The Drifter. Kate Hoffmann

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imagine what climbing Everest was like, Charlie couldn’t fathom caring for a family and a houseful of pets.

      “The grass is always greener,” Charlie murmured. They jogged down the porch steps together. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and see the kids,” he said. “Tell Jenny I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

      They walked in opposite directions, Jack toward the family he had waiting and Charlie toward the unknown. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he was doing in Boulder or why he was so intent on seeing Eve again. But he’d always allowed his instincts to rule his life and right now, this was where he was supposed to be.

      The fifteen-minute walk to downtown Boulder was filled with indecision. Charlie was anxious to see Eve again, if only to find out whether the attraction they’d experienced earlier that day was more than one-sided.

      This was really crazy. He’d always known exactly what he wanted in life, planning each move ahead of time and throwing all his energy into making a success of whatever he tried. But here he was, wandering the streets of his hometown, without a clue as to why he was here.

      He’d never put much stock in psychiatry, but he had to wonder if something hadn’t snapped in his brain when he was at high altitude. Lack of oxygen could do funny things to a guy’s head, even make him feel something that wasn’t really there.

      His mind drifted back to the kiss, to the taste of her mouth, the way she opened beneath him. He’d felt something then, something powerful. He’d kissed a lot of women and relying on his experience, Charlie was pretty sure Evie had wanted to be kissed. She’d even enjoyed it. And before the night was over, he planned to do it again.

      The restaurant was empty of customers when he arrived, though the front door was still open. He walked inside, catching the attention of a bartender who was stacking glasses behind the bar.

      “Sorry, we’re closed,” he said.

      “I know,” Charlie replied. “I’m here to see Eve.”

      The bartender gave him a suspicious look. “Kind of late for a sales call.”

      “We’re old friends. I was here earlier for lunch. I told her I’d stop by later.”

      The bartender nodded toward the kitchen door. “She’s in back.”

      Charlie peeked through the small diamond-shaped window in the door. Eve had her back to him as she flipped through a sheaf of papers, separating them into piles on a wide stainless-steel table. He slowly pushed open the door.

      “Kenny, can you bring up a case of the ‘96 Castle Ridge Merlot before you leave?”

      “Just tell me where it is,” Charlie said softly. He watched her spine stiffen before she slowly turned around. He held his breath, still taken aback by her beauty. What had he been thinking all those years ago? How had it been so easy to walk away from her?

      “What are you doing here?”

      He grinned. “I don’t know. I thought I could walk you home.”

      “I drove,” she said.

      “So then maybe you can drive me home?”

      “I still have a lot of work to do,” she said.

      Charlie let the door swing shut behind him, then crossed to the table. Boosting himself up, he sat next to her, studying her work. She seemed perturbed and he wondered at the cause. “I thought we could go out. Get a drink or maybe a cup of coffee?”

      Eve drew in a deep breath, then turned to face him. “Why are you here?” Shaking her head, she held up her hand. “Never mind, I know the answer to that.”

      He chuckled. “You do? Good, then maybe you can tell me. Because I haven’t figured it out yet.” Charlie reached out and took her hand in his, distractedly playing with her fingers. He’d forgotten how soft her skin was. And how delicate her fingers were. All the little details that had faded over time now came rushing back. “How much longer do you have to work?”

      The kitchen door swung open and Kenny poked his head inside. Eve snatched her hand away. “I’m done,” he said. “I locked the front doors.”

      “Thanks,” Eve said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

      He gave Charlie another look, then shrugged. “Night, boss.” Kenny strolled through the kitchen and out the back, the screen door slamming behind him.

      Charlie slid off the table. “Where’s that wine you needed?”

      “Through that door, down the stairs, second shelf from the top on the right. Castle Ridge Merlot. The ‘96 Reserve. Bring up the rest of the case.”

      As he completed the task, Charlie wondered at her prickly attitude. Women usually warmed up right away when he turned on the charm. But then, he’d never gone back to one of his previous conquests. Though she had every right to be angry, she’d been the one to choose marriage over adventure, stability over spontaneity. Did she blame him for forcing her to make the wrong choice? He cursed softly. Or maybe she did assume he was only here for booty call.

      When he got upstairs, he set the case on the opposite side of the table, then leaned over it, bracing his arms on the rough wood edges. “So, is this any good?” he asked, pulling a bottle and holding it out to her.

      “Yes. It’s very good.”

      “Then I’d like to buy a bottle. Do you have a couple of glasses and a corkscrew?”

      “It’s seventy-five dollars a bottle.”

      “Then I guess it better be good,” Charlie replied.

      She set her work down and stared at him. He waited for her to speak, but she seemed to be carefully considering what she was about to say. “Why are you here? If you’ve come for sex, why don’t you just say so and stop wasting time with wine and pretty compliments.” She smoothed her hands over the stainless-steel table. “We could do it right here and get it over with.”

      “You think that’s what this is about? Have I even brought up sex?”

      “No, but …”

      “Odd that you’d mention it. Have you been thinking about it? I mean, sex with me?”

      “Yes,” she said. “No! Not in the way you think. I’ve just been wondering why you stopped by today.”

      “I think we better crack open this bottle of wine, because it’s a long story. And a large quantity of alcohol would help in the telling.”

      Eve took the bottle from his hand, then searched through a nearby drawer for a corkscrew. She held it out to him, then fetched a pair of wineglasses from a plastic rack near the dishwasher. Slowly, she slid them in front of him and after removing the cork, he filled the glasses halfway.

      “So what’s the story?” she asked before taking a sip.

      “First, a toast,” he said, holding his glass up. “To old friends.”

      Eve touched her wine goblet to his, then took

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