Chapter 16
LAWSON
Carlie’s missed lunch and now dinner. She was a no-show for our therapy session, and it’s about time for honesty hour as I wait for her outside the communal building.
Manuel walks in, clipboard in hand. I get a glimpse of strawberry blonde traveling behind him, and I release a breath. The last eight hours shouldn’t have felt as long as they did.
“Mr. Lawson, Miss Carlie, shall we begin?”
“Fine,” Carlie says as I nod.
We walk in silence to our allocated room. The beanbags are still there from last night.
I try to catch Carlie’s attention before we go in, but she ignores me, even after our gazes snag when Manuel steps inside. I drop onto a beanbag as Carlie pours the tea.
She hands me a cup without looking.
I take it, letting my fingers brush hers.
She sucks in a breath before pouring another mug for herself.
“Alright. Tonight is freedom-of-speech night. This is where you can say whatever you need to, to get anything you want off your chest. Mr. Lawson, you first.”
“Ah, I want to apologize for earlier.”
Carlie rolls her eyes, still not looking at me.
“Good. Miss Carlie, your turn. What would you like to tell Mr. Lawson?”
She sips her tea, not offering anything up.
“Alright, Mr. Lawson, is there anything else?”
“I want you to know I didn’t know about your dad. Nor would I ever use that information to hurt you. I wasn’t raised like that.”
The drawl earns me a lopsided, albeit sad, smile from Carlie.
I lean over and whisper, “Still offering up my punching bag services if you need them.”
Now she looks at me, her eyes narrowed and dark. “Careful what you wish for.”
I chuckle at her, and her smile grows.
Much better.
I would let this little woman pound on me her hardest if it meant getting that hurt out and replacing it with a smile like the one she just gave me.
“Miss Carlie. How about now? Anything you want to say to Mr. Lawson?”
She replaces the mug to the tray and tucks her legs underneath her.
“I think you should figure out what you want to do in life. I think not knowing is slowing you down. You’re smart, and people love you. You could do or be anything you want.”
That’s the nearest thing to a compliment this woman has ever given me. All I can do is stare at her. She drags her gaze from mine and looks at Manuel.
“Thanks,” I utter, swallowing against the stone now swelling in my throat.
Look at that. She stopped hating me.
Wonder if the devil needs a cardigan . . .
After another thirty minutes of mundane small talk and no more breakthroughs, we call it a night. Carlie and I walk back to the suite in silence. We go through our respective bedtime routines, and when I slide into bed, there is a wall of pillows running down the center of the king bed.
“Just as well. You tend to be handsy, Lamont.”
She screws up her face, rubbing hand cream into her hands, wrists, and up her arms. The tiny silky pajamas she’s wearing barely cover her chest. A sliver of her stomach is exposed.
The tiny shorts only just cover her ass, leaving her long legs, currently bent as she leans over to moisturize them, to go on forever.
In my T-shirt and boxers, I feel overdressed. She turns her head, still bending over, and her hair falls around her face. While she runs the cream up and down her left leg, I have to send my mind anywhere but fucking here.
Harry’s fencing.
Mack on deployment.
Reed and Ruby’s accident.
My first apartment and the rodent problem we had . . .
Rotting dead rats . . .
I breathe through the heat lancing my core and sending my cock impossibly hard as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, a squall of floral and spice wafting at me.
Clearing my throat, I lie down and roll over, facing the wall on my side. “Night.”
I turn out my lamp.
She moves on the bed, then her light goes out. “Night, Lawson.”
We lie there in silence, listening to each other’s breathing, before Carlie says, “Can we keep whatever happens here between us? I don’t need the entire office knowing I was a blubbering mess over my absent father.” The last few words are weak.
That takes the wind out of my sails.
“Of course. Your secrets are safe with me, superwoman.”
She huffs a small laugh. “Thank you.”
“I meant what I said earlier, Carlie. Not everyone is out to screw you over. I’m certainly not.”
“We’ll see.”
I resist the urge to roll over and shake the paranoia out of her. Fearing everything and everyone is no way to live.
No way at all.
Trust exercise—take five.
Carlie steps onto the platform, harness and rope attached to her body. A helmet on her head, she clings to the side rails with a white-knuckle grip.
“I’ve got you, let go,” I call to her from the other side of the rope bridge. I hold the other end of her harness, the belay rope to catch her if she falls. Literally.
She shakes her head furiously.
“Mr. Lawson will keep you safe, you can step out.”
“What if he gets distracted?” she says.
“I won’t.” I reaffirm my grip on the rope.
Honestly, even if we fall from here, it’s only around six feet. Not a big deal. But by the look of terror on Carlie’s face, we may as well be six miles up.
She takes one shaky step onto the tightrope line.
“Good, now another one,” I coax.
For someone so fearless in her work life, I’m surprised to find she has a fear of heights. At least, that’s what I think it is. She takes another step and then another. “Good girl, come on.”
She looks up at me at that. Something in her brown eyes I haven’t seen before swells.
She straightens a little, gaining more confidence as she goes. Stepping within arm’s length, she flies into my arms as I reach for her. The air huffs from my lungs as she wraps herself around my body, burying her face in my chest. “God, that was terrifying.”
I rub a hand over her hair. “You did good.”
She looks up to me before moving around me onto the platform. I double-check my harness, and Manuel instructs Carlie on how to belay my security rope. She nods, moving closer to the edge of the platform as I step out.
“Slowly, Mr. Lawson,” Manuel calls up.
I slowly make my way across the tightrope. It’s too easy. I glance back to see Carlie watching with bated breath, the line hanging between her fingers.
Her phone rings, startling her.
The line drops through her fingers.
“No, don’t let go!” I yell as my footing slips.
I scramble to reclaim my footing, arms flailing.
A second later, my back hits the ground. The air rushes from my lungs and I gasp like a fish out of water. Flat on my back, I lie there, stunned. I slam my eyes shut to stave off the burn that’s eating its way through my empty chest.
“Oh fuck!” Harried steps clunk down the wooden ladder, and I open my eyes as a blur of blonde swings over my face. Fine fingers palm my jaw. “Lawson! Oh my god. Manuel, get some help.”
I choke on my first painful inhale.
Something soft rubs my face. Floral and spice shroud my senses.
“Say you’re alright, please?” she begs.
Hands wander over my chest. She presses her ear to my chest. I stifle a chuckle, but a groan escapes in its place. Her head lifts, and I find her face twisted with worry. Eyes shuttering closed, she sags with relief as I say, “Still alive.”
I cough through the next few breaths, and she insists I sit up. I brush the grass and dirt from the back of my hair. A quick hand clears the debris from my back, and I still at her touch.
“Sorry, you had grass . . .”
“Thanks,” I offer.
“Can you stand?”
“Sure. I’m fine.”
To prove my point, I rise to my feet and brush off the rest of the dirt and grass. Carlie worries her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture I’ve never seen on her before, and it affects me in ways it really shouldn’t.
“Is your head okay?” she asks.
“Yup, I’m fine, Princess.”
Her face goes from concerned to stone in less than a heartbeat.
Shit, wrong thing to say.
“Yep, back to your old self.” She stalks off, and I’m left standing under the tightrope as Manuel appears at my side. “Your baby mama is a fiery woman, Mr. Lawson. Your hands will always be full, hey. You’re one lucky man, brother.” He slaps me on the shoulder and walks off to the communal area.
My what?
Just what the hell is on that clipboard he carries around?
Needing a way to lose the frustration building up after the past few days, I decide on a run. Not the smartest decision in the middle of the hot day, but if I go back to the bungalow now, I’m likely to say something I’ll regret. So my feet hit the gravel track skirting the lake by the resort.
T-shirt saturated and out of breath, I turn back for the bungalow. My mind is a little clearer, and I’m in desperate need of a shower. I walk inside to find Carlie’s back as she types away on her laptop, earbuds in her ears. She doesn’t notice me walk in, so I head for the bathroom.
Once I’m free of sweaty clothes, I step into the shower. The hot water is incredible over my aching muscles. I wash my body and hair before stepping out and wrapping a towel around my waist. I can hear Carlie’s music blasting through her earbuds from here. How loud is her music?
I grab my deodorant and apply it as she dances into the bathroom, twirling to whatever song is blaring in her ears. She doesn’t see me until she swings back . . . In her underwear.
She stumbles to a halt with a gasp. “What the fuck?”
Not attempting to cover up, she glares at me as she pulls one earbud free.
“You dance around almost naked most days, or today a special occasion?” I give her a smile.
She plucks the other earbud from her ear and places them both on the vanity. Hands dropping to her hips, her eyes narrow under lowered brows.
I can’t take my eyes from her stunning curves, the red lacy underwear that accentuates her shape. Ample breasts, pushed up in the lacy bra, bounce, as she steps into my space.
All sass, this woman.
“For your information, there is nothing special about this situation or today.”
She runs a finger from my clavicle to my belly button. My cock is rock hard instantly, blood thunders through my body, every inch of my body alive with her proximity.
She tilts her head. “And it will be a cold day in hell when those mitts touch this body. Freezing. Arctic. Fro—”
I catch her face in my hands, and my mouth is barely an inch from hers as I say, “What if I like the cold, Princess?”
She rears back, her palm connecting with my cheek a second later.