This better be an emergency. With more force than necessary, Jake jabbed the talk button with his index finger. “Something wrong Captain?”
“I'm sorry to disturb you Mr. Sherbrooke. There is a disabled yacht just off our port. It's taking on water.”
Frustrated Jake raked his fingers through his hair. “Get them on board and make sure you alert authorities. I'll be right up to greet them.” Grabbing his shirt off the floor, he turned to Charlie who now sat upright on the bed. “We'll have to continue this another night,” he said brushing his lips against hers one last time.
A devilish smile formed on her face. “I'm going to hold you to that.”
***
By the middle of the following week more than half the town had power back and things were inching their way back to normal. Fewer and fewer people needed help every day, so Wednesday Charlie found herself helping her mom around the bed and breakfast. Two of the families who had been staying at the Victorian Rose left that morning and their rooms needed cleaning. Charlie doubted there would be paying guests anytime soon but the rooms still need to be prepared.
Working on autopilot she stripped the queen-sized bed in the Revere Room. Would she be getting Jake's room ready for a new guest soon too? With conditions in town improving she figured he wouldn't be sticking around much longer. He'd already been here a week and a half. How much longer would he feel the need to stay? Not once during their conversations did he mention how long he typically stayed in the field or when he planned on returning to Virginia. And they'd had plenty of talks since their dinner together the previous weekend. In fact he seemed to go out of his way to get time alone with her.
Charlie pulled the fitted sheet across the mattress and thought back over their talks. They seemed to discuss everything from books and music to sports and politics. They didn't always agree, but she found that she enjoyed their conversations and heated disagreements.
Their conversations weren't the only things she liked either. Charlie figured she could be kissed by Jake for the next hundred years and not tire of it. The man could kiss. She'd never considered herself a romantic, yet when his lips came in contact with hers it was like something out of a movie. Everything around her faded away. Warmth and tenderness swept through her body as a deep longing settled in her soul.
Charlie unconsciously sighed as she thought about the kiss they'd shared the night before. For the second straight night they'd both come down for a late night snack and ended up having homemade oatmeal cookies with a side make out session.
If your friends saw you now O'Brien, they'd think you'd been abducted by aliens. She didn't sigh and daydream about men. It simply wasn't her. Yet she was doing just that.
With more force than necessary she stuffed a pillow into a clean cotton pillow case. She prided herself on her ability to remain emotionally detached from the men she spent time with. No matter who she dated or became intimate with she always held back a part of herself. She never let her heart become invested in a relationship. It was the only sure way to avoid a broken heart.
This time things were different. Every day she found it a little more difficult to keep her emotions under lock and key. She kept trying to figure out why? Maybe if she knew why she could get a handle on it. Part of her wished she still thought of him as the spoiled playboy the media referred to as Prince Charming. Then she wouldn't have a problem keeping her heart safe. Though she still didn't know how much of his playboy status was fabricated by the media, he'd more than proven that he was more than just a spoiled rich guy. He cared about the welfare of others, no one could deny that.
Charlie tossed the pillow back onto the bed and reached for another. “I've got to get myself back in control.” She stuffed the other pillow into its case.
Through the open bedroom window she heard a car pull into the gravel driveway. After a few minutes she heard the front door downstairs close. Despite her previous words to herself about getting back into control, hope and anticipation blossomed in her chest. Had Jake returned? He'd left right after breakfast. Lunch time had come and gone and he hadn't returned.
Determined not to look out the open window to see if his truck was back, Charlie spread the sage green comforter over the bed. “I've got issues,” she said, her voice laced with annoyance and disgust. Turning from the bed she retrieved the bottle of Murphy's Oil Soap and the rag she'd brought up with her.
“You're not alone. We all have issues but talking to yourself can be a serious problem. You might want to see a professional,” Jake said from the open doorway, the amusement in his voice apparent.