Page 17 of One More Time

He brought his desolate gaze back to hers. ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

‘Well, I am.’ She tipped her head, eyeing him tenderly. ‘Tell me something about your time there.’ She could see the apprehension in his eyes, and the determination to push through it for her sake. So scooting along the vinyl seat, leaving not an inch between them, she hoped her closeness would help him to continue. ‘You can trust me, Charlie, I’m never going to hurt you.’

Charlie took his time, his mouth opening then closing a couple of times. ‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ he whispered finally, his mouth barely moving. Heaving a sigh, he broke her gaze. His jaw tensed as he looked up at the movie beginning on the screen. ‘I’m sorry, Grace. I just want to try and move past it.’

Nodding, Grace swallowed down her instinct to nurture his broken heart – he would speak if and when he was ready, and not a second sooner. She knew that without a doubt. ‘That’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.’ She cozied up beside him, resting her head upon his shoulder. ‘Let’s just enjoy the movie, shall we? And take the rest one day at a time.’

That’s when Charlie placed a finger beneath her chin, tilting her toward him ever so gently. Uncertain of what was to come next, she met his stare. The car grew hot as his gaze searched hers. Her breath caught a second before he brought his lips to hers. Her heart raced as, to her delight, he left them there. At first he was gentle, cautious, but once Grace parted her lips and allowed him in deeper, the passion that had been building for the past five weeks burst in a plethora of stars. It was better than she had imagined, could have ever imagined. The magic of his kiss sent waves of heat rolling through her, fanning her blaze into an inferno. Hungry for him, to feel his skin pressing against her own, she sought out the hard planes of his chest beneath the V-neck of his jumper before she trailed her fingers up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His breath heavy against her cheek, Charlie pulled her closer still. Hypnotised by his magnetism, completely lost in this glorious moment, she daringly climbed onto his lap. He growled in appreciation, and she savoured his uninhibited desire as his arms came around her waist, possessively so.

Their tongues dancing, she melted into him, feeling the heavy beat of his heart against her breasts. His hands explored her, touching her with such burning intimacy, as if he was ravenous for the skin hidden just beneath her clothes. A yearning she’d never experienced before burned between her thighs, making her feel womanly, wild, and oh so free. Something inside her heart shifted and then fell into perfect place. She did love him, with all her heart and soul. And she knew she would, forever, no matter what happened after this moment. She needed him. Wanted him. Ached to be at one with him. Longing burnt inside her, and she moaned into his lips. He exhaled with pleasure and she seized his breath. Inhaling him inside of her felt intensely sensual. Caught up in the raging heat, she lost herself to him, and her usual willpower evaded her as she dropped her hands to his trousers and, with trembling fingers, began to unbuckle his belt.

Breaking their kiss, Charlie sucked in a sharp breath and brought his hands to hers, halting her. ‘Grace, stop. We can’t do this.’

Shaken, Grace straightened, frowning. ‘But I want to.’ She placed her hands on his chest, giving him the demurest look she could muster. ‘You and me, we feel right, Charlie, don’t you agree?’

‘We may feel right, but …’ Charlie took hold of her hips. ‘What’s happening right now doesn’t.’ He helped to ease her off his lap and back onto the passenger seat. ‘Not here. Not like this.’

The rejection stung, and Grace wrapped her arms around herself, fighting off tears of humiliation. ‘Can you take me home, Charlie, please?’ Her cheeks on fire, she dared not look at him, for fear of breaking into uncontrollable sobs.

‘Oh, Grace, please don’t cry.’ Sliding over to where she’d pinned herself against the passenger door, he wiped at her tears with his fingertips. ‘It’s just, well … heck this is hard.’ He huffed. ‘I love you, and I want us to save ourselves for if and when we become husband and wife,’ he said with absolute conviction.

He loved her?

He wanted her to be his wife? And he, her husband?

Her tense body softening, Grace turned and met his beseeching eyes, her hand coming to cover her gaping mouth. ‘I love you too, Charlie. So very much.’ She felt her heart tumble then flutter, as if she’d just leapt off a mountain only to find she was soaring higher still, with Charlie right beside her, making her feel safe and loved.

Appearing dazed for a few breaths, Charlie cupped her face as if she were made of the frailest of porcelain. ‘You don’t know how much it means to hear that, Grace.’

Lost in his eyes, Grace felt like the happiest, luckiest woman alive. The smile on his face was one she hadn’t yet seen, one she wanted to bear witness to each and every day for the rest of her life. It made her feel so deeply loved, so deeply treasured, and so deeply desired that she could barely draw a breath. What came next in their love story was anyone’s guess, but she was ready for the adventure and when it came to Charlie Wilson, something told her she was in for the ride of her life.

* * *

Two hours later, Charlie looked to the passenger side of his Valiant, where Grace had regarded him with such tenderness as she’d told him she was in love with him, and his heart sunk. He should be elated – dancing on air, over the moon – and he was so very happy, but he was equally afraid now. Afraid of failing her, of somehow unwittingly breaking her beautiful heart. There was something scratching at his soul, cautioning him to tread carefully. The second she’d stepped from the car, he’d longed to pull her back within the confines and make love to her. However, he had to do this right. Grace Denver was different from any woman he’d ever met. She was vulnerable yet fearless, womanly yet so innocent, sweetly winsome yet passionately sultry, and wise beyond her years. His instincts were telling him to do everything he could to love her as she should be loved, to protect her no matter the cost, to give her his life so they could make each day theirs.

It was an extremely odd sensation, but he could feel the hand of fate pulling him in a very different direction to the one he’d honed in on before coming back to Sapphire Bay.

And the idea of losing his way terrified him, in more ways than one.

Four weeks ago, the army had been his whole reason for existing. It gave him order and direction, something he desperately needed, with the demons that lurked from his time in Vietnam. The nightmares and haunting memories had gained traction and power since being back here; drinking had helped keep them at bay. Never would he have considered leaving, to live a civilian life. Being an infantry soldier was all he knew. The very thought of giving it up made him panic – he still had so much to accomplish. But he was equally terrified at the idea of losing Grace, and there was a huge chance of that happening if he remained a soldier. Living more life away with a pack on his back and a gun in his hand than by her side would eventually take a toll. Especially when they would be out of contact for months on end. He wasn’t a believer in absence making a heart grow fonder; all it did was teach people to live a life without each other.

Never before in his life had he wanted to give up everything that made him who he was, and to remove the armour shielding his tortured heart. Never would he have believed he’d meet someone who’d make him feel safe to do so. He knew it would mean the world to Grace if he opened up and told her about his battle scars, and all the times he’d seen his brothers-in-arms, Australian and American, blown up, or dying in his arms from a bullet. It would be a sight better than turning to the bottle to dull the pain. But he was too frightened to release his demons; what if they devoured him, like they’d devoured his father?

Pulling into Moonflower Acres, Charlie rested his forearm on his windowsill as he waited for the black wrought-iron gates to swing open. The salty scent of the sea drifting through helped to alleviate his angst. He inhaled a few deep breaths, and a sense of contentment nestled into him. There was something to be said for coming home. This was his safe haven, the only place in the world he could pretend that the war was well and truly over.

Easing his way up the winding driveway, past the avocado and macadamia trees and toward the double-storey house he and his grandmother called home, he gazed at the rolling landscape, softly lit by moonlight. He was a blessed man to call such paradise home, even though the sprawling five-acre property now felt emptier without his grandfather, as if it had somehow lost its heartbeat. He longed to find a way to revive it, at least for his grandmother’s sake. Max Wilson might have seemed a headstrong man with a cold heart to the locals he’d policed for forty-three years, but behind closed doors, he was the kindest, wisest, most loving man Charlie had ever met. His sudden death had left another gaping hole in his already battered heart, one that Grace was helping to fill.

Pulling into the carport, he killed the engine, gathered his jacket and wallet then made his way across the lawn to the front porch. Kicking off his shoes, he stepped inside and padded down the shadowy hallway with a nightcap in mind. Yesterday, he’d made a promise to himself that he’d go a day without the respite of liquor, but right now he needed it to sleep. Just one drink, just enough to take the edge off.

Grabbing a bottle of his grandfather’s whisky from the cabinet, he wandered back out to the porch and slumped down on the settee. Cracking the lid, he hesitated before throwing caution to the wind and taking a guzzle. Looking to the star-dusted black velvet sky, he rested back, continuing to have mouthfuls of the warming amber single-malt. Each gulp felt as if it were dulling the voices, numbing the pain. So he took another. Then another. He was well aware that drinking his demons away never worked – that they were only bigger, darker and stronger when coupled with a hangover. Right now, though, he didn’t care. Right now, he didn’t want to feel, nor think. He was so happy, but by god, he was equally as sad.

‘Charlie, is that you?’ A soft, cautious voice carried from the doorway.

Charlie quickly stashed the bottle beneath the settee, hoping to god he could hide the stench of alcohol on his breath. ‘Yes, Grandma.’ He watched her pull the shawl around her frail shoulders as she shuffled toward him. ‘Why are you up so late?’

She sank down beside him. ‘I can’t sleep without your grandfather beside me.’ Sniffling, she blinked faster, but the tears she was clearly trying to hold at bay fell.

Charlie’s heart squeezed agonizingly tight. ‘Oh, Grandma. I’m so sorry.’ Placing an arm around her shoulder, he hugged her to him. ‘I miss him too.’