Tidal Reservations (Brides & Beaches Romance Book 1)

by Elana Johnson

  “I don’t like sushi.”

  Dawson smiled at her, realizing that it was love that stretched his lips and said, “Whatever you want, babe. Honest.”

  “Let’s go to dinner with your friends. It will be fun to see how things are done here on the island for a traditional holiday.”

  “Well, Nicole’s from Texas, so you’ll probably be getting something more Southern than Hawaiian.”

  “As long as I don’t have to make it, I don’t care.” Charlotte tucked herself into his side again, her bag rustling as she fished for another piece of mango. “What did you like about my sister in high school?”

  Dawson’s muscles seized and released, and he pushed out his breath. “She was pretty, and she flirted with me. That was about all I needed in high school to go out with someone.” He didn’t tell Charlotte that her sister was cruel, that she’d had quite the reputation. What good would it do?

  Might make her feel better actually, he thought. But he still kept his mouth shut.

  “And now?” she asked, playing with a button in his shirt. It sat in the middle of his chest, and he could barely think with the way her fingers swirled around and around it.

  “Now?” he echoed. “What does it take for me to ask a woman out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Apparently I like sassy strawberry blondes with commitment issues.” He wasn’t sure if he should’ve said that, but Charlotte laughed in the next moment, a sound which quickly turned choked as she started to weep again.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “Sometimes siblings suck.” And while he’d been putting off his mother and brother about the holidays, he knew he wouldn’t be going home for Christmas.

  “Yeah, they do,” she agreed, her voice only a little pinched now. “Mine just told me I should be in South Carolina, fighting for my ex-husband who’s already remarried. I mean, honestly. Wilma lives in Denver. What does she know?”

  “Your husband is already remarried?” Dawson knew she’d run from something, but it just kept getting worse and worse.

  “He married her ten days after our divorce was final.”

  “And you came here.”

  “Took me a few months,” she said. “Because I had a couple of jobs to finish, and a house to sell, and a life to leave behind.”

  Dawson stared through the window, his mind churning. No wonder she wasn’t ready to commit to anything. No wonder she questioned her ability to make decisions about them. No wonder she wasn’t sure if she believed in love.

  But Dawson did, and he was pretty sure he was on the slippery slope toward falling in love with her, and one wrong step could cost him everything.

  “What can I bring to Thanksgiving dinner?” she asked, composed now.

  “I’ll text Nicole.”

  Charlotte had obviously spent some time socializing in the past. When Dawson showed up to get her for Thanksgiving dinner, she wore a fun, flirty sundress that had clearly come from one of the boutique racks on the island. Her hair had been braided back into a knot at the nape of her neck, with a couple of pieces hanging down on either side of her face. She’d curled those, added mascara, blush, and lip gloss, and Dawson could only stare at her as she stepped into a pair of yellow heels.

  “Holy cow,” he said when she finally looked at him. “I think I’m at the wrong house.” He glanced over his shoulder as if there would be another one just down the street. He grinned at her when their eyes met again.

  “Stop it.”

  “You look fantastic.” He stepped into her, glad the heels brought her closer to his height. He kissed her, a slow passionate kiss right there in her open doorway. There wasn’t anyone out here to see, he supposed, because she kissed him back in the same, sensual way.

  “I made oatmeal carmelitas.”

  “I think you just spoke another language,” he teased.

  “They’re kind of like oatmeal cookies, but about a thousand times better. They’re a big hit at parties.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, where she collected a square plastic container with a lid. “Can I try one?” Now that he thought about it, he detected a bit of cinnamon on his lips already. “Did you eat one?”

  “I’ve eaten about five.” The look she gave him screamed of her nerves.

  “Wes and Nicole are great,” he said. He’d already told her all about them, and how they’d met in college, got married, finished pastry school together, and moved to Getaway Bay to open their doughnut shop. According to Wes, they’d been on the island for eight years, but Nicole insisted it was only seven.

  Dawson didn’t really care how long they’d been here. He’d found them soon after he’d made the move across the ocean, and as long as they stayed open, he was happy.

  She popped the lid on the container and he found neat rows of crumbly oatmeal squares inside. “Oh, I was expecting a cookie.”

  “They’re better than cookies.” She shook the container, and he took one out of the corner. It looked like a cookie base, with an ooey layer of caramel, and the crumbly oatmeal topping. One bite, and he was sold.

  He finished the bar in another two bites and said, “You’re right. These are way better than cookies.”

  “They’re sort of autumnal,” she said. “I mean, not pumpkin or anything.”

  “Nicole dislikes pumpkin anyway.” Dawson wiped his lips. “Should we go?”

  “Yes.” She headed for the front door, and he liked the way her skirt swayed in time with her hips. He pulled back on the reins of his fantasies, because Charlotte was a nervous mess just going to meet his friends.

  He got in and buckled his seat belt, started the SUV, and said, “So you used to take these to a lot of parties back in South Carolina?”

  “Yeah, a few.”

  Dawson thought more than a few, and he cut a look at her out of the side of his eye. He wanted everything from her, and a sting of annoyance sang through him that she still wasn’t sharing.

  “How many parties would you say?”

  She turned toward him, the oatmeal carmelitas dormant in her lap and a sexy pair of sunglasses concealing her eyes. “We used to go to something every weekend it seemed.”

  “What about your friends there?” he asked. “Do they know you’re in Hawaii?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me about that,” he said as he turned around and aimed the vehicle down Cinder Road. He hoped his request wouldn’t push her away, but his craving to learn about her life didn’t allow him to let things slide.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlotte took her time starting the story, mostly because she needed a few minutes to work herself up to it. He doesn’t judge you, she told herself. He’s just interested.

  And she was glad he was interested. She didn’t want to lose Dawson because she was embarrassed about her past.

  She had nothing to be embarrassed about, but the facts didn’t always influence her emotions the way she wished they would.

  “My friends chose Hunter’s side in the split,” she said. “One of them even asked me what I’d done to drive him away.”

  Dawson turned onto the highway, heading back toward the busiest part of the island. “Did you drive him away?”

  “I don’t think so. He worked constantly, and I had a job too. We went out every weekend. I thought we were happy enough.”

  Dawson said nothing, which prompted Charlotte to keep speaking. “It’s hard being part of a couple, and doing everything with other couples, and then losing that. And he had another woman already, so she simply took my spot.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  The pictures on social media didn’t lie, and Charlotte said as much.

  “What about your girlfriends?” Dawson asked, slowing to take a left turn into a neighborhood.

  “Half of a couple,” she said. “I didn’t expect to be treated the way I was. It was eye-opening and heart-wrenching at the same time.”

 
Dawson took her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”

  A weight lifted from her chest and she said, “At first, I thought my life was over. And you know what? It was. But the world didn’t end, and I made a new life for myself.”

  “Yes, you seem to be doing great at that.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or not. He seemed unusually quiet, and when he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful brick house, he parked and waited. “I’m glad you have this new life here,” he said, turning to look at her.

  She saw untold possibilities in his eyes, along with a level of adoration that made her blood heat. “Me too,” she whispered.

  “My friends really are great,” he said as equally as soft. “And Nicole is standing at the door, waiting. Should we give her a show or just go in?” A devilish glint entered those eyes that Charlotte loved, and she laughed.

  “The show is private, Dawson. Jeez.” She rolled her eyes, removed her hand from his, and reached for the door handle.

  “A private show?” he asked under his breath as he met her at the front of the SUV. “Really? When?” He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.

  She enjoyed the steadiness of him, the scent of his cologne, the soft desire she heard in his voice. “Later,” she said just before Nicole said, “You guys made it.”

  Dawson led her up the steps, his hand slipping to take hers and hold it tight. “We made it.” He leaned in and gave Nicole a kiss on the cheek. “Nicole, this is my girlfriend, Charlotte Madsen.” He turned to face her, beaming for all he was worth.

  “Nice to meet you.” She accepted a quick hug from Nicole and they went inside, where the air was perfumed with turkey, butter, and salt.

  “Smells great,” Charlotte said, easily moving into her social persona. Heaven knew she’d had enough practice over the years.

  “Wes is the chef in the family,” Nicole said, leading the way through the well-decorated space with comfy-looking couches, art on the walls, and rugs over the wood floors.

  Charlotte took a moment to enjoy the vibe of this house, as it felt very much like the place she was trying to create for herself up on the bluff. At least Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t going to be awkward.

  She followed Nicole and then Dawson into the kitchen, where a tall man stood with his back to them at the stove.

  “Wes, they’re here.” Nicole moved to the side as her husband turned.

  “This is Charlotte Madsen, Dawson’s girlfriend.” The way Nicole enunciated girlfriend wasn’t lost on Charlotte.

  But her thoughts were spinning because Wes stood before her, practically a copy of Hunter. Same bald head. Same dark eyes full of light and mischief and welcoming. He had the same broad shoulders too, and when he came around the island and shook her hand, Charlotte felt like she’d just been touched by her ex-husband.

  She tried not to yank her hand away as he said, “Nice to finally meet you,” with a pointed look in Dawson’s direction.

  But it wasn’t Dawson’s fault they hadn’t met yet, and Charlotte wished she’d waited a little longer.

  “You too,” she managed to say, and Dawson swooped to her side.

  “Leave her alone,” he said. “Making a commitment is a big deal for me, so just shut it already. You’re embarrassing me.” He sounded good-natured, but Charlotte felt the tension in his body as he tugged her close to his side.

  “I told her you guys were cool.”

  “We are cool,” Wes said, wiping his hands on his apron and backtracking into the kitchen. “So, Charlotte, Dawson has told us precious little about you.”

  “Not true,” Dawson said, taking a seat at the counter and tugging on Charlotte’s hand so she would too.

  “We know she’s new to the island,” Nicole said. “Bought that big house up on Cinder Road and is fixing it up. And she works at Your Tidal Forever.”

  Charlotte thought they’d definitely nailed everything she would’ve told them. She stared at the back of Wes’s head, telling herself over and over that it wasn’t Hunter. Their voices weren’t quite the same, and Hunter didn’t even know how to boil water.

  Still, her voice felt stuck in her throat and her skin felt like she’d been pricking hundreds of times.

  “How is it working for Hope Sorensen?” Nicole asked.

  Charlotte swung her attention to Nicole, trying to figure out how to answer the question. “It’s okay.”

  “She’s intense.” Nicole shivered as if Hope was an evil queen from a childhood fairy tale.

  “She is, but she’s fine to work for.” Charlotte didn’t need to make any enemies on the island. “I guess she started Your Tidal Forever only a few years ago, and now it’s the biggest wedding planning operation in the whole state.”

  Nicole’s blue eyes studied Charlotte. “The whole state? I hadn’t heard that. Even over the stuff over on Oahu?”

  “It’s Maui you’ve got to watch out for,” Dawson said. “So much going on over there these days.”

  “They can keep it,” Wes said. “We have enough tourists over here.”

  “Getaway Bay was just named the most romantic spot to get married,” Charlotte said, rectiting what she’d read in a magazine earlier that week. “Even over Cancun, which has held the top spot for a decade.”

  “And you think that’s because of Hope?” Nicole asked.

  “No,” Charlotte said. “But we’re going to use it to get as many clients as we can.” She glanced at Dawson and then back to Nicole. “Do you not like Hope or something?”

  “Oh, she had a little spat with her a few months ago.” Wes turned from the stove and started laying out silverware, plates, and serving platforms.

  “It wasn’t a spat,” Nicole said. “She ordered four dozen doughnuts for a company retreat on the beach. We made them, as specified, and she tried to tell me she’d ordered a different kind. But I had the order slip, with her signature on it.”

  Charlotte could totally see Hope doing something like that. She did have a great eye for details, but her attention was drawn in at least a dozen directions at any given time.

  “So she didn’t want to pay, even though I showed her the slip, and delivered on time.”

  “I remember that. What ended up happening?” Dawson asked.

  “She paid, but then she tried to leave a bad review.” Nicole shook her head. “She’d go ballistic if someone did that to her.”

  Reviews were important to a business like Hope’s—and Nicole’s.

  Charlotte said, “I can see her doing that, actually.”

  “Time to eat,” Wes said, stopping the conversation as he placed a platter full of carved turkey among the other dishes already on the counter.

  Creamed corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, fresh rolls, yams, and sparkling cider. Charlotte felt a rush of gratitude move through her, and she grinned at her guests.

  So Wes looked like Hunter. She could still enjoy the food and the company—especially Dawson.

  She let him pamper her by pouring her drink and jumping up to get her a napkin when she said she’d forgotten one.

  She noticed the way his friends watched him, tiny smiles on their faces, and she decided to ask him what that was about once they were alone.

  But there was pie, and then coffee, and then a sunset to be watched from the deck. Charlotte enjoyed all of it, and as Dawson spoke with Wes about something, she let herself contemplate what she had to be grateful for that year.

  So much had changed, and in that moment sitting with Dawson’s hand in hers as the sun sank lower and lower, Charlotte realized that they’d changed for the better.

  What she’d said earlier about her life being over but the world not stopping was true. She had a new life. A better life. A life she really enjoyed, with a man who seemed to adore her.

  Snuggling closer to him, she counted him as one of her blessings. This island. Her house. Her job.

  And Dawson Dane.

  “So the al
tar will go here.” Charlotte pointed to a bare patch of sand while Claudia and her mother came to a stop. The sun was hot today for mid-December, but Charlotte acted as though she were immune to heat.

  “The chairs will be from here to the boardwalk. They’ll have the teal bows tied on them, and there will be the draping overhead to conceal the misters.”

  “Or the heaters,” Petra said. “It could be cold.”

  The wedding was seventeen days away, right outside the two-week forecast Charlotte could look up.

  “Right,” she said, pasting her fake smile on her face. She’d gotten very good at using it with certain people, Petra one of them. “Or the heaters. We’ll make sure everyone is comfortable.”

  This final walk-through before Claudia’s wedding had Charlotte’s stomach in knots. She had very little time to make sure every piece was in place.

  She told herself she’d already ensured that nothing would go wrong with all the months of planning she’d put into it. She’d already called and confirmed the cake, the flowers, the dress, the photography, the DJ.

  This wedding was going to make the front pages of the biggest society magazines, and she couldn’t wait to see her designs and ideas manifest in real life.

  Claudia couldn’t either, and she asked dozens of questions. They went back to Charlotte’s office to go over sketches and pictures of things in various stages of completion.

  “It’s going to be amazing,” Charlotte said. “Everything is on schedule and looking great.”

  “It does seem that way,” Petra said, and Charlotte thought that was as close to a compliment as she was going to get.

  She smiled at the woman. “Thank you, Petra.”

  “Yeah, Mom, you almost sounded nice.” Claudia grinned at her mom and exchanged a glance with Charlotte. “Come on. David is waiting.”

  Charlotte waved at them and watched as they walked out. She breathed a sigh of relief that this tour had gone well. Petra had called the night before and said they were on the island for the weekend and could Charlotte possibly show them how things would go?

  So she’d put on her skirt and blouse on a Sunday and come down to the office. At least all the pieces were in place and all she’d had to do was take thirty minutes to review them before Petra and Claudia showed up.