The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(53)

“I know.”

“Guess I’ll have to get you a dog of your own,” he said nonchalantly and released her eyes to focus his attention back on the road.

She said nothing in response to that, but Spencer felt lighter and happier than he had during any previous interaction with Charlie. His hand clung to Daff’s for the rest of the fifty-minute drive to Mossel Bay.

The morning was pretty pleasant. Spencer let Daff and Charlie chatter on. The teen was recalcitrant at first, selfishly hogging her words, and he really couldn’t blame her. Not when he often did the same thing, especially around strangers. They leisurely explored the small coastal town for about forty minutes before Daff dragged Charlie off for some shopping—no boys allowed—and left Spencer to wander around on his own for a while.

He stopped in front of a small, upmarket jewelry store and scanned the window display for the longest time before venturing in for a closer look at the wares. Maybe a small gift for Daff? He wasn’t even sure if she was into jewelry. Although she always seemed to be wearing necklaces and stuff, he wasn’t certain how she would receive a gift such as this, but he couldn’t resist. He imagined her in sapphires—they would look amazing on her skin and bring out the blue notes in her gray eyes. Or maybe rubies, to match her gorgeous, velvety soft lips. She wouldn’t go for diamonds, not his colorful Daff.

He inspected the bracelets and necklaces, the earrings and the charms, and in the end, not sure how it happened, walked out with a ring. A rose-gold ring with a pear-cut peach sapphire. It had a warm vibrancy to it that reminded him of Daff.

And there was no fooling himself—it was an engagement ring. An engagement ring for a woman who wanted no strings and who would probably run screaming for the hills if he so much as hinted at marriage.

Spencer was fucked and he knew it.

Spencer seemed tense during lunch. He could barely meet her eyes, and Daff wondered if Mason or Daisy had contacted him while she and Charlie had gone to do their “lady shopping.” It wouldn’t surprise her, since she’d received a WTF text from Daisy about half an hour earlier. Daff hadn’t responded, fed up with having to explain herself to them. They would have to trust that she and Spencer were adult enough not to drag the family into a divisive brawl after this thing between them ended.

Spencer watched Charlie dig into her burger, his eyes protective, a small—almost proud—smile on his face.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” the girl snapped irritably, more observant than Daff had assumed. Spencer looked startled to have been caught staring but recovered quickly.

“Tell me about your home life with Malcolm. After your mother died,” he invited her, and Charlie’s brow lowered, looking so much like Spencer in that moment that Daff’s affinity for the girl grew even stronger.

“Maybe I don’t wanna,” Charlie grumbled sulkily, and Spencer nodded.

“You don’t have to. I was just curious.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your life with Malcolm,” she retorted, challenge lighting her eyes. “After your mother died.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth lifted, and he stole one of Charlie’s fries and popped it into his mouth. He washed down the potato with a swig of soda.

“You have your own fries,” Charlie pointed out.

“Sorry, force of habit. I usually grab a few of Mason’s. It pisses him off.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Because I can,” Spencer admitted, and Charlie watched him thoughtfully, again with that speculative spark in her eyes. “So after my mother died, Malcolm stuck around till my eighteenth birthday. He left when I turned eighteen, he probably figured I was old enough to take care of Mason by then.”

“That was a douchebag move,” Charlie said, sounding way more adult than her years.

“I think we can safely agree that he was a negligent asshole,” Spencer said with a bitter smile, and Charlie nodded.

“But he tried,” she whispered.

“He did. Sometimes he’d surprise us with takeout, sometimes he’d give me money to get some food for the house, and other times—”

“He’d buy alcohol and forget you existed for days on end?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He took a sip from his soda and still avoided eye contact with Daff. What the hell was up with that? It bothered her more than she would have expected.

“How long was he sick?” Spencer asked.

“A few months. It was very fast.”

“Who helped you? After he died?”

“Neighbors. A social worker. They were going to put me into care, but I left before they could. Malcolm had some money hidden inside his mattress. He told me about it a couple of weeks before he died. It wasn’t a lot, but it got me this far. He told me to find you and Mason after he was gone. He was always talking about you guys.”

“He was?” Daff could tell that the information stunned Spencer.

“He had old newspaper clippings about your rugby stuff and a magazine with some gross almost-naked pictures of Mason in it.” Mason had been an underwear model for a very brief moment in time. Spencer looked completely astounded and couldn’t seem to find an adequate response to her revelations. He seemed unable to process the words and just sat there blinking at Charlie for a few moments.

“I guess Malcolm was okay. Some of his friends were a bit creepy, but if anyone looked at me the wrong way or said something . . . bad to me, he’d never allow them back. I was scared that one day he wouldn’t notice and—” Her voice trailed off, and Daff’s heart clenched for the young girl. She looked small and lost sitting there in one of Daff’s cast-off dresses. Her short hair growing out into a cute cap of dark, silky waves.

“You were very brave living through that, Charlie,” Spencer said. “You should never have been made to fear for your safety. I know you’re used to taking care of yourself. I know you don’t need my help. But it would mean a lot to me if you would accept it. I have to make up for all those years I wasn’t there to keep you safe.”

“I mean—” Charlie’s eyes left Spencer’s, and she glared at her plate. “It’s not like you knew.”

Daff, who had been holding her breath after Spencer’s heartfelt little entreaty, released it on a wobbly sigh. Charlie’s eyes lifted shyly back to Spencer’s, and Daff could have cheered for both of them.

“I’m bossy and I don’t talk much and will probably tell you no a lot, but I’d really like it if you’d consider living at my house,” Spencer said in an awkward rush, the tips of his ears going pink.

The girl lifted one of her fries and twirled it between two fingers as she contemplated Spencer’s pitch.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad. Especially not with my new dog to keep me company.”

“As long as you understand that it’s time for you to start being a kid. I didn’t get to be a kid. I want that for you, Charlie. But that means following my rules, okay?”

“What rules?” Charlie asked suspiciously.

“I’ll try to keep them fair. But off the top of my head, stuff like curfews, cleaning up after yourself—and your dog—and studying hard.”

“Sometimes I get angry and don’t want to talk,” Charlie said, sounding for all the world like she was revealing what she considered to be her worst character flaw.

“Yeah? Me too. Maybe we can synchronize it so that we’re angry together and not speak for hours?”

Charlie giggled, and the look of vulnerable gratification on Spencer’s face made Daff reach for his hand under the table. She was shocked and disappointed and more than a little hurt when he moved his hand before she could take hold of it.

“Maybe it won’t totally suck to live with you,” Charlie said after a long pause, and the tension left Spencer’s shoulders. He finally met Daff’s eyes, and she was heartened by the intensity she saw in them. He groped for the hand he had just rejected and clung to it tightly.

“Great,” he rasped and then cleared his throat before continuing. “You can redecorate the room any way you like, and maybe you can move in after the wedding?” That would give her nearly a month to get used to the idea.

“Sounds okay,” Charlie said, keeping it casual. “When can we get my dog?”

“We can pick one out from the shelter after you move in.”

“If I didn’t want to move in, would I still get a dog?” she suddenly asked cynically, and Spencer smiled at her.

“I said you could, and I’m a man of my word.” His voice was solemn and utterly believable. His answer seemed to satisfy Charlie.

The rest of the day was lovely. Spencer’s strange behavior over lunch had disappeared like a rogue cloud on a sunny day, and Daff attributed it to the high-stakes conversation with Charlie. He was back to normal now, happy to hold Daff’s hand, comfortable with eye contact and even the occasional bit of PDA from Daff, despite Charlie’s gagging faces every time they kissed.

After dropping Charlie off at the farm, they made a quick stop at Daff’s to pick up a change of clothes and less than an hour later found themselves snuggling, in their pajama halves, in front of the TV and watching a cooking show. Both were wiped out after the past twenty-four hours and stared blankly at the screen. Not talking much, just sharing a bowl of popcorn and vegging out.