Page 195 of Charlie

"Is everything okay?" I ask, twisting in his arms to look at him.

"No," he says truthfully, his eyes sad. "I'm organizing a trip for a couple who just returned from their honeymoon two weeks ago. She went to the doctor a few days ago and was told she has two months left to live. Life is so fucking unfair."

I wipe the tears from his cheeks, wrapping my arms around his neck. My heart breaks for him. I never thought about the emotional toll the trips must take on him.

"What you're doing is amazing," I whisper, tilting his chin so his gaze meets mine. "I'm so fucking proud of you. Is there anything I can do to help share the burden?"

"Having someone to talk to about it is more help than you know, Charlie." His smile is watery. "Get back to the kitchen. Cam is coming out in a second, so I'll have company."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too, Charlie Bear."

"Yes!" I pump my fist. "New nickname unlocked!" I grin and head back inside to the sound of his laughter, my heart a little lighter, having made him laugh.

Jack's putting the finishing touches on two cocktails when I walk back into the kitchen. It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room when he looks up at me, whisky eyes making me tipsy with one glance. I bite my lip, unable to stop my gaze from sliding down his body. God help me.

"Don't look at me like that, Sassenach." He hands me my drink, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I can't fucking help it." I take a sip, looking at him over the rim, trying to tamp down the lust surging through my system. I know exactly what I need to do to balance the scales. I strip off my sweatshirt and leggings, leaving on my knee-high socks, thong, and cropped t-shirt.

"Why, Charlotte?" he asks, his words choked.

"Now it's fair. We'll both be equally distracted."

"Supper will be inedible."

"There are other things to eat," I remind him, wiggling my eyebrows.

"Bloody hell." He pushes his hand through his hair, his gaze raking over me. "Get over here."

I walk around the counter, stand at his side and wait for instructions, blowing out a long breath.

We quickly get into a rhythm as he shows me how to make his grandmother's no-knead bread, leaving the dough to rise at the opposite end of the counter. Next is the stew, which needs to cook for a few hours.

"Do you want to tackle the veggies together?" He asks, holding a knife out to me, handle first, his fingers pinching the blade.

"Sure." He sets a cutting board down in front of me. "I'll do the onions," I offer.

"Charlie. Are you sure? I don't want you to chop a finger off."

I snatch the onion from his hands, slice off the ends, peel away the outer layer, and have it diced in under twenty seconds.

His jaw drops. "Is this like what you pulled at the bar when we were playing pool? You pretending not to know how to cook, but you actually went to culinary school?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Is it my fault you assumed I don't know how to cook?" I ask, planting my hands on my hips.

"Charlie, I've never seen you cook a single thing the entire time I've known you."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how. I just don't find it fun or relaxing like so many people seem to. Although, I'm starting to see its appeal," I say, looking at the outline of his cock pointedly.

"Duly noted." He slides the rest of the onions and garlic my way, taking the carrots, potatoes, and celery for himself.

"Now we brown the meat," he says, turning on the heat under a heavy cast iron pot. I watch him while he works – the way he moves, the concentration etched on his face, his easy smiles – and fall for him all over again.

Once the meat is brown and the veggies caramelized, we dump in tomatoes and beef broth and lower the heat. Jack sets a timer so we know when to get the bread in the oven, and then we finally have the opportunity to join Cam and Lach on the deck. I reach for my drink, but Jack grabs me first, swinging me onto the counter.

"Do you think I'm going to let you leave this kitchen without taking advantage of these countertops?" he rasps, running his hand under my shirt and cupping my breast.

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