Begin Again: A Charlotte Bloom Short Story by Amanda Richardson Read Free Book Online Page B

with Charlotte. I couldn’t explain my reasoning. The wine was messing with my head.
    "Are you from the area?" she asked, politely. Why was she so interested in me?
    "No." I wished she would just leave. She was insanely distracting.
    "Oh. Where are you from?" Her doe eyes met mine, and I looked away. I really did not want to be talking to her – I didn’t trust myself not to say something stupid. My sudden attraction to her had made me uneasy and had caught me off guard.
    "Northern Ireland," I answered.
    My short answer seemed to appease her, because she got up to leave. I felt two things instantly: relief, and regret.
    "Well, I’m heading up. Good night," she said, slowly. Get out , I wanted to yell at her. I couldn’t control my muddled thoughts, let alone my actions. All I wanted to do was to take her back to my room and fuck her. If she didn’t leave soon, I just might.
    "Helen mentioned briefly that you do horse trekking?"
    "Yep."
    "Where can I sign up?"
    "With Helen." I hadn’t meant it to sound rude, but it came off as that. I couldn’t contain myself any longer. If she didn’t leave soon, I would have to.
    "Great." She paused. "OK, night."
    She turned around and walked away. I watched her ass move in her tight pants. Damn. And with that, she was gone.
     
     
     
    ***
     
     
    I spent the next week trying to avoid Charlotte as much as I could. Except for a couple of times when I’d run into her while I was riding or at dinner, I’d been pretty successful. Today was different though. Today, I was taking a group of people horseback riding – and Charlotte was one of those people.
    I had no idea how long she was planning on staying. A part of me hoped she would be moving on soon, so that my life could go back to normal, but an even bigger part of me wanted her to stay. I couldn’t explain it. She felt special, somehow. Different. Exquisite. It didn’t hurt that she was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Every time I’d run into her over the last week, she looked so fresh and clean; effortless. And she didn’t even know it.
    I was helping Lucy, one of the guests, up onto her horse when I saw Charlotte come down to the stables adorned in green willies and an oversized parka two sizes too big for her. Oddly, that sight sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my pants get a little tighter. After I was done helping Lucy up, I approached Charlotte. She had her back to me.
    "Did you get a helmet?" I’d startled her. She jumped and almost slipped in the mud. I grabbed her, smiling, holding her up by her lower back. I had to contain the growl that inevitably wanted to escape my lips at the physical contact.
    Without saying anything, I fitted the helmet to her head. She was short, probably a good foot shorter than me, and she was certainly fit. She hid her body beneath plain clothes, but I could tell from her tight jeans that she had the perfect body – curvy in all the right places. After I was done, I gestured to her horse, Bo. He was the oldest horse we had. I presumed she’d never ridden a horse before, and I wanted her to be comfortable.
    "Do you need help up?"
    "Yes, please,” she said shyly, smiling. God fucking dammit. I would do anything for this woman. She turned around, and the tightness in my jeans got even tighter as I gripped her small waist, hoisting her up into the saddle. Nothing was hotter than a woman on a horse. Perhaps I was biased. I gave her brief instructions on how to ride a horse. I wasn’t too worried though. Bo would follow me, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d only spooked a handful of times, and that was years ago.
    I hopped onto my horse and we all moved forward, walking slowly. I saw Charlotte looking more and more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.
    "Just follow Bo’s rhythm with your hips, Charlotte," I said casually, pushing the dirty thoughts out of my head.
    I heard Charlotte strike up a conversation with Ted and Lucy, and I kept moving forward, trying not to look back