Chapter 7 Charlie
CHARLIE
The highway stretched ahead, dark and empty, the white lines disappearing beneath Charlie's tires in a hypnotic rhythm.
She'd been driving for hours, her shoulders tight, her eyes burning from staring at the road.
But she was close now. The GPS showed less than ten miles to St. Augustine, and despite her exhaustion, a flutter of anticipation stirred in her chest.
But not this time. This time, she'd put her foot down. Told her assistant to clear her calendar, forwarded her calls to another attorney, and promised herself she wouldn't check her email more than once a day.
This was her vacation. Her first real one in years. And she was going to enjoy every minute of it.
The landscape began to shift as she drew closer to the coast. The flat stretches of highway gave way to clusters of buildings, their lights twinkling in the darkness. And then, suddenly, the city opened up before her.
Charlie's breath caught.
St. Augustine glowed.
It was after eight now, the sky a deep velvet black, and against that darkness the city sparkled like something out of a dream.
Millions of tiny white lights draped from every surface, outlining the Spanish colonial buildings, wrapping around balconies, cascading down walls.
The historic district stretched before her, its narrow streets lined with centuries-old structures that seemed to pulse with golden warmth.
Charlie slowed the car, her eyes wide, taking it all in.
The Bridge of Lions loomed ahead, its twin marble lions standing sentinel at either end, their forms outlined in lights that reflected off the water below.
The bay sparkled beneath them, the surface rippling with a thousand dancing reflections.
She drove across the bridge slowly, almost reverently, her hands light on the wheel. To her left, the city continued to glow, its rooftops and church spires lit like something out of a fairytale. To her right, the bay stretched wide and dark, dotted with boats whose masts were strung with lights.
It was breathtaking.
The road curved as she reached the other side of the bridge, and the landscape shifted again. The buildings grew sparser, replaced by dunes and sea grass that swayed in the ocean breeze. The scent of salt filled the car, sharp and clean, and Charlie rolled down her window to let it in.
Anastasia Island.
The GPS guided her down a side road, and within minutes, the Christmas Inn came into view.
Charlie eased off the gas, her mouth curving into a smile.
The inn was gorgeous. Even more beautiful than the photos Holly had shown her.
It sat perched on the edge of the shore, a sprawling white structure with wraparound porches and balconies that faced the Atlantic.
Every railing, every window, every column was wrapped in strings of golden lights that glowed against the night.
Palm trees flanked the entrance, their trunks spiraled with more lights, and the sandy pathway leading up to the front door was lined with luminarias that flickered softly in the breeze.
It looked like a postcard. Like something too perfect to be real.
Charlie pulled into the small parking area and cut the engine.
For a moment, she just sat there, staring at the inn through the windshield.
The sound of the ocean filled the air, a constant, rhythmic crash of waves against the shore.
The breeze was cool and damp, carrying the scents of salt, pine, and something else.
Something she couldn't name but that made her chest feel light.
She climbed out of the car and took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill her lungs. It was fresher here. Tangier. Like the ocean had scrubbed the world clean, leaving only the essentials behind.
Charlie moved to the trunk and popped it open, reaching for her suitcase.
She'd packed light, just one bag and a carry-on, but even so, she was looking forward to dropping them off and finding Holly and Trinity.
Maybe getting some food. Her stomach had been growling for the last hour, and the thought of a hot meal and a cold drink was almost enough to make her weep.
She grabbed her bags and turned toward the inn.
A blur of movement caught her eye.
A blue pickup truck swerved into the parking lot, headlights cutting through the darkness, and swung into the space beside her car with enough speed to make Charlie jump back.
The truck's tire came within inches of her suitcase.
"Watch it, you maniac!" Charlie shouted, her heart pounding.
The truck came to a stop, and through the glare of the lights reflecting off the windshield, she saw the driver raise a hand in apology. She couldn't make out his face, just the silhouette of broad shoulders and the vague impression of someone tall.
Charlie shook her head, her jaw tight, and took a deep breath. She was not going to let some reckless idiot ruin the start of her vacation. Not after the day she'd had. Not after the year she'd had.
This was her first time disconnecting from work in forever. Her first real break. And from the look of the town and the island, they were going to have a magical Christmas.
The thought filled her with a strange, uplifting feeling she couldn't quite explain. It was warm and bright, like sunlight breaking through clouds, and it made her smile despite her irritation.
Charlie shook it off, chalking it up to excitement, and headed for the inn.
The moment she stepped through the door, the feeling intensified.
It hit her like a wave, warm and electric, and for half a second, she stopped in her tracks.
The sensation was impossible to describe.
It wasn't quite happiness, though there was joy in it.
It wasn't quite hope, though there was promise in it.
It was something deeper, something that hummed in her chest and whispered in her ear.
This is going to be a Christmas you'll never forget.
Charlie blinked, her hand still on the door, and glanced around the lobby.
The space was beautiful. Polished wood floors, a roaring fireplace, vintage photographs lining the walls.
A massive Christmas tree stood in the corner, its branches hung with handmade ornaments that sparkled in the firelight.
And standing behind the front desk was an elderly woman whose eyes tracked Charlie's movement with a soft, knowing smile.
Charlie suppressed a shiver. There was something about the way the woman looked at her. Like she could see straight through her. Like she knew what Charlie was feeling.
It's just because you're tired, Charlie told herself. Long day. Long drive. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep.
But the feeling didn't fade.
"You must be Charlie Burke."
The woman's voice was warm, friendly, and instantly disarming. It wrapped around Charlie like a blanket, and despite her initial unease, she felt herself relax. There was something about the woman that reminded her of her own mother. The same gentle smile, the same knowing eyes.
A pang hit Charlie square in the chest, sharp and unexpected. Her mother had been gone for over a decade now, but standing here, looking at this woman, the grief felt fresh all over again.
Charlie swallowed hard and forced a smile. "Hi. Yes. Sorry I'm here so late."
"Not at all." The woman's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with something that might have been amusement. "In fact..." She paused, her gaze shifting to the door behind Charlie. "I think you're right on time."
Charlie frowned and turned.
The door swung open, and a man stepped inside.
Charlie's breath caught.
He was tall. Very tall. At least six-two, with broad shoulders and a build that spoke of years spent doing physical work.
His hair was brown and slightly tousled, and his face was rugged in a way that was somehow both rough and appealing.
But it was his smile that grabbed her attention.
Warm and easy, like he was genuinely happy to be here.
"Logan!" The woman behind the desk's voice rang with delight. "I'm so glad you could make it. I missed you last Christmas."
Logan. He must be the guy who nearly killed my bag.
Charlie watched as he dropped his duffel bag and moved around the desk to embrace the woman. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that spoke of years of friendship.
"Hi, Julie," Logan said, his voice deep and warm. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Julie pulled back, her hands still on his arms, as they exchanged a few words that Charlie couldn’t hear before she turned back toward Charlie. Something twinkled in her eyes, and Charlie felt her frown deepen.
"Logan, I'd like you to meet one of our guests who just arrived." Julie's smile was positively radiant now. "This is Charlie Burke. Charlie, this is Logan Miller. He's like a second son to me."
Logan turned, and his gaze met Charlie's.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Logan stepped forward and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Charlie stared at his hand for half a second longer than was polite. Then, as if in a daze (like a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights), she reached out and took it.
The moment their palms touched, a spark shot up her arm.
Charlie yanked her hand back, her heart racing. She told herself it was static. Just static from the dry air. But the warmth lingering in her palm said otherwise.
"Hello," she managed, her voice coming out smaller than she intended.
Logan's smile grew and seemed to transform his features, making him even more handsome, and Charlie’s pulse picked up speed. "I'm sorry about the parking lot. I didn't see your bag there."
Charlie's mouth went dry as she felt herself being mesmerized by his gaze. She swallowed, trying to find her voice, and nodded.
"Logan!" Julie tutted as she watched him. "You weren't on your phone, were you?"
"No." Logan laughed softly.