Page 13 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter Eleven

It’d been two weeks since she moved into Hemlock’s condo, and Charlie couldn’t begin to repay him for all his kindness.

On top of letting her live there, he’d also let her borrow his car, sparing her the hassle of taking the bus.

She wasn’t used to this kind of generosity.

After years of scraping by, she felt almost guilty accepting it, like she was taking advantage of him. But Hemlock didn’t seem to mind.

After everything Hemlock had done for her, and was still doing for her, Charlie was trying her best to just be grateful.

Thinking it might be a small gesture, but one that felt meaningful.

Hemlock wasn’t the kind of guy to expect grand gestures, so to show some form of appreciation she stopped off at the diner she worked at on the weekends.

Going by what she’d seen him eat, Charlie felt pretty certain she knew what he might like from the restaurant.

An hour later, she walked into the house carrying the brown paper bag from the diner.

Closing the door, she dropped the car keys into the wooden bowl where Hemlock kept them, then set her purse on the little hall table.

She was about to call out his name when she heard female laughter coming from the living room.

Her heart dropped at the realization he had a date.

Somewhere deep down she had hoped things would progress between them.

Seemed that wasn’t the case. Turning around she picked up her purse, scooped up the keys and headed for the door as quietly as she could.

Two steps away from the door she heard heavy footsteps coming in her direction from the kitchen and knew it was Hemlock.

“Charlie.”

She froze, her hand on the door handle. She wasn’t sure whether to turn around or just bolt out of there. Looking over her shoulder she forced a smile. “Hey. I was just heading back out.”

His expression was unreadable at first, the flicker of surprise barely visible before it settled into something softer, almost cautious. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice low. “Didn’t you just come in?”

She felt her hands tremble, but kept the smile plastered on her face, knowing it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I… I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying her calm demeanor when she said, “Sounds like you’ve got company.”

“I do.” He took a step toward her, his brow furrowing. “Wait, you’re not interrupting anything. It’s not—” he stopped, his gaze flickering to the door, to her purse, to the keys… the bag in her hand.

“I’ll grab a hotel room. I don’t want to disturb your date.”

“My date?” he asked questioningly.

“Yeah. Your date.”

Hemlock let out a low chuckle, the sound rich with amusement.“I don’t have a date here,” Hemlock’s voice had a teasing edge to it, and it felt like he was enjoying this a little too much.

Charlie felt her cheeks warm, unsure whether she should apologize or just ignore the whole thing. “So, you’re not—?” Charlie couldn’t finish the sentence, the words hanging awkwardly in the air. “Isn’t there a woman here?” she asked.

“Yes. But she’s not with me.” Hemlock chuckled. Charlie was too cute. “Vicious and Sway are here along with Truck.”

“My mistake.” Charlie tugged her purse strap higher on her shoulder, trying to cover the way her hands felt suddenly clammy.

“No worries,” Hemlock said, his voice light, but there was something else behind his words. Hemlock’s eyes sparkled as he straightened up and took a few steps toward her, his gaze steady but searching. “Do I smell food?”

Holding out the bag Charlie gave him a weak smile, “It’s from the diner.”

Hemlock lifted the bag from her arms and nodded for her to follow him into the kitchen. He watched as she set her purse down and tossed his keys into the wooden bowl on the hall table. It was starting to be a familiar sight. “How was your day?”

The way he asked about her day made the butterflies in Charlie’s stomach flutter.

Her feelings for Hemlock grew stronger every time he asked about her day or checked in on her.

As she followed him into the kitchen, she couldn’t help but appreciate the way his body moved.

He wasn’t muscular like a body builder. His body was naturally toned and muscular from hard work.

“What did you bring home for us?” he asked, snapping her back to the present and away from admiring his body.

Giving him a sheepish smile when Hemlock looked at her, she answered, “Everything.”

Hemlock stared at Charlie at hearing the word everything, then barked out a laugh. Reaching into the bag, he pulled container after container out and setting all of it on the counter. “Holy cow, woman, did you think I was starving?”

“I couldn’t decide what you’d want, and I wanted to bring you dinner,” she said in a rush.

The way he looked at the food containers made her long for him to look at her like that.

You want to be looked at as a meal? Yes.

She wanted him to look at her like the best meal he’d ever seen, wanted, tasted. All of it.

She watched Hemlock set the last container on the counter, then walked the few steps towards her.

Before she knew what he was doing, Hemlock wrapped her in his arms for a hug.

She felt his lips press against her forehead and closed her eyes.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Charlie hugged him back wanting to breathe him in.

I should have continued sleeping in his bed.

What had I been thinking when I moved to the spare room?

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Charlie dropping her arms and stepping out of Hemlock’s embrace. Smoothing her hand down her hair, she moved around him to take down paper plates from the cabinet.

“We’re about to roll, brother,” Truck said to Hemlock while watching Charlie intently as she moved around the kitchen.

“No. Stay. Charlie came baring food.” Hemlock spread his hands out showing Truck all the food.

Charlie leaned around Hemlock adding her own comment, “Please stay. We can’t eat everything I brought.”

“See. She wants you guys to stay for dinner.” Hemlock handed some of the containers to Truck. When he took them to the dinner table, Hemlock followed him out with more. “Charlie, can you grab the rest?”

“Sure thing.” She tucked her soda under arm, scooped up the plates, silverware, and the last two containers and headed to the table. When she set everything down, Hemlock made the introductions before they dug into the meal.

Two hours later everyone laid around the living room stuffed.

Hemlock clicked through the channels stopping on the news.

There on the TV screen was the chapter’s clubhouse.

Everyone sat up as he turned up the volume.

The reporter talked about how the area was about to get a facelift from Wellington Corporation.

“Who and what is Wellington?” Hemlock asked.

“Crispen’s father’s company.” Sighing Charlie stood shaking her head and gathering empty bottles and glasses. “I doubt Mr. Allen is buying up the area.”

“Why not?” Vicious asked, watching Charlie clean up. He was curious about what she might know.

Cleaning up the table, Charlie looked over at the small group staring at her. “Wellington is a commodity brokerage firm. They buy and sell raw material or primary agricultural products such as copper, coffee, grain, things like that. Buying buildings doesn’t qualify as a commodity.”

Charlie didn’t want to state the obvious. But seeing the concern on their faces she added her suspicions. “I would bet the few dollars in my purse, Crispen is behind that report.”

She saw the look on Hemlock’s face and shook her head.

Charlie knew what he wanted to ask but didn’t so she answered it for him.

“Yes, I wouldn’t doubt he knows I’m living here and who you are.

” She wouldn’t be surprised if by end of the week Hemlock asked her to move out.

She wouldn’t blame him. He hadn’t signed up for the headache Crispen could cause.

As she finished cleaning up the kitchen, Charlie heard everyone say goodnight.

Walking to the door, she waved as they all left.

While Hemlock was outside talking to his friends, Charlie headed upstairs.

Tomorrow she’d start looking for a new place to live.

It was better to be prepared than to get caught off guard.

Ten minutes later she heard a soft knock at her door. “Come in.”

Hemlock stuck his head in making sure she was decent before fully entering the bedroom. “Truck invited us over to swim and to bar-b-q this weekend. What’s your schedule?”

Grabbing her phone, she pulled up her calendar. “I’m off from all three places on Saturday. Huh, I can’t believe I’m off on a Saturday.”

“Are you good with going over while I’m at work?”

“I guess so.”

“Cool. I work until three. I’ll come straight there when I get off.” Hemlock said goodnight closing the door behind him. When he heard the click, signally the door was shut, he leaned his head against it and wished she’d invited him to stay . I should’ve asked her.

Charlie sat on the bed with her fingers brushing the fabric of the bedspread as the door shut.

Climbing off the bed, she padded across the wooden floor.

She stood still for a moment before taking the last step towards it.

She was about to open the door and ask if she could stay with him tonight.

Instead, she leaned her forehead against the door.

If he wanted me, he would say so. Turning away from the door, she went back to the bed.

She sat down closing her eyes, sighing deeply.

She knew it was for the best. Less expectations that way, but she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d have opened the door.

Would he have still been standing there?

Frustrated by her own thoughts, Charlie tossed back the covers and crawled under them.

Pulling the blanket up, she tucked it under her chin and tried to think about something other than the handsome man down the hall.

The night felt endless, a quiet endless void where Charlie’s thoughts swirled.

As she lay there, her heart pounded softly in her chest, a constant reminder of the ache that lingered just beneath the surface.

She had stood at the door, so close to making a choice—close to crossing a line she had been tiptoeing around for so long—but something had held her back.

If he wanted her there, he would have come. He would have asked.

Charlie squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to breathe deeply, to push the thought of Hemlock out of her mind, but it was impossible.

She had always been good at hiding her feelings, at keeping things close to her chest, but now, alone in the quiet of her room, the walls seemed to close in on her.

What if he had wanted her to come to him?

A low, frustrated groan escaped her lips, and she rolled over onto her side, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. The warmth of the fabric felt distant, no comfort against the cold knot tightening in her stomach.

She sighed again, frustrated with herself. Stop overthinking it .

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her thoughts always circled back to him.

To the way he had looked at her when their eyes had met, the way his presence had soothed the ache she didn’t know she had.

And she wondered—just for a fleeting second—if he was laying in his bed just like her, wondering the same thing.

Had he stood there waiting for her to open the door? Or had he simply walked away, content with the distance?

The silence in her room seemed louder now, each second dragging on, and once again she pulled the covers tighter around her, trying to block out the thoughts, the feelings coursing through her body.

It didn’t matter how hard she tried, the ache remained.