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“They follow me around like dogs,” he returned, his expression apologetic.
“Ah. My next guess was that they simply all live here, at The Laughing Lobster.”
Simon chuckled, shaking his head at the playful teasing, while Charlotte felt her cheeks warm. She watched as Simon ran a hand through his tousled hair, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.
"Pay them no mind, Charlotte," he reassured her. "They're a harmless lot, really, just always looking for a bit of fun. They’re good men."
"Seems like they enjoy giving you a hard time," Charlotte observed, sipping her wine with a smirk.
"It comes with the territory," Simon admitted, his gaze momentarily flicking to the fishermen before returning to Charlotte. "We work hard together, but we also play hard. It's how we keep our spirits up."
"Back home, I never really had anything like that," Charlotte confessed, her voice tinged with wistfulness. "A close-knit group of friends who could always count on one another. I had—have—my sister, but that’s about it."
"Maybe that's something you can find here," Simon suggested softly, his eyes searching hers for a moment before he looked away.
A mischievous glint flashed in Charlotte's eyes as she caught Simon's gaze. "Well then, maybe it's time I joined in on the fun," she declared, her voice resolute.
"Really?" Simon asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you have in mind?"
"Watch and learn," she replied cryptically, setting down her wine glass with a determined clink. Charlotte turned her attention to the fishermen, who were still chuckling amongst themselves. With a deep breath, she called out, "Oi! You lot over there!"
The boisterous table fell silent, their eyes drawn to Charlotte like magnets. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest but pushed aside her nerves, focusing instead on the twinkle of challenge in the fishermen's eyes.
"Seems to me you've been having quite a laugh at our expense tonight," she began, her tone light yet pointed. "But I can't help but wonder... How well can you all take a joke yourselves?"
"Oho!" one of the men hooted, leaning back in his chair and thumping his fist on the table. "The Soggy Yank's got some fire in her, eh?"
"Indeed, she does," Charlotte retorted, fighting to suppress a grin as she locked eyes with the fisherman. "So, tell me, which one of you fine gentlemen is responsible for reeling in the smallest catch today?"
A chorus of laughter erupted from the group, along with some good-natured finger-pointing and denials. One man, his face red as a beet, finally conceded defeat amidst the jeering of his friends.
"Ah, there we have it," Charlotte said, giving him a playful nod. "Well, sir, this Soggy Yank wants to remind you that, where I’m from, that means that you are the one to buy the next round for everyone at your table.”
“Or what?” he clipped back.
“Mermaid’s curse. You risk bad luck in the next catch.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then grinned. "Fair enough, Soggy Yank," the fisherman replied, raising his pint glass in her direction.
"Cheers!" Charlotte called out, lifting her own glass as the table of fishermen erupted into laughter and applause.
As the fishermen carried on with their good-natured ribbing, now of their compatriot instead of her and Simon, Simon leaned in closer to Charlotte, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm rather impressed. You certainly held your own against them."
"Thank you," she replied, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "It was... invigorating, actually.”
"A bit of courage, and you’re a whole different woman," Simon murmured, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment longer before he took another sip of his beer.
And as the laughter continued to fill the pub, Charlotte found herself wondering if the same could be true for matters of the heart, as well.
And, as she sipped her wine and took a sidelong glance at Simon, she thought,I might just try it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The soft glow of the pub's remaining candles flickered, dancing shadows across Charlotte and Simon's faces as they sat opposite one another, now at a table. A once bustling room had quieted, leaving them with nothing but the hum of their conversation to fill the space.
"Did you always know you wanted to be an artist?" Simon asked, his eyes bright with genuine interest.
"Ever since I was a little girl," Charlotte replied, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember spending hours drawing pictures in my sketchbook and dreaming of having my own gallery someday."
