The midnight game of chess had gone far better—and worse—than Charlie had expected. The Scrabble game had merely been a distraction from his real agenda. To get close to Carolina without raising her hackles, which had worked. But she’d scraped a few layers from his hide in return. Worth it. Even the pain of being within kissing distance and having to stop himself from indulging them both in an activity far more suited for the time and place than Scrabble. She was much too smart to allow him to attack the problem head on, or he’d have just sw ept her into his arms and told her a bunch of flowery things about his feelings for her. But since she’d made it clear that she didn’t equate declarations of love as a method to gauge his seriousness about her, he’d had to resort to backhanded methods. Like paying attention to her. She’d needed him last night. Not that she’d admit it. But he’d practically been able to feel her consternation through the wall. Losing a few hours of sle ep in favor of spending time with her had fit right into his plans. If nothing else, he had direct confirmation that she did possess the ability to be truthful with him about her own feelings. She felt the pull between them all right. Despite the fact that she’d clammed up about it afterward, she couldn’t take it back now. Whether she’d be any less combative today as a result remained to be seen. One benefit of neither of them having a traditional office job was that they were both home all day. Gave him plenty of opportunity to start in on the next tool: doing unexpected things for her that made her feel valued. That’s how he’d prove he was serious about this marriage. And how he’d ultimately win the bet. Since she’d declared herself a coffee girl, he set about enticing her out from behind the barricade of her bedroom with a freshly brewed pot that filled her entire condo with the divine smell. It worked. She strolled into the kitchen wearing that horrible, ill-fitting robe that gaped at the shoulder, leaving this slice of skin between the lapel and the strap of her tank top. Far be it from him to point it out. Or mention that it was somehow more alluring than if she’d skipped the robe entirely. There was something in the challenge of knowing he had a few barriers to remove before he got to the good stuff. Clearly, she knew this about his personality. Clearly, she liked encouraging it. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? “You didn’t have to make an entire pot of coffee,” she said over her shoulder as she grabbed the handle to pour a cup. “You’re the best, Charlie,” he mimicked in a high voice. “This coffee is great, Charlie. I don’t know how I survived without you all this time, since I’m too cheap to buy a Keurig like everyone else on the planet.” She made a face in his general direction, tossing big glossy chunks of hair down over her shoulders that made his fingers itch to touch. She was so breathtakingly gorgeous that he almost broke every single one
of his self- imposed rules by backing her against the counter to show her exactly how he felt about her. “I don’t like the way those pods make the coffee taste. Besides, there are eleventy billion of those things sitting in a landfill as we speak. I can’t consciously add to that.” “You’ll notice that I have more than a passing familiarity with how to brew coffee the old-fashioned way,” he pointed out. “I’m on board with not increasing our carbon footprint while we play house.” She dumped a ton of creamer in her coffee, basically ruining the taste anyway, which he did not point out, because somehow she’d woken up on the right side of the bed this morning. She had yet to sink her claws into him. Dare he hope that last night had earned him some points? “You must teach me how to arrange the letter tiles in the velvet bag so that you get all the good words and I draw the dregs,” she said casually as she sipped her coffee. “I spent way too long trying to work out the trick after you left instead of sle eping.” So that was the excuse she was going with for not sle eping? He grinned. “A magician never tells his secrets.” “That’s the closest I’m going to get to a confession, I take it.” “I told you last night. I’m not a cheater. It’s not any fun to win that way. I want to know that the sweet thrill of victory is one hundred percent earned.” Of course, she’d have to know which game he’d been trying to win to realize that the Scrabble tiles had been the least of his concerns. Besides, they’d never finished the game, so it wasn’t technically a win anyway. “You have nothing to eat in this house. Looks like I’m taking you to dinner tonight.” She lifted a brow. “Or I could just go grocery shopping.” “Or you could just go to dinner and stop making everything harder than it has to be.” “Or you could ask me out like a normal man who wants to spend time with a woman in hopes of winning a bet.” He couldn’t help but laugh because man, she was something else. That’s why he’d been wholly unable to forget Carolina Kline over the last eleven months. Despite the fact that she’d dumped him like a bag of trash she couldn’t wait to get rid of. “You’re right. I could.” He touched his chin with a forefinger. “Now why wouldn’t I just call you up and say, hey Carolina, there’s this new place I’d like to check out. Oh, that’s right. Because we’re married and we both have to eat.” And he had a fair amount of self-preservation that seemed to rear its ugly head at exactly the wrong time. The annulment had taken a chunk out of his soul that hadn’t quite grown back yet. Maybe that wasn’t even possible. Now was not the time to start thinking about that. Not when he’d made such huge strides already.
“You can still call me,” she informed him coolly. “Your number’s not blocked.” Sure. He hadn’t been the one to dash out of that wedding chapel with nothing more than a muttered, “I can’t do this.” He hadn’t been the one to book a whole s eparate flight home or the one to file for the annulment. Why would she block his number? “Doorbell,” he said as the chime sounded, grateful for the interruption from the mess in his head. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” “I heard it. I’m not dressed, and I’m not expecting anyone. There’s no law that says I have to answer the door just because I’m at home.” No, there was no law. But it was common courtesy when your husband had ordered something to be delivered and paid extra for one day delivery. “I’ll get it then.” “Suit yourself.” Rolling his eyes at her sudden need to have the last word, he retrieved the package from the building concierge, nodding his thanks to the man, whom he’d asked yesterday to hand-carry the delivery to Carolina’s door. “What is that?” she asked as he brought the box into the kitchen and set it on the counter. “A zebra,” he deadpanned with far less sarcasm than the situation warranted. “It’s got your name on it. Why don’t you open it and find out?” Eyeing him suspiciously, she grabbed a pair of scissors and opened them to use one blade like a knife to cut the tape. Which would have gone much more smoothly if she’d used an actual knife, but far be it from him to offer the one in his pocket. She opened the flaps and sorted through the plastic packing material, then pulled out the smaller package inside. She glanced up at him as she clutched the silver laptop. “What is this? I already have a computer.” “This one is state of the art.” He took the package from her and cut open the packing sleeve, setting it on the counter. “It’s the same one I have. It’s got dual hard drives and a high-quality graphics card to help avoid delays during live streaming.” Since she didn’t seem to be following the conversation well enough to understand that this was a present that he’d ordered for her, he reached out and hit the button to turn it on. “I’ll get it booted up for you,” he told her. “This had to have cost a fortune,” she said as she touched the laptop reverently. A small tell. But a good one. She liked the gift. As a bonus, she hadn’t shoved it back in his direction. “They’re not cheap. But I really like mine. So, I thought you might too. You need some better software to stream from your website. I’ll go through your setup later. If you want.” “I’m literally your biggest professional rival,” she said with a slightly dazed bent to her tone, as if this might be news to him. “Why would you offer to help my show?”
Oh, there were so many answers to that question that would be ill- advised to actually say out loud. So he bit them all back. Especially the one about how he’d bought this for her. Not her show. “The show is only as good as the host. The equipment is secondary.” She smirked and the moment shifted from heavy and meaningful back into the realm of manageable. Carolina on the defensive he could take. All day long. Vulnerable and nearly at a loss for words? No. That might lead him to start making confessions he wasn’t ready to voice, just to fill the silence. “I’ll do this justice,” she informed him. “Don’t worry.” “I never had a doubt.” Neither did he think it would be advisable to mention that she’d forever have an element to her show that had his stamp on it. She’d realize that ines capable fact on her own eventually, and then she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him as she stared into the camera built into the laptop, even as she advised viewers that men were evil. “This doesn’t change anything,” she told him. “I’m not the type of woman to fall all over a man just because he buys me expensive gifts.” “You don’t say.” Her gaze narrowed as she treated him to a scorching once over. “What are you up to? Scrabble and laptops are not what I’d call romantic.” “If you’d rather I borrow a ukulele and serenade you from the ground floor as you swoon on the balcony, I’ll start making some calls.” “So you are trying to romance me with gifts and midnight visits to my room with board games.” Said with heavy accusation, as if he’d done something heinous. “What was your first clue?” he shot back with a touch more emotion than he would have liked. But come on. “I’m here for a reason, Carolina. And it includes making our marriage so desirable that you want to stay in it. Chances are better that I’ll succeed at that by doing nice things for you instead of being a jerk, but then, I’m not an expert. Oh wait. Yes, I am.” And it would be lovely if she would just recognize that and lay off, but instead, she jammed her fists down on her hips. “An expert at knowing how to push a woman’s buttons, yes.” “You got a couple of buttons that need pushing, sweetheart?” he asked with a wink designed to cover whatever had started welling up inside him. “I’ll start flexing my digits.” “That’s right. Make jokes.” She fluttered a hand in the air between them. “The second things get even remotely serious, you deflect. It’s practically textbook.” “Yeah, you’ve got me all figured out.” Suddenly the air in her condo got a little too dense for his taste and he couldn’t breathe. “I have a... thing. An errand. Be back later.” She arched a brow but chose not to call him on the lie for whatever reason. But it wasn’t until he’d tried to slam the elevator door—and almost succeeded—that he realized he really wasn’t breathing and let the pent-up air out of his lungs.
The ride to the ground floor of Carolina’s building didn’t take long enough. Or maybe the problem was he still wasn’t far enough away from the truth in his wife’s statement. He did deflect, but not because he was scared of getting serious. Because he was scared of losing his heart to her all over again. He’d devised this bet out of some ill-conceived notion that he’d enjoy knowing he’d gotten the upper hand with Carolina after having the marriage he’d thought he’d so cleverly talked her into shredded before his eyes. Only to find out he’d really wanted a second chance with her, like a really real, starting over from scratch second chance, a possibility that seemed pretty well off the table given the genesis of their second marriage. But the part where he hadn’t acknowledged the pain he still carried from the annulment—that was a shocker. He’d have sworn he was good. No. He was not good. He was mad. And hurt. Way de ep down inside, where he couldn’t stick a Band-Aid on it. That part was raw and bleeding, and he couldn’t make it stop. Yet he was still here. Allegedly because he still wanted to win, though his definition of the prize had shifted. The TV show barely even registered on his scale of importance. Carolina on the other hand... that was what he hoped to win. Her. Forever. It was a stupid desire, one that he’d readily admit had a lot to do with proving his theories were superior. Love mattered. Love counted. Wasn’t that the point of life? And convincing the toughest critic of that platform that he was right? That would not only solidify Charles Wilson as the foremost relationship expert on the planet, he’d get the woman he loved as his wife forever. Best of all, it would be a win for them both. A little disoriented, Charlie st epped off the elevator and headed toward the public courtyard where all the shops and restaurants were. He didn’t really want coffee, but Java By Brydie seemed to be the place everyone else was heading, so he went with the flow. The line wasn’t too long, fortunately. Three de ep at the register, and four at the pickup counter. The guy in line in front of him was sneaking glances at Charlie, and experience told him that he’d encountered a fan who would eventually strike up a conversation that started along the lines of, “Aren’t you Two-Buck Chuck?” Which is exactly how it played out. Exc ept for the part where the guy wasn’t so much of a fan. “Thanks for nothing.” The guy scowled, his eyebrows coming together over his stormy expression. “I took your advice to stick it out with my girlfriend, even though I knew she was having second thoughts. I walked in on her with my best friend. Now, I’m a cliché, and my life is ruined.” “Sorry, man.” Charlie scrubbed at the back of his neck, scrambling for something brilliant to say. “Some relationship guru you are.” The former fan turned his back on Charlie, snapping out his order to the girl behind the counter, then jerking his credit card through the machine.
There didn’t seem to be much point in explaining to the guy that he was better off knowing the truth about his girlfriend. If he’d left her, he’d always wonder if he’d made the right decision. But maybe that was more about Charlie than sound relationship psychology. Besides, what did he know about women? How to lose one. That was about it. Feeling sorry for himself, he ordered a latte that would likely end up in the trash and stood well away from the crowd at the pickup counter in hopes of avoiding more conversation. It worked until the barista called his name. As he took the cup from the woman with a bright blue shock of hair, she lifted her chin in his direction. “You’re the guy who married Carolina,” she said. Her nametag read Brydie. “Guilty.” “Since you still have all your fingers and an intact face, I’m going to guess it’s going well.” He couldn’t help but smile. “You must have more than a passing acquaintance with her.” “She’s a good one. I’m rooting for you two to work it out.” So was he. Still. There didn’t seem to be much he could do to erase his bone-de ep need for Carolina, so his only choice was to revamp his strategy. Nodding his thanks, he took his coffee into the courtyard. The tools weren’t working. He had to acc ept that. For the first time, he had a bad moment as he considered the odds he was up against. Considered there was a possibility he might not win this bet. Carolina held all the cards and she’d play every last ace with glee, then waltz right out of his reach again. For good, likely. If the tools he’d crafted his strategy around weren’t working, what hope did he have? At this point, he had more of a shot ending up like his former fan, walking in on Carolina with her new boyfriend. That was fatalistic thinking. Charlie refused to concede his wife to anyone. Something would work to move the dial with her and he was the only man on earth motivated enough to find it. She needed something from him, something he’d been withholding for his own selfish reasons—to avoid being ripped into tiny little pieces. But if he wanted to win, he had to take some risks. He had to show Carolina he was serious about her. Not the marriage. Or the bet. Just her.