Charlotte had never had a bride who wanted the dress to dictate so much, but Ashley had been more than accommodating. For what Claudia was willing to pay, Ash would probably design fifty dresses and sew the one she picked herself.
“Keep her happy,” Hope said. “Her family owns the largest chain of casinos in Atlanta.”
Charlotte looked up from the folder. “Do they live on the island?”
“No, but they own a home here. They come a couple of times a year.”
Probably for a quick weekend getaway, the way some people went to the beach on a Saturday or up to their cabin for a few days. The Grays hopped on a jet and flew six thousand miles to stay in their island home.
Charlotte pushed away the thoughts, most of which were tinged with sarcasm and jealousy. “I’m sure Claudia will be nothing but pleased with her wedding.” She spoke with confidence, but she had been anxious about the meeting for a week now. Claudia was tall and powerful, with long limbs and a thin, wiry frame.
She exuded an air of importance, and it was assumed that she’d get what she wanted, when she wanted it. She had been pleasant during the initial consultation, and at least Charlotte hadn’t had to guess at what she wanted.
“What about those last two brides? Did they come sign?” Hope scanned Charlotte’s desk as if the contracts would be there.
“Yes, yesterday, actually. I gave the paperwork to Sofia.”
Hope nodded and asked, “Have you booked Aidan for the photos?”
“I sent him the calendar appointment.” Charlotte clicked a few times on her computer, bringing up her calendar. Claudia’s wedding had been colored purple, and she found the first photography appointment—the engagements.
“He hasn’t confirmed it,” Charlotte said. “I’ll contact him.” She pulled a notebook toward her to add the to-do item to her list.
“I’ll talk to him.” Hope pulled out her phone and started tapping. “He’ll respond faster to me.”
Charlotte hoped so, as Aidan was her husband and worked exclusively with the couples at Your Tidal Forever. He was also the best wedding photographer on any island in Hawaii, and some brides brought their business to Your Tidal Forever just to get him to take their pictures.
“He says he’ll go confirm it now, and that it should work.”
“Great,” Charlotte said. “Would you like to sit in on the meeting with Claudia tomorrow?”
Hope looked up from her phone, her face alight with curiosity. “No, I’m sure you’ll handle it fine.”
Charlotte nodded and looked back at the proposal she’d been working on when Hope had come in. Another bride wanted an evening beach wedding, complete with tea lights lining her aisle and arch, and they needed permission from the city council to do that. Apparently, electricity and saltwater had caused problems in the past, and they’d passed an ordinance that didn’t allow extension cords or outlets within two hundred feet of the shoreline.
But Charlotte had found a trailer park on the other side of the bay that had electric and sewer services as close as sixty-four feet from the water. She was hoping to put in a proposal at the next meeting to get approval for the two-hour event on their private beach.
Her phone rang, and Charlotte glanced at it. Her blood turned to ice for a moment and then superheated back to normal. The change left her feeling a bit woozy, especially when Hope asked, “Is that another bride?”
The screen said Sammy, so it definitely wasn’t a bride. And Charlotte didn’t want to answer the call from her once-best-friend who still lived on a different island.
“No,” Charlotte said, silencing the call. “A personal call.” She went back to work, desperately wishing Hope would get back to her own office and her own stack of work. Charlotte reminded herself to be grateful for this job. It paid well, and she enjoyed the work. She got her own office, which was surprising as most of the other bridal consultants—her official title—worked at cubicles in a big room in the corner of this building.
But Hope had wanted Charlotte to have an appealing space to wine and dine the big bridal spenders. And with five clients booked in the first three weeks, Charlotte was glad Hope had the vision for such things.
She finished reviewing the proposal and moved onto calendaring all the items for the two weddings they’d just put under contract the previous day. Hope got up and left at some point, and Charlotte focused on her work so she wouldn’t dive for her phone and see if Sammy had left a message.
When lunchtime came, Charlotte allowed herself to check her phone. Sammy had not left a message but had opted to send a string of texts instead. She steeled herself to read them, reminding herself that she didn’t owe anything to the friends who had so readily abandoned her and embraced Hunter’s new wife.
Hey! Just thinking about you and wondering where you ended up.
Like Charlotte was going to tell her. Sammy and her husband owned three golf courses on Carter’s Cove, and she could hop on a private plane and be teeing off here in Getaway Bay by nightfall.
Rosie’s having a big anniversary party and wanted to invite you.
“Then why didn’t she call me herself?” Charlotte muttered, still reading.
Hunter is insufferable.
Charlotte could’ve told Sammy that. In fact, she might have, during one of their rare lunches when the three of them—Sammy, Charlotte, and Rosie—managed to get together.
And Wilma called me. Asked me all kinds of questions about you. I don’t need to tell you how she is. I’d call her if I were you. She sounded like she was going to go to the FBI if she didn’t figure out where you were.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Wilma had never cared where Charlotte was or what she was doing. Never.
Why did she care now?
“Never should’ve accepted Dawson’s friend request,” she told herself.
Maybe just text me back? Sammy had sent, and Charlotte’s heart squeezed a little. Maybe her friends did care about her and miss her.
That way I’ll know you’re okay.
Charlotte read the last sentence a few times and then typed out two words: I’m okay.
She feared giving out more information than that. She didn’t want her old life colliding with this new one she was trying to build in Getaway Bay.
She already had more to juggle than she could deal with, from this job, to the house—which Dawson was currently working on—to Dawson himself. She didn’t want to grapple with the ghosts of her past too.
As her phone screen lit up with yet another message from Sammy, Charlotte wondered if she’d ever be truly free from Carter’s Cove.
Chapter Ten
Dawson knocked on the glass door of the Nuts About Dough shop, cupping his hand around his eyes so he could see inside. It was a few minutes before five a.m., so the doors were locked. But Wes should be getting ready to open any minute now.
His wife, Nicole, would be loading the cases with their specialty doughnuts and then position herself behind the cash register.
Another couple approached the store. “They not open yet?”
Dawson glanced at them. “Not yet.”
They both wore backpacks as if they were planning a day of hiking around the island, which they probably were.
“Have you eaten here before?” the woman asked. “We heard their doughnut breakfast sandwiches are the best.”
Dawson put on his salesman hat. “They are. I’d go for the Maui Waterfall one. It’s got sausage and bacon.” He turned his attention back to the door as Wes started to unlock it.
“Hey, Dawson.” The bald man grinned at him. “C’mon in.” He looked at the couple. “We’re about five minutes away from opening, but you can come in and look at the menu, if you’d like.” He held the door for everyone as they stepped inside. When he passed Dawson, he tapped him on the shoulder.
Dawson followed him through the door behind the counter and into the kitchen. The scent of hot oil and sugar filled his nose, and Dawson’s stomach grumbled.
; “Your dozen are right there.” Wes pointed to the brown box on the counter next to the door. “What’s the special occasion?”
“No special occasion.” Dawson felt the little white lie way down in his gut.
“Right,” Wes said with more sarcasm that entirely necessary. “He says there’s no special occasion.” He tracked his wife as she carried a massive tray of maple bars toward the door. “Do you believe him?”
“Of course not.” Nicole hipped her way through the door and left him alone with Wes again.
“So do you want to go out with Vicky?” Wes asked, flipping on the burner for the flattop.
“No,” Dawson said.
“Why not?” Wes faced him. “She’s pretty. Likes to play bridge in the evenings.”
“She sounds like so much fun,” Dawson said dryly. “But I’m….” He didn’t know what to tell Wes.
Thankfully, Nicole returned to the kitchen and said, “Our spies saw you at Bluefish with a woman a couple of nights ago. A pretty woman. Said you kissed her.”
Dawson scoffed and opened the box of doughnuts he’d called in for yesterday. “Who’s your spy? Then I’ll know if they’re right or not.”
“Stephen,” Nicole said, folding her arms and cocking her hip. “He says you’ve been unusually cheerful at work too.”
“Stephen. Bah.” Dawson took a large bite of his cream-filled doughnut and moaned. “This is so good,” he said around the mouthful of fried dough and chocolate frosting.
Nicole rolled her eyes as the bells on the front door chimed again, signaling more customers. “Be real, Dawson.” She looked at Wes. “See what you can get out of him.” She pushed through the door and said, “Good morning,” in the fakest voice Dawson had ever heard.
Wes left him alone while he went about cleaning up from their morning prep. An order came back for the Maui Waterfall, and Dawson grinned.
“Oh, stop standing there with that goofy smile on your face. Come make yourself one of these with me.” He pulled down a glazed doughnut and sliced it in half with the speed and skill of someone who’d done it countless times before.
Dawson copied everything he did, just slower and a few steps behind. In the end, he had his own Maui Waterfall ready to chomp into, as well as the other eleven doughnuts.
“So who was that woman?” Wes asked, scraping down the grill.
“She bought the Fontaine’s house. The one on the bluff?” Dawson took a bite of his sandwich. He didn’t want to tell Wes that he hadn’t had a place to stay and had chosen the house as a temporary landing spot. He and Nicole had offered their top floor to him several times, and he’d stopped talking about his housing situation with them.
“So?” Wes cut him a glance and looked at the next order as it popped up on the screen.
Dawson swallowed. “So, I was staying there for a while. We met. Fell madly in love.” He laughed, though his heart beat faster just thinking about Charlotte.
Wes scoffed. “Come on. You won’t even go on a second date with a woman.”
“That’s not true,” Dawson said. “Just not any of the ones you’ve set me up with.”
“Taylor was nice.”
“Taylor is so fake, she doesn’t even know what color her hair really is.” Dawson glared at Wes as he scrambled an egg on the flattop.
“So this woman. You’ve been out with her more than once?”
“Yes,” Dawson said, wondering how far Wes would push and what Dawson was ready to reveal.
“And you did kiss her at Bluefish.”
Dawson hesitated, but if there had been a reliable witness…. “Yes.”
“So you’re dating her.”
“No.”
Wes assembled the PB&J, which was made on a jelly-filled doughnut, with chunky peanut butter, a scrambled egg, and bacon, and set it in the counter for Nicole. “Come on. Be serious.”
“I am being serious.” Dawson polished off his doughnut breakfast sandwich and dusted his hands together. “Even she doesn’t want to define us as dating. We just talked about it, at that dinner you spied on.” He retreated from the hot kitchen area and picked up his box of doughnuts. “Thanks for these. You guys are the best.”
He walked out into the front of the shop and paused long enough to give Nicole a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come to dinner soon,” she said as she handed a customer back their change. The line stretched for six or seven people, and Dawson wondered why this many people got up so early.
“Maybe,” he called over his shoulder as he reached the exit. He reminded himself he’d gotten up this early for some of the Langley’s doughnuts and then that once they sold out, they were out for the day. They closed by eleven, but earlier if their doughnuts were gone. In the peak tourist seasons, Dawson had seen them sell out before eight o’clock in the morning.
He drove along the coast, navigating both bays before retracing his tracks and turning down Cinder Road. Charlotte didn’t go into work super early, but he’d probably find her working in the yard or putting down carpet tacks.
He had ripped out the whole back wall of windows and installed new ones the day before, and she claimed they’d be more energy-efficient. He parked beside the giant dumpster she’d rented, where the windows still sat.
Knocking on the door, he called, “Charlotte? I brought breakfast.”
“Come in!” she called from somewhere inside the house.
He entered, the place already so different in the month since she’d arrived. It felt like a real home, with running water that didn’t splurt all over the place. It looked clean too, with the absence of dust and the addition of the new paint.
She’d moved on from the kitchen to tackle the bedrooms and bathroom on the main floor, and he found her in the room where he’d been sleeping. She smoothed down the corner of a new bedspread and smiled at him.
Or maybe her grin was for the pastry box he held. Didn’t matter. It lit up her whole face and hit him square in the chest. His heart fluttered around, and he knew something very important.
This wasn’t nothing for him. It was something. More than a fling too. More than a couple of dates and some kissing while they swayed in the hammock.
He liked this woman and wanted to spend a while getting to know everything about her.
“Morning,” he said, his voice slightly froggy from the emotions infecting it. “This room looks totally different.” He gazed at the light gray on the walls and the shiny wood floor. “Did you put in a new floor?”
“This was what was under that carpet.” She gazed down on it in admiration. “Isn’t it beautiful? A little sanding and a little polishing up. All done.”
Dawson wanted to move right back in, but not for the same reasons as before. “New curtains too. How’d I do on the windows?”
She turned to them, the morning light bathing her in white sunshine, highlighting the reds and browns in her hair. He couldn’t help himself as he moved toward her, set the doughnuts on the bedside table, and swept his arms around her.
She leaned back into him, putting both her hands on his as they clasped around her waist. “The windows are great,” she said. “I can already tell the air conditioner is running less.”
“Feels great in here,” he murmured against her neck, placing his lips there a moment later.
She melted into him, and he enjoyed the moment for a few long breaths. “Charlotte,” he said softly. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Mm.” She swayed in his arms, and Dawson focused on the sweet scent of her hair as it mingled with the slightly salty smell of her skin.
“This is real for me,” he whispered.
She tensed and turned in his arms, her eyes finding his and drawing his attention away from the glinting water outside the windows. “What?”
“This.” He dropped his gaze to her lips and kissed her. It ended much sooner than he would’ve liked, but he forced himself to pull back. “Me and you. It’s real to me. I know we didn’t really define it the other day, a
nd honestly, I’d kind of like to.”
She simply stared at him, and he cursed himself for saying something. Her heart wasn’t anywhere near being whole enough to fall in love, and Dawson balked at the idea himself.
“I don’t do flings,” she finally said.
“Great.” Dawson ran his hands up her back and down to her waist again. “So would you say we’re dating?”
She nodded, her expression holding just a trickle of fear.
“Are we serious?” he asked. “I feel kind of serious about you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’d be upset if you went out with someone else. And I want to see you everyday. And I don’t know.” He shrugged, but it was kind of hard with her in his arms. “I like you. I want to know more about you. See where this goes.”
“We already decided on that.”
“Yeah, but….” His voice trailed off. “If someone asked you out, what would you tell them?”
“I don’t know. I work with mostly women. No one’s asking me out.”
“But what if they did?”
She stepped away from him, kept her back toward him as she wandered closer to the windows. “I don’t know, Dawson.”
“Well, my friends tried to set me up with someone this morning, and I had to tell them something.”
“What did you tell them?”
Dawson gathered his courage close and decided to be blunt, the way a couple of other women had accused him of being. “I wanted to tell them you were my girlfriend. But I wasn’t entirely sure. They already knew about us anyway. Someone they know saw me kiss you at the sushi place the other night.”
He wished she’d turn and look at him. When she finally did, a perfect storm of emotion raged across her face. She approached him, reached up and ran her fingers along the side of his face, down his jaw along his beard.
“I can live with being your girlfriend.” A shaky smile touched her lips. “So I get to call you my boyfriend?”