Chapter 2
Charlotte’s stomach dipped with the plane, the turbulence doing nothing to settle her nerves as she gripped her scotch with one hand and the airplane phone with the other.
This day was not going according to plan.
When she’d woken up this morning, she heard Cowboy digging in the front yard and peeked outside with a frown.
He was moving plants without her permission, though she clearly remembered telling him she wanted it done.
Everything felt like an encroachment lately, every action designed to tie her down, to railroad over her vision of the future and replace it with his own.
She’d tried telling herself that wasn’t what he was doing, but his incessant talk of marriage was wearing her down—and not in the way he intended. Not one to stand for being bullied, her tolerance for Leo’s shenanigans was wearing thin.
Charlotte didn’t want to break up with him. She needed to.
Marriage had run roughshod over her once before. She knew what it felt like to be dragged through the mud, kicking and screaming and desperate for her freedom.
What she’d had with Leo these past two years had been nothing like her relationship with Rick. Leo had made her feel safe again, had built her up instead of tearing her down, had taught her what it was to truly be loved.
But all that had changed. She no longer felt safe and loved—she felt ignored and badgered.
There were moments when her old feelings for him shined through, but the dappled rays of happiness peeking out from a thick layer of dark clouds only reminded her of her first marriage—tons of awful shit punctuated by bits of good.
She wasn’t doing that again.
So she’d finally gotten up her courage and ended it, yet here he was, sitting beside her on an airplane bound for Maine.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“You want another scotch?” he asked.
She frowned and finished her drink, the alcohol making her throat tingle on its way down. “Sure.”
She told herself she should be grateful he was here, but she wanted space, needed it. To make matters worse, she’d dreamed of bringing Cowboy to the island more times than she could count, introducing the man she loved to the woman who meant more to her than almost any other person on the planet.
Grams never told Charlotte to change. No matter how sassy Charlotte dressed or behaved, Grams always had her back, telling her she was beautiful and confident and strong—not inappropriate or out of line as Charlotte’s mother did. That alone was reason to love Grams.
But it was more than that. Her house was a magical old Victorian on a hill overlooking the ocean, just a short walk from a red-striped lighthouse that had once sent out a beam of warning over the sea.
Water lapped in the distance, Gram’s veined hands holding Charlotte’s and teaching her how to skip rocks that danced along the surface before dropping into the waves.
She could smell the sea in her memory, hear the water crashing on the rocks and the squawk of gulls nearby.
Her brother Logan used to taunt her on their family trips, saying the island was haunted.
He said it was the ghost of the old lighthouse keeper, who died trying to save the drowning crew of a ship caught in a terrible storm.
He’d damn near scared the bejeezus out of her.
When she was eight or nine, she’d asked Grams if there was any truth to it, and Grams had just smiled, saying, “I’m sure a man who gave his life trying to save others would be a very fine ghost to have. I don’t imagine I’d mind his company, would you?”
That had done little to calm young Charlotte’s mind.
Grams was the only woman Charlotte had ever wanted to become, though her regal bearing and proper manners were forever out of reach for a girl more likely to swear than ask, how do you do?
God, when was the last time she’d seen Grams? Christmas, the year before last, maybe. But that had been at her parents’ house in New Jersey. Charlotte hadn’t been out to the island in far longer than that, and she was suddenly deeply sorry she had not.
Cowboy sighed heavily as he typed on his phone, bringing her back to the moment. “Everyone’s out on assignment.”
She’d heard him leave a message for Razorback, the head of HERO Force New York, asking if they had anyone available if she and Cowboy needed a hand up in Maine, and she’d thought it was ridiculous.
The only reason she even wanted Leo here was for his snow driving ability.
“I don’t know why you called him anyway. ”
“We don’t know who this guy is. We might need backup.”
She raised an eyebrow. “To deal with one old man?”
“You don’t know that. You said yourself, this guy could be bad news. Moot point, anyhow. Ian’s been spreading the team thin since Mac left. Too thin, if you ask me.”
The New York team of HERO Force was different from the Atlanta office.
Mac had assembled a group of men with issues, from battle scars and missing limbs to PTSD or an inability to reintegrate back into life after military service.
No one was sure how that was going to go, least of all Cowboy, as the current head of the original team in Atlanta.
Cowboy had taken a long time to warm up to Mac, the two of them finally becoming close friends.
But now that Mac had reunited with his wife Ellie and retired, Razorback—also known as Ian—was in charge, and Cowboy seemed to have similar issues with Mac’s replacement.
Charlotte frowned. It was hard for a man like Leo to hand over control, whether to a team of warriors or to his own damn girlfriend.
“Champion and Austin will be back the day after tomorrow if we need them,” he said.
At least she wouldn’t be alone with Cowboy if they showed up. “Great. They can meet us for lunch on our way back.”
“Can you drop the sarcasm, please?”
She set her jaw. He was right, she wasn’t making things any better by arguing with him. He was helping her and she needed to remember that, no matter how much it grated on her pride. “I appreciate you coming,” she lied.
“Of course I’m coming. What’d you think I was going to do? Stay home?”
“I’m just saying, I appreciate it.”
“Jesus, Charlotte.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“You think I don’t know what’s going through your head right now?”
“No, actually. I don’t think you do.”
He leaned in close to her, those blue eyes seeming to catch her in their crosshairs.
“You’re wishing anyone but me were in this seat next to you.
You’re wishing Mac had an entire team of guys waiting to drive you through this storm so you wouldn’t need me to do it.
You’re wishing Gemma would have had that baby already, so Logan could be here.
You’re wishing Uber would cross state lines, anything so you didn’t need me. And it hurts like hell, baby.”
She licked her lips. She was caught, busted. It hurt her too, the intensity of her emotional response making her eyes sting. “This hasn’t been easy for me, you know,” she croaked out, hating the emotion in her voice. “It’s not like I wanted things to go this way.”
He took her limp hand. “I love you.”
Her mouth pulled down hard at the corners as she slowly pulled her hand away.
“Looks like we’re landing. Won’t be long now.
” Turning to the window, she watched as the plane slipped into deep gray clouds tinged with purple.
She couldn’t look at his face, didn’t want to see the disappointment she knew she’d see there.
Escape was what she needed, distance from this man, but that wouldn’t be possible for hours.
If everything went according to plan, they’d stay ahead of the worst of the storm.
A brief layover in New York, then they’d be on their way to Maine, her grandmother’s home another three-hour drive from the airport.
She let her eyes close at the thought of so much time in Cowboy’s presence—far too much time for her breaking heart to bear.