by Holly Jacobs
“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t until Dan released his breath that he realized he’d been holding it. He wasn’t going to lose her at the end of this road trip. She was coming home with him. The thought brought with it a feeling of overwhelming rightness, which was wrong. He was supposed to be getting rid of her.
Hell, nothing had been normal since the moment he’d seen his Cinderella hitchhiking in her wedding dress and tennis shoes.
Charlie wondered about the solemn, silent man who enjoyed playing white knight. She had a feeling he wasn’t used to the role. Charlie had met private people in the past, but Dan was a fortress unto himself.
She knew he drove a truck on mostly local runs. She knew he had a nephew, Doug, who was a senior at Mercyhurst. She knew he had kind eyes, and despite his probable denial, he had a kind heart.
Dan Martin was a puzzle that Charlie wondered if she’d ever figure out.
The last leg of the trip went too fast. Weeks, months even, would have been too fast for Charlie. She gave Dan directions to her mother’s house, but as the semi, minus its trailer, pulled alongside the curb, all she wanted to do was turn around and run.
“You don’t have to do this tonight,” he repeated, as if sensing her thoughts. “I’m sure I can spot you for anything you need.”
“I have to do this sooner or later, and you’ve done enough.” Charlie straightened her shoulders.
“Want me to come in with you?”
“No.” She turned and found herself staring into his eyes. She’d been right about his eyes being kind. They were filled with concern.
Knowing she had a champion warmed Charlie. She offered him what she hoped was a convincing smile. “Some things have to be done alone. Facing Harriet is one of them.”
“I’ll wait here.”
There was no doubt in her mind that he would wait, or that if she called, he’d rush to her side.
“Thanks,” she said as she opened the door and warily backed her way out of the cab.
“Charlie?”
She stopped. “Yes?”
“Holler if you need me.”
“You’ll jump on your charger and ride to my rescue?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, I think I enjoy being a white knight.” The way he hesitated, she suspected he’d started to say something else. He frowned, as if the idea was uncomfortable.
“I’ll holler if I need you.” Feeling all the enthusiasm a woman feels when facing her yearly pap test, Charlie finished climbing down from the cab and walked slowly to her mother’s door.
She knocked.
It had always struck her as sad that she couldn’t just throw the door open and walk into her home. She’d knocked since she moved out at eighteen. No easygoing relationship, no coming home. This had never been home, but a house her mother lived in. A house in a respectable but not upper-class part of town. Charlie’s marriage to Winslow was Harriet’s stepping stone to the life she’d always wanted to live, the life she felt she was destined for. And by not marrying Winslow, Charlie had taken Harriet’s chance away from her.
The door opened, and Charlie was face-to-face with her own personal fire-breathing dragon—her mother.
“Charlotte.” Harriet Eaton’s face twisted into a frown. “So you’ve come crawling back. I told Winslow you would.”
There was no hug.
No honey, I was worried.
Charlie reminded herself that she hadn’t expected comforting words from her mother, but the lack of them still hurt. Maybe there were just some wishes a person couldn’t outgrow?
But outgrow or not, Charlie wasn’t going to be intimidated or pushed around. No more going with the flow. From now on she was paddling her own boat.
“Mother.” She moved into the house, but just within the hallway and left the door open.
“Charlotte. Where were you? What were you thinking?”
Before Charlie could answer either question, Harriet went on, “Now, don’t you worry about a thing. I’ve got all the arrangements in place. The entire affair will be forgiven and everyone will chalk it up to cold feet. I have the church rescheduled for August eighth. I couldn’t get the club again on such short notice, but I talked to Winslow and we agreed that a nice informal reception on his lawn would be beautiful and appropriate under the circumstances. His family pulled some strings and—”
“Mother.”
Her mother didn’t even take a breath. “—the club will cater the reception. You’ve eaten there often enough this last year to know they can handle anything.”
“Mother.”
Her mother finally paused to take a breath, ready to wind up and start again. Charlie grabbed her chance. “Harriet!”
It was the sound of her name that finally brought her mother to a screeching halt. “What?”
Harriet’s gaze moved beyond Charlie and seemed to get stuck there.
Charlie turned around and saw her hero hadn’t left her to deal with her personal dragon on her own.
Her mother glared at Dan. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dan. Dan Martin. I drove Charlie—”
Her mother dismissed Dan and returned to Charlie. “Charlotte, what are you doing with this . . . this man?”
Seeing her mother’s obvious annoyance, Charlie felt a hint of amusement.
“A friend,” Charlie hastily supplied. “A good friend. Dan was kind enough to give me a lift.”
Time to make her escape.
Past time.
“I’d like my purse and my bags.”
Harriet’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why, Charlotte, Winslow has your bags. They’re still packed in the back of his car, ready for your honeymoon. The poor man. He was ruined. Just ruined.”
“I’m sure he was. Though I doubt it was a broken heart.”
“How can you say that? You should have seen him when you ran out of the ceremony.”
“Mother, Winslow isn’t brokenhearted.” Remembering last night’s argument, she was positive about that much. “He’s more embarrassed than anything. And no one ever died of embarrassment.”
Dan cleared his throat. “Ma’am, would it be possible for you to get Charlie—”
Harriet frowned and corrected him. “Charlotte.”
“—Charlie,” he repeated, “her purse? Unlike good old Winslow, I work for my living, and I have to get back.”
“Back to where?”
“I work for Imperial Shipping.”
“Doing?”
“I drive a truck, ma’am.” He nodded at the big rig in front of the house.
Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the man who picked up Charlotte?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer to Charlie, as if his presence could shield her from her mother’s ire. “Charlie’s bag, ma’am?”
Harriet dismissed him and turned her full attention back to Charlie. “Charlotte. You drove away with this ruffian?”
“Yes, Mother. Dan was kind enough to pick me up and offer me a roof over my head, since it seems I’m homeless for the moment.”
Harriet gave a delicate little sniff. “Your old room is here and you’re welcome to it until after the wedding. Thank you, Mr. Martin. I’ll see to it Winslow compensates you for your trouble. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your returning his runaway bride.”
“Charlie has already compensated me.” Dan said with just the right inflection to set off her mother, and then he added insult to injury by wrapping his arms around Charlie, holding her tight.
Harriet huffed and puffed a moment, and her face turned a brilliant shade of red. “Charlotte will be staying with me.”
“Mother, I will be leaving with Dan as soon as you get me my purse. Winslow can just leave my luggage with you and I’ll get it later.”
“What has gotten into you,
Charlotte?” Harriet demanded.
“Winslow isn’t right for me. I don’t love him. I tried to tell you, tried to tell you both.” She paused a moment, then in the spirit of honesty added, “It was my fault, really. If I hadn’t been such a pushover, we could have avoided this entire debacle.”
“Winslow is your dream man,” Harriet argued.
“No, Winslow is your dream man. I tried to get out of the wedding earlier, but you wouldn’t listen. Neither would he. Finally I realized I didn’t need either of you to approve. Marrying Winslow would have been wrong, for both of us.”
“You’re really staying with him?” Harriet managed to make the word him sound like some sort of deadly virus, designed to attack and destroy everything in its path.
“Yes, Mother. I’m staying with him.”
“This is going to kill Winslow.” Harriet opened the foyer closet and retrieved Charlie’s purse.
Charlie didn’t comment on Winslow’s brokenhearted death. She took the purse. “Good-bye, Mother. Please cancel all your plans. There’s not going to be a wedding. Ever.”
“This is going to kill Winslow,” Harriet repeated.
“It might have dented his ego, but it’s not going to dent his heart.”
Charlie allowed Dan to lead her from the house.
“So that’s your mom?” he asked in a whisper.
“Home sweet home.” Charlie knew she should protest Dan’s arm, which was still wrapped around her shoulder, but she didn’t. Despite the warm summer evening, she was cold—cold to the bone. His touch gave her enough heat to go on.
“Do you need to do anything else tonight?” he asked softly.
“I’ve got so much to do, but I’m not going to get any of it done tonight. If the offer is still good, I’ll take you up on a place to stay, at least until I can find something else. But if you’ve changed your mind, you can just drop me at a hotel.”
“No hotels. You’ll stay at my place tonight, and tomorrow we’ll clean out Doug’s apartment for you.” He paused. “You can trust me.”
Charlie glanced at the man who’d ridden to her rescue twice today. She did trust him. She had no hesitation, no apprehension about that much. Just a confidence that he was one of the good guys.
“I do trust you, just like Ida did. I’m not sure why, but I do. Thanks, I’ll stay at your place tonight and clean Doug’s out tomorrow. Then on Monday I’ll start car shopping, job hunting, and . . .” The list seemed overwhelming. “Well, I’ll worry about all that on Monday.”
He frowned. “I don’t know why you trust me or why Ida did, for that matter. Neither of you know me.”
Know him? Charlie felt as if she’d known Dan all her life. And trust him? Yes, she trusted him, though it didn’t make an ounce of sense. From the moment he’d pulled his rig over and opened the door, she’d trusted him.
But did she trust herself?
A picture of Dan holding her flashed through her mind. No. She might trust Dan, but she couldn’t afford to trust herself.
“Then let’s go home,” he said.
“Let’s go home,” she echoed.
Dan eased his truck down the winding drive. “Here we are.”
Charlie looked at the small red ranch that sat nestled between the trees, looking as at home in their midst as if it had sprung up there. “It’s lovely.”
“I’m sure it’s not where Winslow was planning to move you.”
“Which makes it even lovelier.”
He pointed to the detached two-story, two-car garage. “That’s Doug’s place. We’ll get it cleaned up for you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He parked the car in the driveway and took her into the house via the side door. “I have two extra rooms, but no extra furniture, so you’ll take my bed and I’ll take the couch.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’ll take the couch.”
“Charlie, that wasn’t an invitation to debate. It was a statement.”
“But—”
“Come on, I’ll show you around.” They walked through a spotless, small kitchen that also served as the dining room. Dan pointed down a hall. “That’s the bathroom and this is my room.”
The door was open. A king-size bed and a single dresser dominated the room. There were no adornments on the wall. No hints of who this quiet man next to her really was. Then, on the nightstand, she spied a picture frame. She picked it up. A tired-looking woman with sad eyes and a forced smile was sandwiched between two small boys.
“Is this your family?”
Dan frowned. “Yes.”
“Your mother and brother?”
He simply nodded and opened one of the dresser drawers. “You can use these for pajamas until we get you something to wear or Winslow returns your suitcases.” He tossed a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt on the bed and held a second pair in his hands.
Charlie wasn’t going to be put off by talk of pajamas. “This one’s you, isn’t it?” she said, pointing to one of the almost identical dark-haired boys.
He nodded.
“I could tell.”
“How?”
“It’s your eyes. They’re not really any color, a sort of gray that changes in an instant. Kind eyes . . .”
She realized what she’d said and cut off the rest of her reasoning. She’d known the picture was Dan because there was something about the small boy that was echoed in the man who’d rescued her this morning.
Dan obviously wasn’t going to pursue her ability to sort him out from his brother. He simply nodded and, taking the second pajama set, walked toward the door. “I’ll go dig out an extra toothbrush for you, and if you need anything else, just holler. I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Charlie said.
He simply nodded without turning back and then shut the door, leaving Charlie alone.
The room felt emptier without Dan. Charlie felt emptier as well.
What a day.
She’d left her fiancé at the altar, hitchhiked, taken a ride with a trucker, confronted her mother in a rare bid for independence, and come home with a stranger. And yet she felt strangely content.
She refused to lose that contentment tonight. She’d worry about all her problems tomorrow. Right now all she wanted was to get some sleep.
“Does anyone know of any reason these two should not be joined?”
Charlie glanced over her shoulder. Friends and family all watched.
The minister continued. “Then—”
“I do.”
“Not yet, honey,” Winslow said with a chuckle that was quickly replaced by a frown when she said, with more volume, “I do. I know why Winslow and I shouldn’t be married. I don’t love him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t love me.”
She turned to Winslow. “I’ve been trying to tell you—no, I haven’t just been trying, I have told you over and over, but you and my mother simply dismiss my concerns. I thought you were right, that it was just cold feet, but it’s not. I’m sorry to do this to you now, but I don’t love you and I can’t marry you.”
Charlie picked up her voluminous gown and ran. Ran through the door and down the stairs. Ran to freedom. Yards of white satin pooled at her feet; she lifted her hand, praying for a ride, when a semi pulled up.
“Stop,” she cried.
“Charlie, wake up.”
Dan’s voice reached into her dream and pulled her from it. “Dan?”
“It was just a dream, Charlie.”
“A dream?” she asked, her mind feeling thick and sluggish.
“Do you need a drink or something?”
A drink? No.
But something. She needed something.
“Would you hold me?” She felt him stiffen at the request. “Just until I go back to sleep?”
Dan found himself no
dding, damned if he knew why. Charlie curled against him, and Dan stretched out next to her on top of the blankets, his arms still wrapped around her.
What nightmare haunted her sleep?
He brushed a short blond lock of hair off her face. Her eyes were shut and her breathing began to even out, and still Dan held her.
Charlie Eaton wasn’t beautiful. Cute, maybe. In the dark gloom of the room, he studied her. Definitely cute. Her nose made a delicate little swoop at the end, and though he couldn’t see them in the darkness, he knew it was lightly sprinkled with freckles.
She’d had a day of it.
But she’d been a trooper. No hysterical tears. She’d picked up her dress and taken to her sneaker-clad feet and moved on.
Dan stroked her hair and she snuggled closer, curling into his body as if she belonged there, as if she was meant for him. She made him want to protect her. Her knight. She’d called him that.
Dan knew he was nobody’s knight. In time, Charlie would discover that as well. In the meantime, what was he going to do with her?
He was just . . . he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but he was going to do it anyway.
CHAPTER FOUR
Charlie awoke with a start.
Where was she?
The previous day came rushing back to her in vivid detail and she flopped back onto her pillow.
No, not her pillow. Dan’s pillow.
What a mess.
Charlie lay on the bed and tried to decide what to do next. Right now she was supposed to be on a ship, cruising toward her happily-ever-after. Instead she was tucked in Daniel Martin’s bed, with a not exactly plush bank account, no home, and a slightly battered wedding dress to her name.
What she needed was a list.
No, what she needed was a job, then a place to live, a car, and clothes . . .
She couldn’t focus on everything at once.
Start with a job. She’d been working at the museum, but she’d trained her replacement, so she knew there were no openings there.
