye know, I can’t tell one season from the other these days. Or it just might be they can’t anymore.”

  I slapped my hand on the bar, the amber ale in my glass the only spot of color that could even remotely look like sunshine. Sunshine in a glass at any rate. “Tha’s wot I jus’ said, luv!”

  “Charlie… maybe you need to take a vacation. Take some time and go somewhere that’s not…” Violet looked around the well-polished bar, eyes skipping over the rain-dotted windows before coming back to land back on me. “You work as hard as any of us. Maybe more. When’s the last time you took off and did something for yourself?”

  I’d taken off with Ed and went to London. That counted, right? I waved her off. “I don’t need a break from this place. Besides, I have you lot to keep me company.”

  “You need a vacation. And some sun,” Ed told me, mouth turning up into a very large grin as he wiped up the bit of ale that had sloshed out of my cup.

  “By myself? What kind a twat goes on vacation alone? No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Just like my uncle was, and his father before him, and…” I lifted my glass and tried my best to swallow the rest of it. Drowning my ails in pint after pint of sudsy liquid. The witty thought brought a smile to my face, but only briefly. Drinking my days away had proven a great way to soak away the restlessness I’d felt.

  But even that got old.

  “That’s not the same and ye know it,” Ed reasoned, slinging the towel over his shoulder as his hands splayed against the bar. “Yer uncle left ye the pub, but that didn’t mean you had to give up everything for it.”

  “What have I given up? Besides, this place feels like home more than me own flat,” I answered with a slight slur, finger pointed in the air.

  Ed wasn’t having it. “So that’s it then? Ye just plan on drinking the profits up while brooding over the weather? Have to say, mate, that’s pretty unlike you and ye know it. Why don’t you let me talk to Phillip? He has room in Rum Cay. I know he’d have ye on if I asked him.”

  My face screwed up. “Rum Cay? Are ye trying to kill me off then?” I liked the sun just as much as any bloke, but that kind of sun would fry me to the ground. Women in skimpy bikinis, though…

  “Ye were just saying…” Ed’s voice rose.

  “I know what you’re going on about,” Violet said, putting her hand out on Ed’s arm and squeezing.

  I needed to stop the hamster wheels from rolling on to whatever she thought she knew because, with Violet, it would undoubtedly come to be something about my love life, or lack thereof.

  “Did you know this pub is practically famous?” I asked, rolling over whatever daft thing Violet was about to say. “Just up the street is the house Charles Dickenson lived in. My uncle said he’s heard stories from his own father that ‘ole Charles himself would come down for a pint to dust the—”

  “Cobwebs out o’ his head,” Violet cut me off and finished for me. “Yes, Charlie, we’ve heard the story. Every time you get a few pints in ya, ye always tell the damn story,” she said with a slow eye roll before leaning in closer, eyes going flat on me. “Yer a good one for tales, yeah? So tell me this, what’s the real issue here?”

  I looked to my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  A sigh welled up inside of me, threatening to burst out. I held it back, shoving it alongside that ever-present feeling that banged invisible hands against the locked door inside my mind. I really was going mad. Invisible hands? Locked door inside my head? Bonkers. Daft. Pick one and I’d make my own name tag with it.

  They looked at me, expecting more clarification. Expecting me to shake it off.

  I lifted my chin and said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s not the pub. I love this place. Generation after generation has had a hand in making something of it.”

  “He must be on his fifth or sixth beer by now.” Hannah’s American accent rolled over me.

  I turned, looking over my shoulder to see two of her. “I didn’ know ye had a twin!”

  “You’re an idiot,” she said, tossing her purse on the bar. She stretched up onto her tiptoes, leaning halfway across the bar to kiss Ed.

  “Ye’ll scare the customers away with all that.” I swatted the air at them. “Public affection. Ugh.”

  Hannah ignored me, sinking onto the barstool beside me. The closer she was, the more in focus she became, and she looked absolutely miserable.

  I held up my almost-empty pint and tipped it in her direction before finishing it off.

  Her eyes watered, filling with something like tears. Hannah wasn’t a crier. She was a warrior. So what in the world could she be so upset about that made actual tears come to her eyes?

  “Ye alright, luv?” I asked.

  She shook her head. Words unspoken.

  Ed, seeing her like that, reached across the bar, putting his hand on top of hers as he asked, “What’s happened?”

  She clenched her eyes tight, took a deep breath, and blew it out. It seemed to calm her as she said, “I can’t go to The Hamptons.”

  “Wait… you were going to The Hamptons?” I butted in, looking to Ed, who had never mentioned a word about leaving.

  “Not me, mate. Just her… to see her friend,” Ed explained. He turned back to Hannah. “Why?” he asked, searching her face as he waited for her to answer.

  She wore a mixture of cloudy emotions when she did. “The gallery Della’s been fighting tooth and nail to get a date for finally answered her back.”

  Ed’s eyes widened. “They did? That’s wonderful news, right? Both of you were so excited about being one of the shelters they were considering.”

  “Congratulations,” I threw in, tipping my glass again.

  She stiffened and dashed what looked like a single escaped tear away before answering. “Thanks. It is wonderful news. The best we’ve had in a while. I just wish the dates they’ve set to work with us weren’t the same dates I was supposed to be in The Hamptons.”

  I chewed on my lip as Ed let go of her hand and came around the bar. He pulled her up from her seat and into his arms, holding her tight. “I know how much you were looking forward to going, and I also know how much you and Della were hoping for the gallery showing. Two good things in one week are pretty spectacular, even if they aren’t doable. I’m sure Charlotte will understand if you have to change the dates for your trip to The Hamptons.”

  “Charlotte?” I repeated. There was a small stir in my stomach at the mention of her name, though it could have just been a gas bubble…

  Hannah’s lip quivered with a look that made my feet itch to move. Tears were never my thing. In fact, I always felt the need to run away every time a woman got emotional. No matter how much I wanted to escape, I also couldn’t help but feel for the lass as her head bumped against Ed’s shoulder in defeat.

  “But you don’t understand…” she said with a frown. “Charlotte’s taken time away from her business, which is a damn miracle in itself. She works harder than anyone I’ve ever known. Plus, she’s got all sorts of things planned for us. She never takes time off, Ed. And I had to plead to get her to take it off for me. She’ll never forgive me for this.”

  Charlotte appeared in my mind. The last day I saw her was the day I helped her into a cab and watched it drive off. It was odd, because I’d felt somewhat relieved. But not the same kind of relief I felt when I ran from every possible relationship. This relief was different… like I had just dodged something that could have been life-altering. Maybe even life changing had I not gained control of my senses and stopped us before the fun really began. Sex with her would have been mind blowing. It also would have been a
very bad idea. No matter how much I’d ached for her long after she’d gone home, there’d been something about her, a warning that came from my unused conscious when it said leave her be, mate.

  She’d given me her number—told me to call her sometime. I hadn’t. I couldn’t. It had been hard enough slaking the lust she’d left me boiling in. The string of women left in the wake of her leaving should have been shameful, but I wasn’t the shame-filled sort to care enough one way or another. But Charlotte… seeing her again would tell me if it had just been hormones, or if I had the right of it and should pat myself on the back for being able to walk away from her.

  Ed rocked Hannah in his arms ever so slowly, kissed her head, and then looked up at the ceiling as if it would give him some sort of guidance… some sort of answer to the problem at hand. “Maybe Della…”

  Hannah stepped out of Ed’s arms. “No. I won’t ask her to take that on all by herself. It’s been at my persistence that we submitted the shelter for this fundraiser. I’ve pushed and pushed to get this. It’d be really shitty of me to dump it all in her lap just to go on vacation.”

  I could go instead. Where did that thought come from? Did I really want to stick my feet in that sort of fire just to see if it would burn? Charlotte seemed like a nice enough person. She didn’t strike me as one of those girls who went to pot when she didn’t get her way. In fact, the brief time I’d spent with her when Hannah’s roller derby team came to London had been a lot of fun. She was easy to get along with. She was funny, smart, and pretty in a wholesome kind of way. Or she was until she kissed me with a passion that had us both panting.

  Hannah interrupted my musings when she said, “I can’t. Nonrefundable tickets. I got them on sale for dirt cheap with the exclusions of being able to change the flight dates.” She huffed a laugh that held no humor. “About the only thing I can do is change the name on the ticket.”

  “How much?” I asked, blurting the question. Bye, bye, frying pan. Hello, fire.

  Hannah eyed me warily. “How much what?”

  I beamed at her. “How much for the ticket?”

  “My plane ticket to The Hamptons?” she asked, eyebrows bunching close together.

  “That would be the one,” I answered, hiccoughing.

  Ed smiled over Hannah’s shoulder. “That’s not such a bad idea. At least if Charlie goes, then Charlotte wouldn’t spend two weeks of vacation by herself.”

  Violet busted out with laughter. “Definitely gone bonkers,” she said as she headed down the bar to tend to her customers.

  “But… but they hardly know each other!” Hannah sounded confused. Clearly, she didn’t know just how well we had almost known each other. “That’s the most ludicrous idea I’ve ever heard.”

  Ed turned her to face him. “That’s not such a bad thing, is it?” he asked, giving her a sly wink that made my stomach erupt with something like nervousness.

  What had that particular wink meant?

  Hannah, in turn, gave him a knowing smile. A smile that said, ‘oh, I see what you did there,’ before she turned to me and said, “Eight hundred pounds.”

  “What?” I asked, feeling more than a little confused.

  “For the ticket,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll just pop over to the bank tomorrow then, shall I?” I answered.

  “Works for me. When I get home, I’ll change the information on the ticket, but you’ll need to do the rest of the paperwork. The flight is in exactly two weeks. Hopefully, we aren’t cutting it to too close for your Visa application.”

  I interrupted. “I can get that through with no issues. Have a friend of mine who can do it right fast enough.”

  “Well, I guess it’s settled then,” Hannah said with a slight shake of her head. “Although, I still have to talk to Charlotte and let her know.” Her thumbnail disappeared between her teeth, eyes growing distant.

  The funny thing was that I was actually looking forward to the trip. Looking forward to spending more time with Charlotte. It seemed as if I’d taken a pair of sheers and clipped that tether that held me between sanity and insanity clean in half.

  I hadn’t a worry in the world. Things were going great with the pub. With Ed and Violet, we’d had nothing but success. I wasn’t needed as much. The pub could practically run itself.

  Ed looked between Hannah and me and said, “Go call her now. I have a funny feeling if you don’t, she’ll hear it from someone else.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened before she dashed off to the back of the pub.

  “And now, I’m off to make some arrangements,” I announced to no one in particular as I hopped off my barstool.

  The floor wavered a bit, rising and falling away like the deck of a ship, but I managed to keep my sea legs as I fought to get layer after layer of clothing on before stepping outside to brave the chilly spring air.

  “Do ye need a ride home?” Violet called as I pushed the pub door open.

  “No thanks; just need a bit of air before bed. Good night then,” I shouted over the howling wind.

  “Let us know when ye make it home,” she called out behind me as I let the door go.

  The sky was grey, with low clouds that threatened to break loose and dump water by the bucket full. The wind helped keep me upright as I crossed the street, intent on reaching my destination before the coming storm.

  “YE WANT ME TO COME up, luv?”

  Years later, I could still recall his voice. Smooth and rich like whiskey, burning against my skin as he ran his finger down the length of my neck. I’d been under his control, hypnotized by the swirling look of fire in his eyes that promised pleasure beyond my wildest imagination, and my imagination was vast.

  I stupidly said yes, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Even though I’d been warned he wasn’t tamable.

  But I wasn’t looking to tame.

  Memories of that night flooded my head in heated flashes. Legs and arms tangled together. Lips never breaking contact. Fistfuls of hair and strings of erotic words I shamefully recanted in my fantasies ever since.

  We had been so close to sealing the deal, something I never did with a man I’d only known for a few days, but there was something about him that took those rules of mine and crushed them.

  Inhibitions didn’t exist in his radius. He had me naked and ready, standing over me domineeringly, and it was all I could do to keep it together.

  But when I said please, something in him changed.

  I was ashamed and confused when he handed me my clothes and told me he couldn’t. When he pulled on his boxers and raided the mini-bar, downing a small bottle of whiskey.

  My imagination turned on me, filling my head with stories that grew and spread like twisted vines. Maybe he didn’t like smaller-framed girls. Maybe I said too much or not enough. Maybe it was my breath or my hair or my willingness to bow to his every command.

  The maybes multiplied like a virus, filling my brain until it felt like it might explode.

  He must have seen it, because he rushed to assure me it wasn’t me. Typical. I should have known then when he gave me a line about being exhausted and not wanting to disappoint me in bed. I wanted to freak out. Wanted to tell him to get out, but there was something in his eyes when he asked me to please try to understand, almost as if a war waged behind them, and I was the center of it.

  It snapped me clean in half.

  He turned when I dressed, nervously running his hands through his hair. Asked me if I wanted him to go. In one instant, he’d given me back all the power I had offered him, and it was the pleading, lonely look in his gaze that kept me from telling him yes.

  I told him I understood as I pieced myself back together, unwilling to break because of him. Not wanting to be like every other girl his friend Violet had told me about who tried to pin him down.

  I was better than that. Rejection was no stranger to me.

  I gave him his out. Told him he could go, that I was okay, but he didn’t leave. He stayed that night, and we talke
d until the sun came up. It was as if the clothing created a barrier he could hide behind. A safe place he could talk from as he opened a small part of himself to me. And, when it was time for me to go, I handed him my number as I climbed in the cab, telling him if he ever wanted to talk, I was just a phone call away.

  Those were the last words we ever spoke. The last time I heard his voice, because there was no phone call after that. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. If I pretended like his unwillingness to sleep with me, along with his silence, didn’t pop up in my head every time I went on a date with a guy after that.

  How could I face him again? How could I pretend like I haven’t thought… no… fantasized about him in the wake of the unfinished business he left behind?

  I set my phone down, staring at Hannah’s number, and had half a mind to call her back and tell her not to let him come. But then I’d be admitting what I didn’t want to face. I’d be telling not only myself, but also him as well that he did affect me more than I wanted him to.

  You’ll be fine, Charlotte, I coached myself, knowing it was a complete lie. He’s just a man, and you’re not that thirsty for him.

  But then why did my stomach twist up, pulse kick-starting to life at the mention of his name? Because he’s been the only fantasy you’ve used while getting off ever since you left London.

  I had to shake it off. Had to pull myself together. I could handle it. I’d just build a wall longer and wider than China’s, and be the sweet, funny hostess he’d be expecting. I took drama class. I could pull it off.

  A huff pushed up from the depth of me.

  Who was I kidding?

  Charlie was coming, and I didn’t have the strength to stop it.

  WHEN I GOT HOME, I had a pocket full of money and the promise from my buddy Stan that I’d be all set to travel by the nineteenth. Inside my flat was warm. Almost too warm. Between the ale and the whiskey, I felt as if I had a furnace running under my skin. After peeling away my rain-soaked clothes, I dumped them in the bathtub and wandered across the hall to my room.