Chapter 5 - Vincent
What the hell am I doing?
The thought slams into me as I stand here under the vast sky, Charlotte Wilson's face tilted up toward mine, her eyes reflecting starlight. She's younger, my daughter's nanny, for god's sake. She arrived literally hours ago. And yet I've never wanted to kiss someone as badly as I want to kiss her right now.
Her features are softened in the darkness, but I can still make out those scattered freckles across her nose, the curve of her lips, the way her eyes blink up at me like they're capturing starlight with each flutter.
She looks almost ethereal, wrapped in my flannel shirt that's far too big for her frame, her hair loose around her shoulders.
I’m aware of my arm still around her, the warmth of her body against mine, the faint scent of the shampoo she must have used earlier. This is dangerous territory.
I'm her employer. She's responsible for my daughter. There are a dozen reasons why I should step back right now and pretend this moment never happened.
Instead, I find myself saying, "You're something else, Charlotte Wilson."
A smile touches her lips. "Is that good or bad?"
"I'm still figuring that out," I admit.
She laughs softly, the sound mixing with the night breeze. "Fair enough."
I reluctantly drop my arm from around her shoulders and take a half-step back, trying to reestablish some semblance of professional distance.
"We should probably head back," I say, my voice rougher than intended. "Early start tomorrow."
She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Right. Lily promised me a tour of the horses at first light, I believe."
"She takes that kind of promise very seriously," I warn. "She'll be knocking on your door at dawn."
"I'll be ready," Charlotte assures me. "I'm an early riser anyway."
We begin the walk back toward the house. The ranch stretches out before us, the buildings dark silhouettes against the star-scattered sky. This land has been my anchor through everything—my parents' deaths, my marriage falling apart, Sarah walking out. It's always been the one constant in my life.
Now it feels like even this solid ground beneath my feet is shifting, all because of the woman walking beside me.
"Vincent?" Charlotte's voice breaks into my thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for showing me the stars. It was..." She pauses, searching for the right word. "Perfect."
Something tightens in my chest. "You're welcome."
As we approach the house, I notice a light still on in the living room. Probably Aaron—he often stays up later than the rest of us, his sleep patterns permanently disrupted by his time overseas.
Sure enough, my brother is sitting in our father's old armchair, a book open in his lap. He glances up as we enter, his eyes moving between Charlotte and me with quiet assessment. I know that look. He's reading the situation, drawing conclusions that make me want to squirm like a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew.
"Just showing Charlotte the stars," I explain, though he hasn't asked.
Aaron nods once, his expression neutral. "Clear night for it."
"I've never seen anything like it," Charlotte says earnestly. "Where I'm from, you're lucky to spot a handful of stars through the light pollution."
"Another reason cities are overrated," Aaron says.
Charlotte smiles. "I'm starting to agree with you there."
She turns to me. "I should turn in. Thank you again for... everything today."
"Goodnight, Charlotte," I say, keeping my voice even.
"Goodnight, Vincent. Goodnight, Aaron."
Both of us watch her walk down the hallway toward her room. Once she's out of sight, Aaron looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't," I warn.
He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes hold a knowing look that irritates me precisely because he's right. There's something happening here that I didn't anticipate and don't know how to handle.
"She seems good with Lily," is all he says.
"She is," I agree, dropping into the sofa across from him. "Kid's already attached."
Aaron closes his book, marking his place with a finger. "And you?"
I scowl at him. "She's Lily's nanny."
"Didn't answer my question."
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. "I don't know, alright? She's not what I expected."
"Things never are," Aaron says cryptically.
"You're a real font of wisdom tonight," I mutter.
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Just calling it like I see it."
"Well, don't. It's nothing. It can't be anything." I stand up abruptly. "I'm going to bed."
Aaron nods, reopening his book. "Night, Vince."
I make my way to my bedroom, annoyed with myself and with Aaron for seeing right through me. Once inside, I sit heavily on the edge of my bed, my thoughts a jumbled mess.
What is wrong with me? Charlotte Wilson has been here less than a day. I know nothing about her beyond what she's told me and what the agency provided. And yet there I was, standing under the stars with my arm around her, contemplating kissing her like some lovesick teenager.
I haven't felt this kind of immediate attraction to anyone since... well, maybe ever. Sarah and I had a comfortable courtship that grew into affection and eventually marriage, but it never had this electric quality that seems to charge the air whenever Charlotte is near.
That should be a warning sign, not an invitation. Intense flames burn out quickly, and the last thing Lily needs is more instability in her life.
I get up and pace the length of my bedroom, trying to shake off this restlessness. I strip down to my boxers and t-shirt, go through my nightly routine on autopilot, but my mind keeps circling back to the feel of Charlotte's head resting against my shoulder, the way her eyes caught the starlight, how perfectly she fit against me.
I lie down, staring at the ceiling, urging sleep to come, but it's useless. My thoughts are a hurricane with Charlotte at the eye of the storm.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter to myself, throwing back the covers and sitting up.
I'm a grown man, a father, responsible for a business that's been in my family for generations. I don't do impulsive. I don't chase feelings like this.
And yet...
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm on my feet, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, running a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to tame it. I have no plan, no script for what I'm about to do. All I know is that I won't sleep tonight if I don't at least try to make sense of whatever this is between us.
I open my door quietly, checking the hallway to make sure none of my brothers are around. The house is silent now, Aaron presumably having gone to bed. I move down the corridor, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors, until I reach Charlotte's door.
I stand there for a moment, second-guessing myself. This is crazy. I should turn around, go back to bed, and pretend this moment of madness never happened. But then I remember the way she looked at me under the stars, and before I can change my mind, I raise my hand and knock softly.
For a long moment, there's no response, and I'm torn between relief and disappointment. Then I hear movement, and the door opens just enough for Charlotte to peer out, her hair tousled from the pillow, her eyes wide with concern.
"Vincent? Is something wrong? Is Lily—"
"Everything's fine," I say quickly, my voice low to avoid carrying through the quiet house. "I just..."
I trail off, suddenly at a loss for words. What am I doing here? What could I possibly say that wouldn't sound either unprofessional or completely out of line?
Charlotte opens the door a bit wider, revealing that she's wearing a simple tank top and pajama shorts. My borrowed flannel shirt is draped over the chair behind her.
"Vincent?" she prompts, her expression shifting from concern to curiosity.
I take a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep."
It's not what I meant to say, but it's the truth. Her eyes search mine, and I see the moment she understands exactly why I'm standing at her door in the middle of the night.
"I couldn't either," she admits.