We lay there, our bodies flush, naked, and sated, for twenty minutes.

We talked. Nothing heavy. Just chitchat.

And we kissed, heavy, long, and wet.

And then Porter got up, got dressed, and got gone.

As he had promised after our first date, I spent the rest of the night touching my bruised and swollen lips, but they were split in a smile as I did it.

* * *

I’d been optimistic about how much time I’d get to spend with Charlotte when we’d decided to grow something out of the intense connection we felt in the dark. I hadn’t dated anyone since Catherine had died, but it couldn’t be that hard to find time to date, right?

Wrong!

Charlotte and I had talked on the phone and texted a lot. But, in the two weeks since we’d officially started a relationship, we’d only managed to see each other four times. The grand total of those hours could have been counted on one hand. Two of those times had been when I’d stopped by her apartment on my way home from the restaurant. Not that her apartment was anywhere close to on my way home from the restaurant. But I’d been so desperate for more than a phone call that I’d taken the hour-long detour past her house. This had resulted in ten minutes of her smiling and a couple of kisses that weren’t nearly deep enough to last me through the week. But it was so fucking worth it.

With both restaurants up and running, I barely had enough time for the kids. Forget about a social life. Thankfully, Charlotte understood. She was busy too. The other two of the four times we’d seen each other had been when she’d stopped in at the restaurant on her way home and watched me run around while she ate dinner alone at the bar.

I was starting to lose my mind. I craved that woman something fierce. And not just her body—though that was definitely part of it. But I missed seeing her face light with humor. And feeling her melt into my side as if she needed to be there to breathe. I missed the way her heart hammered in her chest each time I’d kiss her. And the way she moaned with contentment when I’d engulf her hand in mine.

But it was Charlotte, so if the phone and the text messages were all I could have of her, I’d still take it every single time.

It was now my first quasi-free night in over two weeks. Tanner was out of town, and I had a new manager working his first shift out of training. So, while I needed to physically be in the building in case he couldn’t hack it, I didn’t have to be actively working. I had a full four hours of mostly uninterrupted time to dedicate to a dinner and maybe some quiet time in my office with Charlotte. Yeah. Okay, fine. In the real world, it was a terrible excuse for a date night. And it sucked. Like, a lot. But it was the best we’d been able to swing in weeks.

We were silently sitting in our booth. Her eyes were aimed at the table while she used her thumb and her index finger to roll a torn-off edge of a cocktail napkin into a ball.

I knew what was coming, so I released her hand, leaned back, and allowed her the time and space to draw up her courage.

She did this every day—whether in person or on the phone. One question about the kids. Never more. Never less. At first, it had been jarring, but then I’d figured that it was her way of easing them into her life. She’d caught me off guard more often than not on the phone. But, in person, I could always tell when the question was coming. She’d get quiet, emotionally pulling away from me even if she was physically in my arms. Her breathing would speed and she would nervously toy with the ends of her hair or a necklace or whatever she could get her hands on. After the first time, I’d learned to wait her out.

She’d ask.

I’d answer.

She’d swallow hard.

I’d kiss her and change the subject to something ridiculous.

She’d laugh.

And then we’d go back to doing whatever the hell we’d been doing or talking about before that one question had crossed her mind.

“How’s Travis doing?” she finally asked.

I covered her hand, stilling her furiously circling fingers. “He’s doing better. I talked to Dr. Whitehall this morning, actually. She’s pleased with his progress. And I’m pleased that we haven’t had to go back to the hospital in over a month.”

“Good,” she whispered before taking a sip of her wine.

I dipped my lips to her knuckles, murmuring, “You know, we could always have one of the waitresses deliver to the couch in my office?”

Her shoulders sagged, and I could feel the anxiety ebbing from her body.

I fucking hated the toll such a simple question took on her.

Especially a simple question about the two people I loved most in the world.

Her face remained unreadable, but her eyes flickered with humor. “And cost another innocent Porterhouse employee her job?”

I laughed. “Come on. I didn’t fire anyone. No one has mentioned a word about overhearing us doing the deed. Besides, if they had, they’ve probably all spent the last two weeks building a class action sexual harassment case against me. At least let’s make it worth my while if I’m gonna lose my ass in a lawsuit.”

Her whole face lit as she smiled.

Back to my Charlotte.

I was so focused on her wide smile that I missed his approaching.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Tanner drawled as he stopped at the end of our booth, sporting his signature I’m-about-to-screw-with-you-Porter shit-eating grin.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you were out of town still?”

“I just got back. I swung by to pick up a bottle of champagne when Bethany told me you were back here with your girlfriend.”

“And I’ll remind you again, Tanner. Our bar does not double as your personal wine cellar. There’s a liquor store two blocks over.”

He ignored my comment and stared across from me. “You must be the infamous Charlotte Mills.”

Her voice was even as she greeted, “And you must be Sloth.”

Tanner twisted his lips in disbelief. “Sloth?”

Her face remained stoic and humorless in that way that I fucking adored as she said, “Yeah. Porter showed me a picture of you. I have to say, though, it must have been an old one, because you haven’t aged well.” She flipped her gaze to mine. “I was wrong before. You definitely got the looks in the family.”

Tanner’s jaw fell open in horror as I burst into laughter.

There was legitimately nothing sexier than watching Charlotte tap-dance on my brother’s inflated ego.

Giving her hand a tight squeeze, I teased, “Is it too soon to be falling in love with you?”

“Yes. Entirely,” she said dryly, but I knew my woman. And she was smiling on the inside.

I winked. “Okay. I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

A grin broke across her mouth, and Tanner blew out a hard breath, reminding us that he was still standing there.

“Oh, you were kidding,” he laughed and slid into the booth on my side, forcing me to scoot over.

“Do you mind?” I complained.

“Not particularly,” he replied. “So, Charlotte, do you have any idea how much my brother obsesses about you?”

“Seriously?” I grumbled.

She tipped her head to the side and slid her gaze to mine, her lips twitching almost imperceptibly. “You obsess about me?”

I shrugged. “No more than you obsess about me.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

It was at that point that I suspected she was so focused on my smile that she missed the bright, white one approaching the table.

“She’s lying. She’s completely obsessed with you,” Rita said, sliding into the booth beside her.

“Uhhh…” Charlotte drawled as she scooted over.

And then I quickly parroted her response when Tanner pushed up onto his elbows and leaned across the table, where Rita met him halfway for a quick peck on the lips.

Not even Charlotte’s natural mask of mystery could contain her surprise.

“Hey, babe,” Tanner said, reaching out to take Rita’s hand in an uncomfortably familiar way I never realized we shared until that moment.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late. I lost my car keys,” Rita replied, completely ignoring our palpable shock.