Tidal Reservations (Brides & Beaches Romance Book 1)

  But he’d been hoping to move out before he started dating her. “So this isn’t a date,” he said as the flames roared to life on the grill. He closed the top and added, “It’s just a celebration meal, because she got a job.”

  This lie felt like a real lie to himself, not one done out of kindness to preserve someone’s feelings. No matter what he labeled this dinner, it was going to be a date.

  He watched the temperature gauge on the grill and put the steaks on when it reached four hundred degrees. After setting a timer on his phone, he moved over to the hammock and sank into it, a low groan coming from deep in his core.

  He shouldn’t be so stiff and tired from sitting in a chair all day. His exhaustion was mental, not physical, as it did take a lot of brain power to fly a complicated machine like a helicopter, tell jokes, and dispense Hawaiian history over and over again.

  At least he had tomorrow off. He wondered what Charlotte would be doing, when she’d start her new job, and if they could spend the day together. Those thoughts rotated and softened as Dawson started to doze.

  The scent of smoke and something burning filled his nose at the same time his timer went off, startling him back to full consciousness.

  He got out of the hammock and hurried over to the grill, his senses on full alert now. He flipped the steaks and set another timer, but he didn’t go back to the hammock. Everything else was ready, and they were just waiting on him to eat dinner.

  With the steaks done, he flipped off the propane and entered the house. “Ready,” he called. The plate had been on the counter beside the twice-baked potatoes for five seconds when Charlotte came rushing downstairs. Her hair was damp and she combed her fingers through it.

  Dawson couldn’t help staring at her with those strawberry blonde locks, that bright coral-colored shirt, and those shorts…. He swallowed and tore his eyes from the length of her bare legs, half-wishing she’d wore a longer pair of shorts. Or maybe he didn’t.

  “Looks great.” She smiled at him and pulled out real dishes. He’d been using the bowls for his cereal in the morning, and he pulled open the silverware drawer to get out real forks and knives.

  They moved around one another, not speaking, as they scooped coleslaw onto their plates, and Charlotte opened both bags of chips and Dawson took the largest, cheeiest potato for himself.

  Instead of sitting at the bar where he usually did, he followed Charlotte to the dining room table, only a few steps from the sliding doors that led to the deck. She’d placed the cake there, along with a couple of small plates and two more forks.

  She sat on the end facing the windows, and Dawson sat to her right, his knee practically touching hers underneath the table. His stomach felt so tight, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to swallow anything though he hadn’t eaten for hours and hours.

  “Steak sauce,” she said, jumping up from the table and returning to the fridge. She returned with the bottle and set it on the table between them. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Look,” he said. “I just have to know.” He was going to regret asking her, he was sure. “Is this the dinner date? Or are we just….” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He wanted to be her friend, sure. But the kind that held hands as they got to know each other, as they cuddled together on the couch and watched the sun set. That kind of friend really interested him when it came to Charlotte.

  “I got divorced four months ago,” she said, forking up a bite of coleslaw. “My husband met another woman while we were still married, and decided he liked her more than me.” When she met his eyes, Dawson saw vulnerability mixed in with the hurt. “I didn’t come here to start dating.”

  “Okay,” he said, because what else was there? He wasn’t going to push himself on her when she clearly wasn’t ready. He cut off a corner of his steak and reached for the bottle of sauce. At least he hadn’t overcooked the meat, because that would be a real slap in the face, as if her words hadn’t stung enough.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Ever been married?” She took that bite of coleslaw and watched him with those gorgeous sea foam green eyes. He might have imagined the slight blush in her face that made her freckles stand out a bit more.

  “No,” he said.

  “By choice?”

  “Isn’t it always by choice?”

  “Well, some people don’t have much opportunity to meet someone, so maybe not.”

  “I—” His throat seized. Was he really going to tell her about Janet so soon? “I suppose I had an opportunity, and it didn’t work out.”

  “Oh?”

  “We all have regrets,” he said, hoping that would close the conversation for now. “I’m off tomorrow. When do you start work at the wedding planner?”

  “I have to take the paperwork back tomorrow, and then I’ll know.” She flashed him a smile. “Maybe after that, we can work in the yard.”

  “Yard work is something you do early in the morning around here.”

  “Don’t you run in the morning?”

  How she knew that, Dawson wasn’t sure. “If we’re going to be doing yard work, I can skip the running.”

  “I want to put down the weed barrier and get some new plants and bushes for the beds lining the house. Then we’ll order rock too.” She spoke as if he had any decision-making power for how she’d landscape her yard.

  But he already felt foolish, so he didn’t argue. “Sure.”

  “And I need to buy a car.”

  “Sounds like a lot for one day.” She obviously hadn’t bought a vehicle recently, otherwise she would know it took hours just to sign papers and get loans, which required more paper-signing.

  “Let’s do the yard work until it’s too hot. Then I can go into town and drop off my paperwork and go see about a car. I’ve already looked online and called someone.”

  “Oh, you’re buying used?”

  Their eyes locked, and Dawson refused to believe he was the only one who felt the fire flaming between them. She had to notice it, and by the way her eyes sparked, she did. She just didn’t want to do anything about it. Didn’t she know what happened when a wildfire was allowed to burn, unchecked?

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I found a car I can afford, and I’m going to buy it tomorrow. Cash.”

  So maybe it would only take a few minutes.

  “We can go to the nursery after that,” she said. “But the car I’m getting is small.” She started swiping on her phone and turned it toward him. “See?”

  He peered at the tiny red two-seater. It looked like a fun, flirty car a man in his midlife crisis would buy. It seemed perfect for her, though. “Yeah, that definitely won’t hold more than a flat of petunias.”

  She laughed and said, “That’s where you come in. You and that big SUV hogging the driveway.”

  “Oh, using me again.”

  “Well, you have the muscles and the machine.” She shrugged like it was a no-brainer, and he couldn’t help chuckling.

  Dinner continued, and he got over his earlier humiliation. The conversation was easy, and the laughter flowed easily. And wow, he had no idea lemon and chocolate could create such a party in his mouth.

  And no matter what Charlotte said, the evening felt like a date. Sounded like a date. She acted like it was a date. So when she finally excused herself and went upstairs to bed, Dawson stared after her, glad their first date had gone so well.

  Chapter Seven

  Charlotte stood back and admired how clean the front of the house now looked. “The rock is perfect,” she said. “You were right.”

  Dawson pulled off his work gloves as he turned toward her. The man was muscle and machine, as he never stopped working. They’d spent the morning laying the weed barrier, and he’d come with her to drop off her paperwork and buy her car.

  Even the cute Mini Cooper couldn’t distract her at the moment. Dawson did that all by himself. It would probably help if he wore a shirt, but it was
mid-afternoon and they’d just finished spreading out the black lava rocks she’d bought after lunch. He’d discarded his shirt a while ago, and Charlotte hadn’t complained.

  He’d dug all the holes for the new plants and bushes. He’d shoveled rock into a wheelbarrow and moved it. She’d done most of the spreading, but still.

  “It does look nice,” he said. “The house is so light, the dark rock really contrasts.”

  She thought it might be natural for her to bump him with her hip, but she refrained. “And all the native plants will be amazing.” She’d insisted on buying only things native to the island, and the ‘illima papa bushes already had the most glorious yellow flowers on them.

  Around the side, they’d put the bigger a’ali’i bushes, because they could grow into small trees and loved the drier soil. She wanted to put some bigger trees in the back for shade, but she didn’t want to block the view of the bay. So she’d ended up getting nothing quite yet.

  She’d put the native hedge alahe’e along both sides of the doorstep, and filled in the other side of the house with a groundcover that wouldn’t take much water to keep alive.

  Satisfaction bloomed in her at all she’d done with a few plants, bushes, and hedges, and she smiled up at Dawson. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Of course,” he murmured. His hand touched hers, and while her first instinct was to jerk away, she controlled it and kept very still. He slipped his fingers through hers, and she squeezed.

  So maybe she liked him. Liked having him nearby, liked talking to him, liked not having to traverse a new place by herself.

  She looked up at him and decided to be brave. When Hunter had told her he wanted a divorce and that he was leaving, she’d let him go. She hadn’t even really asked any questions. She hadn’t been brave enough. She definitely hadn’t fought to keep him. Didn’t even know how to be that strong.

  But she said, “I thought we weren’t going to start something while you lived here,” now, feeling very strong and very brave.

  “Hey, you made steak and cake last night.” He chuckled and tugged her a little closer to his side. “Chocolate cake.”

  She laughed and enjoyed the feel of it as it shook her chest and filled her with happiness. The warmth of his hand was the only welcome heat in this afternoon. “So chocolate is what it takes to win you over. I’ll make a note of that.”

  “Maybe it was the steak,” he said.

  She studied him for a moment, the glint in his eyes playful and bright. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Come on. I’m baking.” She started for the front door, because at least the air conditioner worked in this house.

  Inside, she turned on the sink to wash her hands, and a spray of water hit her in the face. She yelped, and Dawson came to her side. “You just have to….” He jacked the faucet left and then right and back left again, and the spray lessened to a gurgle. “There.”

  Charlotte shook her head and said, “I can’t wait for the plumber to come.”

  Dawson shook the water from his hands and agreed. Charlotte turned toward him, the air conditioning not doing a single thing to cool her attraction to him. Why did he have to be so good-looking? So hard-working? He clearly liked her, and his eyes dropped to her mouth, so he was thinking of kissing her the same way she was currently entertaining fantasies of kissing him.

  Kissing him? What in the world would that do?

  He lives here, her mind screamed.

  But he’s moving out, her heart argued.

  We’re not interested in a relationship, her brain shot back.

  Yes, we are.

  Especially if it was with Dawson Dane.

  He did not move, and Charlotte had the suspicion that he would not make the first move. He was being careful with her, and she really liked that about him.

  She put one hand tentatively on his chest as she twisted toward him. “Dawson.”

  He had frozen, and he didn’t move when he vocalized, “Hmm?”

  Instead of saying anything, Charlotte stretched up and touched her lips to his. A quick brush, but enough to make her want more. She opened her eyes and looked right into his.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered. “Trying to drive me crazy?”

  “No.”

  He swept both arms around her then, pulling her tight against his chest, and when his mouth touched hers, it was a real kiss.

  Charlotte hadn’t been kissed with this level of heat and passion for a very long time, probably since the first year of her marriage to Hunter.

  “I can’t stay here tonight,” he said, his voice ragged and husky. Before she could answer, he kissed her again.

  She clung to him, unsure if what she was doing was wise, but wanting to do it anyway. Maybe she’d lived too much of her life in the safety zone, and Dawson felt dangerous and like a refuge at the same time.

  “I’ll move out tonight, okay?”

  She nodded and tucked herself into his chest. His heart thumped like he’d just shoveled another wheelbarrow full of rock, and hers matched his. She felt wildly out of control, and it felt…good.

  Charlotte watched Dawson load up his SUV from the second-story windows. She wasn’t embarrassed about what had happened in the kitchen. She simply didn’t know what to do next. He turned and faced the house, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

  He’d left her standing in the kitchen with the words, “I’ll shower and go.”

  She’d escaped upstairs to figure out what to do next, and nothing had come yet. But she couldn’t let him leave without speaking to him. Could she?

  No, she told herself, and she headed downstairs. She pulled open the front door at the same time his Land Rover’s engine started. “Dawson?”

  His window rolled down, but he did not get out of the truck. She walked over to him, slowing the closer she got. “I thought maybe you’d want to go to dinner tonight.”

  Relief replaced the anxiety on his face. “Sure, I’m starving.”

  “I didn’t…I feel bad you have to leave.”

  He got out of the SUV and took both of her hands in his. “I’m not. This isn’t where I’m meant to be. And I’d rather—yeah. It’s fine.”

  “Where are you going to go?” He’d mentioned an apartment but he’d said he’d be moving out next weekend.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll figure it out.”

  Another wave of guilt hit her. “You really can stay here.”

  “No.” He shook his head with determination. “Not if I want to do this.” He leaned down and paused half a breath away from her. She closed the distance and kissed him, wishing she understood her insane feelings for this man.

  He pulled away and cleared his throat. “So dinner?”

  “Yes, just tell me where.” She stepped out of his arms and smiled at her car before training her attention back on him. “I can get myself there now.”

  “How about I figure out where I’m sleeping tonight, and I’ll text you?”

  “Sure, yeah. Of course.”

  He climbed back in his truck and grinned at her. “Great. See you soon.”

  She watched him back out and flip around, kicking up dust on the dirt road as he left her standing in the driveway. She pocketed her hands, a range of emotions storming through her. Regret that she had to stay here alone when he’d been here first. Which made no sense, as she owned this house.

  An overwhelming sense that she had no idea what she was doing. In that moment, standing in her driveway and watching his truck disappear from the horizon, she really wished she had a girlfriend she could call and discuss things with.

  But she had no one on this island.

  No one but Dawson.

  “Are you sure?” she asked him for the third time.

  “I’m not working tomorrow.” He pushed the hammock with his foot, sending it gently swaying again. “It’s fine.”

  Charlotte swallowed her protests. The plumber had just called to say he’d be at the house between nine and noon tomor
row, and it was her first day at Your Tidal Forever. So she’d asked Dawson if he’d come to the house and meet with the plumber.

  “I’ll leave a check on the counter,” she said.

  “Wow, I didn’t know people still used checks.” He chuckled and the vibrations of it migrated from his chest into her side while she snuggled against him.

  The past several days had been filled with magic for her. A new man. A new house. An upcoming new job. A brand new life.

  She gazed over the bay, watching the sun sink by degrees, comfortable within the circle of Dawson’s arms. No, she didn’t know everything about him, but they talked twice as much as they kissed, and she was learning.

  “So, I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

  “Go on, then.”

  “Did you grow up in South Carolina?”

  “We moved a couple of times. Why?” She shifted so she could see his face. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, and the beard he had was impressive for such a short time. She’d traced his whiskers just before kissing him, but she didn’t now.

  “I knew a Wilma Madsen once,” he said. “In Arizona. I asked her to a dance. Homecoming or a Christmas thing.”

  Charlotte’s heart started pounding and she could barely hear herself above the thumping it made in her chest. “Wilma is my older sister.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You thought so?” Charlotte pushed herself up and perched on the edge of the hammock. “When did you make this connection?” And why did it matter to her so much? Only because Wilma had always gotten the best dates in high school, always corrected Charlotte in how she applied her makeup and what she wore, and had not supported her when Hunter had left Carter’s Cove and come back with a new bride.

  There were a lot of reasons Charlotte hadn’t called her sister last week when she needed a friend to confide in.