8 Chapter 8: Falling for him

The first thing Charley did was head back to Rafe's bedroom. Would it ever be ours? Her thoughts wandered as she picked up the shopping bag, he brought her and pulled out a pair of black lace panties, a matching bra, soft gray leggings and a jade green tunic style sweater. There were also fuzzy socks and a pair of black ankle boots.

After another quick shower, she dressed and reveled in how perfectly everything fit her. It was like he had memorized her exact proportions. Her cheeks burned when she recalled how he had gotten that information.

Charley strolled back towards the kitchen. She dug around and found a pad and blue ball point pen. Her favorite writing tool. She wrote down a list of what she wanted and went to look for Seff.

Instead, she found Randall. He was sitting on a big brown leather couch with an old acoustic guitar balanced in his arms. She watched as he strummed the instrument. He played with the ease of a professional. His eyebrows furrowed as he plucked the strings.

Charley smiled when she recognized the tune. Bon Jovi. A favorite of any born and bred Jersey girl. She was no exception.

She opened her mouth and hummed along with him. Randall perked up and nodded at her. She began to sing, and he slowed the tune down to match her style. He ended the song and went right into some Christmas music.

Charley sang along and loved every minute of it. After a few minutes, the room filled with the men of the house. Rafe was notably absent.

Charley didn't let that get her down. After all, he said he had work to do. They ended the set with a soft rock version of Silent Night. Applause and whistles filled the room. Seven pairs of curious eyes watched her as she grabbed a bottle of water and took a long pull.

"Damn girl, you got a nice set of pipes," Kurt, or maybe Dib, said and high fived her.

"Thanks, I was in choir back in school. My grandpa loved to sing carols around the tree. Randall is the one with the talent though," she curtsied to her guitarist and he bowed back. A gentle smile on his face barely discernible through all the thick dark hair.

"Cool! So, you cook and sing, and the boss was smiling when he left. I think we picked the right one, huh, Seff?" Conall joined in, oblivious to all the groans and eye-rolls.

"Shut up, Con! Icsnay on the idnapkay!"

"Dude, for real?"

"It's okay guys. Despite being forcefully taken without my consent by you brutes, I, uh, I've worked out a deal with Rafe. I'll stay and help, then I get my life back. In the meantime, Seff, can you pick these up from my place?" she held out the piece of paper to him with hands that trembled ever so slightly.

Charley was once again dressed in Rafe's big flannel robe. She snuggled into it and ran a hand through her long damp hair. It was past midnight and Rafe still hadn't returned. It was ridiculous for her to feel abandoned, but she couldn't help it.

He didn't exactly choose her. His friends did. A gorgeous, important guy like him wouldn't choose someone like her. No family, no friends, no career. She was cute in her own way, but she knew she wasn't in his league.

Guys like him chose girls who wore a size 2 with platinum blonde hair and frosty pink lipstick. Not short, chubby brunettes. Then there was the whole royalty thing. Pack Alpha. Whatever the hell that meant!

Werewolves, really? Maybe it was like an MC or gang thing? God, she hoped so. True, they were all big and good looking, and yes, they did tend to growl at each other. And, well, during sex, Rafe growled quite a bit. But was that normal for men? She didn't know. She had nothing to compare it to.

The doorknob clicked and Charley turned. She held a breath as he walked in. He looked startled to see her. His blue eyes wide as they looked her up and down.

"I thought you'd be asleep," his voice was gruff, like it was the first time he spoke in hours.

"Is that why you stayed away?"

"Yes. I, uh, didn't want you to feel like I was going to expect, you know, anything," he walked in and closed the door behind him.

"Look, for whatever reason earlier, we had sex. I'm not expecting you to force yourself to be with me. I'm your ‘mate' for show, for this other guy to see, I get it. I can move to another room, -"

Quicker than she could blink he was across the room and kneeling in front of her. Charley backed up, surprised by his incredible speed. She almost slipped off the edge of the bed. He reached out and steadied her.

"Carlotta, believe me when I say that getting you into this mess was the last thing I would've wanted, but not because I had to force myself to be with you. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Don't you know how beautiful you are?" he reached up and cupped her face. The look in his eyes made her want to believe him. No one had ever looked at her quite like that.

"I'm not beautiful, I'm cute," she replied softly, mesmerized by the depths of his blue eyes.

"Are you kidding me? With that long curly hair and those amazing brown eyes? And your skin? Soft and smooth and warm."

"I'm fat. And short," she moved out of his grasp and spoke matter-of-factly. Rafe's eyes bugged out of his head. And he pulled her back, so she had to look at him.

"What? Are you insane? Who told you that load of crap? Carlotta, you are beautiful. You look exactly as a woman should. You fill my hands perfectly, as my woman should."

"Rafe, I don't want to talk about my looks."

"Fine. Then let's discuss your courage, your brains, your talents as a chef and a singer, your passion, your strength, your heart, there are any number of things we can discuss that would clearly point out why anyone would be damn lucky to have you even look at them."

"How did you know I sing?" Charley looked at Rafe, uncertainty on her face.