Charlie was awakened the next morning by Bass' cell phone ringing out in the kitchen. Bass answered it quickly, but it was too late. Sitting up slowly, she stretched. Though she wasn't exactly trying to, she couldn't help but overhear Bass' side of the conversation.
"Jesus Christ, Miles, it's six in the morning… yeah, I was up, but- … what's going on with us? I don't know, we're seeing each other … fuck you, I'm not telling you that, you draw your own conclusions." Bass paused for a long time, and Charlie held her breath, imagining Miles ranting on the other end of the phone. "Look," Bass finally broke in. "I understand why you feel that way, but she's really not just some random hookup. You think I would do this if she was? Come on…I mean, she's amazing Miles. Beautiful, and smart, and… Yeah, I know you know that, my point is that I know it. … I can't promise to do that. It's up to her what she wants to do. Miles? Miles?" Charlie heard Bass sigh impatiently and toss the phone down.
Charlie felt a rising sense of dread and sadness as she processed what she'd just overheard and realized what she had to do. Obviously, Miles was not happy about the idea of her and Bass together. She was thrilled that Bass had defended them, and that he felt as strongly about her as she did about him, even after such a short time. But Charlie couldn't continue seeing Bass, knowing that Miles disapproved. How was she supposed to build a relationship with the man she'd just found out was her father, while at the same time dating his best friend against his wishes? As much as she'd come to care about Bass, she knew that the right thing to do was to put family first. She had to end things with Bass.
Only then did Charlie register the sound and smells of food cooking. Her stomach turned over, and not just from hunger. Bass had made her breakfast. It was so sweet, it made her feel even worse.
After getting dressed and cleaned up, Charlie walked out of the bedroom. Bass was standing in the small kitchenette in a gray t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his hair still mussed from a night's sleep. Charlie bit her lip. God, he was sexy, even more so the less he tried to be. When he spotted her, his face lit up with a smile.
"Hey," he greeted her. "Didn't expect to see you for a couple hours."
"Yeah, the phone woke me up," Charlie responded, then immediately kicked herself.
Bass' face dropped. "Oh. Sorry. Did you uh… hear anything else?"
"Just that you were talking," Charlie lied. "Anything important?" She walked over to Bass and saw that he had made a pan of scrambled eggs.
Bass pulled them off the burner and set them aside. He turned and wrapped both arms around Charlie's waist, pulling her against him. "Just Miles. Berating me, as expected."
Charlie forced a laugh, but it came out fake, and Bass looked down at her in concern. "You're worried about Miles," he stated.
"I just…" Charlie began, stepping away from Bass, who immediately crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "After thinking about it more… I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"This being…" Bass prompted, though his expression showed he knew what she meant.
"Us. Dating. I think maybe we should cool things off until…" she hesitated. "Until I figure things out with Miles. I just found out he's my freaking father. I don't want to add to the weirdness any more than I have to."
"Because us dating is 'weirdness,'" he said sarcastically.
"Uh, dating my new-found dad's best friend while I'm trying to create a relationship with said dad, yeah," Charlie said snarkily, picking up on his tone. "Kinda weird."
For a few seconds, Bass regarded her silently, his expression stormy. At last, he spoke, "Fine. Then you should probably go."
Charlie's heart broke a little at how terse he was being, obviously trying to cover his hurt feelings. She wanted him to know that she was hurting, too, even if she thought she was doing the right thing. Reaching out slightly toward him, she said, "I don't have to go right away. I mean, I feel bad. You made breakfast and everything."
Bass pursed his lips and rolled his eyes in irritation. Snatching the pan of eggs with one hand, he opened the trash can with the other and dumped the food into the garbage with a thunk. "There," he said. "No more breakfast. Okay? We good now?"
Charlie felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Yeah," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We're good." Turning blindly, she grabbed her purse off the hall table and slipped her shoes on. She could feel Bass' stare on her back the whole time, but she didn't dare look at him, afraid of what she'd see. Instead, she let herself out the door of his apartment, not letting the tears fall down her face until it had slammed behind her.
On Sunday afternoon, Charlie and Miles were meeting for lunch at a café near her apartment. They'd been texting sporadically since Thursday night, and had decided to meet up to talk in person. Charlie was nervous as she sat and waited for Miles. She'd tried on at least five outfits before settling on her usual jeans and a tank top, a lot more effort than most women probably put into dressing for lunch with their father, she thought.
Miles finally showed up, fifteen minutes late, and settled into the booth across from her. Charlie had slight déjà vu, back to Thursday night when he'd made his drunken revelation of her paternity. Unfortunately, this time, they were both sober, and it was even more awkward.
"So, uh. How do we do this?" Miles asked.
"You're asking me?" Charlie said with a small laugh. "How should I know? Aren't you supposed to be the wise parental figure here?"
Miles made a sour face, indicating that was the last thing he saw himself as. "Okay, uhhh. Let's just… maybe we can just spend time together and talk. About normal stuff. Not crazy-family-secret stuff. That work for you?"
Charlie nodded. "Works for me. Starting with: I don't think I can work at the garage anymore."
"Why not?" Miles asked.
"I don't know. If we're trying to get to know each other, me hanging around your business while you're actually doing work all day probably isn't the best way. Plus…" Charlie wasn't sure whether she should say anything, but she'd already started to, so went on. "I don't think it would be a good idea for me to be around Bass right now."
Miles froze, the coffee cup still touching his lips. Slowly, he lowered it, his face impassive. "And why is that?" he said carefully.
"He didn't tell you?" Charlie asked. Miles just stared at her, so she continued, "I told him I didn't think we should see each other anymore. With finding out you're my… with finding out everything, it just didn't seem right."
Miles sank back into his seat and exhaled, blowing his hair up his forehead. "Can't imagine he took it very well," he said, studying Charlie carefully. Charlie got the sense he was waiting for confirmation that Bass had done something untoward, so Miles would still have an excuse to be pissed off at him.
"He was okay," Charlie insisted. "I think we're both a little upset, but… whatever." She was dying to change the subject.
"Alright," Miles said, picking up on her discomfort. "But I do think you should keep working at the garage. You have to do that school project, and I promise I'll try to be better about giving you more of my time. Don't worry about Bass. He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."
Charlie nodded. Truth be told, she didn't want to have to start over at a new job for the semester, and she would like to the opportunity to keep seeing Miles regularly. And Bass, her inner voice taunted her, but she tried to ignore it. "Okay," she agreed. "I'll stay."
That topic exhausted, the silence stretched between Miles and Charlie as they both visibly struggled to find some common ground to discuss. Charlie considered, and dismissed, bringing up some garage work gossip, not wanting to get any of the guys in trouble. She tried in vain to remember any sports teams that Miles liked, but realized she wouldn't know anything about any of them, anyway. Flustered, Charlie opened her mouth to ask Miles how the coffee was, when he spoke first.
"So, uh… have you ever heard of Burnt?" he asked.
Charlie frowned, "Burnt?"
Miles said, "Yeah, the club? In the south side?" Charlie shook her head, and he elaborated, "Well, anyway, um, I'm a part owner."
Charlie was impressed. "Wow, the garage and a night club? Go Uncle Miles," she commented, then felt a fierce blush overtake her features. "I mean… fuck."
Miles actually gave her a half-smile at that. "Old habits," he said. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, I was going to say, if you and some of your girl friends ever wanted to come by, I can make sure you get the total VIP treatment. No line, free drinks, lounge access, the whole deal."
It seemed that Miles was doing his best to relate to her as a young twenty-something woman, Charlie thought. She was not at all a clubbing type of girl – she couldn't recall ever having been to one. And her "girl friends" consisted of a couple of women in her calc study group and her roommate, none of whom themselves were all that into big nights out on the town. Still, Miles was trying. And she didn't want to shoot him down.
"That, uh… that sounds great," she said. "My roommate is out of town next weekend, but maybe the one after?"
"I'll make sure they know," Miles promised. "Just tell them who you are and you'll be taken care of."
Charlie smiled, "Great." Finally, she remembered a small pennant she had seen in Miles' office. "So, how are the Bears doing?" she asked gamely, smiling as Miles launched into a recount of last week's football results. Charlie found herself relaxing and actually enjoying being out to a meal with… her dad.
From then on, Miles made good on his promise to try to be more attentive to Charlie at work, taking time out of his day to explain things to her and ask her questions about how she was doing. And Jason was as helpful as ever. Charlie had started to blend in with the crew, feeling more and more like one of the guys every day. She really was enjoying her time at the garage, with one exception: Bass.
It was absolute torture being so close to him, but barely talking to him. Every once in awhile, they were forced to interact, and at those times, though they maintained a businesslike facade, Charlie could tell they were both struggling. Almost every day, she questioned her decision to break off whatever had been starting between them. The intense, lingering stares that had drawn her to Bass in the first place continued. They didn't seem able to stop themselves. Or, Charlie admitted to herself, to want to stop.
Even if she hadn't been seeing him regularly, Charlie knew she wouldn't have been able to get Bass off her mind. He had made her feel like no man before ever had. She missed him terribly, but she convinced herself it was for the best that they weren't seeing each other. That didn't stop her from remembering the intimacy they'd shared, the way his hands touched her body, the way he felt buried deep inside her. No other man held any interest for her anymore. Alone in her bed at night, memories of Bass mingled with fantasies as she brought herself to desperate but ultimately unsatisfying climaxes, thinking of him, wanting him.
On the Friday two weeks after she and Bass broke up, Jason gave Charlie the phone number of a prospective customer. He asked her to take it to Bass, who was up in the reception area. As usual, Charlie dreaded interacting with Bass, but at the same time was thrilled to have the excuse. When she found Bass and he turned and saw her, the tumult in his eyes mirrored her own emotions.
"Hey," Charlie said. "Uh, Jason asked me to give you this. Potential customer, I think. He wants you to call him." She held out the card with the guy's information on it.
Bass paused for a second, then reached for the card. Instead of taking it right away, he slid his fingers over the back of Charlie's hand, along hers, then finally plucked the card out of her grasp. Just that slight contact had Charlie's head pounding.
"Thanks," he said, somehow loading the word with meaning.
"Yeah," Charlie said. She should turn around and walk back into the garage, she knew. But she didn't want to. She wanted to stay right there, close to Bass, just for a few more seconds.
"Was there something else?" Bass asked softly, taking a half-step toward her. Nothing that the few customers in the waiting area would notice, but Charlie certainly did, her body flooding with warmth.
"Bass…" she pleaded, though she wasn't sure what for. For him to hold her? Forgive her? Do something to try to get her back?
The spell was broken as Miles came through the door of the shop and spotted them. Charlie gasped and stepped back from Bass. Miles looked at the two of them in concern, but Charlie ran off before he could say anything. As she did, she swore to stay away from Bass from then on.
That night, Charlie got home late after a night of drinking wine and watching dumb TV shows at a friend's house. She said a quick goodnight to her roommate and got in bed, but she was too wired to sleep. Idly, she pulled out her phone and started browsing through Facebook.
It didn't take long for the temptation to tickle at her mind – to check Bass' profile. She'd looked at it before, and it had dozens of photos of him looking heart-meltingly sexy. Charlie had been irritated but not surprised to see that most of them featured some gorgeous woman hanging all over Bass. He never posted anything himself, but apparently, he didn't have the sense to set his profile on private to hide the extent of his conquests. Charlie assured herself that she wasn't just another one of them. Somehow she was sure of it, though reason would suggest otherwise.
Most days, she managed to restrain herself from looking for an update, but not this time. She clicked on the search for "Bass Monroe," embarrassingly saved in her history. She'd have to figure out how to delete that, later. Her heart leaped when she saw that there was a new photo in his newsfeed. Posted just two hours earlier.
It was a picture of Bass and two women. Well really, it was a selfie taken by one woman, with her friend next to her kissing her on the cheek, and Bass on her other side, looking off camera, seemingly mid-conversation with someone. Charlie's heart ached at how gorgeous he looked, in profile. Her blood boiled with jealousy. Who was this skank, taking selfies of herself with Bass, nestled into his side?
The news item read: Anjali Das added a new photo – with Bass Monroe and Cassandra Elliot. Charlie rolled her eyes at Anjali's photo caption: "So loving VIP treatment at Burnt! #bestclub #bestguy #bestbff"
Disgusted, Charlie clicked her screen off and laid back in bed. Well, what did she think was going to happen? She hadn't expected Bass to run off and join a monastery after they'd split. But that didn't mean that she wasn't insanely jealous to see him just two weeks later, wrapped around some other woman, at Miles' club no less. Groaning, Charlie buried her face in her pillow and tried to sleep.
Back at the garage the following week, Charlie tried not to let her jealousy and irritation show in her limited interactions with Bass. For the most part, she succeeded. But on Friday, an hour or so before the shop closed, Charlie couldn't help getting in a snarky dig at the end of her conversation with Bass about some missing receipts.
"Have a great weekend," Charlie said. "Try not to forget which women you're seeing on which nights."
Bass' head snapped up from the paper he'd been rifling through. He grinned wolfishly at her. "I never do," he said cockily. "I keep my women happy, always."
Charlie felt pathetic. Why had she even brought it up? At a loss for words, she just glared and walked off, feeling Bass' eyes on her the whole time.
As she passed by one of the cars she'd been helping on earlier that day, the mechanic under the hood, Marco, popped his head up. "Hey, Charlie, come here a second," he said, sounding frustrated. When she was by his side, he pointed at two wires connecting to some electrical components. "Did you do this?"
Charlie nodded, "Yeah, earlier today, like you told me. I connected this one," she pointed, "To the stereo, and this one to the wiring harness."
Marco threw up his hands in exasperation, "No wonder the fucking stereo's blown. You got it backwards, goddamnit."
Charlie felt blood hot in her face. She was absolutely sure she'd done what he'd told her. She'd asked him twice, and he'd been impatient with having to go over it. Charlie hadn't even thought to question what he'd said; after all, she wasn't the experienced mechanic, of the two of them.
"No, I didn't," she argued. "You told me to do it that way. If anyone screwed up, it was you."
"Bullshit!" Marco yelled. "Are you fucking kidding me? That's a five hundred dollar part you just busted, there, princess!"
Suddenly, Bass was beside Charlie. "Hey," he interrupted. "What the hell's going on here?"
Marco was seething. "She screwed up the wiring job I asked her to do, and now the stereo is fucked, and she won't even admit it!" he accused.
"That's because I didn't screw up!" Charlie yelled back. "You told me to do it that way, and that's exactly what I did."
"Stop LYING, you stupid fucking bitch!" Marco took a threatening step toward her.
Bass blocked Marco's body with his, staring down the younger man. "Get yourself under control, now," he said in a dangerous tone. "And apologize to Charlie, or I swear to God…" he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
But Marco wasn't too bright. "I'm not apologizing to that little daddy's girl, spoiled cunt," he spat.
In an instant, Bass' hands were on the guy's shoulders, as if he were prepared to shove him down, but he stopped himself short. Instead, he said, his voice shaking with rage, "Get out of here. You're done. I don't ever want to see you again."
"What!" Marco exclaimed. "Boss, seriously, look I'm sorry, but she just…"
"I said get. The fuck. OUT," Bass yelled, and Marco must have seen something in his eyes that made him decide not to fight anymore. Shaking his head and cursing, he practically ran out of the garage. The few guys who were standing around watching turned silently back to their work, tension thick in the room.
Bass turned to Charlie, and she hurried to explain, "I did it the way he asked me, I swear."
Bass shook his head. "Doesn't matter, but I believe you. That guy's lucky he just ended up fired and not fucking killed." He put a hand on her arm where the others couldn't see and ran a thumb tenderly down the inside of her elbow. "Go home. I'll see you Monday."
Charlie nodded, but she couldn't help thinking that Monday sounded much too far away.
The next night, Saturday, Charlie and her friends hopped out of a cab in front of Burnt. Miles had been so excited when she told him they were going, she was glad she'd taken him up on his offer. Along with spending more time with Charlie at the garage, they'd been trying to do coffee or meals a couple times a week. Slowly, things were becoming more comfortable between them, and Charlie was glad they were making the effort. She tried not to think about whether it had been worth breaking up with Bass; her heart was still undecided on that point.
For her clubbing excursion, Charlie had convinced her roommate and two of her study group friends to come along. They'd all been skeptical at first, but her promises of free drinks and encouragement to try a new adventure had won out. Charlie was wearing a skimpy black dress that was tight, short, and low cut. She'd worried that she might be overdressed, but looking at the people in line, she was glad she'd gone all-out. She didn't want it to get back to Miles that she had shown up at his club looking like a loser.
Charlie wondered if it was reckless to be going to the club where she knew there was a decent chance Bass would be hanging out. And if she was being honest with herself, she was hoping he'd be there, even if it was bad for her, even if it meant seeing him with someone else. Whatever the circumstances, she missed him. She wanted to see him.
When Charlie gave her name to the bouncer, he checked the list and nodded, gesturing for the women to hand over their IDs and then wait nearby. He said something into his radio, and a few minutes later, a short guy with spiky hair came out and pulled them inside.
"Hey, I'm Robbie, one of the promoters," he introduced himself. "Anything you need, you ask for me, ok?" He took them through the entrance and over to one of the bars. Charlie saw him exchange a few words with the bartender and point at them, then Robbie came back over. "Alright, you're all set here. Upstairs is the dance floor, and in the far back up there is the VIP lounge area, so if you go, just tell them Robbie said it's cool, and they can check with me. Ok?" He walked off just as quickly as he'd appeared.
Charlie and her friends got their drinks and headed up to the dance floor. Closing her eyes, Charlie felt the music pulsing through her and couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face. It had been a tough week. She was still thinking about Bass and still hating the way they left things, but maybe she could distract herself for a few hours.
As she and her friends looked for a spot to dance, Charlie spotted the VIP area that Robbie had mentioned. It was a raised platform, maybe three feet above the dance floor, with a metal railing sectioning it off from the dance floor and couches facing both outwards and inwards for more privacy. Charlie picked a spot near the stairs leading up to the lounge and started dancing.
It didn't take long for men to start approaching their small group. Charlie danced with guys she deemed attractive enough, but she deftly angled her body and movements such that they kept their hands in strictly PG-rated areas. She wasn't particularly interested in being groped. One guy yelled in her ear, "You're sexy!" Another told her, "I think I love you!" Charlie rolled her eyes at them, but hey, they were cute and she was bored. She tried to ignore the fact that none of the men she was dancing with even came close to turning her on the way Bass did with just a single look.
Charlie casually glanced around the room as she was dancing. Her hands rested on top of the hands of the guy who was behind her, stopping them from moving any higher or lower than her stomach. Her eyes passed over the people in the VIP lounge, and suddenly, her breath caught in her chest.
Bass was there. Bass was there, sitting on a couch with a couple of women. But he was staring at her, only her, with that intense gaze that made Charlie feel like she'd been stripped bare. Charlie knew he'd seen her spot him, because his gaze never wavered, but he raised his glass slightly at her, as if in a mock-toast, then drained whatever liquor was in it.
Charlie smirked. She thought of the photo of him with those two random women and how jealous she'd felt. She thought, maybe a taste of Bass' own medicine was exactly what was needed. Self-conscious now, she danced as sexily as she knew how, running a hand along her the side of her neck and down her body, gyrating her hips into the guy she was with. Charlie looked away from Bass but was aware of him watching her the entire time. She bent over and slowly straightened up, arching her back, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
This went on for a while, Charlie continuing to do everything in her power to make Bass eat his heart out. Rationally, she knew that she was the one who ended things between them, that she had no right to be jealous of him hanging out with other women. But Charlie wasn't very rational when it came to Bass, as it turned out. And she wanted him to want her as badly as she still wanted him.
Finally, Charlie needed a break. She shouted to her friend that she was going to the bathroom and made her way to the dimly lit hallway between the two main dance areas, where the restrooms were.
When she emerged from the bathroom and started making her way down the hallway, she was suddenly blocked by a body in front of her. She looked up indignantly and realized it was Bass. Instinctively, she backed up into the wall, and in response he loomed in closer to her, trapping her against the wall with one arm on each side of her head. Charlie's breath quickened, her body quickly responding to Bass' proximity, arousal flooding her veins.
"Charlie," Bass said, his voice barely audible over the music pulsing down the hallway. He looked down at her with a mix of amusement and intensity.
"You followed me?" was Charlie's response.
Bass smirked. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Why you were putting on your little show for me."
Charlie blushed at being called out, glad it was too dark for him to notice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really." Bass said flatly. "Cause it seemed like you were trying to get my attention. And believe me, sweetheart, it worked."
"Shouldn't you be getting back to your date?" Charlie asked, deflecting. "Anjali or whoever?"
Bass rolled his eyes. "Anjali is the other owner's daughter. She hangs out here a lot, that's it. No date."
Charlie breathed in deeply at this revelation, which had made her much happier than it should have. She licked her lips, pressing her hands into the wall to stop herself from reaching for Bass.
Bending closer to her body, his lips almost grazing her ear, he whispered to her in a low voice, "Tell me you want me to touch you."
Charlie felt herself getting wet. She desperately wanted to say yes, wanted Bass to pin her against the wall and grind into her hard, to kiss her, claim her. But she reminded herself why that was a bad idea. Miles. She looked up into Bass' gaze. His eyes met hers with obvious want.
"I can't," she said weakly, even as her body arched up toward his, not quite making contact.
Bass was undeterred. "Say it," he growled into her ear.
"Fuck," Charlie finally cried out. "Yes, Bass, touch me." The words were barely out of her mouth when his hands were on her, running over the smooth fabric of her dress. His touch felt like a quenching drink of water after weeks in the desert. Charlie gasped with pleasure, twining her arms around his shoulders, and their lips met in a passionate kiss.
Pressing her against the wall, Bass kissed her roughly, holding her body against his. Charlie melted into his arms, pleasure rising in her at the feeling of him so close, every cell of her being clamoring for more.
They paused for breath, and regret washed over her. What the hell was she doing, making out with Bass in the middle of Miles' club, where anyone could see? No matter how much she wanted Bass, she couldn't alienate Miles right now. Not when they'd almost made peace with the truth about Miles being her father. He was trying so hard, and what was she doing? Jumping on Bass the first chance she got.
"Wait," Charlie said, pressing her hands to Bass' chest. "We have to stop. I'm sorry, I… Miles… I can't."
Clearly frustrated, Bass let her go and stepped back, not bothering to argue. Roasting Charlie with one last glance backward, he stalked down the hall, leaving her leaning against the wall alone, breathing hard, wanting desperately to call him back.