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Charlotte smiled thinly. "Alright, alright," she said, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I'll take that nickname for now. But only because one of you lot was so nice to me afterward."
The fishermen laughed, clapping each other on the back as they made their way toward their usual table in the corner. She found a quaint spot near the window, where the golden rays of the sun cast a delicate glow on the wooden surface. She pulled out the chair and took a seat, a small sigh escaping her lips.
"Charlotte, right?" a deep voice asked from behind her.
She looked up to find Simon Harris standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his worn jeans. His rugged appearance was softened by the warmth in his eyes, and in the light from the window, the brown of them was flecked with gold. She felt butterflies start up in her stomach.
"Simon," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of surprise. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from hers.
Her heart fluttered momentarily. She was caught off guard by the prospect of spending the meal with him. She hesitated, wondering what Daniel would think if he were to see them together.
He gave up that right,she thought.
"Of course. Please, have a seat," she said, offering a warm smile.
"Thank you," Simon replied, pulling out the chair and settling down across from her. His presence seemed to fill the space between them, creating an energy that both intrigued and intimidated her.
As they exchanged pleasantries, Charlotte noticed how the same light from outside danced playfully across Simon's weathered features, highlighting the lines and contours of his face. She found herself drawn to his warm, earthy scent, which reminded her of damp soil after a rainfall - a far cry from the sterile, manufactured cologne that always clung to Daniel.
"Quite a day already today," Simon said, breaking her reverie. "We took in twice what we expected."
"Oh?" she replied, her gaze momentarily shifting toward the fishermen in the corner. She pursed her lips at the nickname,Soggy Yank. But if not for that embarrassing incident, would she have talked with Simon at the water's edge? “Any mermaids?”
He laughed, and it was as deep and hearty as the waves crashing against the craggy shore. "You’re the first, and I suspect the only, Charlotte," he responded, a sincere smile lighting up his face.
Then, his phone rang. He gave her an apologetic smile and looked at the screen. Then, he winced.
“Cripes. It’s work. I’m so sorry, I have to go.”
“Oh! That’s okay. Duty calls.” She felt a pang of disappointment—but she tried not to show it.
He pulled out his wallet and put down several bills. “Listen, breakfast is on me. But only if you’ll meet me back here at half past seven tonight.”
"I'll be there," she replied, feeling a surge of excitement. It was just the sort of thing she needed—and who knew, maybe he was a duke in disguise? Regardless, the man across from her was certainly interesting enough to have an evening drink with.
Simon stood, his chair scraping gently against the floor. " I'm really looking forward to it."
"Me too," Charlotte said, her heart fluttering slightly. "Thanks for the invitation, Simon."
As Simon left, Charlotte watched him through the window, making his way back to the harbor. She felt a giddy sense of anticipation.
“Yank, are you sweet on Simon?” one of the fishermen called from the corner, and the rest of them began making kissing noises in the air.
Charlotte turned and narrowed her eyes at them. “I’m sweet on any man I can drag down into the sea, boys.” Then, she bared her teeth, and they dissolved into a raucous bout of laughter, toasting her with their coffee cups.
That evening, after a long, luxuriously lazy day spent in her room sketching, Charlotte approached The Laughing Lobster, her heart skipping a beat with a mixture of nervous excitement and anticipation. As she entered the pub, she scanned the room, and her eyes landed on Simon, who was waiting for her at the bar.
He spotted her and waved, a bright smile lighting up his face. Dressed casually in a button-down shirt and jeans, he exuded a relaxed confidence. "Charlotte, over here!" he called out.
She made her way over, feeling a flutter of excitement in her stomach. "Hi, Simon," she greeted him, taking the seat beside him at the bar. "This place is even livelier than it was this morning."
"It’s a popular spot," Simon chuckled. "Well, it’s the only spot in town. Great for unwinding after a long day."
The bartender approached, and they ordered drinks – a glass of red wine for Charlotte and a local ale for Simon. As they waited for their drinks, Simon turned to her with a curious glint in his eyes.
"So, tell me more about what brought you to The Crown Inn," he said, leaning slightly closer. "Marge has been all too secretive about the new girl in town."
