The Island House Chapter 12

Dawson pulled himself from the waves and trotted over to where his surfboard floated in the shallow water. He picked it up and decided he’d had enough of the waves pounding him for one day.

Maybe if he surfed more often than once or twice a month, he’d be able to stay on his feet for longer than three seconds. He didn’t have to work today—at least not in the cockpit of his helicopter. He had agreed to help Charlotte install a sprinkling system in the backyard today, so he was a bit surprised to see her standing in the shade of the tree behind his house.

“Dawson?” she called, shading her eyes with one hand.

“Hey, babe.” He jogged over to her and brought her close, despite her protests that he was soaking wet. “What are you doing here?” He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back and off his forehead.

She stared up at him, a dazed look in her eye, for a few seconds before shaking herself back to normal. “Do you live here?”

“Uh, yeah.” He indicated the trailer with his chin. “That’s me.”

“You have electricity inside that trailer, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He released her and stepped back.

“I like babe better than ma’am.”

He laughed and stepped around her. “So what are you doing here?”

She didn’t follow him but kept looking toward the water’s edge. “How far would you say the water is?”

“I don’t know. Fifty yards?”

“Less than two hundred feet.”

“I guess.” He unzipped his wetsuit and peeled it off his arms, shoulders, and chest. He sank into the hammock and watched Charlotte. She was clearly working through something, and she’d tell him eventually.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, she turned back to him. “I’m working on a proposal for the city council.” She paused, her mouth falling open.

Dawson gazed back at her. “What?”

“One of our brides wants lights at her wedding.” She swallowed and tucked her tablet back into her shoulder bag. “But there’s an ordinance that doesn’t allow for electricity within two hundred feet of the shore.

Dawson glanced back toward the water. “Well, I think I have that.”

“Exactly.”

“So you came down here, to this trailer park, at seven-thirty a.m. for work?” he asked. “And here I thought you’d come to see me.” He grinned at her and patted the hammock.

Charlotte shook her head, but a small smile touched her lips. “You’re soaking wet.”

“I already hugged you. So are you.”

“Plus, you don’t have a shirt on.” She swallowed again, and her eyes raked down his body. Dawson suddenly knew why she’d stopped so far away and stared mutely.

“You want the tour?” he asked, pushing himself out of the hammock. “It’s not much, but hey, I don’t need much.” He walked to the door of the trailer and went up the three steps, squeezing to the side when she followed him.

“This here’s the dining room,” he indicated the table his thigh was touching. “Kitchen straight ahead. Bathroom up there three steps on the right. Bedroom at the end.” His nerves kicked him, and he waited for her to say something.

“It’s nice.” She turned to him. “You should come back to the house.”

“What? No. I’m fine here.” Dawson actually liked the trailer. “Great. I like this place.” And he liked her. He wasn’t going to live with his girlfriend after only a few days. After all, they’d only defined themselves as dating earlier this week.

“You don’t spend any time in this place,” she said.

“Sure I do.” He nodded down the hall. “I sleep right there.” Well, most of the time. He had fallen asleep in the hammock one night, but Charlotte didn’t need to know that. His life felt very simple to him, and a sudden rush of humiliation hit him. “Let’s go back outside.”

He practically herded her back outside, the air suddenly breathable again. The door slammed behind him, and he cringed. “Do you want to hang out here while I get showered?” he asked. “We can grab breakfast on the way back to your place.”

A beat of silence passed and then she nodded. “Sure. But no doughnuts. I gained five pounds from those things.”

Dawson laughed, his head tipping back as he did. “I don’t believe that.” He swept one arm around her waist, still as trim as ever. “You look great to me.”

She put one hand on his bare chest and looked at it before sliding her eyes up to his. He found heat and desire in hers, and she tipped up on her toes to kiss him. Dawson let her set the pace and simply followed her lead. By the time she broke their connection, Dawson’s head swam and he realized he’d pushed his hand up and into her hair, his fingers firmly along the back of her neck.

He dropped his hand and stepped back, clearing his throat. “All right. I’ll go shower. You do your…investigative thing.” He waved his hand around the beach. “The manager’s office is at the end of the road where you came in.”

“I’ll find it.”

He walked away from her, locking himself in his trailer so there wouldn’t be any mishaps with the shower. As he soaped up, he wondered what in the world he was doing. Charlotte was a complex woman, with major baggage from South Carolina, and nowhere near ready to be kissing him like she just had.

She had no idea what she did to him, and he had a feeling this wasn’t going to end the way he wanted it to. Because he wanted her in a white dress, a private wedding ceremony—preferably in the backyard she’d been working on—and then in his bed.

And she didn’t even want to label them as dating.

She did, he told himself. She agreed to it.

But he wondered if she would have ever gotten there if he hadn’t pressed the issue. Said something.

He liked his simple life, in simple housing and a work schedule that took enough mental energy to keep him engaged. A beautiful setting, running on the beach. He had everything he needed.

Dawson dressed, acknowledging the lies as he pulled on a pair of gym shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. He may not have known it five weeks ago, but he definitely did not have everything he needed in his life. Not now that he’d met Charlotte and started to fall for her.

* * *

“You’re killing me,” he said when Charlotte said, “Now all we have to do is a concrete curb.”

“What?” she asked, scraping her sweaty bangs off her forehead. He’d never met anyone who worked as hard as her, on something that few people would ever see. He found it inspiring, a bit intimidating, and sexy sexy sexy.

“I’m not doing a concrete curb today.” He raked his fingers through his own sweaty hair. “I need another shower, and something to eat, and—” He silenced when she started laughing.

“Not today, babe.” She leaned into him, a big smile on her face. “And I’ll call someone to come do it. You think I can sculpt a curb by myself?”

He took her into his arms, not a bit bothered by the extra heat, not when it was her. “Honey, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to.”

She beamed up at him, and Dawson wondered if her ex had ever complimented her. She seemed to bask in everything he said, and his heart pinched for her.

“Do you like Getaway Bay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She sighed, stepped away from him, and wandered to the edge of the lawn. She gazed out over the bays, the breeze playing with the ends of her hair that barely reached her collarbone.

He joined her, thankful for the cooling breeze. “I really love it here. Feels like the first place I can call home.”

“Yeah?” She glanced at him. “That surprises me.”

“Does it?”

“You seem like the kind of guy who’d fit in anywhere, with anyone.”

“I mean, I have friends in the Air Force. Friends on the island.”

“You don’t talk about your family much.”

Dawson took a deep breath. “Hello, Kettle. Meet Pot.”

She blinked at him, shock coloring her beautiful eyes. Laughter bubbled out of her mouth in the cutest sound. “I guess I deserve that.” But she didn’t offer any further details.

So Dawson decided he would. “I don’t really get along with my brothers. Well, one of them is fine. The other one got engaged to my ex-girlfriend thirteen days after we broke up.” He tried to shrug, but the action simply wouldn’t move through his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Dawson.”

“Yeah, me too. I do miss San Diego from time to time.” Not enough to go back, at least not yet. His guilt tugged at him though, and he added, “My mom wants me to come for Christmas.”

And his mother would want to know soon. Once Halloween hit, he’d have to give her an answer.

“When’s the last time you went back?” she asked.

“Years,” Dawson said, turning away from the glorious view of the water.

“Are you going to go this year?”

“I don’t know.” He surveyed the tools they’d used to dig the trenches for the sprinkling system. They had all the pipes in now and they’d tested it. “So can we finish this up tomorrow? My back is killing me.”

“Yeah.” She walked past him and all the shovels and other tools strewn on the ground. “Guess that’s what happens when you get old.” She added a giggle, and Dawson froze, staring after her.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it.” He made a dash for the water main, twisting it while she said, “Don’t you dare.”

A squeal immediately followed as the sprinkler heads popped up and began spraying her where she stood in the middle of the lawn.

Their eyes met, and something pulled him toward her. Something strong and magnetic, but he didn’t allow his feet to move. A chuckle vibrated in his chest and a smile stretched his face.

She lunged toward him, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and tugging him into the spray too. He let her—had he wanted to resist, he could’ve—laughing as they let the cold spray soak them.

And Dawson knew he’d seriously put his heart on the line. Problem was, he wanted to see what Charlotte would do with it, and all he could do was hope she didn’t break it, take it, or make it ache.