𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐒𝐈𝐗

Charlie Taylor carefully runs the tips of his fingers along the faint scars on Katherine's left shoulder. He's never asked about them before, nor has she volunteered information.

There's a lot about her that he doesn't know. She still hasn't talked about what really brought her back to town...who would seem so drab after graduating college, especially from a University as prestigious as Yale?

"It's the loan debt, isn't it?" Charlie once joked. Katherine laughed and downed the rest of her drink, but didn't have much of a reply.

The early days were weird. She would always be looking to whatever door was closest, like someone she knew was about to walk through it. For a while, Charlie thought it would be another guy...maybe that's why she came back. Was she trying to find one, or was she trying to get away from one? The latter would explain why she's always armed to the teeth.

There's a gun holstered underneath her seat, and another holster hanging over the side of the mattress by her pillow. He saw it the first time he slept over, but didn't think to ask about it. It's Florida. Everyone has a gun. But to have one under the seat of your car?

It did occur to him on multiple occasions that he might be dating a psycho. The thought amused him now. Maybe she is a psycho, but a different kind. The kind who works twelve hour days and parties relentlessly on the weekends.

It was one of those nights last night. Some friends from his job were out at the new country bar just across town, which Katherine and Sophia frequented since moving to town.

One blue eye opens to peer at him, and a soft smile tugs at her lips. "Good morning," she croaks. He smiles for an answer. "What time is it?"

"6:30."

"Ugh." She rubs her eyes, smearing mascara that had already been disturbed from a rough night. She didn't wash her face last night. Red lipstick is all over her pillow...and Charlie. She looks at him and laughs. "It's all over you."

"Considering you're the reason it's all over me, why don't you help me wash it off?"

Katherine hums, stretching an arm over his ribs, and pulls herself close to him. "That could be arranged," she sighs into his chest. "What's in it for me?" She opens one eye again to look up at him. He's staring at her suggestively, one brow raised as he smirks. "Well go turn the water on, Chip."

He groans, rolling his eyes. "You know I hate that nickname."

"Jose kept calling you that last night," Katherine mutters, clinging to him as he slides from the bed. Long limbs wrap around his tall, strong frame, and he struggles to make it to the bathroom without her falling down. "Gah, it really is all over you." She rubs at a smudged mouth print on his ribs before getting to her feet and sitting on the counter. Charlie leans over to turn the shower on.

And she leans over to smack his butt.

"Ah!" He turns around with hard eyes, and she grins. "You are so—"

Katherine yelps, lunging for the door, just barely missing the long reach of his fingers, and sprints to the door.

"Kit!"

"Leave me alone!" She shrieks, ripping the door open, and runs for the kitchen, acutely aware of Charlie's heavy footfalls behind her.

He has her cornered in the kitchen, imposing, muscular, Brat Tamer Brow activated. Katherine is all grins, like a dog sneaking to get scraps.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be." He lunges for her and she cuts right and takes off. Charlie is lean with fast muscle, long arm reaching to curl around her waist and catch her.