She bit her lower lip as she looked away.
He thought he heard her say,not in mineas she left the kitchen.
Charlie took Flo for a quick walk. Ben loved hearing her talking to the dog before and after. She hadn’t had Flo for long, and already she was her baby. And it was clear that Flo loved her right back. She wagged her tail as Charlie sat on the floor with her, scratching her ears.
“Did you have a dog growing up? Ben asked.
“No.”
“Cats?”
Charlie paused. “No pets.” She stood up and walked to the kitchen table.
Dammit. He’d stepped in it somehow.
Charlie settled down to sketch at her kitchen table while Ben fried half a dozen eggs and baked a pound of bacon on a sheet pan in the oven. He sneaked peeks at her as he cooked. She was completely focused on her drawing, but the intensity of her gaze left her looking peaceful. All of the tension from just a few minutes before had melted away. She tilted her head and smiled down at the paper, and started humming. Ben took that as satisfaction with her work.
I could do this for the rest of my life.
Only, he pictured Charlie in the Victorian he’d so carefully restored. He’d set up one of the spare bedrooms—the one that got the best light—as her studio. Or even build her one beside his forge.
Whatever his Princess wanted.
When the toast popped up, Charlie looked up, then cleared off the table and set all her art supplies on the coffee table in front of the couch. She appeared in the kitchen a minute later.
“Let me at least set the table.” She pulled plates down from a shelf beside the fridge.
“Set those on the counter and go sit,” Ben said with a smile. “Do I have to teach you how to be spoiled?”
Charlie actually giggled. “Maybe?”
“Well, I will.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “For as long as it takes.”
Her eyes went misty again, and Ben could only wonder to himself.
Who hurt you so badly, Charlie?
While they ate breakfast, Ben’s curious gaze kept drifting to the sketchbook on the coffee table. He’d only seen one sketch and the drawing of the St. Vrain the night before. Charlie tilted her head.
“I can’t wait to see what else you’ve done. If it’s all right?”
She grinned as she fed Flo a piece of bacon under the table. “Sure,” she said quietly. She slid the sketchbook across the coffee table toward him.
Ben considered it a victory.
He turned the pages slowly, careful with them. They were landscapes. Mountains, mostly, and several of the St. Vrain, the peaks above Lyons, and a sweeping panorama of the Front Range. All of it was rendered with the same quiet precision she brought to everything else she did.
"These are extraordinary, Charlie."
She ducked her head over her coffee. "They're just rough sketches."
"No," he said. "They're not. They’re beautiful."
They loaded Charlie's art supplies and Flo into Ben's truck. As they were closing the tailgate, Mrs. Calhoun appeared on her balcony with a watering can.
“Good morning, Charlene! And good morning to your nice gentleman friend!” She waved enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see you came back this morning.”
Charlie tried not to laugh as she waved back. “Yes, he did. Morning, Mrs. Calhoun.”
