Chapter 14
LAWSON
Carlie bolts from the chair across the small table from me and rushes from the room. What’d I say?
Manuel forces a smile and rises to go after her.
Honesty hour.
More like emotional-trauma hour. If the look on her face is anything to go by.
We each have three questions. One about our families. One about our dreams. One about our greatest fear.
She almost faltered on the first one but managed a two-word answer. The second, she gave a more elaborate answer. The third . . .
Well, I’m currently sitting in this small therapy room by myself.
I guess asking if her greatest fear revolved around being not good enough hit home.
Only seven minutes in, and we’ve hit a wall.
I feel like the asshole, but that’s the point, isn’t it?
To make us uncomfortable together, to become comrades in arms, so to speak.
As we weave through our messy bits, we get to know each other at a deeper level, so this superficial back-and-forth defensiveness we’ve both tossed at each other can be replaced with something more productive.
Ten minutes pass before I leave my seat and wander into the large communal area. Manuel meets me as I reach the dining area. “Mr. Lawson, she needs a moment. We can continue together, if you like?”
“No, it’s fine. Where is she?”
“Ah . . . she—”
“Never mind, I’ll find her.”
He turns as I head for the pool area, calling out, “Tread easy, please.”
I wave a hand over my shoulder. Nothing about this is easy. I severely underestimated the impact this week would have on me. On the both of us. But the vulnerabilities it has pulled from Carlie are what surprise me the most.
I was raised with the notion that we take care of our own.
And I am well aware Lamont is not my family, but something propels me around the resort searching for her, regardless.
Twenty minutes later, I find her sitting against a big old tree, knees up and head bent, her forehead pressed to her arm in the dark.
Stopping mere feet from where she sits, I watch her shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The half-moon overhead illuminates the rose-gold hair around her shoulders.
“Need a punching bag?” I say softly.
A sniffle rattles her body. “Go away, Rawlins.”
“Lawson, remember?”
She groans. “Go away, Lawson.”
“I would love to. I have so many better things to do right now, but Manuel is riding my ass over this big-time.”
Her head snaps up. Her brown eyes, tight with hurt, meet mine. “You’re lying.”
“Nope.” I shove my hands in the back pockets of my Levi’s.
I’m totally lying.
She pushes to her feet, wiping her face dry before closing the space between us. “Manuel’s never so much as spoken a harsh word since the moment we arrived. What’s your MO?”
Why is this woman always on defense?
Her trust in people, in the world around her, must be nonexistent.
“You know, life doesn’t always have to be a battle, Carlie.”
She jerks back, her face twisting. “Says you, the straight white male from the perfect family. The boys’ club practically ensures your success, no matter where you work or how shitty you are at your job.”
I tilt my head up, brows lowering. “You really think that?”
“I don’t think that—I know that. It took me ten years to earn the corner office. Guess how long it took the guy who started with me to do the same?”
“Eight?” I hedge a guess.
“Try eighteen months.”
My jaw slackens, shock flattening my features. “Fuck.”
“My sentiments exactly. So excuse me for wanting to fight for myself. For being a little touchy about my fucking worth in this world.”
That’s it. That’s all it takes to crack my heart all over my damn sleeve.
“I’m not your enemy, I promise.”
Tears flood into those pretty browns all over again, the moonlight turning the moisture silver as her chin wobbles.
I fold her into a hug. She resists with a halfhearted wriggle, slapping my chest, but I don’t give an inch. “Please, stop fighting me.”
She stills before softening in my arms. I wrap her closer, dropping my chin to the crown of her head.
When she pushes away a minute later, wiping her face, I tilt my head to catch her gaze. “You want to come back and ask me ridiculous questions about myself and make me squirm?”
She huffs a strained laugh, but it peters out. “Couldn’t think of a better way to cheer myself up.”
I grin at her, and she snaps her head to the side.
“Come on, before Manuel sends out the search party.”
She pushes her shoulders back with a long, deep inhale and walks toward the communal area. I follow behind, but my mind is stuck on everything I know about her life.
Her single-parent status, her battle to have the career she wants, watching every other person be promoted over her because they’re male. The fact we are now in a very similar situation, where one of us stays and the other loses their job.
No wonder she attacks the world with wit and sass. It’s most likely a learned behavior from every unjustified setback she’s had that she shouldn’t have.
Manuel waits patiently by the door to our small therapy room. We step inside, and the table is gone, replaced by two beanbags and a shit ton of cushions. A tray with a teapot and snacks sits in the center.
“Please, let us start again. A do-over, yes?” Manuel says to Carlie with a sad smile.
“Sure.” She walks in, dropping into a beanbag.
I do the same, taking the beanbag by hers. Manuel drags a third a little closer and serves the tea before sinking into his with a crunch.
The tea is green, woody, and tart. Hot. I sip it slowly. Carlie takes a mouthful, tilting her head back as she swallows. The elegant column of her neck has my gaze fixed to it as her hair tumbles away and over her back.
Manuel clears his throat. “Right, Miss Carlie, ask Mr. Lawson his first question. It must be related to family.”
Carlie nurses the mug in her hand, turning her body toward me a little. Brown eyes study my face before she says, “Explain your family dynamic to me. Everyone in it and where you fit in.”
“Ah, that’s not a standard question,” Manuel says with a frown.
“No, it’s okay,” I offer, and a small smile curls up on her pretty face.
“My parents own a ranch in Montana. I have three brothers. I’m the second eldest. Hudson is the oldest. Mackinlay, or Mack, is around two years younger than me.
Reed is the youngest. They’re all married and live on their own ranches now.
We’re pretty tight after everything we’ve been through and the way we were raised.
Family is everything in a Rawlins household.
My three sisters-in-law are considered my sisters. What else would you like to know?”
Carlie’s face has dropped in either awe or shock.
I’m not sure if it’s over the whole close-knit family thing, or the fact that I consider Gracie, Rubes, and Adds my sisters. Or if it’s me being the only one not married when my brothers have figured that part of their lives out.
“Miss Carlie, since Mr. Lawson is offering, is there anything else you would like to know?”
“I—” She drops her gaze to her mug. “Why didn’t you become a rancher like the rest of your family?”
“Wasn’t really my thing. I mean, I grew up doing all that, but I wanted something more than chasing cows and hours spent fixing Harry’s fences.”
“Oh,” she breathes. “And Harry is . . .”
“My father.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lawson.” Manuel’s words seem to split the air between us, and Carlie pulls her focus from me to Manuel.
“Next question,” Manuel prompts.
“Oh right, sure. Where do you see yourself in five years, career-wise?” Carlie says, her focus not shifting from her mug.
As if she can’t look at me when I say I will be at Serenity in five years.
But after everything that’s happened in my life and in the last month, the decision to work at Serenity isn’t as clear-cut to me anymore.
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Her head snaps up. “Why?”
I shrug my shoulders. How am I supposed to be yet another asshole who takes yet another job from her? I’ve drifted around, job to job, making ends meet. No solid plan, just keeping my head above water. Getting home to Montana as much as I can.
“You are required to answer every question Miss Carlie asks,” Manuel says, nodding.
“Yeah, I know.” I suck in a breath. This feels like showing the lioness my flank or something equally stupid. But . . .
“I don’t know what I want.”
Carlie’s brows lower and she sips her tea, staring at some random point on the wall.
“Last question, please.” Manuel takes a sip from his own mug before jotting something on his clipboard.
“What is your greatest fear, Rawlins?”
I give her an incredulous look, and she gives me one right back. Guess even talking about other people’s fears is a touchy subject for this woman if we’ve reverted back to last names.
“My greatest fear,” I say, holding her gaze, “is not building a life I love.”
The moment winds down to a beat, as if pausing somehow. Where the woman sitting beside me can see right into my weary heart, my head that can never figure out what it wants even at my age. And blood hammers through my head as heat rises and tightness twinges in my chest.
This right here is my vulnerability laid bare.
No wonder she fled the room.
This part is utter shit.
I refuse to let it bother me, holding my nerve. One of us has to bend. One of us has to bend first. Let it be me, since Carlie’s had to fight for every inch over the last decade.
“Same,” she finally breathes.
And just like that, we are on the same page.
About one thing, at least.
Manuel claps, and we both startle, looking at him. The biggest smile stretches his face as he tilts his head. “I think we had a breakthrough, my lovelies.”
Carlie smiles at him, but it fades when she looks back at me. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Be there in a few,” I say, and she returns her mug to the tray as she walks out.
The door clicks shut and Manuel beams at me. “That was incredible.”
“Yeah, it felt pretty good.”
“I think you both offered up a piece of yourself today. It’s only the first bit of progress. Onward and upward, Mr. Lawson.”
“Hopefully. We both need this to work.”
“I understand. Was there something else you needed to talk about?”
“Actually, I think there is . . .”
An hour later, I open the door to the bungalow to find all the lights out, bar the bedside lamp on the right.
Setting my keys down gently, I toe off my shoes.
I mill about, trying to find my throw blanket.
Not seeing it, I move closer to the bed.
Carlie is sound asleep. The blanket is pulled up over her shoulder as she sleeps on her side, her back to the middle, where the covers are folded back to reveal one side of the bed.
Turned down, ready for someone to slide in. My throw lies over the corner of that side. A note stands against the lamp. I sit on the edge of the mattress and pick up the card.
This bed is too big for one person ~ the floor too hard. Use that information as you will.
C
I glance over my shoulder. She’s still fast asleep. Setting the card back on the nightstand, I release the clasp on my watch and set it beside the card gently. Tugging my shirt off, I lie in the bed.
Good god, it’s so damn soft.
Fucking heaven compared to the hard-ass floor.
I breathe deep, relaxing into the mattress.
Goddamn bliss.
The second the air hits my senses, her scent takes hold. That rich floral. This close, with only inches between us, it takes everything I have to rein in the way my body responds to the mere proximity of her.