Page 4 of Charlie

"I do," I respond, a smile tugging at my lips. "What do you have in mind?"

"Honestly? Nothing beyond spending more time with you." He grabs his jacket from behind the desk and grabs my hand, pulling me outside.

We walk out of the bookstore and step into a fairytale. Arcs of neon clouds paint the sky over our heads as soft music drifts down the street, the sound of bagpipes riding on the wind. Waves crash against the seawall, sending tiny droplets of salty water floating through the air.

My breath hitches as Cameron turns toward me, the streetlight gilding the planes of his face, reflecting in his eyes.

"There’s nothing quite like the golden hour in the Highlands," he murmurs, pushing his glasses back into place. He holds his hand up, and I press my palm to his, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as the mist swirls in lazy circles around us. His touch lights me up, sparks of lust racing over my skin and lodging deep in my core.

A door slams and we jerk our hands apart, the moment shattered.

"Would you like to grab a drink?" he asks, looking at me through his eyelashes, his pinky caressing my hand like he wants to hold it, but he’s too shy to ask.

"Over there?" I ask, pointing down the street.

Cameron nods, dark curls falling over his forehead.

"Yes, I would love to," I say, threading my fingers through his. I may barely know this man, but one thing I do know is I never want this night to end.

The music comes to an abrupt halt as we walk through the door of the pub. A strong breeze rushes ahead of us, whipping my hair around my head as I cross the threshold. I push it out of my face and freeze as a sea of curious eyeballs turn our way.

"Everyone," Cameron calls out, "this is Charlie." He winks at me, giving me the courage to stay put instead of running back outside. "Charlie, this is everyone." A loud cheer goes up, and the music starts again – fiddles, guitars, and piano all fighting for attention.

Cameron pulls me to a booth against the wall, making sure I’m settled before heading to the bar. By the time he comes back with a massive beer in each hand, my toes are tapping along to the music. I take a big gulp of the beer and lick the mustache from my top lip, looking up at Cameron just in time to see him watching me, his gaze following my tongue as it moves over my lips. He mutters something under his breath and raises his glass to his mouth, taking a couple of long drags. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs, the line of his throat long and elegant. My fingers itch to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. Fuck if this man doesn’t belong in a renaissance painting.

"What do you think?" he asks, raising his voice above the music.

"I love it!" I yell back, grinning. There’s a wild cheer as bagpipes join in, the entire pub melting into absolute chaos. I'm obsessed. Chairs and tables are pushed against the walls as three couples make their way to the dance floor, their feet racing across the planks in a complicated jig.

Another cheer goes up as the music screeches to a halt, everyone standing and moving to the center of the room.

"What's going on?" I ask Cameron, leaning toward him so he can hear me.

He palms my jaw, angling my head to talk into my ear. "You'll see," he chuckles, his breath warm against the shell of my ear, heat pooling in my belly.

Before I can react, the woman beside me links her arm with mine, and half a second later, we're stomping around the pub, chanting in time with the music. Everyone is arm-in-arm, rotating in one giant circle, pulsing in and out with the music, grinning and sweaty, whatever cares they had brought with them long forgotten. When I feel I can't possibly take another step, the music grinds to a halt and everyone breaks apart, heading back to their seats.

Cameron pulls me close, our gazes locking, hunger replacing the shyness. We're both breathing hard, goofy grins plastered to our faces.

"You want to cool down outside?" he asks, brushing at a strand of hair stuck to my cheek.

I nod and he pulls me outside, cool air sliding over my skin like that first drink of ice-cold water. We lean against the side of the building, breathing hard. He catches me looking at him, and a smile tugs at his lips.

"You looked like a fire sprite in there," he murmurs, "I don't think I've ever seen anything so beautiful." He glances at his watch and pushes off the wall. "Fuck, I wish this night could last forever," he groans, taking my hands in his. "I have an eight o'clock class tomorrow morning, so I can't miss the last ferry." He stands in front of me, uncertainty playing over his features. "I had a lot of fun tonight, Charlie. Will I see you Friday?"

"I’ll be here." Disappointment settles over my shoulders as he turns and walks away. He takes several steps and then pauses, turning back toward me. I crash into his embrace, burying my face in his chest and breathing deeply. He kisses my forehead before we step away from each other. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"Goodnight, Cameron," I murmur.

As I try to get comfortable in my tiny bed that night, it occurs to me that I feel Cameron’s absence more acutely after just one night than I had ever felt with Rob. I wasted years on someone that didn’t give a shit about me.

This is my chance. Go big or go home, right? Or in my case – go big, and then I’d have to go home. I vow to myself right then and there to make up for lost time.

The perfect Scottish summer is coming right up.

4

The days fly by once I get into a routine. The library is the most accessible place for me to work for now. I have access to several sources of online records through their computer system, which allows me to cross-check the information Arty had given me. By the end of the week, I've traced back several generations and have copious notes on every possible tidbit of information, not sure what I would need further down the road when I painted the scenes. By Thursday evening, I'm pretty happy with my progress, and I'm looking forward to a day not spent hunched over my laptop and notebook.

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