Maybe I Do

by Nicole McLaughlin

  For the first time, ever, it occurred to Charlotte that … maybe weddings weren’t so bad. As long as the bride and groom were for sure in love, anyway.

  Charlotte smiled to herself as she got into the driver’s seat of the golf cart and the couple got into the back. They began snuggling and whispering as soon as Charlotte took off toward the resort.

  This was her first time in North Carolina, and the evening was just luscious. Just the right temperature, a hint of salt in the air, and the sound of seagulls overhead. She could get used to jobs like this. Nearing the resort, Charlotte glanced into the rearview of the golf cart to find her couple kissing, their eyes shut in bliss, Rebecca’s hands on Aaron’s face.

  What did it feel like to end the day belonging to someone? Knowing that they belonged to you and only you, forever and ever. To have that someone who would love you no matter what. Who’d grow old with you. Whom you’d have babies with. If you were lucky.

  With a sigh Charlotte pulled into the front drive of the colonial building. “You two hang tight. I’ll come to the top of the stairs and motion when we’re ready for your entrance.”

  Rebecca shrieked quietly, completely excited to be announced as Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Tiller. She should be excited, and grateful that she’d already lucked out by choosing a groom who had actually wanted to come down the aisle and marry her.

  Inside the resort, the reception was in full swing. A three-piece string ensemble played while the guests sipped pretty drinks and ate finger foods. Charlotte spotted Lauren and made her way across the room, dodging laughing women in high-heeled sandals, and men in suit jackets. The room smelled amazing, like crab cakes and shrimp boil, and Charlotte knew it would no doubt be the best seafood she’d ever had. Considering that the dance floor was already filling, it appeared it would be a fun reception to shoot.

  Several hours later, Charlotte and Lauren were wiped out and officially off the clock. Rebecca and Aaron had tried to talk them into hanging out and having a drink, but they gracefully exited and went up to their room. The minute they shut the door, they each unloaded their gear, kicked off their shoes, and flopped down on one of the beds. After a moment of silence Lauren spoke.

  “I’m exhausted, but we’re in a beach town. We can’t waste it.”

  “What are you thinking?” Charlotte asked.

  She heard Lauren’s mattress creak as she moved. “Want to walk over to that little bar we passed earlier today? The one on the way to the beach?”

  Charlotte had her eyes closed, but she considered the idea. Lauren did have a point about being in a beach town. Kansas was about as landlocked as a state could get, so they really should live it up while they were here. “Yeah, that sounds nice. But first I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”

  She dragged herself out of bed, as did Lauren, and they each dug through their bags. Charlotte took off the capris and blouse she’d been wearing for ten hours and pulled out a light tank dress. The air had cooled a bit so close to the water, so she put on a light three-quarter-sleeved cardigan and off they went. The wedding reception was still going—albeit not as strong as it had been an hour ago—as they passed by on their way to the front lobby and out into the night. The bar was just a few blocks away, and there were other tourists meandering about.

  “It’s so nice,” Lauren said. “I could totally live here.”

  “I like it, too. It’s peaceful. I always thought I was a mountain person, not a beach person, but this one is nice.”

  Once in the little bar they each ordered the special—something pink and garnished with a pineapple—and found a high-top table to sit down at. A small band was playing at the far end of the room, and there was a decent crowd. It was only moments before a couple of guys came up and introduced themselves. They were actually pretty cute, and Charlotte and Lauren gave each other a quick glance of communication, agreeing it was cool to invite them to sit down, which they did.

  The guys were from Atlanta and in town for a conference at a hotel nearby. The four of them hit it off pretty well, and the guys asked them lots of questions about weddings and enjoyed hearing about some of the details from her and Lauren’s workday.

  “That sounds so stressful,” the guy closest to Charlotte said. He’d said his name was Tim … right? She felt a little nervous when he leaned in closer to her.

  “You get used to it. I find it more exciting than anything. Never know how a wedding day will go.”

  Charlotte glanced up to find Lauren leaning on her palm, her face angled toward the guy next to her. Her friend was totally giving the guy the look. Panic suddenly took over Charlotte. What if Lauren wanted to take this guy back to the room? Or go to his room? What would she do?

  Glancing at her phone, Charlotte nearly jumped when it rang. “Honey, Honey,” by ABBA, blared from the device. She quickly pushed the ACCEPT button before anyone could hear too much of it and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  A giant grin broke out on her face. “Hi, Me. How are you?” Much to her chagrin, from the other side of the table, Lauren was calling out to her in regard to the ABBA song. Charlotte shot her a look, which only made a slightly tipsy Lauren laugh.

  “Are you out?” Dean asked, his tone going a little cold. The music was loud, so Charlotte put up a finger to her companions, excused herself from the table, and headed out onto the wooden porch on the back of the building.

  “Yeah. Our wedding was winding down so Lauren and I headed over to a little bar on the beach.”

  “Ah, okay. I can let you go.”

  “No way. I’m so glad you called. Lauren’s talking to some guy she met. Plus, I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “Good, because I’ve been thinking about you.” His tone seemed a little softer now.

  “Did you work a wedding tonight?”

  “No. It was TJ’s night. I spent the day doing laundry and trying not to feel sorry for myself that you’re on the beach and I’m not with you.”

  “Aww, poor thing.” She proceeded to tell him about their wedding day, the beautiful beach sunset, and the crab cakes she had for dinner. He listened, asked questions, and laughed at her jokes. She could talk to him forever, she realized.

  “But truly, I did think of you often today, and how much more fun I’d be having if you were with me.”

  “I wish I was. Maybe we should go to a beach.”

  “And leave your precious barrels of bourbon?” she teased.

  Dean’s muffled laugh on the other end of the line warmed her. “I’d leave them to lie on a beach with you.”

  Charlotte leaned back in the chair, put her feet up on the rickety wooden deck, and closed her eyes. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it? I can imagine it so well since I’m here smelling the salty air and listening to the waves crash.”

  Dean groaned. “Stop it. I’m jealous.”

  Before she could reply, a loud group of people burst onto the deck. “Charlotte, we’re walking to the beach,” Tim said rather loudly.

  “Come with us, Charlotte.” That was from Lauren, who clearly had drunk a bit more while Charlotte was outside. There was no way she could leave her friend alone with strange men. She suddenly realized she should have never left Lauren inside and she felt bad.

  “Everything okay?” Dean asked, and his voice had lost its lightness and gained a bit of an edge. Charlotte realized Dean had a very strong jealous tendency.

  “Lauren’s pretty drunk, it appears.”

  Dean cleared his throat. “This guy she’s talking to, how do you know he’s safe?”

  “Charlotte, we’re going,” Lauren called from the steps that led to the side of the building.

  “Lauren, wait!” Charlotte stood up. “Dean I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go.”

  “Charlotte—” he said quickly, then paused. “Be careful.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  She disconnected and ran down the deck stairs and into the sand. Tim stood in the r
oad waiting for her, but her main goal was to not let Lauren and the other guy out of her sight. She’d really never seen Lauren so intoxicated before, and that worried her. Had she let the guys buy her a drink? How long had Charlotte been out on the deck talking to Dean?

  She hurried to catch up to her friend. “Lauren, wait.”

  The two of them were nearly thirty, both of them. Definitely old enough to know better than to set out in the dark, in a strange place, with two strange men. “Lauren, stop!”

  These guys could have told them any story. That they were clean-cut, handsome, and nice really meant nothing. She couldn’t stop replaying Dean’s words over and over in her head. Are you sure he’s safe?

  The answer was no. She wasn’t sure at all, and Lauren’s giggly demeanor was making her nervous. When Charlotte caught up to her friend and the other guy, Tim was on her heels. “Charlotte, slow down, will you? What’s wrong?”

  “Lauren, I’m not really feeling good. I think we need to head back.” Charlotte gripped her friend’s arm and pulled. “Lauren.”

  “Yeah? We’re going to the beach.” Lauren turned to Charlotte, her eyes glassy. “What did you say?”

  “I said I don’t really feel that well,” Charlotte repeated. “Can we just go back to the room?”

  As she spoke, Charlotte began to steer Lauren back toward the bar and the main road they’d walked down, which was more brightly lit then the sandy road the guys had urged them down.

  “Oh, okay, but Trent said they had wine down by the beach.” Lauren glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, Trent.”

  Charlotte swore she heard a muttered curse behind them as she picked up the pace and led them back toward where they’d come from. The guys continued walking behind them about ten feet. When she and Lauren didn’t slow down at the bar, they appeared to quit following. She realized Lauren had become very silent. “Do you feel okay, Lo?”

  “Yeah, why?” Her voice indicated she was more drunk then she should have been for as long as they’d been there.

  “What were you drinking before we left.”

  “Trent got us all Everclear shots. Wasn’t he cute? And why are we leaving?”

  Charlotte grimaced. The one and only time she’d drunk Everclear, she’d passed out in someone’s bathroom and woke up covered in her own vomit. She’d been twenty-five and still grieving her many losses. Never again would she touch the stuff. In fact, just the thought of it made her nauseous.

  Pulling out her phone, Charlotte dialed Dean back. She was grateful he answered immediately.

  “Charlotte? You okay?” His voice was panicked.

  “Hey, yes. But … we’re walking back to our hotel. We’re alone and … well, can you just stay on the line with me?”

  He sighed, and it sounded like relief. “Yes. God, yes.”

  “Thanks. Lauren’s pretty drunk,” Charlotte whispered.

  “Hey! I heard you,” Lauren said.

  Charlotte looped her arm through her friend’s as Dean spoke in her ear. “Is she okay? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you later, but I just decided it was best if we call it a night.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I’m glad. I was worried about you.”

  “That’s sweet, but we’re okay.”

  “Where are you? Almost back to your hotel?”

  “I can see it up ahead.”

  “Anyone following you?”

  Charlotte turned around, her eyes daring around the road and the lighted areas beneath the lampposts. “I don’t think so. It’s quiet here at the resort, but there are a few people leaving in the parking lot.”

  “I’ll stay on until you’re in your room.”

  Lauren leaned into Charlotte and spoke into the phone. “Hi, Dean. Charlotte misses you.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. This wasn’t typical Lauren behavior at all, which meant she’d forgive her for this.

  “I miss you, too,” Dean said to Charlotte.

  That made her feel good. “You’ll see me soon.”

  “I hope so. Where are you now?”

  “We’re walking into the building.” Charlotte glanced around, not wanting to run into any of the wedding party or their families. Lauren had grown even more quiet in the past couple of minutes, and Charlotte began to feel the weight of her on her arm. “Lauren, you with me?”

  “Uh-huh,” Lauren said, but her voice was slurring.

  “She okay?” Dean asked, his words full of concern. “They didn’t slip her anything, did they?”

  “I don’t think so, but they bought her who knows how many shots of Everclear.”

  “Holy shit,” Dean muttered.

  “I know. We’re getting on the elevator. I may lose you.”

  “Call me back if you do.”

  Luckily she didn’t lose him and when she unlocked their room, Lauren headed straight for the restroom. “Okay, we’re in.”

  “Good. Now lock the door and dead bolt it if there is one.”

  “Done and done.”

  “You have an outside door?”

  “A door to a balcony. We’re on the third floor. I’m locking it now.”

  “Good girl.”

  Charlotte stood at the balcony door and looked out at the night. She sighed. “Dean, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you called back. Even more glad you decided to head back to your room.”

  “Just because you were worried about me?”

  He sighed. “You know that isn’t the only reason. I hated the thought of you out with some drunk assholes. I don’t want to think about any other man touching you.”

  She was quiet for a moment and so was he.

  “Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asked. “Me saying that?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good, because you’re mine now, Charlotte.”

  She sucked in a breath. His. “And you’re mine.”

  They were both quiet for a long moment.

  Finally he spoke, low and quiet. “Text me before your flight tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  “And make sure Lauren drinks a shitload of water. She’ll probably end up hugging the toilet here real soon.”

  Charlotte grimaced. “Well, that romantic conversation took a turn.”

  Dean laughed. “Good night, Charlotte.

  “Good night, Dean.”

  Twenty-Three

  That Tuesday Dean led John outside, across the alley, and into the barrel building. They were nearly midway into June and the temperature inside was becoming oppressive.

  “Damn,” John said behind him, blowing out a breath.

  “Yeah, we don’t regulate the temperature in here.”

  “What’s the reasoning for that?”

  “Taste. The barrels are wood—obviously—which expands in the heat and contracts in the cold. The liquid inside soaks in and out of the wood throughout the process. Gives that caramel, oaky flavor.”

  “That all makes sense. Every day I learn something fascinating.”

  “A lot to learn, but it’s all pretty straight forward,” Dean said, leading John to the back of the warehouse. They were going to use a dolly to move a couple of empty barrels into the main building to fill with bourbon. Dean quickly gave John a rundown of how they filled, stored, and organized the barrels.

  The minute they carted the first two barrels back across the alley, Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his insides instantly warming.

  “I’m gonna take this real quick,” Dean said over his shoulder before stepping over to a quiet part of the backroom.

  “Hey.” Dean’s voice went low, and he had an odd desire to grin—which he held in check.

  “Hi. Busy?” Charlotte replied. He could tell by her voice alone that she hadn’t held in her own smile.

  “I have a minute. What’s going on?”

  “I just … well, I went to the craft store this morning and bought some more things to make some decorations for the fi
replace. Simple, I just … I don’t know. I really just wanted to call you.”

  This time he did grin. Glancing back toward John, Dean found the other guy messing around on his own phone, just waiting.

  “I’m glad.”

  “I haven’t seen you in five days.”

  She was right. Their busy schedules had prevented them from seeing each other since she’d gotten back from North Carolina, although they’d talked and texted plenty.

  “What are you doing today?” he asked.

  “I’m actually doing Tara’s maternity session today.”

  “Oh really? She’s able to?”

  “We’ll have to be quick. Her doctor only allowed her a short amount of time. We’re doing it later in the day so it’s not too hot, which is fine because it’s my favorite time to shoot.”

  “Let’s go to dinner afterward.”

  “Okay. I would love that.”

  “Good. I’ll be at your house … what time? You tell me.”

  “Eight thirty?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye, Dean.”

  He chuckled as he spoke. “Bye, Charlotte.”

  Disconnecting the call, he stared down at his phone. How did this woman manage to make him feel so young and hopeful? It was ironic: All this time he’d been worried she wouldn’t seriously be interested in someone his age, and yet it felt like he’d gone back in time emotionally. What he felt for her … it was still scary, but slowly it was starting to feel right. It was that heart-pounding, nervous, panicky kind of sensation you felt when you saw the girl you had a crush on in the hallway at school. With all the perks of being adult, of which there were many.

  He turned back to John, who was stuffing his phone into his pocket.

  “Charlotte?” the other guy asked, which put Dean on alert.

  “Uh, yeah. It was.”

  John nodded. “She doing okay today?”

  His tone implied he knew something Dean didn’t, which made his skin itch. “Yeah. Of course.” Except he was now dying to know why she wouldn’t be. “She’s got a shoot today. Tara is our receptionist but she’s on bed rest. Her pregnancy isn’t going as they’d hoped. You’ll meet her when she comes back from maternity leave.”