The woman made small talk by first introducing herself as Inej and then giving details about the island, the buildings they passed, and the downtown area.
She pulled up to the Sunshine Market, which looked like the big box department stores she was used to back home.
Home.
The thought echoed through her mind, and she corrected herself that this was home now. This island, not the one off the coast of South Carolina. This store, not the ones she knew like the back of her hand.
“Take as long as you need,” Inej said. “I’m yours all day today.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte got out of the car, the heat lifting off the asphalt in the parking lot. She faced the store, somehow committing to staying in Getaway Bay and making a life here by buying something.
She replaced Dawson’s ham and cheese and eggs, as well as filled her cart with fruit, vegetables, yogurt, and anything else that caught her eye and looked good. She bought towels, dishes, paper towels, and everything she needed to make the house into a home.
Inej helped her put everything in the trunk, and then Charlotte asked, “Is there a hardware store here?”
“Three, ma’am.”
“I need some basics.” Charlotte had done several home improvement projects, and being several minutes from town and without a car—and a job—she needed to get to work. She liked being busy, and sitting in Dawson’s hammock while he worked wasn’t going to happen again.
By the time she finished getting paint, tools, and a few yard items, her stomach was growling like an angry bear.
With hardly any room left in the trunk, she said, “Lunch?”
“What are you in the mood for?” Inej didn’t seem to notice the sun at all, but Charlotte felt like she was melting.
“Something local,” Charlotte said, enjoying the vibe across the street. The beach sat right there, with lots of colored umbrellas and people. A boardwalk went along the road, with food and drink stalls in the sand with bikini-clad women and men in board shorts.
Families played in the sand, and more moved along the boardwalk under a copse of trees that led somewhere else.
“That’s east bay,” Inej said, coming to stand beside Charlotte. “It’s the beachier side of the dual bays. Getaway Bay is over there, and a big piece of the beach is private to the hotels and bed and breakfasts.”
Charlotte nodded like she’d come here to lounge on the beach. But she had her own private beach right between both bays.
“Where’s Your Tidal Forever?” she asked.
Inej pointed east. “It’s down on the end of the beach there. They do have a private area for their weddings.”
“I have a job interview there in an hour.” She faced Inej. “But maybe some really great fish tacos first.” She smiled, and it felt like the first genuine smile she’d used since Hunter had sat her down to talk to her.
“Oh, I know just the place for that. And they’re fast too.” Inej opened the door and got behind the wheel. They made a quick five-minute drive over to a parking lot on the other side of the street, and Inej led her to a taco stand that had been established in a mobile home.
“They have the best fish tacos here.” She joined the line behind Charlotte, who was still searching for a sign.
“What’s this place called?”
“Manni’s.”
“There’s no sign.”
“All the locals know about it.”
And Charlotte was going to be a local, another thought that brought a true smile to her face.
Chapter Four
After putting on his running shoes, Dawson left the lawn for later and headed through a path in the grass and weeds toward the steps at the back of the property. Down twenty-two of them sat the beach, and once on the sand Dawson stretched using the bottom stair.
The scent of the morning sea air drove away any cares he had, and that was Charlotte. He hadn’t quite known what to do when she didn’t text him last night. But all of his belongings were in the house, and he deserved to at least get those. At least that was what he’d told himself.
Charlotte hadn’t been anywhere to be found when he’d finally landed his bird and returned to the house. She’d obviously taken a room upstairs, and when he heard her heels coming down the staircase, he’d come out of his room.
He’d taken a bite or two of her quiche, which she’d left on the counter, and her skill in the kitchen had only convinced him that he wanted to stay in her house.
Problem was, he was attracted to Charlotte Madsen, but the vibe he’d gotten from her was closed off. Not available, though he’d already checked for a wedding band and she didn’t wear one.
He pushed out his breath, wishing Charlotte’s pretty face would go as easily as the air. He got his feet moving, focused on his breath, and finally it was just him, the sea, the sand, and the sky. Exactly the way he liked it.
An hour later, he stood in front of the shed, thinking Sinclair and Bridgette had played a prank on him. Boxes lined the back half, and he wondered what in the world could possibly be in them.
Thankfully, a lawn mower was closer to the front, and Dawson heaved it out of the shed. It took gas, but he couldn’t find a gas can in the shed. Nor would the mower start. He thought it might be easier to simply go buy another one than to try to turn into a mechanic and figure out what was wrong with this dinosaur.
He knew some tricks to engine-care from his time in the Air Force, but he didn’t feel like doing the diagnostic work just to mow the lawn. He hopped in his Land Rover and headed down the road to the highway. The interesting thing about this road was that no one lived on it. Plenty of houses backed close to both sides of it, but they were in different neighborhoods with fences, and there were some forested areas as well.
It almost created a small bluff over the beach, whereas most of the other properties went right down to the sand, no steps needed.
He bought a lawn mower at the nearest hardware store and returned to the house to mark where the lawn was.
He’d showered, taken a nap, and made himself a ham sandwich in the middle of the afternoon before Charlotte returned.
“Grass looks great,” she said when she found him in the living room. She collapsed onto the couch facing the windows and kicked her heels off.
“How did the interview go?” He tried not to stare at her, but he liked her pretty freckles, and her hair that was several shades lighter than the coppery shine of a penny.
“You know what? It went pretty good.” She turned her head toward him and smiled. “I’m so tired. It can’t still be jet lag, can it?”
“I’m sure it can. Where did you come from?”
“South Carolina.” She closed her eyes and her breathing evened.
Dawson wanted to ask her why she’d literally flew across the country and then the ocean to come to Getaway Bay, but he had a feeling he already knew.
She was escaping.
After all, no one bought a house in this location, in the condition it was in, if they wanted people to know where they were so they could come visit. No, Charlotte wouldn’t have guests, which only made Dawson want to stay in her house longer.
“What did you do before you came here?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“I was a pilot in the Air Force.”
She sat up and looked at him. “Really?”
“Is that hard to believe?”
She blinked, but he couldn’t read anything in her eyes. “No, I suppose not. Did you move around a lot?”
“A fair bit, yeah.”
“Did you like it? Hard on families, I’ve heard.”
If there was one thing Dawson didn’t have, it was a family. His teeth ground together, but he managed to say, “It was okay.”
“So no family?”
“I mean, I have a mom and dad,” he said. “Two younger brothers. They all live in the San Diego area, where I was born.”
“Have you ever lived somewhere cold?” she asked.
“Sure,�
�� he said. “Scott Air Force Base is in Illinois, and it gets pretty cold there in the winter. Same at the Air Force Academy in Colorado.”
“I grew up in Georgia,” she said. “Never had a snow day.”
“But a great accent,” he said, smiling at her and finally identifying the slight drawl in her voice that had been plaguing him all day.
Their eyes met, and something sharp leapt between them. Didn’t it? Dawson couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and Charlotte wasn’t offering anything in the way of conversation either.
Could she feel this attraction between them? Or did she simply not want to say anything with her accent?
Foolishness raced through Dawson, and he broke the connection between them by looking away.
“I have a million things to be brought in,” she said. “Would you mind helping?”
Dawson practically shot to his feet. “Sure thing.” He led the way to the front door and almost yanked it off the hinges with the force with which he opened it. Why had he said anything about her accent? Was that flirting?
He’d been out of the dating game for a while, and even before then he hadn’t been that great at it.
The car service she used had left the car, and he turned back to her. “Did you buy this car?”
She laughed, the sound flitting away into the huge sky above the house. “No, but I did ask if I could keep it and bring it back later this week. Inej called in and someone came to get her.” She clicked a button on the fob and the trunk popped open.
Dawson and Charlotte stepped over to it at the same time, and he sucked in a breath. “Well, at least I know you don’t exaggerate.” The trunk was filled with everything from paint rollers, putty, milk in a temperature-controlled bag, and cold cuts.
He was tired from the late night, the run on the beach, and the fight with the lawn mower, but he filled his arms with everything he could carry and headed back toward the house. Something told him that there would be little time off with Charlotte around, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind all that much.
JJ sat at a table in the break room, and Dawson joined him, their first flight not for another forty-five minutes. “Morning,” he said, wondering how he could bring up Charlotte without bringing her up.
“Yeah, it’s another morning.” JJ took a long drink from his coffee mug.
“Late night?”
“Boston thinks nighttime is when he’s supposed to be awake.” JJ leaned back and closed his eyes. “Brit’s up with him most of the time, but then I feel guilty and get up too.”
“Sorry.” Dawson didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t have kids, though he’d seriously considered them at one point. Exactly one point, and well, she didn’t want a husband in the Air Force.
“Hey, real quick,” he said. “Do you know of any places to rent?”
JJ opened his eyes and they were red and bleary. “The house isn’t working out?”
“Well…it was, but someone bought it, and yeah.”
“Someone bought that place?”
“Apparently she’s a real fixer-upper.” Dawson lifted his own mug to his lips. “I need to find a new place.” Because he wanted to go see Charlotte and the house as it improved. He wanted to take her to dinner and not sleep one floor below her. He had a feeling she would require him to go real slow, and living together? She wouldn’t date him and allow that.
“You’ve got the app.”
“I hate the app.” Dawson had tried to look at it that morning before work, but he couldn’t tell what was a legit apartment for rent and what was an ad. “I’ll just go to the online rental board.”
“Sure, that works too.” JJ yawned and stood up. “I’m going to go take a cat nap. Come get me in thirty?”
Dawson nodded and looked out the window to the water beyond. He didn’t feel like flying tours today, and he had four of them. Four two-hour tours where he’d have to be funny and pleasant and knowledgeable, when all he wanted to do was find somewhere else to live.
At least Stephen had brought in doughnuts that morning, and Dawson helped himself to a couple while the lobby on the other side of the door filled up with people checking in. He’d already gone through the pre-flight checks on his helicopter, but with twenty minutes to go, he went outside and ran through the list again.
People liked to see the pilot in the aircraft they’d be in, and he took five minutes to check the rental boards really quick. He didn’t need much room, but he did need furniture. That sometimes limited him in his options, but he found a place and sent off a text about coming to look at it.
Then his alarm went off, and he hopped out of the pilot’s chair to go wake JJ. Ten minutes later, they went outside to their respective tour lines and greeted their customers. Dawson put a smile on his face though he had a group of guys in his first tour that annoyed him on sight.
Young men, probably in their mid-twenties, clearly on some sort of bro trip. Maybe a bachelor party that had been extended. One of them thought he was the comedian of the group and kept saying stupid stuff about dying over the water. With them was a family of three—mom, dad, and a teenage girl. They didn’t say anything.
“All the seats have good views,” Dawson said. “So go ahead and follow me, and I’ll show you the safety requirements at the helicopter.” He went over how to latch the belt, where the life jackets were in the rare event that they did have to make a water landing—he was very careful not to say the word “crash”—and gestured to his beloved aircraft.
“So go ahead and choose your seat, get strapped in, and we’ll get in the air.” He waited while the passengers climbed in, glad when the family took the front seats so at least the joking and laughing and idiocy would be somewhat muted behind him.
“We’re flying with a solo pilot today,” he said as he got into the cockpit. Sometimes he had a co-pilot, but as it was still quite warm and still a high tourist season, they flew every copter they had with every pilot available.
“I flew in the Air Force for twenty years,” he said. “Everything from helicopters to F-5’s. First thing we’re going to do is get the blades going.” He started the helicopter, the roar of the engine causing a rumble in the seat beneath him.
Comfort washed over him and he relaxed. There was nowhere he’d rather be than in the cockpit of something that flew. He was born to do it, and while he’d made some choices in his life he wished he could go back and fix, learning to fly and a career in the Air Force was not part of them.
As he eased his helicopter off the pad, he wondered what Charlotte was doing that day. The way she’d infiltrated his thoughts wasn’t lost on him, and he wondered if he’d choose a job over her, if it came down to it.
He pushed the past away, pushed Charlotte away, pushed away the pressing need to find somewhere else to live as the scene before him became mostly water, with the island on his right. He had to concentrate to fly if he didn’t want to use the life jackets on board.
“On your left, if you look out along the horizon, you’ll see a tiny bump of an island.” He slipped into his tour narrator voice, ready to perform for the next several hours. “Sometimes it’s there, and sometimes it’s not, depending on the ocean levels.”
Chapter Five
Charlotte had paint everywhere. Her hands. Her face. Her clothes. But the kitchen looked brand new, with a pretty butter yellow paint on the walls, with white on the trim, ceiling, and cabinets.
She stood as far back as she could so she could still see the whole room, and pushed out a happy sigh. “Looks good,” she said to herself. It had been five days since her interview at Your Tidal Forever, and she hadn’t heard a single word.
She’d taken the car back to Your Ride the next day, and she’d gotten to work on the house. It was clean from top to bottom, and now the kitchen was done. The red-orange tiles on the floor looked great when they were shined up, and everything gleamed with the addition of fresh paint and a little elbow grease.
A plumber—a real one—was set to c
ome early next week to look at the sink, and other than that, Charlotte was ready to move on to the next project.
She’d hesitated though, only making lists and not plans to begin. She had quite a bit of money from the divorce settlement, and she received monthly alimony payments as well. But she needed a job if she was going to keep remodeling this house.
Maybe you should call them, she thought, not for the first time. But she didn’t want to seem pushy, and she thought her resume spoke for itself. Besides, it was Friday, and surely they were busy on the weekends with weddings and more weddings.
Hope Sorensen, the owner of Your Tidal Forever, had been very clear about that. Weekends are a must. You get two off per year, and you need to put in for them months in advance.
She’d tucked her dark hair behind her ear while she spoke, and she watched Charlotte as if working weekends would be new. But in the tourist and customer service industry, Charlotte felt like she worked all the time. Middle of the night. Holidays. Weekends. This would be no different.
She washed her hands in the bathroom Dawson used and found her phone in the formal living room where she’d left it. Just a quick phone call. Just to know.
Listening to the line ring at Your Tidal Forever felt like torture, and when a chirpy woman answered, “How can I help you find your tidal forever?” Charlotte wanted to gag and then hang up.
How could she even consider working for a company that had such an optimistic view of marriage? Be around all those brides, day in and day out? Every weekend, she told herself.
“Hi,” she said. “It’s Charlotte Madsen. I’m wondering if Hope is in today?”
“She is.”
“Oh, great. Could you transfer me to her?”
“What can I tell her the call is about?”
“A job,” Charlotte said, nervous now that she had to explain her call to a gatekeeper. “I interviewed earlier this week, and I’m just wondering—”
“Hold, please.”
Flowing, frilly music filled the line, and Charlotte pressed her eyes closed in an attempt to calm down and contain the desperation diving through her.
Tidal Reservations (Brides & Beaches Romance Book 1) Page 3