Begin Again: A Charlotte Bloom Short Story Page 2

  “She’s just a guest, OK? She needed some dry clothes. That’s all.”

  “Right.”

  Mary walked back into the pub carrying a stack of old clothes. Charlotte walked in behind her, and I watched as they interacted. Suddenly, a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach made me dizzy and disoriented. I imagined my future with Charlotte – all four of us hanging out at the pub. Mary and Charlotte as best friends; Henry and I as best friends. Double dates. Marriage. Children.

  What. The. Fuck. Was. Wrong. With. Me.

  ***

  We all rode back to the Parc after lunch, stopping at the same beach as before. Charlotte was riding Bo again. Guests usually loved this – the sunset, the scenic beauty – or whatever. It was a great way to end our day of riding. Or so I’d heard. I hopped down and tied Nigel to a tree, and Charlotte did the same, watching me. She walked down the shore ahead of me. She’d rolled her jeans up to her knees, and her hair was a wild, curly mess.

  It struck me how beautiful she was. I usually knew when women liked me. With Charlotte… I wasn’t so sure. I followed her for a few minutes and watched her as she walked ahead of me. Lucy and Ted were snogging on the sand between us. She turned around, walking back, and took her jacket off. She looked up at me, scowling. I realized how much of a fucking creep I seemed like right at that moment, so I quickly turned around. I could feel her eyes on my back. To distract myself, I glumly struck up a conversation with Lucy and Ted.

  As she walked closer, I gleefully realized her borrowed shirt was slightly see-through. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I didn’t care how I looked to her anymore. Because all I wanted to do right then and there was to run over to her, grab her, and kiss her. I turned around and walked back to the horses so that she wouldn’t see me adjust my pants.

  ***

  That night for dinner, I’d decided to do some personal grooming, which started with trying to tame my wild mess of hair. It was dark and straight, and even though I kept it relatively short, it stuck out in all different directions. I showered, combed it, and sprayed it with hairspray. I trimmed my beard. I hardly ever shaved – I liked stubble. I put on a nice sweater and pants. Not bad. I’d never really cared about my appearance before. But I wanted to look nice tonight.

  I walked into the dining room early, and before I realized what was happening, Charlotte ran into me, backing out of the doorway – she wasn’t looking and tripped over me. I caught her as we collided; my hands gripped her waist.

  "Easy, there,” I said, gruffly. I liked the feeling of my hands on her way too much.

  "Thanks." She turned around and smiled. "I didn’t want to disturb them," she whispered, pointing to Lucy and Ted. I looked over at them.

  "Yeah, it’s a little sickening," I said, grinning.

  "Look at that, an actual smile,” she said, teasingly. I saw a coquettish sparkle in her eyes.

  "It takes me a while to warm up to people I guess.” The thing was; it did take me a while to warm up to people. I wasn’t exactly a kind, warm person right off the bat. I used to be. Until the accident. But with Charlotte, I wanted to open up to her. I wanted to get to know her. I just couldn’t figure out why, and I didn’t trust myself.

  "I can respect that,” she answered.

  She looked at me wantonly and my breathing became shallow. I was glad I was wearing thick jeans, because they concealed my obvious erection. Being in such close proximity to her was making me crazy. She’d crossed her arms, and she was looking at me all doe-eyed again. I put an arm on the wall behind her, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. I could smell her shampoo, but I wasn’t even sure if it was shampoo – it was just her scent.

  "As a gentleman, I ought to let you know that your shirt was see-through today," I said smoothly, giving her my best lopsided smile. I’d been told it was a trademark of mine. I felt a wave of pleasure watching her cheeks flush, and I imagined making her cheeks flush in my bed.

  "What?"

  "I could see your…"

  "Yeah. Got it." She stood taller, crossing her arms tighter, but she was still smiling. In fact, the longer we stood there, the more I realized the effect I had on her. I made her nervous too. This would be fun.

  "It could be worse,” I explained, pulling away. I grinned devilishly.

  "Oh yeah? How’s that?" She was looking at me with a wee little pout. She was feigning anger, but she was still smiling. She liked this. She liked me.

  "You’re easy to look at," I said, waiting for her reaction. I shrugged my shoulders. I wanted it to seem casual. But the truth was, I fucking loved looking at her, and I wished I could look at her every second of every damn day.

  "Umm… I don’t think that’s very gentleman-ly of you to say," she said quietly, and I could feel the warmth coming from her body.

  "You asked me how it could be worse. I’m just saying, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t enjoy it,” I said, matter-of-factly.

  "Did you enjoy it?" she asked. She did not just ask that. My totally erect penis was throbbing beneath my pants. Of course I enjoyed it. I enjoyed everything about her.

  "I can’t tell you that. It wouldn’t be very gentleman-ly of me," I whispered into her ear, flirtatiously. She sucked in a small breath – at my words, or the feeling of my breath on her neck – I wasn’t sure. "But if you must know the honest truth, then yes."

  "You’re an ass," she said, pulling away. But that smile – it deceived her.

  "Hey, you asked me," I said, laughing. I walked away before I did anything stupid. And I would do something stupid.

  I kept walking past the check-in desk and through the front door. I had to get some air. I walked around the house to the back, to my old pickup truck. Before I knew what I was doing, I turned the engine on, and I was off. I backed down the driveway and got onto the main road. I kept driving until I saw a small liquor store about five miles down. I stopped in quickly. Parc-Le-Bouveret had all kinds of wine, and we usually kept our beer supply stocked for the guests. I had whiskey in my room that I liked to drink on occasion. But now it was 7:20 p.m. – and I would be late for dinner – for the first time ever. I needed a good alibi.

  I grabbed a pack of Welsh ale, thinking I would hand it out to all of the guests tonight. Some of them were leaving tomorrow. It would be seen as a nice goodbye gesture. I quickly drove back and the entire time, I was thinking of Charlotte and how fucking bad I wanted her. I was tempted to pull over and jerk it, but I was sure it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing, so I didn’t even bother.

  When I walked back into dinner, Charlotte was chatting animatedly to Helen and my heart swelled. I could tell Helen and George were fond of her. Who wouldn’t be – she was perfect. I passed around some beers to the guests, and to my delight, Charlotte took one and thanked me. A woman who rode horses, drank beer, and knew how to flirt – I was in trouble. I saw Henry look at me sideways, and I looked away. He knew. I was never late. I’d never gone out and gotten beer for dinner before. And I’d certainly never felt this way about a woman before.

  As dinner finished, I grabbed my fourth beer and walked out to the front porch. I was pretty drunk by this point. I should definitely not be around Charlotte right now. It was still warm out. I sat on the steps drinking, trying to push all thoughts of Charlotte out of my head. Maybe I just needed to fuck her and get it out of my system. I contemplated this, and though I was sure my cock would oblige, I knew deep down that she meant more to me than that.

  I heard the front door open, and to my horror (and delight), I saw Charlotte come out and sit down beside me. Shit.

  "So… did Helen tell you?" Her voice was light and excited.

  "Tell me what? Obviously not, because I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said, slightly slurred. Great. Now she would know I was drunk. She scared me. How she made me feel scared me. I thought she was fucking hot, and at the same time, I wanted to get to know her.

  "She and George offered me some temporary work here, helping out with the compu
ters and PR for the Parc. So, I guess I’ll be staying longer than I thought," she said, innocently.

  I looked over at her, and the bubble of panic that had started today in the pub had turned into full-blown fear. She couldn’t stay. But if she did… maybe I had a chance with her.

  "So, you’re saying you’ll be around for a while?" I didn’t know how else to ask the burning question inside of me, and I was too inebriated to think of a more eloquent sentence.

  "Yeah, I guess so."

  "Great," I said, my voice full of dread. As much as I wanted her to stay, so much could happen. She could hurt me. I’d tried for so long to avoid getting hurt again.

  "You sound happy," she accused, angrily. It was quite possibly the cutest expression I’d seen of hers so far. Her frown was irresistible.

  "I’m not. Trust me." Because, I really wasn’t. I slowly realized… I didn’t want her around. I didn’t want to get hurt, and I knew she had the capability of hurting me.

  "You know… I’m beginning to think that I don’t like you," she said, defiantly.

  I stifled a laugh. She really was bold and unrelenting. She drove me fucking crazy. She wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before – she was definitely not my type. And she knew how to push my buttons. I stood, and she followed suite.

  "Well, I’m beginning to think that I don’t like you, either," I said, boldly.

  "What’s your problem?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and looked at me with irritation.

  "I think you know." I wanted her to know that I could push her buttons just as much as she could push mine. Maybe I didn’t like her, but I wanted her… my god, I needed her right now.

  "Spell it out for me," she said.

  I began to shake ever so slightly. She was causing this reaction. She was the reason I’d consumed four beers. She’d gotten me thinking of marriage and children, for fuck’s sake. What was wrong with me? It didn’t matter if she was interested in me or not. Women like her deserved better. She was good. She was so fucking good. I needed to know why she was staying.

  "Why are you staying, anyways?" I swayed as I said this, and I caught myself on the railing. "What does this place have to offer you? I guess I just don’t trust you," I said. I had a sickening feeling that part of the reason she was staying was because of me. Call it intuition – or something. Was she really interested in me? I swear to god, I’d fucking kiss her in less than a second if she confessed her feelings for me.

  "You don’t know anything about me," she hissed.

  And I realized she was right. I knew nothing about her. I didn’t know why she left Los Angeles. I didn’t know what she did for work, or whether or not she had a boyfriend. This could never happen between us. Sure, she may have been attracted to me physically – most women were, if I were being honest – but she wouldn’t like me when she got to know me. I didn’t deserve her.

  "Thank god for that," I whispered, my breathing ragged. I wanted to push her away – I truly did. But being so close to her… it was damn hard. I wanted to shut this down. It needed to be shut down. I was drunk. This wasn’t going to happen. Ever.

  "I have been nothing but nice to you since I arrived a week ago. And you… you’ve been nothing but rude and arrogant. I don’t know what I did to piss you off, but I’m done trying to be your friend," she whimpered.

  Here goes nothing. I needed to pretend that I wasn’t interested in her, in any capacity. It was better this way. It didn’t matter if I thought she might be the one. It didn’t matter if she drove me wild with her big eyes, or her perfect face. It didn’t matter – none of it mattered. Because at the end of the day, we would never work together.

  "What makes you think that you could say something to piss me off? Do you think I care that much? Never in a million years could we be friends."

  I turned around and walked away. I could feel the dejection radiating off of her at my words, and for a second, I debated running back, grabbing her, and throwing her against the railing to make love to her.

  Love.

  Love was a funny word. And yet… as I walked back to my room alone, I had a feeling that love was precisely how I’d come to feel about Charlotte.

  The end.

  ***

  Read more about Charlotte and Alec’s story in my full-length novel, The Fortelling! The synopsis of The Foretelling (now available on Amazon), which contains the same characters as Begin Again, can be found below. Thanks for reading!

  At age thirty, Charlotte Bloom has the perfect marriage. Everyone agrees: she got lucky. That is, until a psychic predicts a different life for Charlotte — a life that does not include her husband. Over the course of five months, Charlotte works to prove the psychic wrong, but what she doesn't expect is for everything to fall apart.

  Suddenly single and alone, and by an act of fate, Charlotte flees her life in Los Angeles and is thrust into a different life: one that takes place in rural Wales. For the first time in eight years, Charlotte puts her happiness first, only to discover that maybe her life in Los Angeles wasn’t so perfect after all.

  After being offered a part-time job at a quaint bed and breakfast in Wales, Charlotte finds herself bickering with her moody, attractive, Irish co-worker, enjoying it more than she'd like to admit. An undeniable connection between them leads her to believe that maybe she can have a second chance at love — but only if the magnitude of her past and her impending divorce don't get in the way first.

  Love can't survive across oceans. The fairytale always ends.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Amanda Richardson is an award-winning author living in Los Angeles with her fiancé and two cats. When she’s not writing, she can be found drinking wine, playing Scrabble, or searching for cheap flights to places she’s never been.

  You can visit her website here: http://www.amandarichardsonauthor.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/amandawritesbooks

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