Page 30 of Charlie

"Jack, I don't need you to go away; I just need time."

"Time," he repeats.

I nod.

"Done." He extends his hand to me, "Friends?"

"Friends." I grasp his hand, unprepared for the energy that erupts between us the second our skin touches. I jerk away from his touch.

"For now," he mutters, his eyes narrowing at my reaction. "Just promise me one thing, Sassenach."

"What?" I ask, rubbing my palm.

"Stop running."

I roll my eyes. "Why?"

"Because it makes me want to catch you and fuck you until you lose your voice from screaming my name."

"Oh," I breathe, turning away slowly, my heart beating like hummingbird wings in my chest. It takes everything in me not to look back.

Lach is waiting for me, leaning against the doorframe, a light in his eyes that wasn't there yesterday. "I'm not staying, but I wanted to let you know that I meant what I said last night."

"Remind me," I say, stalling. I don't want him to leave. The gray sweatpants slung low on his hips leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. I swallow hard, dragging my gaze back up to his face.

"You don't have to settle for one person, Charlie." He cups my face with both of his hands, staring into my soul. "You are worth it. I bet I could find ten guys that would fall over themselves to be able to have a single taste of you."

My core spasms. "You may be fine with that, but I'm sure Jack—Jay... hell, I don't even know what to call him now. But I'm sure he wouldn't be okay with it."

"Are you sure about that?" He asks, an emotion I can't place flashing in his eyes. He presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

Fuck.

18

Ibury myself back in bed, hoping the feathers of the duvet will somehow lull me back into sleep. Jack's face dominates my thoughts. The tiny freckle below his left eye. The way he bites his lip. His wild hair.

God, that hair.

I press a pillow over my face and scream. I throw it to the other side of the room and fling the covers aside. Why. Why now? Why here? I shove two pieces of bread into the toaster, jamming the lever down. What the fuck, universe? I hold the toast in my teeth as I pull on my jacket, slamming the door behind me. Instead of risking heading up toward my car – and possibly running into him – I take the tiny path behind the cottage that looks like it has been out of use for years. The weather today is good by Scottish standards – not rainy, not sunny. I bury my hands in my pockets as I walk, safe from the biting wind, enjoying the mystery of where the path will take me.

It ends up bringing me down almost to sea level before curving around and heading in the opposite direction from the house. I take my time, collecting a small bouquet of heather and thistle as I go, enjoying the peace that comes with being in wide-open spaces. After thirty minutes or so, the path turns to sand, and I find myself at the top of a small dune, looking down at a huge expanse of pristine beach, violent turquoise water roiling against a backdrop of stormy mountains. I can feel my consciousness expand, the beauty too much for it to hold on to, the connection too great for me to fully understand.

"Carebear!"

I turn to see Lach walking down the path toward me. "I like that one better," I say, laughing at the nickname. He's wearing charcoal athletic shorts and a deep green t-shirt that match the color of his eyes. He links his fingers with mine, taking in the view together.

"So you're the girl?" he asks, his gaze glued to the horizon.

"I guess? I didn't realize..."

"He wouldn't shut up about you."

I shrug awkwardly.

He clears his throat. "Did you think about our talk any more?"

I don't say anything, not willing to admit it's the only thing I've been able to think about.

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