Page 194 of Charlie

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Jack wraps me in his shirt and bolts through the pelting rain up the stairs and into the cabin. By the time we're finished showering, Lach and Cam are banging through the cabin's front door loaded with bags, including several from the liquor store. Lach finds me in the bedroom, pulling me down to sit beside him on the bed.

"Was what we did on the deck earlier okay?" he asks, a crease of worry between his brows. "I feel like I should've stayed with you, but I knew you would want to go down to Jack, and—" I put my head on his arm, pressing my finger to his lips.

"Lach, I'm fine. More than fine."

"You're sure?" he asks, tipping my chin up and searching my eyes.

"I'm sure." I bite my lip to keep my grin tamed, wondering how long it will take them to realize I won't break.

"It was pretty hot, wasn't it?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. I laugh, framing his face with my hands and pressing my lips to his.

"What will you and Cam do while Jack and I cook?" I ask, pulling on thick socks to keep my feet warm on the kitchen tile.

"I have some emails to catch up on, and Cam was mumbling incoherently about a poem most of the time at the grocery store, so I'm guessing he'll be working on that." He shrugs.

"A poem? Does he usually write poetry?"

"Not that I know of, but he likes to write, so I wouldn't put it past him. He gets a little extra when he's in that headspace, though. Just to give you a heads up."

"What does that mean?"

"You'll see."

Color me intrigued. "Would you like a cocktail while you finish working," I ask, feeling very fifties housewife-ish and loving it.

"Yes, darling," he drawls in a posh English accent.

"Negroni. Sbagliato. With Prosecco in it?" I ask, butchering the accent. He snorts, his eyes sparkling.

"God, I love you. A drink would be great, Carebear. Thank you." He presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, and I turn, catching his lips with mine, deepening the kiss.

"Thank you, Lach."

"For what?" he murmurs, folding me into his arms.

"For knowing me better than I know myself. For believing in me when I couldn't."

"That was all you, baby."

"But it wasn't. I wouldn't be with any of you if you didn't help me see what was staring me in the face the whole time. If you hadn't encouraged me to go with my gut, I would be back living in the pool house and going on that horrible interview my mom set up." I shiver in disgust.

"I doubt that, Charlie. Maybe that's who you were when you were younger, but not anymore." A call comes in that he has to take, and he kisses me quickly before picking up his laptop and heading outside.

I make my way to the kitchen to find Jack unpacking the last of the groceries, joggers slung low on his hips, hiding absolutely nothing.

"How am I supposed to learn anything when you look like that?" I ask, raking my nails down his abdomen and watching his muscles quiver.

"And how am I supposed to teach you anything when the counter is the perfect height for fucking you?" He grips my waist and hoists me onto the butcher block, my legs reflexively wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

"I bet you could teach me a thing or two," I say, my voice husky, leaning forward and flicking my tongue over his nipple. My stomach chooses that very inopportune moment to growl. Loudly.

"I bet I can," he murmurs... "But we need food first." He pushes away from me with a groan and starts organizing the ingredients. While he's doing that, I work on making Lach a drink.

"Not a negroni, but hopefully an old-fashioned will do?" I ask as I step out onto the deck, setting one of the glasses on the side table for Cam.

"Thank you, beautiful." He takes it from me, then pulls me down into his lap, setting his laptop to the side. "I hope you know how much I love you, Charlie. I'm so thankful for your presence in my life," he mumbles, his lips buried in my hair.

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