Page 17 of Charlie

"Jack!" I shout, desperately trying to push past people. The final announcement sounds over the speakers, and lights flash a warning. He looks up at me, but I know there's not anything either of us can do. Tears prick at my eyes as I watch him get carried away by the crowd. I make my way back to my car, angry at myself. Angry at the universe. I drive off the ferry when it's my turn, my foot light on the pedal, trying to give myself extra time to spot him. I park in a spot where I have a clear view of the rest of the vehicles coming off the ferry. My heart is filled with the most dangerous thing known to humankind: hope. There's no sign of him or his motorcycle.

God fucking damn it. I slam my hands against the steering wheel. Then I take a deep breath, put my big girl panties on and punch in the Airbnb address.

These islands are a type of wild I haven't ever experienced before. The drive over from the neighboring island is terrifying, but I can’t help be in total awe of the beauty surrounding me. I pull into every scenic pull-off to take pictures, my bones permanently chilled by the time I turn onto the road of the rental address. As a gorgeous stone manor house comes into view, my foot eases off the gas. I pull into the circular drive and cut the engine, stepping out of the car in awe. The house itself is beautiful, but beyond it is a charming storybook cottage that looks just like the pictures online. Past that lies the true stunner: a castle perched on the edge of a loch, towers like fingers reaching up to the sun's warmth. I wrap my arms around myself, freezing cold but unable to tear my gaze from the view.

Gravel crunches under my feet as I walk to the front door, making me thankful I wore my chucks. I knock lightly on the door, then use the bell when no one answers. I'm just starting to walk back to the car to grab my phone when the door swings open, and a black and white speed demon shoots out, knocking me on my butt.

"Milo! Down boy!" his owner yells, clapping to get his dog's attention.

"Oh no, he’s fine," I laugh, scratching Milo's ears, the cold forgotten. He is the most beautiful dog I've ever seen – silky patches of black and white hair, eyes the color of milk chocolate.

"Are you a good boy, Milo?" I coo, enjoying his slobbery kisses.

"Milo, come now. Leave the lady alone."

A strong hand extends toward me. I grasp it, letting him help me up. His fingers brushed over my palm sending sparks shooting through me. I take a step back. "I don’t think I realized how much I missed having a dog around," I say, brushing off the seat of my pants.

"I’m Lachlan, and you must be Charlotte?" He asks, reaching toward me for a handshake.

The sparks fizz through me again as his hand closes around mine. "Please, call me Charlie." I had expected Lachlan to be much, much older than he is. He's at least six inches taller than me, sandy hair ruffling in the wind. Freckled hazel eyes gaze back at me, openly curious. He's cute. Really cute. He doesn't have an accent, and it's almost startling after hearing nothing but Scottish accents for the past few weeks.

"You'll have to forgive me. It seems like you caught me in the middle of a nap," he chuckles, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Give me one second, and I’ll grab the keys to the cottage?"

"Of course." I smile. "Take your time. I’ll just play with Milo here."

Lachlan nods, then goes back inside, leaving the door ajar.

He comes back out in less than a minute, looking slightly more put together, a pair of keys dangling from his hand. "Unfortunately, the lane is not wide enough to drive the car down to the cottage, but you picked the perfect time to come. The walk should be pleasant most days."

"That's fine with me," I say as I open the trunk of my car. Lachlan whisks the suitcases out before I can protest. "You don’t have to do that!"

Lachlan turns and smiles, dimples flashing. "You’re right, but I want to."

"Well, thank you."

"You’re welcome. So, tell me what brings you here to this forsaken corner of Scotland."

"I’m working on a family tree," I say, following him down the rocky path.

"Ahhh, that’s what brought me back here years ago."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"I’m from here – I grew up just down the road – but I went to a boarding school in England, then university in America before coming back."

"That sounds amazing. I would have given anything to be able to get away from home for high school and college," I say wistfully.

"It’s not all it's cracked up to be." Lachlan grimaces. "Trust me." Grief flashes in his eyes briefly before he locks it down.

I study his face for a second. The smattering of freckles over his nose stand out in stark relief against his porcelain skin. His eyes are an amazing blue-green-hazel color... and they're looking back at me. Shit.

"Oh my God. Sorry." My cheeks burn. "I must be a little tired from the drive."

Lachlan raised his eyebrow, his lips twisting suspiciously. "After you." He gestures for me to open the cottage door. I push against the worn wood of the door, painted the prettiest sky-blue color. The interior white-washed tongue-and-groove butting against the thick beams that supported the vaulted ceiling. The wall facing the loch is made of windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The castle rises straight from the water like a fairytale haunt. I could already envision coffee on the deck in the mornings, watching the mist rise from the water. As much as I adored Millie's flat, I knew I would never want to leave this place.

"Charlie?" Lachlan says, bringing me out of my daydream.

I smile sheepishly "It's so beautiful here."

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