Page 199 of The Grand Duel

Christian normally drives me home. You don’t need to come out and you’ll only wind up the dogs.

Why can’t you sleep?

I’m unsure, but it one hundred percent has nothing to do with you dripping in water stood in your bathroom.

Are you sure about that?

No

I’m getting flashbacks

Sounds traumatic

Is that what this is? Trauma.

What are your symptoms?

Baby, you don’t want to know

I smile as I pull the phone to my chest, lying in my bed.

I didn’t call Charlie after I finished work this morning but sent a text instead, knowing he needed to catch up on sleep and not wanting to wake him.

He replied almost immediately, though, letting me know that he was, in fact, awake. Then he proceeded to call me three times until I answered.

We stayed on the phone until I was in bed and my eyes would no longer stay open, our conversation mundane, silly, and yet comforting.

Knowing Scott will be here to pick me up soon, I pull back the covers and stretch, my body aching with the inadequate rest it’s had.

I can only imagine how tired Charlie must be feeling. He spent his Sunday morning at the cottage with me, the afternoon with his friends, and then his night and early morning texting and calling me.

I’m not quite sure what’s happening between us, but I don’t want to overthink it, and I don’t want it to stop.

I shower and dry my hair, taking time with my makeup and then even more time going through my clothing rail.

I find one of my more risqué skirts—a soft cream leather-look pencil skirt—and pair it with a white shirt and jacket that matches.

When the car arrives, right on time, I pull open the door and lock eyes with the man who’s not left my mind for the past twenty-four hours.

It’s like I’m sick, and I can’t think of anything worse than taking something that will make me better.

“Morning, Mr Aldridge,” I say, my smile barely there but not for lack of happiness. I’m just not quite sure how loud I’m allowed to be about this man.

He fights his smile, too, his brow furrowing. “Is it not a good morning today, Lis?”

I tilt my head as I look across at him, letting my full smile free at his use of my name. “You tell me,Charlie.”

His eyes drop from my face to my legs, his sigh telling. “I’d say so.”

I cross my legs, knowing it will show a little more thigh than what’s deemed professional. “Well then, good morning.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out his laptop.

Knowing what I know now—that he has a running list of things all about me, I bite the inside of my cheek to try to hide my smirk.

I should probably tell him.

What could he possibly be writing after that exchange anyway?