Page 36 of Charlie

"No matter what happens between us, I'll always be thankful for that night."

"I'm thankful I met you, too," I say, my heart in my throat. "I don't think I'll ever forget that evening. It was magical, wasn't it?"

"To many more magical nights," he teases, raising his glass.

I groan, but I still lift my glass to his.

"Hey, I know you need time. I'm not pushing for anything past friendship."

My heart drops. "Don't get all dramatic on me, now. I'm fine with the teasing. And the flirting. I'll let you know if you ever go too far."

He laughs, "I have absolutely no doubt about that."

"What about you – what did you want to be when you were little?"

"Exactly what I'm doing now. I knew from the time I was toddling around the estate that I wanted to spend my life there. I know it sounds cliche to say it's in my blood, but I don't know how else to describe it. That's why all of us eventually came back." He smiles. "There's just something about that place. I hope you get to experience it before—" he stops abruptly, frustration marring his features.

"Before I leave?" I finish, voicing what he doesn't want to say.

"Yes, that."

"Me, too." The food sits heavy in my stomach. I will have to leave eventually. "Can we promise not to bring that up unless we absolutely have to?"

"Good idea." He spears a carrot and pops it into his mouth, not meeting my gaze.

"Well, that was a mood killer." I chuckle. "What are the errands you need to do?"

"I have to go to the feed store and make a quick grocery run. Shouldn't take too long." He pulls out his wallet and motions the waiter over.

"Jack, let me at least pay for my meal," I protest. "You drove me all the way here and then helped me for hours. I owe you."

"I offered, Charlotte. You owe me nothing."

We spend the next couple of hours ticking items off his list, and I find that in addition to being sexually attracted to him, I really like who he is as a person. I can hear the love and respect he carries for his family and friends in his words. It's when we're driving back to Harris, his arm over the back of my seat, that I realize I'm royally fucked.

21

I've been avoiding the guys for the last few days, and it's starting to wear on me. Despite being at my favorite part of the process, I haven't made any progress on Arty's tree. I've become an irritable recluse who only gets out to sneak around the barn taking care of Sorcha. I finally concede that I need a day off to clear my head, and I'm determined to get outside despite the horrible weather. I bundle up in the same clothes I wore on my hike with Cameron – which doesn't help my frame of mind one bit. I pack some snacks, water, and my camera and head down the path to the beach. The wind is so strong that I can barely place one foot in front of the other. Despite that, wild water and cliffs lure me further down the path. The cold air against my skin is invigorating, blowing away the cobwebs of confusion that have been there since that night in the pub.

Mist starts coming down as I drop my backpack in a small cave, looping my camera around my neck. I walk the beach until my toes are numb, taking a lifetime's worth of pictures. I'm not thinking about any of the guys for the first time in weeks. I jog close to the surf, blood working to warm my extremities. I turn back toward the cave as the rain picks up, but it isn't nearly soon enough. Lightning flashes overhead, a giant thunderclap seconds behind. Fuck. I debate trying to scurry back up the path, but I'm not in the mood to risk my life today. Waiting it out seems like a decent second option. I get to the cave just before the downpour starts. I carry my bag further into the cave and find a little alcove that provides enough of a wind break to be comfortable. The forlorn sound of the wind blowing over the mouth of the cave makes me shudder, and my mood plummets.

"Charlotte!" a disembodied voice floats into the cave on a gust of wind. I run to the entrance, scanning the beach. Jack is riding the gorgeous black stallion I met in the barn the other day.

"Jack!" I wave my arms, smiling like a fool when he spots me. He prods the horse into a gallop, coming to a stop and dismounting in one smooth motion. He loops the reins over the animal's neck before turning to me, lines of worry etched between his brows.

Beads of water cling to his face, his eyelashes sticking together in dark points. "God, I was worried about you, Charlotte. Why did you go out in this weather?" He doesn't come any closer, but I'm unsure if it's because he's respecting my boundaries or because he's pissed off.

"I didn't realize," I say, ashamed that I put him in danger. "Do you think he can get us back to the house?" I ask, gesturing toward the horse.

"I don't think so," he sighs, "the path was treacherous on the way down and I don't want to risk it again. I shouldn't have even come down, but I had a feeling you were here." He shakes the water from his hair. "Come on then." He strides into the cave, grabbing my wrist as he brushes past me.

"What about the horse?"

"Trust me, he's not going anywhere, and neither will you if you don't get in here and warm up."

Jack makes a small fire out of driftwood, the light flickering over his face in a silent caress. His eyes reflect the flames, reminding me of molten lava – mesmerizing and deadly. I clear my throat, uncomfortable with how my body responds to him.

His mouth twists. "You don't have to keep doing that, you know," he says, shredding a twig and watching each piece shrivel in the fire.

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