Charlie thought long and hard about calling a buddy to come over and examine his head. This bet was making him crazy already and it was only the first day. If he was going to move the dial with his ex-wife at all, he needed his sle ep. Unfortunately, the sheets reminded him that Carolina had sprawled all over them just a few hours before and that led to his brain continually rehashing that kitchen conversation. Which had been a huge test of wills in more ways than one. Did she have any clue how tempted he’d been to yank her into his embrace and settle the matter of whether she’d moved on, mano a mano? But that wasn’t the best path with her. He knew it like he knew his own face in the mirror. Didn’t make it any easier to sle ep with the scent of honeysuckle simmering in his blood. Day two dawned a little less combative, but only because he woke up in the spare bedroom alone. He thought for a brief moment about never coming out, but that wouldn’t get him any closer to winning. After last night, with all the talk about new boyfriends and love not being in the cards for everyone (translation: Carolina), Charlie clearly had some work to do. He took a shower in the en suite bathroom attached to his bedroom, a little unhappy that Carolina’s condo had space for him that would allow them to coexist without interaction. She didn’t need a lot of incentive to hide out from him and having the means meant she’d likely do it more than he’d prefer. Her kitchen was empty when he emerged thirty minutes later. Either she’d gotten up early to avoid him or she was still asle ep. Her door was shut which probably meant the latter, so he began a methodical search for coffee. Or at least, caffeine was the excuse he planned to use for why he took the opportunity to thoroughly explore every inch of Carolina’s space while she was blissfully unaware of his trespass. Not that Carolina’s kitchen was a hotbed of illicit secrets. But he had a suspicion she wouldn’t appreciate knowing that he’d pawed through her belongings. On the flip side, he did live here. And he did need to know where stuff was. Like tea. In a wooden box he instantly recognized. It was tucked into the back of the walk-in pantry, but not hidden exactly. He shoved the bag of sugar aside and picked up the box, running a finger over the Chinese characters embossed on the front. He’d bought her this tea that time she’d dragged him to the Asian market in search of a gift for her mom, who liked oriental art. Man, Carolina had been a mess that day, hypersensitive about finding exactly the right present. She and her mom were super close. Her dad wasn’t in the picture and Charlie had never gotten the full story there, but whatever it was, it caused Carolina to be a little nutty about pretty much anything that came to her mother.
After an hour of following her as she flitted from vendor to vendor, he’d snagged this box of green tea off a shelf and told her she needed to chill out with a nice cup of relaxation. She’d stopped as if she’d run straight into a brick wall, her face closing in as she apologized. “You don’t understand,” he’d murmured in her ear as he’d gathered her up in his arms. That was back when she’d come willingly and he got to hold her whenever he wanted. “The tea is to help fortify you. Since this is going to take a while.” The grateful smile she shot him had gone a long way toward his own fortification. He’d bought her the box of tea and some kind of pastry from a lovely, elder gentlemen who didn’t speak a word of English. Immediately afterward, Carolina found a cute ceramic monkey in the shape of a watering can that she turned into a planter. Her mom had loved it. He hadn’t thought of that day in a long time. All those details were right there in his mind, all tied to this simple cedar box with the hinged lid. He popped it open. Rows of teabags in gossamer netting nestled inside, half of them gone. His heart slammed into his throat. She was still drinking it. It probably didn’t mean anything. But she hadn’t tossed the entire thing in the trash directly after signing the annulment papers. Didn’t women always have some kind of ceremony after breaking up with a man? He’d envisioned her tossing everything that had the slightest connection to him into an oil barrel, then chasing that with a lit match. If she had, so what? Sentimentality had never been a big thing to him. Until now. His fingers tightened around the simple wooden box. This was the part where having a degree in psychology didn’t do him any favors, because there were a number of reasons she might have k ept the tea. She liked it. She associated the memory of it with her mom, not Charlie. Judging by the messy state of her condo, the likeliest explanation was that she never threw anything away. None of that resonated with him. Or more to the point, he wanted to think she’d k ept it because she hadn’t quite moved on like she claimed. The thought wound through his insides with shocking warmth. Sure, he k ept up a good front when around her, with lots of bravado and a healthy bit of ego. He had to, or she’d eat him for breakfast. It was one of her best qualities— she k ept him honest and on his toes, and that invigorated him to no end. But it wasn’t until this moment that he had any kind of proof for his gut de ep feeling that there was still something between them. His job was to fan that spark. “Did you get lost in there?” Carolina’s voice rang out from behind him and he grinned, backing out of the pantry with the tea box still in hand. There was one surefire way to find out why she’d k ept it. Stick it in her face. “I was just about to make a nice cup of tea.” He shook the box once. “Half full.” Carolina crossed her arms over an ankle length robe, which she’d apparently conjured up out of nowhere since she hadn’t been
wearing it last night. Shame. She’d looked stellar in that shorts and tank top set yesterday and he’d have been A-Okay with a r epeat. “Knock yourself out,” she said casually. Not a single flicker in her gaze. Interesting. She was ke eping her emotions carefully in check this morning. “Join me?” “I’m more of a coffee girl in the morning,” she said. “I only drink tea when I’m sick.” “Oh, man.” He let as much concern infuse his voice as possible. “How sick are you? I gave you this tea less than a year ago. As much as there is gone, you must be dying.” She blinked and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. I like it. Happy?” “Always,” he informed her with a cheeky grin that did not earn him one in response. So it was going to be that kind of morning. No admission that she’d k ept a gift he’d given her. No soft catches in her breathing when he got a little too close. He’d have to work on that. “We’ll see if that continues after you lose the bet. Speaking of which, we never really established the criteria for that. After last night’s discussion, we can call it right now since I’m never going to change my mind about whether love is in the cards for me.” Charlie’s pulse did a weird little free fall as he took in her perfectly composed expression. “You’re done already? I never pegged you for a quitter.” She hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours. Did she really hate him that much or had he pushed her too hard last night? “I didn’t say I’m quitting. I said there’s no point in continuing. We’re going to be at exactly the same place in two weeks as we are right now. Why go through all of this nonsense?” “Because you agreed to two weeks,” he countered more smoothly than the ragged quality of his pulse should have allowed, but he had a ton of practice hiding behind his personality instead of letting Carolina see how de eply her barbs sank. Which was de ep. She couldn’t quit. Not this early. He hadn’t even rolled out his second tool yet. “I know what I agreed to.” Her gaze lit on the box of tea still nestled in his palm, giving him an inkling of what had tripped her radar. “I’m just trying to give you an out. In case you wanted to save some face. There’s no shame in having second thoughts.” Yeah, exc ept he wasn’t the one having them. She was the overthinker in their little party of two. Curiouser and curiouser. “You’re so generous. I’m good. And the answer to your question is still up in the air. What would you say is the best criteria for determining that I’ve won?” He closed his mouth. A rarity, and it had taken an enormous amount of will to ke ep himself from answering that question for her. Because honestly, he would have taken a simple I love you. An I was wrong to walk out on you. He wasn’t expecting her to collapse into his arms in a torrid bout of confession that her soul still burned for him and nothing short of being together forever would do. Any of the above would work. But none of that was her style, and as such, he was ravenous to hear her suggestion.
“Why do I have to be the one to establish the criteria of your bet?” she groused, pulling the robe tighter around her midsection, a surefire sign that he’d made her uncomfortable. Good. She needed someone who cared enough to pay attention to her little tells. Whoever this new boyfriend was, he didn’t get her like Charlie did. She deserved better. “It’ll be easy to figure out if you’ve won. You kick me out after two weeks and go on with your life. Since you’re so sure your mind will never be changed, you need to be the one to say what that looks like.” “Your bet. You don’t get to weasel out of the terms.” “Fine. You have to announce on your show that you were wrong.” Her expression froze, exc ept for a small, telltale jump in her temple. “I’m not doing that.” He’d struck a nerve, one he’d known full well he’d hit—she did not like to admit being wrong. “Then my offer stands. You decide. I’m generous too.” She stared at him, blonde flyaways clinging to her cheek. Usually she wore her hair pretty well beaten into submission, but she’d apparently just rolled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen to give him grief as her opening act of the day. He liked a disheveled Carolina. He liked having access to her first thing in the morning and last thing before going to bed. There was an intimacy to living with her that he’d missed out on, and he had had no regrets over insisting on this time around. “I suppose you think you’re clever,” she said with slatted eyes. “If I define the criteria, I can’t argue that it’s not fair. Or that you didn’t really win.” “That’s it in a nutshell,” he readily agreed as if that had been his game all along. “When I win, I do want it to be a solid tick mark in my favor. We can’t have the producers of the show questioning whether my platform is the best or not.” In reality, his game had been redirecting her attention away from the notion of quitting. She’d had one eye on her es cape route from the moment she’d said yes to his social experiment. Before that even. Since the moment he’d met her. His fatal error had been realizing her ginormous commitment issues too late. That’s why tool number two would be ke eping Carolina focused on him. Not the door. If she was fighting him instead of herself, he had a shot. A tiny, hard-to- make shot. But it was still there. He had to believe that. “No, we definitely can’t have them questioning whose platform is the best.” A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth, but he didn’t mistake it as friendly. “You have to go big or go home. To be declared the winner, I don’t see how the deciding factor could be anything other than me not filing for annulment.” It was Charlie’s turn to stare at her. “You mean like ever?” She shrugged, completely casual about the so not-casual subject material. “Isn’t that the opposite of my typical stance? Instead of counseling myself to leave, I’d be staying married.” “Staying married.”
Yes, his ability to mimic a parrot was unparalleled. But what was he supposed to do with that? That meant he had to file, which undermined his platform something fierce. Or stay married to her. It was a very neatly laid trap. “Isn’t that what you want out of this?” She blinked coquettishly which decreased her allure not at all if that had been her intent. “Me on a platter?” “Maybe not on a platter. But if that comes with the deal, I wouldn’t complain.” How he’d gotten that out around his suddenly numb tongue, he’d never know. Carolina on a platter. It was so far beyond anything he’d let himself dream of that he could scarcely credit how big the thing in his chest had gotten as he imagined exactly that. It meant total surrender. Offering herself up to him with complete vulnerability. And he wanted that. He wanted a real second chance, an opportunity to woo her into his arms for good. To hear her say I love you and mean it. To never worry about whether she was still a flight risk. The problem was that he’d never actually seen that as an option. He’d foolishly assumed that this whole thing would go down like the last time he’d proposed to her. That he’d get her good and besotted over him again, declare himself the winner, and then she’d file for an annulment, just like last time. He’d never have to be vulnerable. Never have to trust her with his heart. Because he didn’t think he actually could trust her. With anything. Least of all his heart. “Then it’s settled,” she said. “If you want to crow about winning, then you have to figure out how to get me to stay.” “You still have to give me two weeks,” he reminded her, a tad more desperately than he would have liked. “Then we evaluate on the last day.” “That’s heavily stacking the deck in your favor.” “Yeah. My bet.” And she was still a flight risk even with a marriage license in hand. Which he wouldn’t even have until tomorrow. This whole scheme felt precarious all at once, far more than it had five minutes ago— because he hadn’t fully understood the stakes. “If you have the option to leave any time, you will, just to ensure I lose.” “Your bet,” she r epeated primly. “You should have thought of that before now.” He should have thought of a lot of things before now. Like how badly he wanted her back for real and how hard it would be to recover from the gut wrenching he’d unwittingly lined up for. “I did,” he told her with a grin, strictly to hide the panic that had winnowed through his bones. “That’s why I made sure your agreement to stay the two weeks was made on air. If you back out now, that recording will become my new theme song.” “I guess we’ve found the one thing you’re serious about,” she said with a tip of her chin. “Your career.” “I’m serious about you too.” Which shouldn’t even be in question, but this wasn’t the first time she’d thrown that down between them. “How many other men have lined up to marry you twice, my darling
wife?” “But it’s not for real,” she reminded him through bared teeth. “It never was.” She turned on a heel and fled for her bedroom, sans coffee, leaving him with his mouth still agape as he scrambled to put the pieces of his plan back together. She thought he hadn’t been serious the first time around. So untrue. But so easy to see how she’d gotten that impression. He’d given it to her deliberately. What kind of idiot laid his heart bare for a woman like Carolina to stomp all over? One who had a death wish, that’s who. Charlie was much smarter than that. Or at least he would have claimed that all day long. Back on planet earth, he was feeling pretty stupid. His tendency to lean on his personality instead of being transparent and real with her may have cost him more than he’d calculated. And might well have destroyed the ship before its sails had fully caught the wind.