Page 156 of Charlie

"God," Jack groans, grabbing my hand and pulling me out the door.

The elevator ride is slightly more bearable with the tension on the back burner. Cam pulls up directions on his phone, and we walk through the streets of Edinburgh. Light touches, shy smiles, pregnant pauses, and sultry looks make it a day I'll never forget.

This city is so fucking beautiful. Weather-worn stone collides with bright swaths of color, centuries-old buildings still in use like it isn't a miracle they're still standing. I think I'm in love.

Cam motions to one of the storefronts, and my heart jumps. An array of colorful paints and art supplies is laid out in the shop window, begging me to buy them all. I can't help the excited squeal as I walk into the brightly lit space, rows and rows of every type of art supply imaginable at the tip of my fingertips.

"You guys may want to find another shop – I think I may be here a while."

"And miss that grin on your face? I don't think so." Lach kisses both corners of my mouth, making me smile even wider. This may be the best day of my life.

I walk the rows slowly, starting at the front of the store and working my way to the back. I pick up the colors of paint I need, a new calligraphy pen, some colored inks, and new brushes, putting them all into the basket Jack is carrying for me. As I round the last row, I realize the store is much bigger than I initially thought. A row of windows divides us from an expansive studio space, canvases set up on easels around the room. A sign on the door reads Welcome to The Studio. Paint to your heart's content. Pay by the canvas at the front of the store. It concludes with a list of canvas sizes and prices.

"This is like the paint-your-own pottery places!" I grin, pulling open the door and ushering the guys into the empty room.

"The what?" Jack grunts, looking entirely out of place.

"Never mind. Can we paint?" I ask, looking between them, batting my lashes and giving my best puppy dog eyes. I'm met with a chorus of protests.

"Just for a little bit?" I plead, prepared to fall onto my knees and beg if I have to.

"God. How are we supposed to say no when you give us those eyes, Sassenach?" Jack sinks into the seat at the closest canvas, setting the basket at his feet. The other two take their places and look at me expectantly. The silence is deafening.

"What are we supposed to paint?" Cam asks, twiddling a paintbrush in his hand nervously.

"Would it be easier if I sketch something first?" I ask, hating that he seems anxious.

"God, yes," Jack bursts out, the other two chorusing him.

I keep my smile to myself as I rifle through the available supplies, sighing with relief when I find a stick of charcoal. I walk to Cam first, sitting in his lap with my charcoal poised over the canvas.

"What'll it be?"

"The fairy pools."

"Mmmm. Good choice," I murmur, taking a second to think about the composition before I start to draw. I sketch the landscape like we're looking down at it from above, the highest point beginning at the left side of the canvas and ending with Cam's truck parked in the bottom right corner. I stand back, making sure it looks okay, then come back and draw little movement lines at the corners of the vehicle, unable to hold back my snort when Cam gasps with mock outrage.

"You're next," I say, still chuckling as I move to Lach's lap.

"I know what I'm going to paint, but I wanted you to sit in my lap before I told you that." He grins, pressing his lips to my cheek. I huff and stand, walking over to Jack. He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"The stones, Sassenach."

"Which ones? By the castle or when we went on the picnic?" My cheeks heat just thinking about that day.

"The ones by the castle. I want to look at it and remember the night I found you again."

"You mean you don't want to paint when I realized I found you? I probably looked like a startled pufferfish," I laugh, starting to sketch.

"You were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, mo chridhe. You came in smelling like the summer air, your hair tousled, still in your pajamas—madder than a goddamned badger. If Isla hadn't been ther—" He stops, his hands tightening around me.

"What would you have done if she wasn't there?" I ask, biting my lip.

"I would have asked you for permission and then sat you on the counter and fucked you until you knew you were mine and I was yours."

Fuck. "Things probably would have turned out a little differently if that had happened," I murmur, adding the final touches to the sketch. I drew the castle terrace to the right and the stones in the background. A large expanse of grass stretches before them, littered with tiny hairpins, one of my slippers, and Jack's lion mask.

"I think you have confidence in an ability that doesn't exist, Charlotte," he says, his brows drawing together as he studies the canvas.

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