Love and Other Trials

Chapter 5

FIVE

Garlic.

Maybe they really should stop and buy some when Dax got out of the shower.

The shower…

Oh, good heavens, the images in her naughty mind. Dax all wet and naked with steam rising around him, muscles rippling as he washed. In her relieved the wedding was still on euphoria—okay, she was a little conflicted for Dax—she could all too easily see his hot body and smell the clove-scented resort shower soap as he slicked his skin with it.

But she was getting a little hot herself as she waited for him in the living area, so she picked up her phone and smiled.

Jeffrey had texted. Yeah. She needed to update him. Or maybe not the part about Tiffany. He might rib Tiffany about it, causing unneeded explosions.

Best Brother Ever

Hey! I heard you’d shacked up with Captain Hotpants already. Oooh! Way to trust my feeling about you two. Girl, I am so proud of you. Forget the Three Tornadoes bitching about you not babysitting their babies. Yes, I heard. Take that tall hunk in hand.

She snorted, all too easily imagining taking Dax’s eggplant in hand. He’d be big and gorgeous and hot.

We’re bonding. It’s crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that we both have high-risk professions. Also—he’s normal.

Best Brother Ever

I knew it! He looks like the all-American boy. Perfect for you. Have you smooched?

Not yet. Close. Last night it would have been like kissing a narcoleptic or someone sleepwalking.

Best Brother Ever

You’re not tired now, right? Girl, you’d better jump that man, or I will tie him to your bed for you.

You’re the best. Best to have him the first time without zip ties…

Best Brother Ever

Depends on what you’re going for. You know where Home Depot is… Talk later. Antonio is finally stirring.

Ariel was so glad Jeffrey was happy. He’d had a few long-term relationships, but none had worked out so far. But that hadn’t stopped him from believing in love, and that was where they differed.

She wasn’t sure there was happily ever after for people like her. Although she’d never been married, she had one failed engagement in her past, which seemed to prove that she was a Deverell woman after all. Part of a family tree that looked more like a bush, honestly, because no one in her family had lasted. On either side.

But her brother was determined to find his prince, and if Antonio was his forever plus-one, she’d be cheering them both on with all her might.

She checked on a few more wedding items before heading to the front door to see if her golf cart rental had arrived since Dax still hadn’t appeared. Opening the door with Sherlock, she stopped short as her mother halted halfway up the steps. “Mother!”

“Ariel!” She sprang up the final stairs in a green linen sundress with youthful pep for a sixty-two-year-old, something fostered by her regular yoga classes and daily wellness juices. “I’m sorry I missed you last night, but I was beat from traveling. If I’d been up, I would have run to the airport for you.”

Could she believe that? Historical evidence suggested otherwise. “That’s sweet, but I got a ride.”

They bussed cheeks, because no one messed up a woman’s carefully applied makeup.

“I also would have offered to let you stay in my cottage until your aunt Gail arrived.”

Like hell she would. Another intense mother look had Ariel wanting to shift on her feet because she knew that tone. “It was late, and Dax offered since he had a spare room.”

“So I heard.”

Doom and gloom organ music started to play in her head. Sherlock plopped down at her feet, knowing they weren’t going anywhere.

She felt her mother’s slender hand finger the ends of her short hair, her diamonds flashing in the sunlight from the ring she’d kept from Ariel’s father. Because a woman could never have too many diamonds… “Your sisters said you’d cut your hair last minute. Between staying with the best man and this change, that’s pretty wild for you.”

Ariel wished she could laugh that one off, but she knew what was coming…

Their eyes met, her mother’s familiar floral perfume wafting over her. The familiar feeling of never measuring up started to rise within her. She never felt good enough when her mother looked at her that way. Like she was assessing all the reasons Ariel didn’t pass muster.

Because no one could say Stormy Deverell didn’t pass muster. She had exotic green eyes, a full mouth, and cheekbones a swimmer could dive off. She still turned heads, so far without plastic surgery, she liked to joke, and every time Ariel looked at her, she wondered how this woman could be her mother.

They were as alike as South Carolina peanuts and California cabernet—and she was the peanut.

“Mom, I didn’t have a choice about the hair.” She was going to have to give some excuse or their complaining would never cease. “Something happened on the disaster site.”

“Don’t tell me any more.” Her mother fingered her hair one last time before touching Ariel’s waist, measuring it like usual. “You know I don’t like to hear about the danger you put yourself in. But at least it keeps your weight in check.”

The choking feeling was starting in her throat.

“Your risk-taking must be some Deverell trait that Grandma never knew about.” She worried her perfectly painted mouth in an evening nude pink. “Pirates possibly. Charleston was infested with them at one time. You certainly didn’t get it from your father’s side. But we’ll make do. You’ll wear a wig. I asked around for recommendations and one name stood out. I already called for you. The wigmaker is expecting you today at two.”

She held out a piece of paper with the name handwritten on it in bold print. Ariel suddenly wished lightning would strike her. “Mother, I’m not wearing a wig.”

“Ariel—” The clipped tone would make a puppy tremble and pee himself. “Wedding photos are the most important photos a woman ever takes alongside baby photos. They line the walls of your home. They go in your wallet. They grace your first Christmas card. They impress your friends and family. How could you not want to make your sister’s wedding photos special? This is her second chance at love. With a good man. A naval pilot! Didn’t you ever see An Officer and a Gentleman ? Well, I did, and if you think of Rob as Richard Gere, you’d understand why I’ve been behind this relationship since Tiffany first told me about him. As for you, you will wear the wig. In fact, you should be thanking me for finding an easier, faster solution. Extensions would take hours.”

Hours! “But my hair is fine at it is?—”

“No, it’s too short. It makes your hair appear even thinner than it already is. Besides, it accentuates the narrow thrust of your chin in an unpleasant way. We need to soften the angles to make you look pretty.”

Okay, that one hurt. Ariel knew she wasn’t as much of a beauty as her mother and sisters, but she thought she looked pretty good usually. Like a pixie. Or a fairy. Not that her mother or sisters ever thought that. They were always trying to make her prettier. Fake eyelashes at Christmas. Brow tinting for her birthday. Even a bottle of castor oil to make her thin brows fuller.

Stuff she threw away with knots in her stomach.

“All the girls in our family need to have long hair in the photos to work with the family appearance and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Your neck is too long without hair covering it up.”

She clutched her neck as the urge to defend herself rose up. “No, I’m?—”

“Stop this, honey.” Her tone was as hard as her eyes, but then she laid a tender hand on her forearm as if she could soften the blow. “I know what’s best for you. You’re being selfish.”

Selfish.

She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Selfish was the word the women in her family threw around when they wanted to get their way. Make you feel so bad you caved. They were never selfish, of course. She could feel herself getting riled up as she tried to figure out what to do. Arguing would only lead to more bullying and shaming, and she would lose. Her mother prided herself on winning every argument.

If she agreed, she would be expected to wear the damn wig. Which she was completely opposed to. First, she didn’t want to. Plus, a fake hairpiece would itch and make her look like an idiot.

What to do? Maybe it could disappear. Too bad she loved Sherlock too much to lie about him. She could have told the tall tale that he’d thought it was an animal and dragged it off and buried it. Except wait! Uncle Johnny was bringing his beagle. She hated to do it, but she could blame him. God, she was a terrible person, but desperate times…

She took the paper from her mother’s hand, telling herself she had a plan. “Dax and I are heading out to start our errands. We need to get going.”

Her mother’s slender brows rose, and the hard look in her eyes told Ariel she didn’t like that response. Well, too bad. “I see. I’d planned to invite you to breakfast with me and Trey.”

God, she’d rather poke her eye out with a fork. Trey was a douchey real estate agent from Palm Beach who excelled in mansplaining and drinking pina coladas. But he liked to party, like her mother, and they’d been together for eighteen months.

One thing was certain: Ariel wouldn’t be planning that wedding.

“Thanks for thinking of me.” She did her best to smile. “But I need to hit the ground running to make sure Tiffany’s wedding is all she hopes for.”

“And to get your grandma’s house,” Mother had to add. “You and Captain Cross appear to have gotten rather close rather quickly. As for staying here in his cottage, it looks bad, Ariel. Shacking up with the best man. Also—you’ve upset your sisters. You were supposed to mind your nephews. Terry had to wake poor Morris out of a dead sleep to take your place last night.”

“They didn’t run it by me, Mother.” Sherlock gave another whine. “I’d been looking forward to having a quiet place with room for Sherlock, especially after staying in temporary housing this past week.”

“But why wouldn’t you want to spend time with your nephews, Ariel?” Mother’s usually smooth forehead was wrinkled. “This is family time. You can be alone when you go home. Don’t you ever get tired of being on your own?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Don’t argue. It will only make things worse. But she was fed up with this kind of treatment. She was thirty-one years old. She was paying for her own cottage. It wasn’t right.

“Mornin’, Stormy,” Dax drawled with a flash of a smile as he stepped out onto the porch and joined them, hair wet from his shower.

He shot Ariel a quick smile, and she managed a weak one as he stepped close. Yes, focus on him and not her mother’s glare.

Turning to him, she punched up her smile. Freshly shaved and smelling delicious of pine and spice, he looked absolutely like Captain Hotpants. He wore a white T-shirt that fit his muscled chest to sheer perfection, along with tan cargo shorts and flip-flops. God, even his feet were perfect.

Ariel caught her mother’s appraising glance and watched as she smoothed her cool white blond hair over her shoulder, a glimmer of a femme fatale smile appearing on her now-relaxed mouth. Because Deverell women always wanted to turn men’s heads with their charm.

“Dax,” she drew out with equal sweetness, looking pointedly between the two of them. “Pleasure seeing you again.”

“Thanks for letting Ariel bunk with me.” He might be channeling sunbeams given the wattage of his smile. “Turns out it’s the best thing ever. We’re plowing through wedding stuff and getting on the same page, so Tiffany’s day is going to be the best Charleston has seen. I know how important it is to Rob for his bride-to-be to be happy. Well, isn’t that lyrical of me?”

He laughed. Neither Ariel nor her mother joined in, the tension as thick as August humidity.

“We’ve got to go see about some koi and a bunch of other things, but I promise to have Ariel back later so you ladies can catch up more.” He extended his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Ariel wondered if her mother was going to let Dax get away with such a ploy. But her mother only smiled that siren smile of hers. “Can’t keep a naval officer from his duties, can I? Y’all have fun now.”

She gave Ariel a hard look before sending a flirtatious wave that made Ariel queasy. Then she hurried down the steps and was gone.

Dax let his hand drop to his side. “I did my best, but she’s a tough customer.”

“The poor grass would probably fry under her glare,” she told Dax. “But thanks. Let’s go before we get derailed by anyone else.”

He pointed to the beach. “I found a way to access the parking lot from the beach so we won’t have to walk around the lodge. It’s a little longer but?—”

She grabbed his hand and started off, Sherlock trotting beside her. “Brilliant! I’m not above taking an alternate route if it helps me avoid everyone. My mother made me a wig appointment. For two o’clock.”

He was biting the inside of his cheek when she glanced over. “What are you going to do?”

Seeing the beach, all she wanted to do was dive into the water and spend the rest of the day swimming with him. “Would you think I’m a terrible person if I get the wig and then blame our uncle’s beagle for snatching it and burying it on the wedding day?”

His chortle scattered a trio of seagulls pecking at washed-up shells. “Not a bit. That’s genius actually. I’ll be an eyewitness. How about this?”

He struck a considering expression, shaking his head thoughtfully as they continued to walk. “That beagle had Ariel’s wig in its mouth in two shakes of a lamb’s tail and was off. I chased it, heaven knows, but the damn dog up and vanished on me like a ghost in New Orleans. Poor Ariel. She’s just going to have to make do with the hair God gave her.”

She burst out laughing. “That’s perfect!”

He held out his fist for a fist bump. “We’re a team. I’ve got your back. As for your wig appointment, we’ll get you plenty ready with some margaritas beforehand.”

She gestured to her purse. “I was thinking it would be a flask moment, but margaritas work. Chips and salsa too.”

“Done,” he said as they reached the parking lot. “Elizabeth, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

Her heart fluttered, and who could blame her? The morning sun made his sandy hair nearly golden, and he’d just managed to save her from a trial. “Stephan, I couldn’t agree more. Now, let’s find my golf cart.”

“Your what?”

She took off toward the front of the lot and spotted it parked near the door to the Charleston Estates’ lobby. “There it is!”

Her feet picked up their pace as Sherlock took off toward it, his tail going to its excited saber-like position. The glittery pink golf cart had her grinning. When she’d looked for a rental and seen this one, she’d thought it would be fun. A roomy two-seater so she wouldn’t be carting wedding guests around, and a rear cargo box that allowed for her to haul wedding items. “Trust me. Charleston is a nightmare to park in. Smart people—like me—use a golf cart. Grandma drove one for some fifty years. Didn’t ever use a car much.”

Sherlock climbed in, his tail tapping the floor. Dax scrubbed a hand over his jaw. She wasn’t sure yet which she liked better on that rock-hard jaw. Morning scruff or clean shaven. God, she couldn’t wait to touch it.

“Did you choose the pink? Or is someone having a little fun with you?”

She punched him lightly in the shoulder and climbed in the driver’s seat. “I chose it. I confess I thought my nephews would be less inclined to beg me for rides if it was pink and sparkly.”

He folded his tall frame into it and patted Sherlock on the head since he was sitting right behind them. “Your strategic mind continues to awe me. Good thing I’m comfortable in my masculinity and am okay with being pressed up against your dog.”

She glanced over and fought a hum of feminine appreciation as she entered the code the rental company had texted to start the cart. His powerful frame made her feel tiny in comparison, in that delicious way a large man made a woman feel. “Hang on to your butt, Captain Hotpants. We’re about to take off.”

His snort accompanied more laughter, but he secured his grip on the grab handle. “I should warn you. I’m not a great copilot. But I am used to a tight fit.”

Oh, how naughty of him… She patted his heavily muscled thigh with a flirtatious wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.”

Except she couldn’t help reversing the golf cart with a little extra oomph as she pulled out, making him grunt and grip the bar overhead. Sherlock was panting excitedly, tail wagging. He’d always loved driving in her grandma’s golf cart when they’d visited. Grandma’s eyesight had gotten bad, so she’d only driven to the small grocery store on Folly Beach for groceries.

“My first driving lesson was in a golf cart,” she told Dax as she headed downtown.

“That explains your driving.” He was quiet for a while as she navigated the golf cart before sending her a playful smile as they hit King Street. “People are staring at us.”

They were in the hub, where tourists, college students, and local shoppers lined the streets. “They’re probably staring at you, Captain Hotpants.”

He gave a playful wave to a trio of college girls after one boldly waved at him. “You didn’t see that guy in the camo shirt and shorts combo tip his invisible hat to you? Ariel, I swear he was ready to go out hunting and lay a freshly killed deer at your feet.”

“That’s disgusting,” she told him as she navigated the traffic toward Spring Street. “I love me some deer jerky, I won’t lie, but I don’t want a fresh carcass on my flip-flops.”

Sherlock gave a bark as if agreeing.

“Wait!” Dax pointed toward the right. “I know why the camo guy was here. He was visiting the taxidermy place. Did you see it? It had a deer ringed by pink strobe lights in the store window.”

“It did not!” She chuckled.

“Did too! You’ll see it when we come back. Austin is clearly behind the taxidermy times. And I think the store window was displaying leather handbags. You can get your animal stuffed or make it into a fashion accessory.”

“That’s so Charleston,” she told him as she let her gaze run along the charming shops that lined the street. “Grandma and those of her generation made a little go a long way, and the prettier the better. She swore Charleston was the first city to scent pine cones with cinnamon, which later became a big decorating trend.”

“I’m clearly behind the times since I’ve never been around cinnamon-scented pine cones.”

“You poor baby.” She gave in to the urge to pat his knee again. “Grandma laughed when some ladies called it Southern potpourri and sold it for nearly twenty dollars in these shops. Said that was the Holy City for you. Making money for one’s family using all the wiles God gave you. I don’t know that I’d go that far, but that was her thinking. God, I miss her.”

This time he laid his hand on her knee, and she almost fumbled with the accelerator pedal at the electricity that shot up her leg to a rather sensitive area. “When did she pass?”

“Six months ago.” She wiped her nose as tears filled her eyes. “Before Thanksgiving—a few weeks after Tiffany announced her engagement. Her heart gave out as she was walking back to her house from her daily stretch of her legs on the beach.”

“I was close with my grandpa Cross. He used to take me fishing every Saturday morning growing up. When I lost him two years ago, I felt like someone had dug a fishing hook in my heart. One I’d never pull out.”

She continued navigating them to Johns Island with emotion balled in her throat. “That’s exactly how it feels.” She laid her hand on top of his hand on her knee, and it felt like a new bond was forming between them from comforting each other.

She was used to intense moments of connection with people in her job. Trauma and loss opened people up, but with Dax it was more than that. There was attraction and good humor and a certain intimacy—like she could tell him anything. It felt inevitable that they’d end up in bed together, and she was trusting herself on knowing when the time was right.

He took her hand in his, stroking the back before he teasingly set it back on the wheel with a pat. “I haven’t told anyone this—not even Rob since he’d drag me out on a boat and say it was for my own good—but I can’t bring myself to go fishing without my grandfather. Grabs me by the throat just thinking about it. I was wondering about trying to do it here if there was time since I’ve got my buddies coming. I need to push past it. Gramps wouldn’t want me to give up fishing because of grief over him. He’d likely shove me off the boat for being so silly.”

“It’s not silly.” She pulled into the dirt parking lot for the tropical fish farm, whose logo had dancing starfish, and parked. “Grief is normal.”

“It’s different for guys,” he bantered back. “I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“You said you think I’m pretty tough, right? Well, I still dread going to my grandma’s house in Folly. I’m worried about that moment when I get to the first step of the porch. She’d usually call out my name from an open window, and the way she’d say it—like I was precious to her—always made me feel like I was walking on the clouds. That won’t happen ever again. I want to live there because I’m hoping it’ll help me find peace by settling in a place we both found happy. She wanted that.”

She was hoping to take the deed her sister had promised to give her after the wedding and start the process of putting it in her name. Because she was going to lock that up legally. Her family could not be counted on to keep promises.

He unfurled from the golf cart and was around to her side a moment later, extending his hand. “Since we’re in the same boat, so to speak, perhaps we can help each other.”

Just like that, their new bond went deeper, and she felt her heart pulse harder in her chest as she laid her hand in his. “I’d love that.”

The morning sun glinted on his hair, turning it gold. His gaze was thoughtful and filled with heat. They could kiss right now, she knew, but then Sherlock jumped out of the golf cart as the screen door to the store creaked open.

“Nice dog. Y’all here about the wedding?”

She reluctantly looked away and felt the loss of Dax’s hand as he released her. Turning, she pasted a polite smile on her face and nearly did a double take. The man who’d asked looked like an old pirate, a common enough occurrence in Charleston, but he sported an old smoking pipe in addition to long, straggly gray hair and a T-shirt with dancing starfish. The starfish on his belly looked like they were stretching, as if for fish yoga. “Yes, I’m Ariel.”

“Like the mermaid.” He chortled before puffing on his pipe. “Hard to forget that name. I’m Scooter. And the fella? He the groom?”

“No, he’s the best man and a Navy pilot to boot.”

Dax shot her a look, but she had good instincts about people. She’d peg this guy as a veteran.

“Captain Dax Cross. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I was in the Marines way back in the day.” Another puff of his pipe reached Ariel’s nose, the spicy tobacco reminding her of an old library. “You sea biscuits still have it easy?”

“Yes, sir,” Dax drawled. “You know, my grandpa had a joke for his old Marine buddies when they gave him shit for being in the Navy.”

So Dax and his grandfather had more in common than fishing. He’d followed in family footsteps.

“Do you know why the Navy carries Marines around the world on its ships?” he asked before answering with a cheeky grin, “sheep are too obvious.”

Scooter grinned, showing a gold tooth. “That one is older than dirt, sonny. What about this one—how do you separate the men from the boys in the Navy?”

Dax laughed heartily, a sound as tantalizing as a slice of warm pecan pie. “My grandpa loved that one. With a crowbar.”

“I’ve got me one around back.” Scooter jerked his head to the right. “With the koi you want to see. Come along and see my babies.”

She was so happy she wanted to lock arms with Dax and mosey on back. God, call her crazy but she loved men like these two. They gave each other shit, but she knew they were also the type to get shit done. No muss, no fuss. Her motto. She was hoping it would carry her through the wedding.

Sherlock was already sniffing at the brush under the palm trees as they followed Scooter. A sea of troughs waited behind the front building, each containing a special kind of fish. The tanks were labeled with black sharpie, and she read signs for angelfish, swordtails, tetras, American cichlids, and goldfish before arriving at the koi. Large orange and white fish swam in the clear water.

Scooter tapped the tank. “These here are mighty popular, even though they’re pricey. I had a bride about five years back come out and ask if she could rent them. Saw something about them on one of those fancy wedding shows ladies love to watch. Said she knew a whole bunch of brides here in Charleston who’d go wild for them at their special day. Got me to thinking, and when that happens, my missus says to look out.”

Both she and Dax chuckled. What did his missus look like? Ariel wondered if she had a pipe to smoke too.

“Sure enough, she was right. After I started renting them out, I could finally afford the boat I’d been saving up for. Can you believe it? But what men fork out for rings today really blows my mind. Back when I proposed, you were lucky to be able to afford a simple gold band. Now a rock the size of Texas is expected, and more often than not, the marriage barely lasts as long as the payment plan. Crazy, if you ask me, but I’m not complaining. How many do y’all want?”

What a character. But that was Charleston. She told him her budget. “I’ll need the special wedding tank I saw online as well. With the installation, of course.”

“It won’t fit in that Barbie golf cart of yours.” His gold tooth winked as Dax smothered a laugh. “I don’t include it because I’ve had some people rent kiddie swimming pools instead. Depends on the bride. The plexiglass one I have is perfect for a wedding with lots of people running around. Weddings can get wild.”

She thought of her family. Wild didn’t cover it. “Do you have insurance?”

“You betcha. I’ll write up your invoice inside if you want to look around. You might enjoy checking out my African cichlids on the back left. They’re freshwater and colorful. I specialize in the blue ones. You being a mermaid, they’re your kin.”

With another flash of his gold tooth, he strolled out, pipe smoke flowing behind him.

Dax was mashing his mouth together, fighting a smile. “You’re bringing me to all the hot spots, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” She started walking toward the back. “I’m curious about the blue fish.”

“No shock. Kin like a visit when you’re in town.”

“Har-de-har-har.” She stepped over a red plastic duckie protruding from the ground and pointed it out to Dax. “The fish must have happy hour back here. A few of the bars out this way put ducks like that in their drinks.”

“My kind of place.” When they reached the sign that said African cichlids, Dax set his hands on his trim hips. “Makes me think of A Fish Called Wanda .”

“Classic film.” She spied the bluish bodies with the bluish purple tails along with the ones with the yellow heads and tails with a main color of bright blue. “One of those movies guaranteed to make you laugh even on a bad day.”

“They probably couldn’t make it now, what with Kevin Kline’s character eating pet fish to squeeze the confession out of the bad guy, but God, it’s hilarious stuff.” He peered into the tank, leaning over, making her aware of the muscles in his back when his shirt stretched with him.

Yum.

“My favorite is when Jamie Lee Curtis’ character informs Kevin Kline’s that the London Underground is not a resistance movement.”

“We should watch it tonight,” he suggested, standing up and sending her an inviting glance with a raised brow. “We can put your new wig on the TV to class up the joint. God, I still can’t believe they’re insisting you do something with your hair. It looks beautiful to me, if you don’t mind me saying.”

She had the girlish compulsion to lift her hand to the ends. “If I were in college, I’d suggest we play wig pong instead of beer pong, but I don’t drink like that anymore.”

“I love that idea! We could change what we play for.”

Kisses came to mind. Hang on, Ariel. Take it easy. Let things take their natural course. That they were going to kiss wasn’t in question for her. The only question was when. Would hanging around a fish tank be a good place for a first kiss? She wondered if the fish would jump out of the tank.

“Chocolate would work,” she said slowly. The mere thought of dark chocolate melting in her mouth along with Dax’s kisses was enough to heat her cheeks.

“I’m good with that.”

His gaze slid to her mouth, making her flush harder. When heat lit his gorgeous green eyes, she decided to call it out there. They were both staying through Sunday because Tiffany had wanted a post-wedding brunch. Today was Monday.

“Would you?—”

“Are you—” he asked at the same time.

She almost gave a girlish giggle. “You first.”

He leaned closer, so close she could feel his body heat. “I was going to say… Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” His voice was a touch deeper and a little gravelly in a way that made her belly tighten.

She liked that he was giving her the power to answer. They both had a job to do—neither of them wanted to screw it up. “That we might play for kisses?”

He moved a little closer, blocking the sun out with his height. Those heated eyes told her all she wanted to know and then some. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. “Might be the best game of my life. When is that wig appointment again?”

Her mouth went dry. “Two o’clock.”

“Too long.” He heaved out a sigh and stepped back. “I’ll be counting down the hours until we have that wig. You ready to head back?”

She put her hand on his chest hesitantly, desire pouring into her when his muscles leaped under her touch. God, he was built, and heaven help her, she loved strong men. “I think you’re right. Two o’clock sounds like next month right now.”

His luscious mouth tipped to the side in the sexiest smile on earth. He could have anything he wanted from her with that look. “We can’t have that, can we?”

He moved closer, pressing his hand lightly on her waist. She lifted onto her tiptoes—because he was so much taller—and loved watching his head descend, his gaze never leaving hers.

Sherlock gave a staccato of warning barks out of nowhere. She came back down on her heels immediately. “Something’s wrong.”

Dax went on alert. They both looked around.

And then she heard the slither…

She froze. That sound was one she knew from childhood. Putting a hand on Dax’s arm, she felt the tension in his muscles. “Gator.”

“Shit,” was all he whispered before taking a protective step ahead of her. “Stay behind me.”

“We don’t know where it is.” She craned her head until she spotted it near the rusted-out car by the edge of the marsh—a solid distance from where Sherlock was poised at the edge of the backyard, tail pointed in the air, but not moving. He knew better than to mess with wildlife, but he would defend her if it came to it. He was that kind of dog.

“Eleven o’clock.”

“I see it.”

Her insides cringed at the sight. Seven feet to her mind. Beady eyes. Big, scary body. “Head back to the house. No sudden moves.”

“You mean I can’t invite it for a beer?” His voice was calm, but then again, he flew military jets for a living. “I want you to go ahead of me. If it takes off for us, run to the house for Scooter and get Sherlock out of here.”

Like she’d leave him, but she appreciated the knight in shining armor act. “Let’s go. Slowly.”

She kept her gaze on the gator, not fighting with Dax about the way he was keeping himself between her and the reptile. When it didn’t follow them, she breathed a sigh of relief. When they neared the house, Scooter slammed the screen door open as he came out, making the gator hiss and the hairs on her arms stand straight up.

“You’ve met Bumper, I see,” Scooter commented in that agreeable drawl. “Don’t worry about him none. He’s just saying hello.”

Saying hello…

Tell that to her poor heart and her dog.

“Bumper, huh?” She and Dax traded a relieved look. “How’d you name him that?”

“Found him under my bumper one day when I got home from watching the Cocks up in Columbia.”

“Cocks?” Dax mouthed to her.

“Football team,” she mouthed back, pretending to throw a pass, which he mimed catching.

“Bumper there wouldn’t come out when I looped a gator hook around his neck. Tore off the side of my bumper in the tussle. I finally caved. He’s been around ever since. Normally, he’s pretty docile, but his blood is up. It’s mating season right now, and he’s got a lot of alligator misses to impress. You might have been part of the show.”

She looked around for potential suitors and spotted another gator partially hidden behind the shed. “What we do for love,” she joked, wondering what gator courtship looked like. Lots of teeth preening? Did they worry about whether their skin was scaly enough?

“Sounds like my courtship with my high school sweetheart,” Dax added dryly. “You got that invoice written up, Scooter? Because I’m going to need to find myself a drink after this.”

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his overalls and thrust it out to her. She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Scooter. We’ll see you Saturday morning.”

“Please tell your missus and Bumper goodbye for us,” Dax added, patting Scooter on the back. “It was a pleasure.”

Sherlock was waiting for them at the edge of the house, his gaze trained on Bumper. She gave him a good rubdown when they reached him.

“Good boy,” she crooned.

“Yeah, Sherlock, thanks for the alert.” Dax glanced back at the gator. “Tell me you don’t have any gators at your grandma’s house.”

“No big bad wolves either,” she quipped.

His smile had the icky feeling in her stomach subsiding. “Clever. Count me relieved. I really like you, Ariel, but worrying about finding a gator under my car every time I came to visit might have been too much for me.”

She knew he was only kidding. But she liked the allusion to him visiting her. Was he thinking they might have more time in them after the wedding? She could certainly see that. Except she cautioned herself. They’d only truly met yesterday.

They crowded into the golf cart with Sherlock between them. “You know,” Dax said, “that gator is lucky I’m a peaceful kind of guy. He interrupted a pretty serious moment back there.”

She turned her head to see him watching her with that heated glint in his eyes. “I know what you mean. I know a place that serves gator bites if you’d like to exact some revenge.”

His laughter rang out as she started the golf cart, making her want to join in. Her family trials might be upon her like the plague of locusts on Egypt back in the day, but even after running into a gator, there was nothing about being with Dax that remotely resembled a trial.