“Yeah?” She glanced at him. “That surprises me.”
“Does it?”
“You seem like the kind of guy who’d fit in anywhere, with anyone.”
“I mean, I have friends in the Air Force. Friends on the island.”
“You don’t talk about your family much.”
Dawson took a deep breath. “Hello, Kettle. Meet Pot.”
She blinked at him, shock coloring her beautiful eyes. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth in the cutest sound. “I guess I deserve that.” But she didn’t offer any further details.
So Dawson decided he would. “I don’t really get along with my brothers. Well, one of them is fine. The other one got engaged to my ex-girlfriend thirteen days after we broke up.” He tried to shrug, but the action simply wouldn’t move through his shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Dawson.”
“Yeah, me too. I do miss San Diego from time to time.” Not enough to go back, at least not yet. His guilt tugged at him though, and he added, “My mom wants me to come for Christmas.”
And his mother would want to know soon. Once Halloween hit, he’d have to give her an answer.
“When’s the last time you went back?” she asked.
“Years,” Dawson said, turning away from the glorious view of the water.
“Are you going to go this year?”
“I don’t know.” He surveyed the tools they’d used to dig the trenches for the sprinkling system. They had all the pipes in now and they’d tested it. “So can we finish this up tomorrow? My back is killing me.”
“Yeah.” She walked past him and all the shovels and other tools strewn on the ground. “Guess that’s what happens when you get old.” She added a giggle, and Dawson froze, staring after her.
“Oh, you’re gonna get it.” He made a dash for the water main, twisting it while she said, “Don’t you dare.”
A squeal immediately followed as the sprinkler heads popped up and began spraying her where she stood in the middle of the lawn.
Their eyes met, and something pulled him toward her. Something strong and magnetic, but he didn’t allow his feet to move. A chuckle vibrated in his chest and a smile stretched his face.
She lunged toward him, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and tugging him into the spray too. He let her—had he wanted to resist, he could’ve—laughing as they let the cold spray soak them.
And Dawson knew he’d seriously put his heart on the line. Problem was, he wanted to see what Charlotte would do with it, and all he could do was hope she didn’t break it, take it, or make it ache.
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte worked toward her first wedding; she worked on the house; she worked at not thinking about her family during the upcoming holidays; she worked on sharing more with Dawson.
He hadn’t pushed her for more information, and she hadn’t volunteered it. She just wasn’t ready to tell him more than she already had.
She had not called her sister or even texted her. She’d ignored Sammy after sending that two-word text.
Work kept her busy, with a few new brides now scheduled that were much less chill than Claudia, who had come in without her mother and they’d had a great meeting—with chocolate sea salt truffles and a little bit of laughing.
With Claudia’s wedding first, Charlotte really needed it to go well.
“Miss Madsen, you have someone here to see you.”
Charlotte glanced up from her desk, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Who is it?” She didn’t have an appointment that afternoon, or she wouldn’t have walked over to the salad bar and filled a plate worthy of a family feast.
Riley giggled and stepped into the office a little further. “A really cute man.”
“Dark hair, some gray in the sideburns?” Dawson had come to her office? Why?
“Yes.” Riley sighed and pressed both hands to her heart. “Should I send him in? Is he one of the grooms? Maybe he’s here to book something for his girlfriend.”
Charlotte coughed, choking on the very idea of getting married again. She pushed the salad away, embarrassed at the size of it but unable to do anything about it. “Sure, send him in.”
Riley grinned as wide as the Pacific Ocean and stepped out of the office. Charlotte yanked open the bottom drawer in her desk and shoved the salad on top of the pile of folders there. She had no idea what they even were, but the drawer closed—barely, but it did—and she could deal with unknown files later.
She moved a pen around the surface of her desk and turned toward her computer like she was so busy as Dawson came in.
“Hey,” he said easily, just like he did everything. She knew his life wasn’t picture-perfect, but he somehow didn’t let his past or his crumbled relationships with his family bother him. She marveled at that. Wondered where he put the guilt.
“What’s going on?” she asked, rising and glancing toward the door where Riley and a bridal coordinator stood, staring. “We’re not alone. Don’t kiss me.” She smiled like they were old friends, that she hadn’t kissed him that very morning after seeing him running along the beach, that she didn’t secretly fantasize about him.
Dawson paused, his jovial face turning serious. “I thought you were my girlfriend.”
“They don’t know that.”
He turned and looked at the two women standing there and they scattered like pigeons. After retracing his steps and closing the door, he yanked on the blinds to close them too. When he faced her, Charlotte didn’t like the concern and confusion in his eyes.
“I thought we were dating,” he said, maintaining his position near the door.
“We are.”
“But you don’t want anyone to know.”
“It’s not that.” Plenty of people knew. His friends had known, and while he’d tried to take her to their doughnut shop, she hadn’t wanted to go. She’d suggested an omelet place for breakfast last week instead, and he hadn’t known why she wanted to save the pastries for another time.
She realized, standing there in her office, that she didn’t mind being his girlfriend when no one knew about it. But she didn’t want anyone to know….
Charlotte looked away, her classic move for avoiding hard things. “Why did you come by?” she asked. If people knew she was dating Dawson, it would be real. And she really liked that it felt a bit like pretend to her.
She wasn’t ready for real. She wasn’t ready to introduce him as her boyfriend. She wasn’t ready to be part of a pair.
“I wondered if you had time for lunch, and you weren’t answering your phone.” Dawson looked like he could punch the next person he saw. “But I can see you’re too busy.” He spun and opened the door, stepping through it before she could say, “Wait,” or “I’m sorry.”
By the time she realized what she’d not said, he was gone. She darted out from behind the desk, “Dawson, wait,” falling from her lips. She ignored Riley and Patrice and headed for the door as she caught sight of him in his dark wash jeans and mint green polo heading north down the sidewalk.
She burst out of Your Tidal Forever, the beach stretching in front of her. Whenever she left the office, she took a few moments to enjoy the surf and sand, but today, she barely glanced at them.
“Dawson!” she called. To his credit, he paused. His hulking black SUV waited in the parking lot, and he had almost reached it.
Charlotte hurried after him as fast as her sandaled feet would let her. With basically a piece of flat cardboard as a sole, the shoes weren’t comfortable and hurt her high arch.
He turned around, practically a scowl on his face.
She reached him and wanted to touch him, draw him into her as she had previously. But she was very aware of where they stood and that while this stretch of sand wasn’t nearly as populated as the tops of the bays, there were still plenty of people walking, biking, or running past.
“I’d like to go to lunch,” she said, nowhere near what she needed to say.
“People will see us,”
he said.
She hesitated, unsure of what to say. “I know,” she said at the same time he scoffed and looked over her shoulder.
“I knew you weren’t ready for this.” He clicked his keys and the doors unlocked on his SUV. He put that power in his strides and reached it in only a couple of steps. She scrambled after him, thinking he wouldn’t drive off with her halfway outside of the vehicle. Would he?
He didn’t, and she buckled her seatbelt as the backs of her legs burned against the black leather.
They drove in silence, and she didn’t ask where he was taking her. He knew all kinds of hidden gems around the island, and while she’d only sampled a few with him, he’d told her about plenty of places they needed to go.
This drive took them out of East Bay and through Getaway Bay too. They left behind the hustle and bustle of the tourists, the locals, the beaches, and headed around the curve in the island.
Fear gripped Charlotte for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just….” She couldn’t find adequate words to sum up how she felt inside. They hadn’t existed in South Carolina either, and she suddenly knew why she’d left.
Run away, she thought. She’d gotten away to Getaway Bay.
“My ex-husband sat me down about six months ago and told me he’d met someone else.” She watched the trees go by, wishing she could climb one and float away. “We’d been married for eleven years, and while things weren’t perfect, I hadn’t realized how unhappy he was. How unhappy I was. How we didn’t love each other anymore.”
She stopped talking, not sure any of this was relevant. Dawson reached over and took her hand in his but didn’t vocalize anything.
“So I’m…sorting through things. I’m not sure I trust myself to make decisions, especially relationship decisions, and I really like you and don’t want to hurt you.” She whispered the last few words, her emotions teeming too close to the surface to speak properly.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “I really like you too.” A few more minutes of driving, and he pulled under a wooden arch that had the words “Cattleman’s Last Stop” carved into it. The road was dirt but not bumpy, and she spied a huge building up ahead with several cars parked in front of it.
“Doesn’t look too busy,” he said. “It’s usually their evening crowd that’s huge.”
“Where are we?”
“Best steakhouse on the island,” he said. “Angus burgers. And this is a real working ranch, with real cowboys.” He pulled up beside a blue pickup and parked. He didn’t turn off the engine but looked at the entrance to the restaurant like he expected zombies to come pouring out of it at any moment.
Just when the tension between them had made her pulse start to race, he said, “I know you’re not ready for this. I can drive you back to work and leave you alone.”
Charlotte didn’t want that. But was it fair to keep him hanging on? “I don’t want that,” she said. “But I don’t—I can’t give you as serious as you want. I’m sorry. I understand if you’d rather just be done.”
Her heart wailed at the idea though. The hammock on her back deck would be huge without him there to snuggle into, and the idea of not being able to call someone and tell them about her highs and lows brought tears to her eyes.
And not just someone.
Him.
She knew she wanted to call him. Share with him.
She told him that, and he finally looked at her. “I’m okay with what we have going right now,” he said. “I really am. But I do have one more question.”
Charlotte kept her gaze steady on his, unwilling to look away and show her anxiety. “All right. I’ll do my best to answer it.”
“Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”
She wanted to blurt, “Of course,” just so he wouldn’t break up with her. Instead, she thought for a moment and said, “I’m going to try. But Dawson, I don’t know if I even recognize love anymore.”
She’d thought she’d been in love with Hunter. His declaration had been the biggest shock of her life, and the waves were still rolling through the different parts of her life. Her friends. Her family. Her job. Her home. Her very thought processes. Her heart. Her soul.
“I just needed to know you were going to try.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned off the car. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
Charlotte went inside with him, the craziest décor she’d ever seen looking down on her from the walls. A bonafide cowboy swaggered over to them and said, “Howdy, what can I get you to drink?”
They ordered drinks, and Dawson lightened the mood by telling her about a couple of clients yesterday that had more questions about the volcanoes and human sacrifice than was normal, and everything seemed perfectly fine on the outside.
But inside Charlotte, a war waged, and she had no idea which part of her would come out the victor: her mind or her heart. She could only hope she didn’t hurt the handsome, kind, hardworking man across the table from her.
Chapter Fourteen
Dawson backed off over the next couple of weeks. Wes and Nicole invited him for Thanksgiving Day dinner, and Wes’s text said, Bring your girlfriend. We’re starting to think you’re hiding her from us on purpose.
Dawson had almost thrown his phone into the ocean that day. If Wes only knew that the reason Dawson hadn’t brought Charlotte around was because Charlotte didn’t want to claim him, he wouldn’t be sending texts like that.
Thanksgiving was in four days, and he still hadn’t mentioned anything to Charlotte. He hadn’t noticed her planning a big meal or anything, though he knew she liked to cook. She’d finished the transformation on the ground floor of the house, and the yard was ready for the colder, rainier season.
She’d been working on the second floor, but she no longer asked him to help on projects or lend his muscles to her.
He knew when she got approval from the city council for her electricity to be closer to the water than two hundred feet. He knew when she had a great meeting at work with one of her brides. He knew when her boss complimented her.
She shared things with him, but only things from her time on the island. Most of her life before coming to Getaway Bay she kept close to the vest.
Finally, when Nicole texted, demanding to know how many guests she should prepare for, he had to talk to Charlotte about it. He stopped by the fruit stand and bought a big bag of the sugared mango she liked so much—and claimed had added another five pounds to her frame.
Dawson didn’t care. She was beautiful and lovely just the way she was, but no matter how many times he told her, she didn’t seem to believe him. As he made the drive down Cinder Road, he wondered if he was wasting his time. Putting his heart on the chopping block willingly and practically begging her to raise the knife.
He pulled behind her Mini Cooper and grabbed the bag of mango from the passenger seat. “Just ask her,” he muttered to himself as he went toward the front door. He knocked but went right in, just like he’d been doing for weeks now.
“Charlotte?” he called, glancing up the stairs as if he’d see her standing at the top. He didn’t, and he took the mango into the kitchen. She stood on the deck, her phone held to her ear. Dawson moved through the dining room and opened the door to the back deck.
He lifted the mango, but Charlotte obviously didn’t hear him and didn’t turn toward him. The breeze carried her voice back to him, though, and he heard, “Of course not, Wilma.”
Dawson did not want to hear this. He turned and went back inside quickly, hearing Charlotte say something else, but he was unable to make out the words. With the door sealed, he went down the hall and into the living room, holding up the mango when she caught sight of him through the huge windows.
She didn’t even smile. In fact, it looked like she was about to cry. Dawson’s heart couldn’t handle the pain he saw on her face. He wanted to make everything better for her. In fact, he’d do anything to help her.
Charlotte’s mouth moved and she held up one finger in a silent wa
y of telling him she’d be another minute. He wanted to leap through the glass and swat the phone over the railing. Whatever her sister was saying, Charlotte didn’t need to hear it.
She finished several minutes later and came into the living room, her fingers white as they clutched the phone in fury. “My sister is a piece of work.” She tossed the phone on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down beside him on the couch.
She didn’t lean back into him, didn’t take his comfort, but perched right on the edge and ran both hands through her hair. A sniffle followed, and Dawson hastened to wrap her up tight so she wouldn’t fall apart.
Crying, she gripped his shirt and he held her against his chest, whispering, “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay.”
But he didn’t even know what it was, and he had no idea how to make it okay. Charlotte didn’t cry for long, and she wiped her face and let her little bit of hair fall between them.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Wilma says I’m being selfish for not coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas.” Charlotte lifted her chin, and Dawson thought her watery eyes were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.
“I came to ask about Thanksgiving dinner too,” he admitted, grabbing the sugared mango from the floor and handing it to her. “But I brought treats.”
She took the mango and smiled at it like it was the most wonderful gift in the world. “What about Thanksgiving?” She took a piece of dried fruit from the bag and bit into it.
“Wes and Nicole really want us to come to their place for dinner. I was supposed to ask you a while ago, but….” He let his voice trail off, not quite sure how to finish anyway.
She finished the mango, a classic Charlotte move, as she needed time to think through things, even small things. Threading her fingers through his, she said, “Okay. I can go to Thanksgiving dinner with your friends.”
“Yeah?” Dawson put his fingers gently under her chin and nudged her to look at him. “I honestly don’t care if we just sit in the hammock all day and then go eat sushi.”
Tidal Reservations (Brides & Beaches Romance Book 1) Page 9
