Page 16 of Lady Luck’s Kiss

CHARLIE

The next morning, Charlotte’s mind refused to quiet.

It had been buzzing since the moment she opened her eyes, restless and unrelenting.

She barely knew him, she reminded herself for what felt like the hundredth time.

Sure, their date had been wonderful—better than wonderful.

The easy laughter, the brush of his hand against hers, the way the night had seemed to vibrate with some invisible current between them.

There had been something alive and thrilling in the air, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

But feelings weren’t facts. Sparks didn’t equal substance.

Didn’t it matter if they had compatible personalities?

If they liked the same things? If he had roots here, or people who grounded him?

You couldn’t just tell someone you loved them after one night—not without knowing who they really were.

That was reckless, and Charlotte had never been reckless with her heart.

It was weird. The whole situation was undeniably weird. And weird, she supposed, could lean either direction—wonderfully good or catastrophically bad.

She tried to bury herself in work instead of dwelling on it.

Sitting at her desk in the garage office, she was halfway through ordering more parts online when she heard the familiar rumble of Buddy’s truck pulling into the lot.

She glanced up through the open door just in time to see him backing a small Chevy toward the garage bay.

Her gaze flickered instinctively to the next stall—Jack’s truck.

Her chest tightened.

She’d poured so much effort into that truck, working late nights and long hours, taking pride in every repaired piece.

They’d even driven it on their date last night, laughing with the windows down as if the world belonged to just the two of them.

And now it sat there, still needing a few finishing touches.

But her eyes snagged on the dash, and she cursed under her breath.

The rose.

A single deep red bloom Jack had given her, sweet and old-fashioned, was resting right there in plain view.

Perfect. Just perfect. Exactly what she needed—Buddy, the man who had been asking her out for months, walking into this moment and drawing all the wrong conclusions.

Greaaaaaat .

“Do you need me to come in?” Buddy called through the open door.

Charlotte stiffened. “No.”

Her tone came out sharper than intended, but she didn’t want him stepping inside and taking in the scene. The truck. The rose. The undeniable evidence that something had happened.

Her appearance didn’t help either. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning all night with memories of Jack’s smile lingering in her mind. She hadn’t bothered with lipstick this morning, her hair was in a messy knot, and she was clinging to her first cup of coffee like a lifeline.

It wasn’t the walk of shame. Not even close. But she could see exactly how it might look to Buddy, standing there with his delivery and his assumptions. His expression wasn’t smug or possessive, though, which was a small mercy. Instead, he looked… concerned . And that somehow made it worse.

Before she could figure out what to say, another vehicle rolled up—an Uber. Her stomach sank when Jack stepped out, holding Starbucks in one hand and another bouquet of flowers in the other. He kissed her on the cheek, looked at Buddy, and then whispered in her ear.

“I’ll call you later,” Jack breathed and she nodded erratically. Yeah. That looked bad. To anyone else, it looked very bad.

“Thanks. I need a little space,” she replied simply, feeling nervous and not wanting to come off as too clingy or needy. Jack hesitated, dropped his hand, and then nodded - getting back in the Uber to leave.

No, she needed a moment for the world to stop spinning - except it felt like it was turning even faster - and in the wrong direction.

Greaaat .

“Had a good night, I see,” Buddy remarked, his voice flat and just sharp enough to sting.

“Fantastic, not that it’s any of your business,” Charlotte snapped back before she could stop herself. Heat rushed to her cheeks at the caustic edge in her own voice, but Buddy had struck a nerve. The fact that he said it the second Jack’s Uber pulled away only twisted the knife deeper.

“Well if you need me to take this little beauty down the road, I can.”

Her stomach clenched. Was he threatening her business because his feelings were bruised?

“No, I need the work and you know it.”

“I’m not sure what I know or don’t know anymore,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I thought you didn’t want anything like that right now in your life. Or was it just me?”

Her pulse jumped. “Buddy, you’re nice. Sweet. I don’t want complications right now. And Jack and I are complicated.”

“Jack? As in Jack Seguin? The tow-in from the other day?” He ripped off his baseball cap, twisted it in his hands, then shoved it back on with force.

His stare bore into her like she was someone he didn’t recognize anymore.

Charlotte’s face burned hotter, probably redder than the lipstick she usually wore.

“I’ve known Jack for a while,” she lied, her gaze darting away. The words felt heavy and wrong the second they left her mouth. She wasn’t a liar, not usually, and she knew she wasn’t pulling this one off.

“What you do is up to you,” Buddy said slowly, stepping closer, “but when you decide you want a real man…”

Her heart jerked into her throat.

“…When you want to make a go at a partnership that could be beneficial for both work and home, let me know, Charlie.”

He closed the distance between them, his presence suddenly overwhelming. Charlotte instinctively backed away, but he kept coming until her shoulders brushed the side of the Chevy. Before she could process, his hands gripped her shoulders, and he leaned in.

Her body reacted on instinct.

“No!” she yelped, shoving her hand between their faces to block his mouth. Her knee jerked up, barely missing its intended target. She lost her footing and stumbled backward, crashing onto the rough asphalt. Pain shot up her arm as it scraped, and her tailbone throbbed from the fall.

Shock and fear churned in her chest. Not just from Buddy’s unwanted advance, but from the tangled mess she’d just made of her life—her fragile beginning with Jack, the stability of her garage, and the years of friendship she’d shared with Buddy.

Three horrific strikes, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

“Fine,” Buddy barked, his voice edged with anger as he grabbed the chains under the Chevy and slammed them onto the back of his truck. “I can take a hint!”

Charlotte scrambled to her feet, clutching her arm and bracing for him to haul the car away. Instead, he stomped back to his truck, slammed the door, and peeled out of the lot. Gravel and dirt spat from his tires, spraying directly at her.

She stood frozen, holding her injured elbow, watching the dust settle in the empty lot he left behind. For several long moments, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—just stood there in shock, feeling bruised in more ways than one.