CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN – BAR FIGHT

Over the next few weeks, Richard kept true to his word, making frequent and unannounced appearances at The Rusty Anchor. At first, Charlotte chalked it up to him simply being a man of his word. But she quickly noticed a new undercurrent rippling through their interactions, both tender and heated in turn. Where once his presence was a comforting constant, now there was an added spark of...something. Some new dimension to the way he looked at her, the way his hand would linger perhaps a bit too long on the small of her back as he brushed past. To her surprise, she found herself reciprocating, letting her own glances linger shamelessly on the lines of his body, reveling in the heavy tension that seemed to thrum between them with every passing moment. It was dizzying and energizing in equal measure, awash in the sort of giddy infatuation she'd thought long behind her. Here was the grand passion of her girlhood dreams, burning still in the man who had promised her his unguarded truth. B