Beyond the Orange Moon (Mathews Family Book 2) (19 page)

Charlie raised one brow and looked at her with a peculiar expression. “No,” he finally said, and went back to his task.
 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she practically whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Charlie shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m sure a lot of people think that.” He sat back in his chair and looked at her. “I’m a single father and I know that people are going to judge me.”

“I’m not judging you. I know you’re a good father.”

“How?” He really wanted to know, which was downright sad.
 

Lucy shrugged and thought long and hard about how to get her words out. “Because,” she began, “I’ve witnessed it. You love Jack and he loves you. He looks at you in a way that I wish I could look at my father.”

“What way is that?”

“With total adoration. You’re his hero, Charlie. You’re his everything.”

“When did he leave?” he asked, his voice gentle and sympathetic.
 

Lucy sighed and thought carefully about the direction the conversation was heading. She didn’t want his pity; she had gotten along just fine without her dad and she would continue doing it the same way she always had. So what if she felt a stinging in her chest whenever she watched the father of the bride dance at weddings. In those moments, she was always comforted by imagining that her father felt nothing but shame when he saw such things—at least she hoped he did.
 

“It’s not something I like dwelling on,” she said with a sigh. “He left when I was three and I haven’t seen him since. I know where he is—I’ve even passed him on the street a few times, but I didn’t say anything. I never will.”

“No one can blame you for that,” Charlie said with a look of pure disgust. “I couldn’t do that to Jack.”

Lucy laughed. “Charlie, I don’t think anyone could do that to Jack. He’s probably the most precious boy I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie smiled at that. It was a warm, proud smile that did all kinds of things to her insides. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
 

“Oh, my gosh, yes. He is so sweet, and funny … and … just … I don’t even know. I want to pick him up and squeeze him.” She stopped talking when she felt her cheeks glowing with red. “He’s a good boy,” she finished calmly.
 

Charlie smiled and pursed his lips. “It’s nice when other people say that. I mean, I think he’s great and all, but I might be somewhat biased.”

“You’re doing a good job,” she said, with every ounce of sincerity she had. She wanted him to believe it.
 

“Still, even if you were a rotten kid, what your father did was terrible.”

“Hey,” she said with a laugh, “I was not a rotten kid!”

“I don’t know, Lucy. I’ve been on the other end of your lashings,” he said, winking one gloriously green eye.
 

Lucy tossed a paintbrush at him and subdued the giggle she felt bubbling up in her chest. “We agreed to never talk about that again.”

“I agreed to no such thing.”

“Well, in my defense, I can assure you that I wasn’t drunk at three years old, so my dad never got the kind of lashing you did.”
 

Charlie grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Even if you were the worst child to ever live, no father should ever leave like that.”

Her chest swelled at his touch. She looked down at their joined hands and couldn’t believe how perfectly her fingers intertwined with his.
 
“Oh,” was all she could seem to say.
 

Charlie seemed to be lost in that same feeling until he finally cleared his throat and pulled away. “So, anyway, what about your mom?”

“Hmm?” she asked, snapping out of her thoughts. “My mom? She’s—well—she’s something.”
 

Charlie nodded. “I guess that says it.”

“Hah, no. I love my mom. She’s a bit overbearing, though.”
 

“Better to be overbearing than absent, though, right?”

“I guess I never thought about it that way.” Lucy flashed him a thoughtful grin. “Who would’ve thought that Charlie Mathews would be so insightful?”

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Lucy Marina Dalton,” he teased.
 

“You just middle-named me,” she said, shaking her head.
 

“Yes, I did.”
 

Lucy flipped a cupcake liner over and began to pop the chocolate out. However, it cracked as it went flying out of the liner and both halves landed on the table in front of them. “Oh, no,” she said as she looked at the broken chocolate.

Charlie bit his lower lip, containing the smirk she could see in his eyes. “That’s one way of doing it.” He held up a liner of his own, popped out a perfect chocolate shell, and proudly displayed it in the air. “Do you need me to show you again?”

“No, thank you,” she said, and picked up another liner. “I think I’ve got it now.”

“Let me know if you need any pointers,” he said, and leaned back in his chair with a large grin.
 

“I think you’ve got the rest of these handled,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going to start putting the toppings on.”

“What do you want me to do with these once I’m done?”
 

Lucy turned back around and put her hands on her hips to think. “Actually, Mr. Culinary King, you can put the chocolate and vanilla cupcakes in the liners.”

Charlie popped out the last piece of chocolate. “Perfection,” he said, and held it up proudly. “I might be in the wrong business.”

Lucy pictured him all hot and sweaty, his muscles flexing while he carried heavy loads from one place to another. “Nope, I think you’re doing well right where you are,” she couldn’t help but tease.
 

Charlie flashed a clever smile and stood up. He followed her over to the counter and leaned one narrow hip against it to watch what she was about to do. “Is this the marshmallow part?”

“Mmhmm,” she said with a nod. She covered a cupcake with the chocolate meringue she had mixed earlier, then placed a mini marshmallow on top, followed by a small piece of chocolate. She pulled out her culinary torch and turned it on.
 

“What is that?” Charlie asked, a bit of thrill in his voice. “Wait. Should I get out the extinguisher?”

“It’s a culinary torch,” she said, and tried not to laugh.
 

Charlie leaned down to get a closer look and watched as she toasted the top of the cupcake. “Amazing,” he said.
 

“You keep saying that,” she reminded. “I had no idea you’d be so astounded by baking.”

“It’s an art,” he said simply. “Now I feel bad for eating cupcakes without ever appreciating what went into them.”

Lucy stilled and stood upright. “It is an art. Thank you,” she said, and then continued on to the next cupcake.
 

“Really, I don’t even know if I want to eat these,” he continued while she worked beside him. “I’ll feel too bad destroying what you did.”

Lucy laughed. “You have to eat them.
Our
work will be wasted if you don’t.”

Suddenly, the silence fell over them as her heartbeat traveled up and pounded in her ears. Next to her, other than his intense breathing, Charlie remained soundless. It wasn’t awkward silence; he was contemplating and she could feel it under her skin.
 

“Nothing about this night could be considered a waste, Lucy,” he finally said in a low voice.
 

Lucy turned off her culinary torch but remained frozen, hovering over the cupcake she had just toasted. Oh, that sentence could have been interpreted so many different ways that she didn’t even know what to think of it. At last, she cleared her throat and said, “Could you please hand me another piece of chocolate?”

She could feel the tenderness in his touch as he complied. Her body tingled everywhere and suddenly she was very aware of how close he was; she could feel it deep down in her core. Her cheeks flushed as she met his eyes. Her breath quickened when she saw that the green had almost disappeared and a darkness filled with something magnificent had taken over.
 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and tried to connect the dots in her mind.
 

He nodded once, just like he had done in the park.
 

“Charlie, I don’t …”

“I know,” he said, and then lunged forward to pull her closer. He slid his hands into her hair and forced her to look at him, stare for breathtaking stare. He shook his head quickly, possibly silencing whatever debate was going on inside; she wasn’t sure.
 

Lucy allowed the torch and the chocolate to fall from her hands as she got lost in his gaze. He was going to kiss her. She was certain of that.
 

He moved slowly, his eyes searching her face. His chest rose and fell with each breath. “You are so beautiful,” he confessed quietly. “I have a hard time looking at you, Lucy.”

“My heart is beating so fast,” she admitted, and then regretted it instantly. What a stupid thing to say.
 

He smiled at that, and pulled her closer. He pressed his forehead to hers and seemed to gasp for air now. She reached up and grasped his muscular forearms, feeling them strain with every movement his hands made.
 

My God, this man and all of his masculine glory.
 

He brushed soft lips against hers and then slowly, gently, gave her an exquisite kiss. If kisses were rated between one and ten, this little kiss was a ninety-two.
 

He sucked on her bottom lip and ran his tongue along the closure of her mouth. She parted her lips and allowed him inside, where he slowly slid his tongue against hers.
 

The taste of him was what made her thank the gods above for the gift of the senses. Everything she could hear, see, feel, smell, and taste swirled into one magnificent sensation inside her. She moaned against his lips and strained up for more of whatever he would give her.
 

This was wrong, wrong,
wrong
, and she knew it. Her body, however, didn’t agree; her stomach fluttered and the sensations shooting through her intensified. She had a yearning deep in her center, between her legs, and it was throbbing with every single move he made.
 

Breathing heavily, he pulled away and searched her face. He kept his hands in her hair as he pushed her up against the counter. His eyes were even darker now, filled with lust and a carnal look that she never knew existed. He pulled his hands from her hair and moved them to her waist, lifting her onto the counter.
 

He looked down at her dress and pulled her legs apart. He moved in between them and ran his hands from her calves up to her knees before sliding them under the hem of her dress.
 

In all of her life, she had never been so happy she had worn a dress.
 

He reached her bottom and pulled her closer. With an eagerness she could feel, he leaned forward and annihilated her lips again.
 

“Charlie,” she breathed as he moved his mouth to her neck. “Oh,” she moaned, and tilted her head to give him better access.
 

She stroked his hair, opening her legs wider to urge him to keep going. She thrust her hips toward him, needing something there—something that would ease her ache. At that, he dug his large hands into her hips and pulled at her panties.
 

She moaned even louder this time and tugged at his hair. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She allowed her hands to wander freely, feeling his chest, his back, and even his tight ass. He groaned into her skin, his breath lifting the ends of her hair.
 

She lost all control and it seemed as though he had, too. She had never prayed for something to remain so spontaneous and carefree. She was always thinking, her mind always moving—but not this time. In this moment, she only thought about his lips and the feel of his hands.
 

He groped her thigh and then moved his hand to the spot between her legs that had been screaming for his attention. He dragged his finger over the thin fabric of her panties and stilled for a moment that felt much too long.
 

“I need you to say yes, Lucy,” he finally whispered.
 

“Yes, yes …
God
, yes!” she breathed into the air.
 

She was panting heavily as he slipped one finger under the fabric and made circles that caused her to jolt with desire. That finger was rapidly pushing her over the edge into a lovely state of pure ecstasy.
 

“Charlie,” she groaned. “You’re going to make me … I’m going to …”

He continued to stroke her as he pressed his lips to her ear. “That’s the point, Lucy,” he whispered, and licked her lobe with his warm tongue.

She let out another moan and it was
loud
this time. She tightened her legs around him and clung to his shirt by the fistfuls. She threw her head back and gasped as the rush surged through her entire body and she nearly screamed with joy.