Lighthouse Charlie

By Jessie L. Star

Max blew out a sigh and said, "Come on, Charlie-girl, play nice. It's too hot to argue."

Forgetting about my determination not to look at him, I twisted my neck round to stare at him in disbelief. He didn't want to argue? When for the past 17 years that had been the sole basis of our relationship?

The story goes that the first time I had kicked in the womb it had been when Max, a baby himself, had placed his hand against my mother's stomach. It had been the first, but certainly not the last, time I'd kicked him, and now suddenly he wasn't interested in a fight? Weird.

Charlie has known Max her whole life, and wanted him ever since her hormones kicked in. If only he wasn’t such a disappearing, secret-keeping, disappointment, there’d have been no need for Emmanuel to get involved...

Please note this story contains some mature language and content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jessie L. Star
• Release date: Feb 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310933141

Jessie L. Star

Jessie L. Star hails from a family of voracious readers and talkers who all relish in a good story and a well-crafted squabble. She was born in a small town in rural Australia and so learnt early the value of making her own entertainment—in her case, writing stories. This remains her favorite form of entertainment, along with reading too late into the night, having her heart broken on a regular basis by her football team, and pestering her long-suffering friends into watching the numerous TV shows she’s addicted to. Jessie started writing online as a teenager and developed her style with the aid of a cohort of brilliant readers who provided a lot of helpful and encouraging feedback. She won six awards on Some Kind of Wonderful (SKoW)—an original romance awards site—and was inducted into the Hall of Fame. Her first completed original story, So Much to Learn, has over 1.3 million views on Fictionpress.com. Jessie writes romance stories full of snark, banter, a smidgeon of heartache, and people, ultimately, falling in love. She lives in Tasmania.

Book preview

Lighthouse Charlie

Jessie L. Star

Copyright © 2010 Jessie L. Star

Smashwords Edition

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover art photo: Young Couple Kissing © Majesticca. Licensed from Dreamstime.

Cover art design by the incredibly talented Master Ning.

Please note this novel is written in Australian English and was originally published under the penname star123.

Contents

Prologue – Eyes Wide Open

Chapter 1 – A Princess from Lithuania

Chapter 2 – Not the Most Romantic Thing Ever

Chapter 3 - Oak Rise's Resident Cult Leader

Chapter 4 – The Max Whisperer

Chapter 5 – Point Made

Chapter 6 – The Mean, Slutty, Dead Chick

Chapter 7 - Walk of Shame Poster Child

Chapter 8 – The Definition of Slept With

Chapter 9 – Million Granny Karma

Chapter 10 - Dirt, Blood and Miscellaneous Tree Bits

Chapter 11 – The Best Out There

Chapter 12 – I'd Like to Have Max's Baby

Chapter 13 – Sitcom-Worthy Hijinks

Chapter 14 – Break Up, Beat Up, Bust Up

Chapter 15 – Squirming, Bubbly, Lusty Stuff

Chapter 16 – Sad Little Sundae

Chapter 17 – The Truth

Chapter 18 – The Way it Should Be

Prologue – Eyes Wide Open

The heat and humidity was intense.

It was like someone was a pressing hot towel over my nose and mouth, leaving me to breathe in nothing but the hottest, stickiest air. My skin was slick with sweat and my thoughts were a jumbled mix of curses against the electricity for going out today of all days, and prayers for even the tiniest breeze to waft my way.

My thin white sundress, so cute and fresh this morning, clung limply to me, even such a delicate covering feeling like heavy wool in the ridiculous temperature. Meanwhile, my mum's necklace, the thin white gold chain and small pendant in the shape of a bird in flight that I always wore around my neck, stuck to my skin as if glued there.

I sat very still on the back veranda, my legs dangling over the edge of the decking, looking out over across the eerily dark view. The power cut had extinguished the squares of light cast by neighbours' windows and the headache-inducing flashes of the Anderson's over the top Christmas lights. All was dark and still.

That was until I heard the screen door behind me sliding open and the sound of bare feet on the wooden boards padding towards me. Whipping my head around, my heart gave a massive thump of surprise as I saw Max, fresh out of the shower and shirtless with his hair still dripping droplets of water down onto his bare shoulders.

Hey, Charlie-girl. He threw himself down beside me and I tried desperately to hide my reaction to his sudden appearance and pretend as if having him so close, exposing so much toned skin and smelling like that awesome manly shower gel stuff, was having no effect on me whatsoever.

Beauregard, I greeted him shortly, gritting my teeth against the painful mix of fury and lust he always managed to stir up inside me.

Where are the others? He leant back on his hands making the muscles in his arms bulge against his tanned skin.

Dad and Lisa have taken Katie over to Lisa's mum's place. I averted my eyes resolutely forward as I answered him, my gaze focused on absolutely anything except him. I thought you were out, I added, unapologetic in my anger toward him.

I was, I came back. His mild response annoyed me even further. How dare he be so chilled and laidback when it felt like every single one of my nerve endings was dancing crazily along to La Cucaracha under my skin?

Not having anything worthwhile to say in reply to that I blurted out a bratty, Lucky me.

I didn't feel embarrassed by the unnecessarily childish answer, in fact I took comfort in acting like a spoilt six year old around him. Spoilt six year olds, after all, don't lie awake at night feverishly imagining his oh-so-familiar hands sliding across their skin and…well, you get the idea. These imaginings were becoming a constant for me, seemingly intensifying in heat in unison with the weather...and today had been the hottest day of all.

It wasn't my fault, though, it was his. Usually Max Beauregard only turned up five or six times a year, leaving me plenty of time to recover and reassert my supreme indifference towards him in-between visits. This, however, had been a bumper year of Max sightings. It seemed that barely had he disappeared, but he was back again with nothing but his backpack, guitar case and some sob story that he fed my dad to allow him to firmly ensconce himself once more into my family home.

It was physical and mental torture for me; an ache that grew more forceful every time I saw him. I wanted him gone, but as much as it pained me to admit it, I just plain wanted him more.

Instead of responding to my immature comment with a similarly childish one of his own, Max blew out a sigh and said, Come on, Charlie-girl, play nice. It's too hot to argue.

Forgetting about my determination not to look at him, I twisted my neck round to stare at him in disbelief. He didn't want to argue? When for the past 17 years that had been the sole basis of our relationship?

The story goes that the first time I had kicked in the womb it had been when Max, a baby himself, had placed his hand against my mother's stomach. It had been the first, but certainly not the last, time I'd kicked him, and now suddenly he wasn't interested in a fight? Weird.

Unaccountably amused by my astonishment, a small smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth making my stomach suddenly turn in a mad mess of tingles. God those lips, they shouldn't be allowed.

You're blushing, he commented.

No, I'm not, I denied hotly, aware that my cheeks were staining an even deeper red as I spoke.

In the next moment he’d sat up and reached over to cup my chin in his hand. As I gave a weird gargled sort of gasp of surprise, he gently turned my head from one side to the other taking in my flushed skin from all angles.

Yeah, you are, he pointed out, and the mocking edge in his tone was enough to make me pull myself together and push his hand away crossly.

It's, like, a million degrees out here, I said quickly, of course I'm red, that doesn't mean I'm blushing.

OK, he held up his hands in mock surrender, we'll just pretend I believe you.

I knew I should’ve just let it go. He’d given me an opening to drop it and that is what I well and truly should have done, dropped it like a hot potato and then maybe kicked it under the couch or something for good measure. But I didn't. Some unbelievably stupid voice in my head nudged me onwards so, instead of staying silent, or doing something even smarter like getting up and walking off, I found myself saying, Why would I be blushing, anyway?

I swear I could hear the mood change it was so obvious. I gave one short, sharp breath in at the same moment I saw him go very still.

I don't know, he said, suddenly cautious, his dark eyes searching out mine in the darkness. Why would you?

I just said I'm not." I drew my legs up quickly, preparing to make a mad dash for the safety of inside, but he pre-empted my flight and rested a repressive hand on my arm.

OK, having frozen the moment he touched me, I was in no danger of running off anymore, but he didn't take his hand away as he continued, but, just to check, me sitting here without a shirt on isn't making you blush, right?

My mouth was suddenly very dry and I automatically licked my bottom lip trying to regain some moisture. This proved to be a very bad idea as his gaze honed in on my dampened lip and lingered there doing uncomfortable things to my centre of balance.

Your ego is unbelievable, I wanted to sound snarky or at least bored, but my voice was irritatingly breathy. You being shirtless has absolutely no effect upon me at all.

Oh, OK. That stupid smirk was back in place, but there was something else behind it this time, something infinitely more dangerous. So say if I did this…

My eyes widened as he pushed himself up onto his knees, letting go of my arm, but then reaching forward to leisurely run the palm of his right hand up from my left ankle to my knee. The heavy silver ring he wore on his middle finger added a slight, delicious scraping sensation to the touch of his skin and I fought to repress a shiver.

That wouldn't have any effect upon you either?

I could feel where his hand had moved like a trail of liquid lava up my leg, but I shook my head. No effect at all, I lied through my teeth, wondering just how far we were going to take this dangerous game.

Really? He feigned surprise, but the light of challenge was in his eye. So what about if my hand just happened to slip…?

He leant forward and I automatically shifted back to accommodate his body until my back was flat to the veranda decking with Max kneeling between my legs, holding himself over me with his left hand. His right, meanwhile, began a tantalisingly slow journey from my knee up my thigh until his hand disappeared beneath the hem of my now bunched up dress.

With his fingers trailing gentle circles across the sensitive skin so close to the most sensitive place of all, I lost the power of speech. For the game to continue, for us to go wherever it was we were headed, I needed to tell him that I remained unaffected, but for the first time in my entire life, my voice abandoned me.

Seconds ticked by with the both of us frozen where we were, my left leg hooked up around his waist, my hair spread out darkly across the honey toned wood like spilt molasses.

Still nothing? His voice was hoarse and I was pleased to hear that his breathing was ragged.

Still mute, I nevertheless managed to play out my part with a small shake of my head, daring him, willing him onwards.

He lowered his head, his long-ish hair brushing against my cheeks, and brought his mouth down to linger a hair's breadth from mine. My eyes fluttered closed, waiting for his kiss and I heard him say, his voice tinged with a kind of raw desperation, Last chance, Charlie-girl.

I opened my eyes again to see him staring intently at me, but still as a statue. If I couldn't talk, I did at least have my other abilities so, not breaking his gaze, I lifted a hand to cup the back of his head and guided his mouth firmly down over mine.

And so it was that we both went into our first kiss with our eyes wide open.

Chapter 1 – A Princess from Lithuania

1 year later…

Soooo…. I tapped my fingers awkwardly against my knee as Emmanuel pulled his sleek, silver car up smoothly outside my house. I puffed my cheeks out and exhaled noisily wondering how exactly to phrase the next part. That was…

God awful, he finished for me and I whipped my head round to see him grinning, his teeth gleaming whitely against his dark skin.

I clapped a hand to my chest and laughed in relief. Yes! I agreed. "God awful, those were exactly the words I was looking for. That was, hands down, the worst date ever."

Like trying to go out with my sister, he nodded. Zero chemistry.

Absolutely zilch, right? I shifted my body round to look at him more easily. When we were dancing I was thinking that I needed to do a load of washing.

I was checking out the girl behind you, he admitted and I laughed again.

So why did we think this would be a good idea? I tried to think back to when we'd first made the plan to go out together.

Emmanuel Harvey was new to the school, but knew my close mate, Nick, from some sports camp thing they'd done the previous year. He'd started sitting with us at lunch, we'd become friends, there'd been a bit of off-the-cuff flirting, he'd asked me out and that had been that. OK, so maybe I hadn't exactly been bouncing off the walls with excitement about it, but I’d never imagined we would have so little frission either.

Well, he seemed to consider it and then shrugged, you're sexy as hell, that was probably part of it.

Sexy as hell? I repeated, You think so? I preened slightly, but not like a girl given a compliment by a guy she fancies, it was more like being told your hair looked good by a gay friend.

Oh, yeah, totally. He swept his dark eyes approvingly over my short denim mini and the plunging neckline on my black top. That's why this makes no sense; dark car, empty street, sexy girl, I should fully be wanting to jump you right now. He spoke easily, without even the slightest hint of embarrassment and I felt a rush of platonic affection for him.

Same here, I reached up to pull out the pins holding up the intricate hairdo I'd painstakingly worked on earlier in the evening, but which was obviously pointless now. You're really hot and so my type it's not even funny and in this situation usually I'd totally be up for something. Our pheromones must clash or something.

Yeah, maybe that's it. He gave a little sigh, adding, What a waste.

Definitely. I ran my fingers through my long, messy dark hair, shaking it out and revelling in how not bothered I was by Emmanuel seeing it all knotty and kinked. You know what, though? I said, having a sudden revelation. I think for the first time I can honestly say after such a horrible date that I hope we can still be friends.

For sure. He gave me a friendly nudge on the arm. I demand a rematch at pool; I only let you win because you're a girl you know.

Yeah? I scoffed. Whatever you reckon. I glanced across at his dashboard and caught sight of the green LCD lights switching to 10.58. Right, I've got to go, school night and everything.

Cool, he hesitated. So what's the deal here? Am I still supposed to walk you to your door?

Nah, I think you're alright as you are, just shake my hand and we'll call it a night. I grinned, holding out my hand.

Oh, come on, I reckon I could do better than that. Let's at least give this a proper go. He batted away my hand and then leant forward, his left hand coming up to cup the back of my head before his lips pressed against mine.

He was a good kisser, there was no denying that. He was skilful and most definitely didn't venture into slobber territory, but the fact remained that I felt absolutely no spark. I might as well have been kissing my pillow back in grade 3.

Pulling away we looked at each other for one long moment, his brown eyes searching my own light green ones for any kind of response.

Nothing, he concluded finally, I felt absolutely nothing.

Ditto. I reached over and wiped a small smear of my lip gloss off his lip. Sorry, mate, but I think that's it for us.

Oh well, no harm no foul. I'll see you at school tomorrow?

Yep, see you then. I pushed open the passenger side door and clambered out, happy to not have to care about the awkwardness wearing a mini skirt and getting out of a low car automatically engendered.

We called our last farewells to each other and I held up my hand in a genial wave as he sped off down the street.

Kicking off my high heels, I scooped them up to dangle from my fingers and almost groaned out loud from the soothing sensation of the cold concrete on my worn soles. Enjoying the moment out in the cool night air, and the weirdly satisfying ending to my bad date, I gave a long stretch and looked up at the house in front of me.

The two storey red brick house was surprisingly well-lit considering the time of night, with warm yellow light streaming out of all of the downstairs windows and from a couple upstairs as well. I flicked my eyes across to the driveway to see if there were any extra cars to indicate visitors, but saw only my battered old red Mini, my dad's work Ute and my step-mum's shiny hatchback.

My curiosity waned significantly as I gave a big yawn and suddenly realised how tired I was. Much as it galled me to admit it, maybe my dad had been right, dates on a school night were a bad idea, I was totally knackered.

Walking up the front path, I jumped up the couple of steps leading to the veranda and let myself in through the front door. Dumping my bag and shoes on the floor on top of the jumble of other footwear that congregated beside the door, I headed for the stairs prepared to have a quick shower and then go straight to bed. I'd barely put one foot on the bottom step, however, when Katie, my little sister, suddenly appeared in the doorway leading to the lounge room.

How was your date? She demanded, her eyes alight with her patented brand of manic excitement, which was eerily echoed in the expressions of the pink rabbits on her pyjamas.

None of your business, I dismissed her question, turning to continue my way up the stairs before something occurred to me. What are you still doing up? I looked back over my shoulder. It's way past your bedtime.

I know something you don't know! She performed some mental little pirouette thing across the entrance way and I rolled my eyes.

"You're only 8, I'm a decade older so trust me when I tell you that there's plenty more that I know that you don't."

Confident that there was nothing Katie had knowledge of that was going to be particularly important to me, I turned my attention back to the front. I was about to leap up the last couple of stairs to the second floor landing when I realised there was someone standing in my way.

My heart leapt in surprise at this sudden apparition and I took an automatic step back forgetting that, as I was on the stairs, there was actually nothing for me to step back onto. I floundered for the briefest second, my arms waving as I tried to regain my balance, but then hands clamped around my upper arms and jerked me back upright.

In a daze, I looked down to the left and then to the right, staring in confusion at the fingers that held onto me so tightly. The confusion didn't last very long, however, as the right hand shifted ever so slightly and the light caught on the heavy silver ring wrapped around the middle finger.

My stomach gave a little roil of dread and I slowly lifted my head until I was looking up into the strong jawed face of the devil himself. My breath froze in my lungs and it felt as if someone had grabbed me around the waist and was squeezing until I thought the constriction would make me pass out.

Max Beauregard, well holy shit.

He ducked his head down to look at me, but his hair fell across his eyes so I couldn't read their expression. His drawl, when he spoke, though, was the same as ever.

Falling for me, Charlie-girl? He was mocking himself with that corny line as much as he was mocking me. I knew that, but that didn't stop the little thrill of pure fury ripping through me at his patronising words and, to be honest, his existence in general.

The feeling of tightness in my chest vanished instantly and oxygen whooshed back through my body so fast I felt momentarily dizzy. In the next second he saw my anger and I in turn watched his expression harden. Well then, let the hostilities recommence!

I knocked his arms away with more force than was strictly necessary and whirled around away from him. Thundering back down the stairs I saw Katie still standing there watching Max with a worshipful look in her eyes and snapped, Where's Dad?

She started at the bite in my tone and then pointed wordlessly at the doorway leading to the lounge room and I stalked past her, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

Dad? I called out furiously, then seeing him ensconced on one of the couches at the far side of the room with my step-mum, Lisa, I shot over to him in a flurry of anger. Dad, what the hell? I demanded.

Charlie, My dad looked up, his expression one of long suffering, sit down.

Sit down? I repeated, Excuse me? Max Déjà bloody vu Beauregard has popped up in our house again like a f-ing groundhog and you want me to just sit down?

Watch your tongue, he said, his voice sharp. "It's late. If you'd been home when you said you were going to be we could have had this discussion before we all got tired and over it. You weren't here, however, so we're doing this now, but I'm not going to have a stand up argument with you, so sit down." He repeated the instruction with the tone of finality that only a parent could summon, and I obediently plopped down onto the couch opposite him.

Right, so, I watched as my dad ran a hand tiredly across his weathered face, and shared a quick look with his wife before finishing, Max has come back to stay with us.

No, really? I asked acerbically, knowing that I was pushing my luck with my attitude, but unable to contain myself. "We're truly blessed. And for how long will he be gracing us with his presence this time? A week? A month? A day? Oh, let me guess, you don't know, right? For God’s sake, we haven't seen him for a year and yet he still treats this house like a bloody hotel, just showing up and leaving whenever he feels like it. Although it's not like a hotel, I suppose, because he certainly doesn't pay for the privilege of-"

A year. My dad interrupted my rant and I stopped abruptly, my next words stuck in my throat.

There were a few seconds of silence and then I finally choked out, my voice high with incredulity, "A year?"

Max will be here for the year, he confirmed before adding, at least.

I waited to see if that information would sink in. It didn't. It was like trying to eat grass; this was simply information that I couldn't digest. A year? My dad thought that Max Beauregard was going to stay with us, my family, here in my house, for a year? There was only one explanation for this; Dad was out of his mind because there was no way that was going to happen.

Yeah, and I'm a princess from Lithuania, I said sarcastically, grabbing at my necklace and rubbing the bird pendant between my fingers agitatedly. Come on, Dad, be serious.

We've made a deal, he talked as if I hadn't spoken at all. He'll come back here to live, he'll attend school-

"He'll what?" I shrieked.

- and he'll graduate. What comes after that is his decision, but we, this family, are going to support him however we can. That's final.

No, that's bull, I contradicted him hotly. "On what planet are you on that you believe he's going to stay here a year? Six months is his record, isn't it? And that was when he was 13."

I sat forward beseechingly as I added, Dad, please don't do this. Don't allow this guy back into our home just so he can nick off again whenever the going gets tough. We've had this blissful year without any of his crap, without bailing him out whenever he got himself into trouble, without me having to perform impromptu first aid when he picked a fight with someone bigger than him. I can't believe you'd drag us all back down into that.

And I can't believe you could be so uncharitable, he rebuked me. "Over the years I've waited for you to