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“Are you made of sugar, Charity?”
“No,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Then you aren’t going to melt.”
He inched a little closer to her when he said that, and she found herself wanting to go a bit closer, too. But she didn’t.
She took a breath, looking behind her at Byron, wondering if he had sensed the same weird electricity in the moment. But he seemed rather oblivious, adjusting his cap and looking up worriedly at the sky.
“Better get going,” Lachlan said.
They got back on the horses and started down the trail, this time at an increased clip, trying to get ahead of the weather. But it was no use, because halfway down, the sky utterly broke open and began to dump on top of them. The rain a fury, the day suddenly as miserable as it had been gorgeous.
The drops were fat and cold, and there were so many of them there was no way to dodge them. It was a deluge. By the time they got back to McCloud’s Landing, they were soaked.
They got off the horses and Byron shook his arms out, water falling straight from them. “Do you need help with anything?”
Byron knew about horses, but he wasn’t a horseman per se. He was also soaked and clearly freezing. “Go get some dry clothes,” she said. “We can handle this. Dinner later?”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll go grab some dry clothes. You don’t need a ride back?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Fia laughed, shaking out her hair, her smile like the sun. Which was handy, since the sun was now completely obscured by the clouds. And she somehow looked even more beautiful drenched in rain.
Charity was confident that she herself looked like a drowned kitten.
“I’m going to head back, too. Nice to meet you, Byron. Good to see you, Charity. Give me a call, Lachlan.”
“I will.”
“Bye,” Charity said, rain rolling down her face, her nose.
“I’ll help you get the horses put away,” she said.
“You can go get changed, too. It’s kind of my fault that everybody’s drenched. It was the timing. Should’ve gone earlier.”
“No. It’s not your fault. We’ll just... Go get everybody put away.”
She followed him into the barn, painfully aware of the fact that her hair was hanging like a limp curtain in her face, down her back, that she was damp and stringy and her dress was sticking to her skin.
“So you really like him?” Lachlan asked, a restless energy overtaking him.
She frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been in situations with him a few times now, and I have to say... I don’t get it.”
“What do you mean...you don’t get it?”
“He seems nice, Charity. But there’s nothing special about him.”
“How can you say that? I don’t know anybody else like him. He dresses quirky and he loves board games and animals, and I love those things, too. He’s into Star Trek and gardening, and I think it’s a delightfully strange combination of things for a person to like, andI like him.”
“Okay, great. Fine. But he’s not really funny. Not like you. He’s not...really anything. He fits neatly and quietly into a line of people, and makes innocuous conversation and comments. And I guess that’s something, but I just don’t... I don’t get how it’s what you want. I don’t get how it’s good enough for you.”
“I met him at veterinary school. I have things in common with him that you don’t understand. And what was that whole performance earlier anyway? Asonnet. You, Lachlan McCloud, have never written a sonnet in your life. I don’t even think you know what one is.”
“I fucking do,” he said. “I went to school. And, we occasionally had required writing times, and maybe I did write poetry about mountains. I find your view on me to hold limited scope.”
