Chapter 20
TWENTY
After another week in Ben’s house, it was starting to feel like Charlie’s home, too.
Charlie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, wrestling with the clasp on her beautiful silver necklace.
Behind her, she could hear Ben moving around in the bedroom, the now-familiar sound of him getting dressed.
She'd moved more of her things in three days ago. In addition to everything in the bathroom, her art supplies had taken over the spare bedroom. Her Moleskine collection lined a gorgeous wooden bookshelf Ben had made years ago as if he’d known what would someday fill it.
Her favorite BattleLore coffee mug sat next to his on the kitchen shelf above the coffee pot.
He’d made room for her. And now, their lives were fitting together.
Ben appeared in the bathroom doorway. “You ready?”
Charlie turned and forgot what she was doing entirely.
He was wearing the kilt.
Solid dark green, falling to just below his knee. A white linen shirt, open at the throat. He'd left his hair loose, which he almost never did. He looked like someone had pulled him directly out of a BattleLore illustration—massive and devastating.
“Yeah,” she managed to croak out of her suddenly dry mouth. “I'm ready.”
Ben's lips curved into a wicked smile. “You asked me to wear it.”
“I know I did.” Charlie turned back to the mirror, her cheeks warm. “I stand by that decision.”
She felt him move up behind her, close enough that she could feel warmth radiating from his chest. He gently took her necklace and fastened the clasp.
“There,” he said. His hands rested on her shoulders for a moment.
In the mirror, they looked right together.
Her and this enormous, gentle man who pulled out her chair and remembered her coffee order, who wrote her a song, made her a necklace, and had given her a studio with the best natural light in the house.
No princess could ever be happier.
“Thank you.” She turned and straightened his collar just to have an excuse to brush her fingers across the top of his chest. “You look incredible.”
He dropped his gaze, this gorgeous man who still amazingly had no idea. “You always say that.”
Charlie tilted his chin up. “And I'm always right.”
He kissed her. Softly and slowly, knowing exactly what she liked as if he’d been doing it for years.
“Come on,” Ben said, grabbing his keys from the hook by the door. “We're going to be late.”
Arden's Victorian ranch house looked welcoming when they pulled up. Charlie could hear voices and laughter through her open window from the driveway. She sat for a moment after Ben cut the engine, looking up at the house.
“You okay?” Ben asked.
“Yeah.” She was. Completely. That was the strange part. “I've been to parties here before. But this feels different.”
“Different how?”
Charlie turned to look at him. “Last time I came to one of Arden's parties, I was unsure that I belonged. That, even though everyone had shown me nothing but kindness, I was still an outsider.”
Ben waited.
“Tonight I'm coming in with you.” She held out her hand. “That's all.”
He took her hand, lifted it, and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “That’s not all, Charlie. It’s not just because of me. It’s that you’re ready to let them in.”
Charlie gave him a wondering smile. How could anyone know her so well?
He squeezed her hand. “So let's go in and celebrate with our family.”
They got out of the truck and Ben opened the back door. Flo bounded out, tail wagging, already sniffing the air for familiar friends.
The sound of barking came from behind the house—Camo's deep woof, Pete's enthusiastic yipping, and at least three other dogs whose barks Charlie recognized from Watchdog.
“Sounds like the pack's already assembled,” Ben said.
As if on cue, Alex appeared from around the side of the house with Camo at his heels. The black-and-gold Lab went straight to Flo, the two dogs greeting each other like old friends.
“I've got them,” Alex called, waving. “Everyone's out back. Chickens are secure, alpacas are curious, barn cats are judging us all.”
“Thanks, Alex!” Charlie called back.
Flo took off with Camo around the back of the house where the chaos of happy dogs echoed across the property. Charlie and Ben went up the porch steps and into the house.
The great room was already full. Charlie spotted Kyle by the fireplace.
Elias and Wren sat side by side on the couch.
Rochelle was curled up in the window seat—her favorite, naturally—listening to Wren’s latest crazy story, then scooted over for Gabe when he brought her a drink.
Bear stood toward the back of the room with baby Star in a sling on his chest, slowly rocking back and forth.
Frankie sat in the best armchair in the room. She looked exhausted and luminous in equal measure, dark circles under her eyes, but her skin glowing otherwise. Waylon perched on the arm of her chair, hovering over her. Every few minutes he leaned down and said something that made Frankie laugh.
And in her arms, a small bundle in a pale yellow blanket.
“The man of the hour,” Ben murmured.
“He's so tiny,” Charlie said.
Ben nodded. “He’s a little miracle.”
He steered Charlie toward the kitchen first, where Arden had staged enough food to feed the entire Watchdog roster.
Arden, April, and Gina were in there talking, Fleur standing right beside Gina and looking up adoringly, hoping for scraps, which she got a moment later.
Shane had a plateful of food and a biscuit in his mouth as he scootched past the women.
He mumbled something to Ben and Charlie that Charlie took as a greeting.
Arden spotted Charlie the moment they walked in. Her silver-grey eyes warmed and she pulled Charlie into a hug that was surprisingly easy to return.
“I'm so glad you're here,” Arden said. She looked between Charlie and Ben with a smile that said she knew exactly what she was looking at. “Both of you.”
“Ben!” Kyle called out. “I have a question for you. I’m replacing some of the old scallop shingles and I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Arden smiled up at Ben. “Please, save me and go talk to my husband before he destroys my home.”
Ben grinned at Arden and squeezed Charlie’s shoulder. “Will do.” He grabbed a cookie and made his way out of the kitchen. Arden was a step behind.
“Excuse me, ladies, but it’s my turn to hold the baby,” Arden said.
Gina smoothly stepped beside Charlie as if it had been planned.
“Come on,” Gina said. “I want to introduce you to someone.” She pointed toward a woman in a spectacular deep red dress, holding a flute of champagne. Her gleaming white hair was swept up in an elegant twist. She was sitting in a wing back chair, holding court among four people.
Charlie frowned. “What do you mean? I've met Stephanie….wait. Is that…?” Charlie discreetly pointed at the handsome man sitting beside her, laughing at something she'd just said.
“Dr. Boyfriend, in the flesh.” Gina's smile turned fond. “He showed up at Thanksgiving and we still barely know anything about him. He's very quiet.” She glanced at Charlie. “You'd think someone like Stephanie would wear him down, but somehow he holds his own.”
Charlie had been invited to Thanksgiving, but she’d politely turned down the invitation, thinking that Arden had only invited her to be nice.
So many good times I’ve denied myself. So many friendships.
No more.
“Oh, I’ve got to meet him.”
They crossed the room, Fleur leading the way. Stephanie clocked Charlie from ten feet away and opened her free arm.
“Charles! You gorgeous creature.” Charlie grinned at the nickname. She was officially part of the Guy Name Club along with Stephanie and Frankie who called each other Steve and Frank.
Stephanie stood and pulled Charlie into a hug that smelled like Chanel. “I heard you finally made an honest man out of that handsome blacksmith.”
“I'm not sure who made an honest person out of who,” Charlie said.
Stephanie laughed. “Oh, I like that.” Then she gestured to the quiet, silver-haired man beside her who had also stood up. “This is Dr. Boyfriend.”
The man extended his hand with the patience of someone who had long since accepted his fate. “William Blakely.”
“He insists,” Stephanie said, waving her champagne glass. “I find it lacks panache.”
“Nice to meet you, William,” Charlie said.
He gave her a smile that suggested he was used to being the straight man and had made his peace with it. “You as well, Charles.”
“Smart man,” Stephanie told him, then she kissed his cheek.
Gina pulled Charlie away before Stephanie could reel them in. They made their way to the massive leather couch where Wren was sitting, close to Frankie's armchair. Frankie had her head turned and was talking to Rochelle. She didn't notice them until Charlie sat down across from her.
“Hey, you,” Frankie said, beaming. “Moving in going okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” Charlie glanced toward the fireplace where Lachlan Campbell was approaching Ben and Kyle. She watched Lachlan look Ben over with a raised eyebrow.
“Nice skirt, lad.”
“Skirt?” Ben replied, eyebrows raised. “It's an Irish kilt.”
“Oh dear, here they go,” Gina said, shaking her head with a soft smile. “We've lost them.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, just listen. This'll be hilarious.” She tilted her head, considering. “So long as they don't come to blows.”
Charlie's eyebrows rose. “Really?”
Gina put her finger to her lips and gestured with her golden eyes toward the men. Charlie tuned into their conversation, Gina grinning beside her.
“I'm not saying that Ireland's kilt tradition rivals Scotland's,” Ben was saying. “But it does have a legitimate history.”
“Uh-oh,” Gina whispered.
“Legitimate history? Only if you're talking the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,” Lach rebutted.
“The léine predates your Great Kilt by centuries—”
Lach snorted. “A léine is practically a dress—”
“It's a long tunic and a precursor—”
Charlie looked at Gina. “How long does this usually go?”