Page 19 of Charlie

Lachlan's hand covers mine, pushing it away. "Just think of it as a 'Welcome to Harris' meal. I have a feeling we're going to be doing this a lot – you can pay another time." He pulls his hand away slowly, his fingertips tracing my fingers. Butterflies attack my stomach as I meet his eyes. Lord have mercy.

"Deal," I rasp, clearing my throat. I try to act normal, but it's hard when his gaze is pure heat.

"Let's go!" Isla says, pushing Lachlan out of the booth, oblivious to the tension.

My mind is in a whirlwind on the five-minute drive back. I feel horribly guilty that I've met two guys that I find insanely attractive since Cameron left. My brain knows we ended things cleanly, but my heart tells me I'm cheating. Lachlan's voice pulls me out of my personal hell.

"Beach?" He asks Isla, pulling into the driveway of the manor house.

"I can't. I have work to do before the party starts. You should show Charlie, though." She looks at me. "You'll love it."

"Sure." I shrug. “It's not like I have anything else planned."

"Let's go then." Lachlan swings his keys over his finger. "You can change if you want to. Although what you're wearing is perfectly fine to walk on the beach."

"What do you usually wear?" I ask, wondering if he usually goes swimming.

"Usually, a group of us play rugby or football, so I wear my gym clothes."

"Is the rugby ball like an American football?"

"A little bigger. I do have a football, though – someone's kid left it. Want me to bring it?"

I nod. "I'll meet you back out here in five?"

He grins. "Perfect."

I jog back to the cottage, careful not to twist an ankle on the rocks. I root through my suitcase until I find a loose t-shirt, sports bra, and joggers. I pair it with a pair of athletic sandals.

Lachlan is already waiting by the time I make my way back up. He grins at me, his eyes sparkling. He's in a well-loved t-shirt and basketball shorts, a football in his arm.

"Ready?"

I nod and hop in the car. I've heard great things about the beaches here and can't wait to finally see one in person. We drive about ten minutes on a single-track road before Lachlan turns off, bumping across a small parking area. Bright green hills fill up the entire windshield.

"We have to walk over the dunes to get to the beach," he explains when he sees my confusion.

"Those are dunes?" I look at them in wonder. They're huge – at least a few stories high.

"Hard to believe, isn't it? Especially with all that grass. It's much more obvious from the beach side." He opens my door and pulls me out of the car, his fingers linking with mine. My heart gallops in my chest as we walk along the path. There are fences on either side; big, hairy cows munching on the greenest grass I have ever seen. The path takes us over the top of the dune and then winds down to the beach.

"Holy shit," I breathe as I get the first glimpse of the beach. The tide is out, and the beach goes on for what has to be a mile. Dark mountains frame the turquoise water.

"I love when people see the beauty of our island for the first time," he murmurs, his gaze heavy on my skin.

"You don't take it for granted, do you?" I ask.

"Never. Someday people will find what we have here and want it for themselves. Until then, I will treasure every peaceful day I have on these deserted beaches." He tosses me the football.

"I like that," I say, palming the football and walking backward a few steps. He holds his hands up, but I'm still way too close. I raise my eyebrow and jog back a dozen or so more steps. I get ready to throw the ball, but he doesn't change positions, still standing there with both hands out. "This is football, Lachlan. Get ready to run."

He readjusts half-heartedly. I step back and throw the ball, aiming for a few yards past him to his left. I watch his eyes follow the ball, his jaw dropping slightly. He reaches his arm out a second too late.

"Fucking hell, Charlie!" he yells as he jogs to retrieve the ball.

"I warned you!" I laugh, positioning myself as he draws his arm back. The ball sails toward me, his throw hard and straight. I push myself across the sand, my calves screaming. The slap of the ball against my arms makes me grin. I love when people don't take it easy on me just because I'm a girl. I throw it back. He's ready this time. I watch him jump into the air, the trajectory of the ball throwing him back into the sand. A couple more throws, and he's peeling off his shirt, sweat glistening on tan skin. I'm distracted by his abs the next time he throws the ball, and I miss catching it by a couple of inches. I throw it back at him. Hard. His fingertips barely snag the ball. He throws it down to the sand, doing a little victory dance. The evening light gilds every single muscle. My mouth is like the Sahara in a drought. My heart stutters. Holy fuck. I swallow, licking my lips. I need to get control of myself.

"You okay?" he laughs.

---