I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(7)

The man looked at me. His deep-blue eyes were piercing, and my throat went dry. I didn’t usually speak to men this handsome unless they were slung on Beth’s arm—you know, safe. I swallowed, despite the sandpaper coating my throat, and stood.

Sticking my hand out, I tapped into my professional training. The man wore a light-blue Oxford shirt and navy slacks. Clearly he was comfortable in a boardroom. If I treated this like a business meeting, then maybe I wouldn’t feel so tongue-tied. “Charlie Lucas.”

He gave a brief nod before clasping my hand and shaking it, then dropped it with impatience. “Liam Connell.”

Wait . . . wasn’t Liam the name of that Hemsworth brother? That could not be a coincidence.

He glanced at Spike. “What happened?”

“I backed into him with my car,” I said. “He was skating behind me, and I didn’t see him. He appears unharmed, and as far as I know, nothing hurts.” Except my pride.

“But are you okay?” Liam asked, turning his attention back to the kid. He stepped past me and lowered himself into the chair beside Spike. “Come on, man. Speak to me.”

“It was nothing,” Spike said with all the angst of a seventeen-year-old. “I’ve had worse while skating the bowl. She hardly touched me.”

Liam’s gaze flicked to me. He looked uncertain.

I had to agree with the kid. I’d barely backed out when I’d collided with him. He probably just got the wind knocked out of him.

Spike delivered something between a groan and a sigh. “Can I go now? I’m late for fifth period.”

Liam scrubbed a hand over his face. “Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”

Spike stood, dropping his skateboard on the floor and stilling it with his foot. “No thanks.”

“Spike—”

“Later,” he said, opening the door and skating outside. The bell rang over him, and then silence fell in the lobby. Beth was quietly focused on foiling highlights, listening to her client chatter, and the woman on the opposite side of the room continued rolling her perm.

Sitting on the plastic chair, Liam fixed his gaze on the clear glass door, his eyebrows pulled together in concentration, small lines of concern forming between them. Should I say something to him? If I’d hit his car, I would offer my phone number and insurance information. What was I supposed to do after I hit a teenager?

I cleared my throat. “Can I give you my number?”

He glanced up, his blue eyes widening. His gaze ran the length of me, and I wanted to step away, feeling oddly vulnerable. He was no doubt judging my pale legs and lack of makeup. I had put mascara on at least, right? Oh heavens, I hoped I’d remembered the mascara. My lashes were practically nonexistent without it.

“Um . . .”

It occurred to me that this man probably thought I was hitting on him. Men who looked like he did were inundated with women. Super tall, gorgeous women were constantly all over guys like this. I threw my hands up to stave off the misunderstanding. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean—I don’t want a date. I just meant in case you need my insurance later or anything. If Spike’s neck spasms or whatever.”

His eyebrows hitched up on his forehead, and he stood, suddenly towering over me. Wow, he was tall. “I didn’t think you were asking me out.”

My cheeks heated. Great. So not only did I appear incompetent from hitting Spike, but I seemed foolish as well. I might as well have sunk into the floor.

“Do you think his neck was acting up?” Liam asked.

“No. I wasn’t implying anything about his neck. It was just an example.”

He looked unconvinced.

I pulled out my phone and opened the contacts screen to input a new number. Holding it out, I said, “Just give me your number. I’ll send you a text with my name so you have my information in case anything comes up.” I quickly added, “Not that I think anything will.”

The time in the top corner of my screen caught my eye, and I sucked in a breath. “Shoot. I’ve got to get to work.”

“No kidding,” Liam mumbled, taking my phone and typing quickly.

I took the phone back and turned away, ignoring Beth’s wide eyes on the other side of the salon. If she was hoping I’d introduce her to this guy, she was out of luck. There was no way I was going to bother with that. The sooner he was gone from my life, the better. And anyway, wasn’t she going out with her shaving client this weekend?

I pushed through the front door and stalled on the sidewalk while he followed. “I guess just let me know how he’s doing,” I said. “I mean, if I need to know.”

Could I sound more awkward?

He nodded, and I turned away before he could absorb the full effect of my blush.

It wasn’t cute. Bright red spots of color usually bled over my entire pale face. A curse of un-tannable skin.

Sliding into the front seat of my car, I pulled out my phone and sent Liam a text with my full name. The little dotted symbol played in the bottom of the screen, and I waited, watching it move. My head said I needed to drive home and change so I could get to work on time, but I didn’t heed it. I waited. A text came in.

Liam: So my day just went from bad to worse. Spike was hit by a car but seems well enough. I think he was only bumped. I might run him by the doctor after school to get checked out, just in case. The woman who hit him seems to think he might have hurt his neck, but given how often he scrapes himself at the skate park, I think he’s probably okay, just rattled.