Friday morning arrived, and John parked his truck outside of her apartment building. He pulled out his phone, and his fingers tapped out a message before hitting send.

John: Outside. Ready when you are.

He leaned back, letting his gaze drift to the building's entrance.

A few minutes passed, and the door opened. He saw her stepping out, and Charlie was dressed in her simple top, jeans, a light blazer, and sneakers—nothing fancy, but somehow, she was perfect in his eyes. Her hair was down, framing her face in soft waves that caught the morning light, adding a warm glow to her features.

As she walked toward his truck, Charlie met his gaze and flashed a smile that tightened his chest.

She looked beautiful in a way he couldn't ignore, and for a moment, he climbed out of the truck and waited for her until she came to him.

"Hi, stranger,"

"Hey," he gave her a quick smile.

Her smile faded as she studied his face. "You look tired. Rough night?"

John nodded, rubbing a hand over his beard. "You could say that."

Truth was, he hadn't slept much. His mind had been too preoccupied about what Diane have said and his thoughts of her. But he couldn't tell her that.

"Well, maybe our trip will give you a chance to relax," Charlie said, her brown eyes searching his with concern.

John huffed a laugh at that. Relaxation was unlikely when he had to remain constantly vigilant, attuned to any threats that might arise, when off duty. But her presence soothed his weariness in a way nothing else could.

"Could be just what I need."

Charlie smiled at him and followed him as he opened the passenger door for her. As she stepped onto the edge of the step, her foot suddenly slipped, and she wobbled, reaching out instinctively before he caught her by the waist. She let out a small, embarrassed laugh, her cheeks turning pink as she looked up at him. Her surprise melted into a shy smile.

Their eyes met, and he realized just how close they were. 

He could catch the faint scent of her perfume—a warm blend of the same scent he remembered.

Vanilla. Strawberry.

That made his blood warmer more as it slowly stirred below him. The way her body was close to him and with the perfume. He doesn't know which one is worst: her small body pressed against him or her scent.

Why not both? A small voice in his head echoed.

The thought of pulling her close and for half a heartbeat everything else disappears.

Her blazer brushed his knuckles where they were still braced at her waist. One more inch and he'd have her completely pinned between him and the passenger door. 

The image flashed quick and wicked. Her back pressed to the cool metal, his palms framing her cheeks, lips crashing into hers until they both forgot why they'd come outside in the first place.

A pulse beat hard at the base of his throat; he felt it echo lower, coiling tight. Vanilla, strawberry, warm skin...

Christ.

She was sunshine and sin all at once. 

His fingers flexed before he could stop them, thumbs sweeping the denim at her hips as if measuring how he'd need to hold her there.

Steady on, Price.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough round the edges. "Easy, there. I've got you."

Her shy laugh fanned across his jaw; he could almost taste it. She straightened herself, hands lingering on his shoulders a second longer than necessary, oblivious to the riot she'd sparked under his ribs.

"Uh, sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me today," she stammered, her cheeks still a deeper shade of pink. "Maybe I'll have to bring in a foot stool and climb your truck with no problem."

John chuckled heartily.

"Sweetheart, if you wanted my hands on you, all you had to do was ask." He said, his teasing tone edging into huskiness.

Her breath hitched, eyes going wide for half a second before she giggled nervously.

"Uhm... okay," she said meekly, yet still smiling.

He gave her a reassuring squeeze before helping her get inside.

"Up you go," he said, tone calmly Captain when every instinct beneath him would beg him to lean down and test how her lips would taste against his. How her fingers would fist in his jacket once that first kiss turned hungry.

Instead, he tampered the urge deep, committing the image to memory for later.

"I'm happy to be your safety net," he said, trying to keep his tone casual, even though his pulse had quickened. His hand held at her waist just a second longer, giving another reassuring squeeze before helping her in.

She offered him a bashful smile before settling into her seat and buckled her seatbelt. 

John shut the door firmly and exhaled a slow, silent curse. 

He walked around to the driver's side, he got in, and glanced over, catching her looking out the window with that faint blush still coloring her cheeks. He knew he needed to be careful with her. Starting the engine, he glanced at her and grinned.

"Ready for a day in the woods? Promise I won't let you trip over anything," he said, a hint of flirtation in his voice.

Charlie turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I'll hold you to that," she said, settling back into her seat.

He smiled back and the drive was quiet and comfortable. Every now and then, he'd steal a glance at her, watching as she looked out the window. Her expression was thoughtful, almost expectant, as if the woods ahead held secrets she wanted to uncover.

After a while, he broke the silence.

"You look a little quiet over there," he said. "Getting nervous about all those questions you plan to throw my way?"

Her eyes snapped back to him. "Nervous? No. If anything, I'm excited."

John raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her response.

Most people either kept a respectful distance from his line of work or were too polite to ask much. But excitement? That was new.

"Excited, huh?" he said, glancing over at her. "Didn't think you'd be so keen to dive into the danger zone."

Charlie shrugged. "Well, not every day you meet someone who does what you do."

He nodded, turning his attention back to the road.

Years of experience had taught him to keep certain things close, especially around civilians. But Charlie looked at him like he was more than a soldier. It was a strange feeling, yet oddly comforting.

"Most people don't get it," he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost stern. "They hear 'spec ops' and think it sounds like something out of a movie. They don't realize it's real. And... yeah, a lot of sacrifice."

She tilted her head, studying him with a thoughtful gaze. "I figured it's something that matters to you, right?"

John glanced at her. It was rare for someone younger than him to say such like this. He hummed and pressed his lips thinned.

"Yeah, there's more to it than the risk, even if no one sees it..." He paused, his eyes drifting back to the road. "It's not for everyone."

"True," she said, her expression softening as she continued, "I mean, I don't know anyone like you. The guys in my classes, they're not exactly dealing with life-or-death situations like you do."

John chuckled, feeling the tension ease with her honesty. "I'd imagine not."

She laughed softly. "I'm sure it sounded like it's an understatement."

"It could be," he replied with a grin. "Guess you'll just have to stick around and figure out what I mean by 'understatement.'"

Charlie rolled her eyes, but her smile grew, lighting up her face.

"Try me."

***

The drive from Farrington to Queens Wood took them down winding roads lined with tall trees, their leaves beginning to change into shades of gold, red, and orange. Sunlight filtered through the branches, scattering golden light across the ground, creating a fall atmosphere. Charlie relaxed with each passing mile, the nerves she'd felt earlier melting away in response to the calming scenery.

As they reached the woods, John slowed the truck. He was pulling off onto a narrow dirt path that led deeper into the forest, and parked there. He climbed out, circling around to open her door and offered her his hand.

She took it, her fingers fitting comfortably in his large grip before stepping out, feeling the uneven ground beneath her sneakers. His hand lingered around hers, sending a shiver up her spine before he let go, leading her toward the trail. They walked side by side, surrounded by the soft sounds of birdsong and leaves rustling. Sunlight dappled through the canopy above, casting dancing shadows across the trail. She could the earthy scent of damp leaves and pine, since the cool air kissed her face, making her hair blew softly behind.

Charlie breathed deeply, a sense of calm washing over her as they moved deeper into the woods. Her curiosity about him, the questions she'd been holding back, began bubbling to the surface. When they reached a small clearing where sunlight poured through the trees, warming patches of the ground. John stopped, turning to face her before he began.

"Alright," he began. "Ask away."

Charlie breathed, gathering her thoughts as she looked at him. This was the chance she'd been waiting for, and she didn't want to waste it.

"Okay... why did you join?" she asked softly. "The SAS."

"It wasn't something I planned out," John paused, letting his words sink in before he continued. "I joined the British Army first. SAS isn't something you apply for. They pick you and you go through the selection process. Tough as hell, but I made it."

She nodded, sensing he'd drawn a boundary. Still, her curiosity wasn't sated. "So, what made you stay? Why keep going?"

His expression softened, and he considered his answer carefully.

"When in the special forces, it's not a job; it's a commitment. You do things most people wouldn't do it. And sometimes it's knowing you're doing the work that matters, even if no one else knows."

Charlie studied him, her mind racing with more questions, though a part of her hesitated to ask too much.

"I just... I've never met someone like you," she said, a hint of wonder in her tone. "I mean, it's like something out of a story. But you're real."

"I'm very real, and I'd rather not be the focus of the story. But if you have more questions, just keep it off me, yeah?" John said, his gaze warm as he looked down at her.

"Why?" Charlie frowned and asked.

John shrugged. "That's not something I'm ready to share."

"Okay," she nodded slowly, though a part of her felt disappointed.

"Here's how this is going to work," John said, crossing his arms. "You're the inquisitive type, and I'd rather not be interrogated every time we meet about me. I would prefer you ask me about something else or tell me more about you."

Charlie considered his request for a moment. She understood his need for privacy, but her curiosity about his past wouldn't be easily satisfied. Still, she didn't want to push too far.

"Interrogated? I'm just asking questions."

"You are, but you get three questions a day. No more. I'll answer them, but only three. So, make them count."

"That's not fair!" Charlie huffed, and it was her turn to cross her arms. "What if I need more than three?"

His shrugged nonchalantly again.

"Then you'll have to save them for next time. Look, if we're going to keep seeing each other, I'd better set some boundaries. Otherwise, I'll never hear the end of your curiosity."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what if I don't follow your 'rules'?"

John chuckled darkly, but his smile faded this time. He stepped forward until he was close to her distance.

"Then, Charlie girl, you'll have to give me something I want." His voice dropped into a low, huskiness tone.

Her breath caught, and she blinked, momentarily thrown off by the change in his demeanor. She met his gaze, trying to read him, though a faint thrill prickled at the back of her mind.

"Something like what?"

He smiled, a hint of a challenge in his gaze. "You'll figure it out. But be careful, ay?" Then, he stepped back and turned around before walking down the trail, leaving her no choice but to follow.

Charlie hurried her steps to catch up with him, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet echoing in the woods.

"Alright, second question," she continued. "I'm still curious about what you do in your 'spec ops.'"

John kept his eyes forward and answered. "Classified."

She stopped mid-step, letting out a scoff, and her hands were placed on her hips. "You're really going to pull that on me?"

He stopped and turned to her, one brow raised. "Charlie, what you're asking is confidential. It's not that I don't want to tell you—it's that I legally can't. You'll have to accept it." He paused, giving her a pointed look as he added, "Last question."

The way he said it, almost smugly, made her bite her bottom lip. Her gaze dropped into a scowl before looking back up. But when she found him watching her, his expression turned serious.

"Didn't I warn you about biting your bottom lip?" he asked, his eyes glancing down to her lip before meeting her gaze again.

She felt her cheeks warm and quickly released her lip. "Oh, sorry."

"Don't be," he said, his eyes holding hers a second longer. "Just... distracting."

Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she pressed on with her final question, her voice a bit softer now.

"How long have you been in the SAS, then?" she asked, her voice softer now, as though wary of pushing him too far. "You said you joined the British Army first, right?"

John nodded.

"I joined the Army when I was sixteen," he began, his gaze shifting to the path ahead as he continued walking, and she followed along. "SAS came later when I was twenty-three. Got handpicked, went through selection, and made it through."

"So... you've been doing this for a while," she said quietly.

He glanced at her, his expression softening a little. "Yeah. Long enough to know what I'm in for."

As they continued walking, Charlie processed everything he'd shared, feeling a newfound respect for him.

She stole a glance his way, marveling that he'd let her in, even just a little. Charlie opened her mouth to ask another question, then caught herself, noticing his raised eyebrow and knowing smirk that clearly said he was onto her.

"Never mind," she muttered, folding her arms with a sheepish pout. "Three questions only."

John chuckled, the hint of a tease in his voice as he shot her a sidelong glance before looking away. "Backing out that quick? Thought you might be up for an exchange."

"It's just unfair, that's all," she said, her brows knitted together. "You get to stay all mysterious, and I'm over here just supposed to wait?"

"Believe it or not," he said, unbothered by her reaction. "I'd prefer we talk less and be present."

Then, he turned to look at her, his eyes became darker and stern. "There's always the chance I could be called away, and you might not see me again. That's just the reality of my work, Charlotte."

Charlie felt her breath catch by the name he had called. She hadn't considered the possibility that any day might be his last chance to be here with her. She stared at him.

"You mean that, don't you?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That's part of why I'm here now. Doesn't mean I'm looking to disappear on you," John added with a small, reassuring smile, "but it's something you need to know if we're going to keep doing this."

She stared at him, absorbing his words. She hadn't considered that side of his life—how, at any time, he might be called back into action that she couldn't begin to understand. It was both thrilling and sobering, and as she mulled it over.

"Alright, I'll try to hold back on the interrogation," she said, her tone gently teasing. "But you have to admit, it's not every day I get to pick the brain of a soldier."

His expression softened. "No, I suppose not." He paused, seeming to weigh something in his mind before continuing. "Tell me something about yourself."

She tilted her head, thinking on what small detail to reveal.

"Well, since we're out here in the woods, I'll tell you that I used to be terrified of the dark as a kid," she confessed. "I'd sprint up the basement stairs because I swore something was chasing me. Drove my mom crazy."

He raised an eyebrow, looking mildly amused. "Is that so? Never took you for the scared type."

"Hey, we all have our childhood demons," Charlie replied lightly.

He chuckled in return. "What changed? You get over your fear of the dark?"

She nodded. "My dad helped me through it. He told me stories about being brave in the face of fear. I guess it stuck."

John hummed thoughtfully. "Sounds like he was a good man."

"He was," Charlie said, her voice softening. She glanced down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Mom and I miss him."

John felt a pang in his chest at the quiet vulnerability in her words. He had a sudden urge to reach for her, to offer some kind of comfort, but he resisted.

"I'm sure he'd be proud of you," he said instead.

Charlie gave him a small, grateful smile. "Yeah... I hope so."

They walked on in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling leaves and distant birdsong. John snuck occasional glances at Charlie, noticing the faraway look on her face. He wondered what she was thinking about but didn't want to pry.

The trail curved and soon opened up to a sprawling meadow, tall grass swaying gently in the breeze. Her eyes lit up at the sight.

"It's so beautiful here," she breathed, taking in the view.

John watched her, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

"Not a bad place for a walk, if I do say so myself." He said, watching her tilt her face up to the sun.

She closed her eyes for a moment as a light breeze moved her sunny hair. John found himself mesmerized by how at she was. With him.

His world narrowed to pink-misted sunrise and the shape of her mouth. Her lips parted on a tiny breath, soft, unpainted, the color of early-morning petals. He caught himself tracking the curve of her lower lip, wondering if it was as plush as it looked. If it would give beneath his own or open for him when his tongue coaxed.

Heat moved lower in his gut; his pulse thudded at the thought of tasting her straight and below her sex, drawing that shy gasp right into him.

Instead of leaning in, he wet his own lips. A reflex he masked by clearing his throat.

When she opened her eyes, she caught him looking away briefly and back to her.

"Shall we keep going?" he asked gruffly.

Charlie bit back a knowing smile as she fell into step beside him. But what she didn't see on her steps was an uneven patch of ground ahead when her foot caught, and she found herself tipping forward.

Suddenly, his hands quickly reached out and were on her, pulling her back into balance. 

She gasped softly, finding herself inches away from him. 

With his arm wrapped securely around her waist, holding her close. Her breath caught as her gaze lifted to meet his.

All she could see was him close—icy blue eyes and that beard framing his face with a kind of old-world charm, blending the Barba Hulihee and Victorian styles. The thick, dark brown hair swept down his jawline, fuller near his chin and gently tapering along his cheeks. It was groomed, yet it held a natural roughness, a hint of the life he led—the kind of beard that wasn't just for looks but spoke of strength.

Charlie felt her cheeks warm as she studied his appearance thoroughly.

The way it complemented his face gave him an air of timeless masculinity, like he came from a Victorian novel as he did in his role as a soldier. It suited him. Her eyes traced how his beard connected to the slight mustache that lined his upper lip, softening his otherwise sharp features and giving his intense gaze. And then there was the faint silver threading through the darker brown hairs.

Her gaze dropped to his lips without realizing it, partially hidden beneath the beard but close enough to touch. Her heart skipped, and she looked back up, meeting his gaze as his lips curved into a barely there smile, like he'd caught her staring. Embarrassment mixed with that pull, and she could only manage a shy smile.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low and warm, breaking through her daze.

"Yeah," she breathed, her voice almost reaching a high pitch but soft. "I didn't see where I was walking."

He chuckled. "Well, Charlie, I must be a distraction to you, aren't I?"

She gulped. She hadn't expected him to say it straight, to look at her with that intensity that left her both vulnerable and keen.

When his eyes dropped, studying her face, he added, "You've got these pretty brown eyes. I'd be lying if I said they weren't distracting too."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade, and she looked down, a timid smile forming on her lips.

"Yeah," she said absentmindedly.

He chuckled again, his hand resting on her waist to steady her until he loosened his grip just enough to help her stand.

"Come on, stay close," he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge. "Can't have you tripping over every rock in the woods."

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade.

"I am not that clumsy," she protested.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, raising an eyebrow as he watched her with a sly grin. "You've got two records. I might as well count if that happens again."

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. How John looked at her—half-teasing, half-sincere—made her heart race.

She kept close to his side as they continued down the trail. Stealing glances at him a few times, hoping he wouldn't catch her staring at him. And he did, more than once.

At one point, his expression softened into a warm, cheeky grin.

The kind of depth that told her he was enjoying this time with her just as much as she was.