Page 66 of Charlie

"What's your favorite part about managing it?" I ask, curious about what makes him so passionate.

"Probably when this little auburn-haired lass shows up to feed my sister's pony," he teases, winking.

"Jack," I groan, "Seriously!"

He stops walking and faces me. "I'm being completely serious."

I blush and push up on my tiptoes to kiss him, balancing myself with a hand on his chest.

The entire hike is an experience I'll never forget. I've never been anywhere that's so wide open. So wild. So free. It makes my heart sing. We hold hands the whole way, neither of us wanting to let go after finally taking that step. When we return to the vehicle, Jack starts setting up camp, transforming his truck into something I didn't even know was possible. There's a sleeping area on top of the bed cover, a makeshift kitchen, and a small firepit that he can pack out.

"This is homey," I grin, butterflies beating against my stomach.

"I'm glad you think so, lass. I know this isn't for everyone."

"I spent the last five years doing hard labor outside. This is a vacation."

His lips twist into a grimace, but he doesn't say anything, just rolls his shoulders back and shifts into dinner mode. He has me trim the ends of the asparagus as he heats oil in a pan. I watch as he washes rice and puts it on the burner, then he pulls smoked salmon and butter from the cooler. He sheds his jacket and sweater, leaving him in only joggers and a tee. The evening light highlights the veins in his arms, but that's not the only thing it's accentuating, and I can't stop my gaze from bouncing down until I finally give up trying to be good and close my eyes.

This is torture. My brain tells me to run. It tells me to spare both of our feelings and get the fuck out. Jack wants kids. I can't have kids. He lives in Scotland. I don't. End of Story. Besides the fact that I'm still fucking married. But my heart sings a different tune. Especially when he looks at me the way he's looking at me right now.

"What?" I ask, trying to hold in my smile and failing miserably.

"I'm just thinking about how perfect today was. And about how hot you are." He grins, abandoning the stove and wrapping me in a bear hug, lifting my feet off the ground. I wind my arms around his neck and hug him back. Tears prick my eyes as the realization hits that I have someone solid in my life I can lean on – several someones, actually. It feels so goddamn good.

"Why does it seem like we've known each other forever?" Jack mumbles against my neck.

"I have no fucking clue," I whisper, pressing a kiss to his cheek, suddenly feeling shy. There are stars in his eyes, his gaze reverent. He smiles at me as he sets me back on the ground, my heart fluttering in my chest.

"God, ignore me," he laughs.

"Never." I grab his face and bring it to mine, kissing him hard before pushing him toward the pan.

He pulls the asparagus out of the pan, sears the salmon, and then starts on a sauce. After whisking for a couple of minutes, he calls me over.

"Something's off about the sauce. Will you try it and tell me what you think?" He dips his finger in and holds it out to me, his eyebrow cocked, a challenge in his eyes.

It takes me less than a second to let lust take over, and then I'm swirling my tongue around his finger, sucking him in to his third knuckle. The sauce is divine, creamy with a tang of lemon. Perfectly seasoned. I release his finger with a pop and lick my lips. "It's perfect." I give him an exaggerated wink as he stands there, his lip caught in his teeth, nostrils flared.

"Fucking hell, Charlotte." He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me to him, crushing his lips to mine. I tug on his beard, pulling him even closer. He breaks the kiss, picking me up and placing me in one of the camping chairs. "If we don't stop, dinner will burn."

Several minutes later, Jack hands me a plate and a mug and sits in the chair beside me. "You feel it too, don't you?"

"Yes," I whisper, terrified to admit it.

He nods and takes a bite of his food. "Eat," he commands.

Yes, sir. Hmph. He watches as I lift the fork to my mouth, his gaze darkening when my lips close around the tines.

He takes a few more bites before talking again. "Have you decided to stop running yet?"

I swallow, gulping down some water to wash it down. "I don't want to leave," I say honestly.

"Really?"

"Yes—but that doesn't mean I won't have to. There's the divorce. The visa. There are a lot of things out of my control."

"We'll deal with that when they come. Just promise me you won't run, Charlotte."

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