Charmed (Death Escorts #2)(46)
Author: Cambria Hebert

It seemed that our time on the beach had created some kind of tumultuous truce between us. It was kind of nice.

Of course, Charming had yet another crazy expensive car waiting at the hangar when we touched down at the airport. This time it was a black Ferrari. But not even a car as nice as a Ferrari could steal my attention from the sights of Scotland.

It was majestic.

No other word could even come close to the rolling hills that seemed to be carpeted in a grass so thick and green it almost looked made up. I really only thought that places like this existed in books. But here I was breathing in the incredibly fresh air and looking out over miles of green.

After we left the airport, Charming drove to this tiny market where he picked up a few essentials for the fridge, explaining it was easier to get those things here than where we were going. Not too much later, he was pulling the Ferrari onto a ferry of all things and we were setting out across the sea toward the Shetland Islands. I didn’t know Scotland consisted of islands. I thought it was just a big lump of land like every other country, but oh my, was it so much more. The Shetland Islands were comprised of many islands, the largest one simply called Mainland. Charming explained that this was where his home was.

Once we were able to disembark the ferry, we drove in silence (I had my face plastered to the window) down a two-lane winding road. We passed sheep farms, more endless rolling hills, and sea views that were incredible. The farms all had stone cottages plopped down in the center, with grass all around. It was the most peaceful place I’d ever been.

And I wasn’t the only one affected by this place.

If I had thought Charming was changing before, I knew it now. It was almost like night and day. I kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of my eye as he drove, wondering what side of him I would see next.

“Aren’t the sights to your liking?” he said, glancing at me, then looking back to the curving road.

“Are you kidding? This place is amazing. I won’t even make you pay me a million dollars when I get fired. This place is worth it.”

He flashed his teeth. “Then why do you keep looking over here?”

I paused. I thought about making a smart-ass crack. I decided I would try being real. “Because of the way you look here.”

“And how do I look?”

“Like you’re finally somewhere you can breathe.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and then all he said was, “We’re almost there.”

Not too much longer, he pulled down a long and private road that took us around a wide curve. When the Ferrari made it around the bend, a house came into view. It wasn’t what I was expecting after seeing the modern glass place on the beach.

But it was so much better.

It looked like an old giant farmhouse that was built nestled into the side of one of those sweeping hills and hadn’t been touched since. It was all white brick, painted and worn. The windows were small, but there were many and they lined the house in rows, each with its own pair of painted black shutters. Those were pealing and chipped as well. The roof was a traditional roof with black shingles (those actually looked fairly new) and it was in the traditional shape (kind of like a big triangle perched on top of many boxes). The grass around the building itself was trimmed, but everything else around the property was long and shaggy; the tall green blades swayed back and forth with a gentle breeze.

As we drove along the narrow road toward the house, I looked over toward Charming, but my eyes didn’t see him. They went directly to the sweeping view of the sea that sat miles away, facing the house. Calm, dark-blue water met a rugged and rocky coastline, and I instantly wished I had a pair of boots to go exploring on the stones.

“How long have you owned this place?” I asked, my voice an awed whisper.

“Longer than you’ve been alive.”

That was… wow. I didn’t know whether to be amazed or creeped out.

The driveway wasn’t paved and I was partially shocked when he drove the Ferrari right across the dirt road and pushed a button, lifting a black barn-style door. Clearly, he had modernized the house in some ways.

“I had the interior of the place gutted. It’s completely new inside. When I bought the house, it wasn’t livable.”

“By whose standards?” I scoffed.

“Well, not even the wayward sheep who had found their way inside appreciated the leaky roof.” When he looked at me, his eyes twinkled and I realized the green in his irises matched the green that surrounded us here.

I smiled. “Well, give me the grand tour,” I exclaimed and scrambled out of the car to meet him eagerly at the door.

I could tell he was excited to show me his home, the only place he truly loved to be. I think it was his excitement that made me so excited because I knew this place had to be special if it elicited this kind of reaction from someone like him.

The home was… It was everything anyone could ever want but never dream up. Exposed beams, floors made of old barn wood, and accent walls of the same white brick as the outside filled this house. Hand-braided rugs, richly upholstered furniture, and rooms without the boundaries of walls made it feel like more than a refurbished building, more like a place that someone loved. Of course, mixed in with all the old elements were all the new ones—a huge stone fireplace, a huge open kitchen with granite surfaces and stainless-steel appliances, and the amenities of remodeled bathrooms and a home theater. The house was so large that he didn’t even show me the entire place.

The last stop on his tour was my room, which had a view of the sea. It was a large room with a queen-sized bed, luxurious bedding, and an adjoining bath that was made up of natural stone and contemporary fixtures.

“Well, what do you think?” he said, watching me gaze around the room.

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ll ever see.”

He grinned. “How do you know?”

“I know.”

“It took me years to get this place like this.”

“Most people wouldn’t have had the time and the money,” I said, running my hand over the ultra-soft and thick comforter.

“I guess being a Death Escort has some advantages.”

The coldness in his tone had me looking up. He thought I was insulting him. In truth, I’d been thinking out loud.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“What, then? Were you trying to remind me what you think about my money and how I earned it?”

“No.” I defended. “I—” I stopped trying to explain myself and sighed. “It was just a comment, a slip of the tongue. I don’t have to remind you what you do. You remind yourself enough on your own.”