Danny
“We are staying in that hotel, Danny?”
We are parked outside the gate of my mansion. A stillness washes over me as it always does when I set eyes on my gothic beauty after time away. The panoramic and uninterrupted elevated sea views were the reason I sunk a lot of money into this place.
I made an offer twenty minutes after walking into it and outbid the other bidder by an obnoxious amount to seal the deal.
Watching the stormy sea with the waves crashing against the rocks as music while the wood burner roars in the background? Priceless.
“It’s not a hotel,” I explain as I wind down the car window. A gust of icy air hits us and she screeches in retaliation. “It’s a home away from London.”
“This is all yours?” Her breath comes out in small puffs of cold air. I can’t wait to get her inside into the heat.
Fuck, what’s the code? I always forget this.
I reach my arm through the window and press a code into the keypad.
Nope.
Try again.
The black wrought iron double gates automatically open. I coax the car up the windy hill in second gear until we creep to a stop outside Sumburgh Hall.
“Are we the only ones staying here?” She turns to me with her smouldering green eyes, and my heartbeat does that erratic little beat it does every time she gives me her full attention. Does she not notice the effect she has on me?
“Danny?” Charlie repeats.
“Besides the ghost and the gargoyles.” I grin as we get out of the car. The two leering gargoyles on either side of the door stare down at us.
“Built in 1867,” she reads the placard on the wall. “The place will be crawling with ghosts.”
I fumble with the keys. The wooden door is so large it makes even me look puny. A few hard shoves, and we are in.
“Wow.” She does a 360-degree turn in the hallway. “This place is magnificent.” Her voice echoes through the hallway. “But so haunted, Danny. You cannot leave my sight even when I go to the toilet. Also, just to set expectations, we won’t be having sex again because I’m not removing any clothes until we are back in England. It’s too cold.”
“Come on.” I put my hand on her lower back and lead her down the hall, our footsteps clicking on the stone floors. “That’s why I have a massive fireplace. I told you it was cold,” I berate her like a scolding father as I take her into the sitting room.
She hesitates at the threshold, mouth dropping open. “Danny, this place is like a fairy-tale.”
I gaze around the vast rustic area with its cathedral ceiling, seeing it through her eyes. It really is spectacular.
“Are these walls stone?” she asks, trailing her hands along them.
“Yup. All the original features are preserved.”
She looks at me intently, those green eyes burning into mine. “It’s beautiful. This mansion … this life. It doesn’t even faze you anymore, does it?”
“They’re just possessions, Charlie,” I reply simply. “Things to be appreciated, treasured … but disposable. I’ve had real loss in my life. These things? Don’t even register on the scale.”
I turn on the open gas fire, standing nearly as tall as me, and it roars to life.
It was the only thing I compromised on by tweaking from the original feature; fumbling about with coal and sticks every night wasn’t my idea of a relaxing holiday.
She plants herself cross-legged right beside it.
I hunker down on my knees to unzip my travel bag and rummage through it. “Here, take this.”
Her eyes are wide as she inspects the thermal jacket I hand her. “This is for me?”
“Well, I doubt I’ll squeeze into it.”
“You bought this for me? It’s even in my size!”
“Don’t forget these.” I wrap the thermal scarf around her neck and fasten the hat on her head. “You look cute.” I grin.
“I’m so warm!” she shrieks, wrapping her arms around my neck. “How did you have time to get this? How are you so thoughtful? It’s making me horny.”
“Good.” I lift a brow. “Because as soon as you are warm, I’m going to strip you naked.”
***
We finish dinner beside the fire.
Scotch in hand, I watch her sleeping face and the movement of her chest as it rises up and down on my lap.
The red wine topped with the cold air has her out like a light. I brush a finger down her sharp cheekbone, careful not to wake her.
Her eyelids flutter indicating she is dreaming.
Watching her will never get boring. Her breath falls out softly from her full lips. If I have to sit like this all night, I will, just so she can sleep here, peaceful and protected by me.
I need to bite the bullet and tell Tristan. I’ll make him understand that it’s serious, that it’s not like the other flings. I know now it’s not.
Losing Tristan would be something I couldn’t recover from. I don’t have many friends, not ones I can trust. I can count them on one hand—Tristan, Jack, Martina and, of course, Karl.
But giving up Charlie now? It’s not an option. I realise that now, as she sleeps in my lap, her long brown hair draped over my knees. Even the thought of losing her sears me with pain.
Her eyes flit open, and she smiles lazily up at me. “Hey, you. Are you being creepy and watching me sleep?”
“Guilty,” I whisper as I run a finger over her bottom lip.
“I’m sorry for calling your plane chitty chitty bang bang.”
I let out a chuckle. “That’s good because you know that’s how we’re getting home?”
Her eyes grow wide. “Shit. I forgot about that. Am I the craziest bitch you’ve ever had in the air?”
“Maybe,” I say softly. “I took Jen to the South of France. That was quite a turbulent flight.”
Her face sags, and I try to recover my faux pas. “No one has been here with me.”
She gazes up at me, letting out a small laugh. “You are trying to kill me, so you don’t need to tell Tristan. Haunted house on a hillside with gargoyles overlooking sea cliffs. Small plane in thunderstorms. This weekend is a horror cliché.”
I raise a brow. “You’re the first person to call a million-pound plane small. Truth be told, I don’t share this place often. I come here alone or occasionally with Karl. I’m pretty private, Charlie.”
She lifts herself off my knees so that she’s facing me, a beautiful crush creeping across her cheeks. “You’ve never taken another woman here?”
“No.” I frown. “Only you.”
She inhales softly and cups my cheek in her hand. “Thank you for sharing it with me. Does that mean,” she asks quietly, “that I’m your girlfriend?”
My eyes hold hers as a barrage of emotions flood me. Fuck this. For the first time in years, I know what I want.
If I could stay in this moment forever, I would.
With this girl.
My girl.
Leave London, my company, everything behind and become hermits on these cliffs.
“Yes, Charlie. You most certainly are.”
She rests her head on my shoulders, and I inhale deeply into her hair.
So this is what content feels like.
Charlie
It’s a contender for my favourite day on the planet so far.
I woke up to a morning coffee overlooking the sea then we spent the morning hiking across miles of breathtaking coastline. Despite the brutal winds punching me repeatedly in the face, I’m starting to understand why Danny loves it so much here.
We’ve walked for miles without seeing another person; in fact, it feels like our own private island. Just us, the sheep, and puffins.
The ‘Danny up a mountain trying not to step in sheep pellets’ versus ‘CEO Danny negotiating acquisitions’? Like chalk and cheese. Here his smile reaches his eyes, and the deep-set frown has all but vanished.
“I told you my grandmother lives here.” He squeezes my hand as we meander down the cobbled streets of the main town, window shopping the thrift shops. “We’re going to her house for lunch.”
“What?” I stop short, filled with sudden panic.
My hair is wild, and I’m wearing so many layers of clothing I look like I’ve been bubble-wrapped.
“I can’t meet your granny!” My arms flap wildly to highlight my wild sheep farmer look. “Like this!”
“You look beautiful,” he says as he pulls me down another pedestrianised side street. That’s the lovely thing about the Shetland islands, there’s hardly any traffic.
“She’s from Shetland, Charlie. Do you think she’s expecting you to rock up in a designer frock?”
“A bit of warning would have been nice,” I grumble. “So I could have at least brushed my hair.”
He stops outside a small cottage at the corner of the street.
“Nervous?” he grins, kissing my forehead.
“Terrified,” I hiss as I try to flatten down my hair. “What if she hates me?”
He raises a brow. “Why the hell would she hate you? She’ll love you as much as I do.”
My eyes search his.
“As much as you do?” I whisper, watching him.
He smiles softly but evades the question. “Come on. Get ready for the interrogation.”
He knocks on the door, setting my pulse racing. This is more than I had signed up for today. On the flight, I pretty much downed a bottle of red wine to calm my nerves, so I’m not on my A-game with conversation today.
“Danny!” The door opens, and a bohemian-looking lady, probably in her 80’s at a guess, reaches up to hug her handsome grandson.
Her body is draped in colourfully patterned clothes, mismatched with vibrant chunky jewellery dangling from her neck and arms. She’s got a hint of the Walker dark features showing through the grey.
I look down at my own attire, more akin to living rough in the woods, and silently curse Danny.
His large biceps curl around her frail ones. I wonder if this is his grandmother on his mother’s or father’s side. Surely his mother’s side?
“Hello, my dear, so lovely to meet you.” Her accent is strong. I have to focus on every word to keep up.
“Charlie, this is my grandmother, Edme.”
She smiles at me warmly as she reaches for a hug, giving me a strong whiff of sherry.
“So lovely to meet you, Edme,” I say. “Your cottage is truly beautiful.”
She bundles us into the cottage, as quaint on the inside as it is on the outside, a world away from Danny’s luxurious gaffs. I expect she’s never wanted to move even though he has offered.
“Sit down, sit down!” she fusses. “I’ve just made tea and lunch for us. I hope you are hungry!”
My stomach growls in response.
We hiked for hours without a cafe in sight. I realised I’ve been living in London too long when I asked where I would get a flat white coffee with almond milk, only to be given a look of disapproval by Danny.
“Look, you don’t need to eat it if you don’t want to,” Danny murmurs as she goes to the kitchen.
“Why wouldn’t I eat it?” I frown.
“You’ll see.” He smiles.
“Do you need any help?” I call into the kitchen.
“No, dear.” She comes through the door carrying a tray with three bowls on it.
“Danny said you liked fish,” she declares, setting down the tray on the table.
I peer in horror at the massacred hollowed out fish heads staring up at me with their glassy eyes.
“It’s called crappit heid,” he explains to me, holding back a smirk.
“Some would call it fish haggis,” Edme explains proudly to me. “We ram the fish with oats, suet, and onions. Then we sew the head shut again and boil it in our seawater. It’s very healthy.”
I pick up the bowl of steaming fish heads and plaster on my lying happy face. “Sounds yummy.”
“Here.” Danny leans in, watching me trying to spear a fish head with my fork. “You open it from this end.”
He levers my fork in, and the head opens.
I tentatively gather a small sample of food onto my fork and take a bite. It’s not bad. If I don’t think too much about what it is, I can cope.
I nod a sigh of relief at him as he chuckles.
“Would you like some sherry in your tea, dear?”
“Sure!” I giggle, thinking Edme was a bit of a good time girl in her day. “I’ve heard some of your songs, sweetie. They are beautiful.” She takes my teacup and adds a generous amount of sherry.
My eyes pop wide. How would she have heard my songs? Surely she’s not on OpenMic?
“Danny shared them with me years ago,” she explains, her eyes twinkling at my surprise. “He talked about Tristan’s sister who was a singer.”
“It’s just a hobby.” I blush. “I’m not an actual singer.” I turn to Danny in disbelief. “I didn’t think you liked them. You seemed so distant at all of my gigs.”
He cocks a brow. “Seriously? It’s called self-preservation, Charlie. Can’t you read me at all?”
“I knew back then that he carried a torch for you.” Mischief dances in her eyes as she looks between us both. “I knew I would meet you one day.”
“Careful, Grandma,” Danny scolds gently. “Don’t scare her away.”
“I’m not scared,” I reply, deadpan. And for the first time in my procession of flings and relationships, I mean it.
I stare at him, and he holds my gaze, a recognition passing between us.
If Danny Walker wants me to move to the Shetlands, live on a sheep farm, and make him fish haggis every day, then sign me up.
