Chapter 20
CARLIE
Lawson is running his hands through his hair, muttering to himself. I would say it’s the pressure of the upcoming holiday in a few days, but we’ve had more important issues in the last month, and nothing’s had him this worked up.
His constant hushed monologue is doing my head in. I push from my chair and stalk to his desk. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I fold my arms over my chest and lean on his desk beside his chair as deep blues lined with worry flick up to me.
“We have a problem. A fucking big one.”
“What?” I push off the desk and turn so I can see his screen. He points out the name of one of the major sponsors for Serenity.
The Align Group.
“Yes, what about them?”
“They went bankrupt.”
“No. When?”
“Two months back. I rang to confirm the donations for next year, and the line was disconnected. So I googled them. It took some digging, but Griff asked around, and they’re up for tax fraud. And they were our main sponsor. Like without them, we all go home next quarter.”
Shock steals my last breath on its way out, and I grip the side of his desk, leaning closer to the laptop as if that will make things clearer. “How did this happen, and why didn’t they communicate this to us? We need to talk to Serelle and let her know. Like now.”
“No, wait.”
“Lawson.” My tone is low and reprimanding.
“Wait, just give me ten minutes. If I’ve learned anything from years in business, it’s that once you put a narrative out there, it takes on a life of its own. If we can sort this out before the Christmas period, nobody needs to get fired, the shelter stays open, and what if . . .”
I pace at the side of his desk, mulling over his idea. “What if we can gain more than just the sponsorship we lost, and have enough to cover the shelter to operate twenty-four hours?”
Lawson leans back in his chair as I continue, “If this doesn’t work out and we can’t replace the sponsor we lost and Serelle realizes we lied to her, we’ll both lose our jobs. Who knows who will be in this fish tank after us. Will they even care about those women and children?”
“It’s a risk, I know. But I think it’s one that’s worth it.” He runs a hand through his already mussed hair. And I want to close the distance between us and sink my fingers into it. Then my mouth over his.
“Let’s do it.” My own words startle me.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Yep, business is always a risk. Without risk, there’s no growth. And we need growth more than anything else. Maybe we could set an event to pull in better sponsors?”
He smiles up at me. “You think you can plan and pull off a sponsorship gala?”
The overwhelming realization of what we have schemed hits me. I’m one woman in the city that never sleeps, needing to plan a gala—preferably before January first, with less than four weeks to pull it off.
Fuck.
“I—”
Lawson stands and closes the distance. “Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Give me a second,” I whisper, rubbing my hands over my face and turning away to pace again. “It should be a Christmas gala. You know, hit people when they’re filled with the festive—a.k.a. giving—spirit.”
I spin back, throwing my hands in the air. “Yes! That’s it!”
It’s then I see the entire staff floor enraptured as they stare at the fish tank. We must have been more intense than I realized. I force a tight smile and wave to Bob, the loser who has a smirk plastered on his damn face.
Urgh. That man is insufferable.
“Stop pacing,” Lawson says, rising from his chair. “You’re scaring the children.”
“Huh, you oughta talk with your manic monologue earlier.”
“Carlie, we’ll get this sorted. We can ask for outside help if we have to.”
“No thank you, my reputation has taken a big enough hit after Carlson.”
“I thought of that, and I have a solution for you.”
I stop and meet him in the middle of the office. He folds his arms over his chest, those roped forearms of his flexing with the movement.
“Spill it,” I say.
“So, Thanksgiving is in two days. I need to go back to Montan—”
“You can’t leave now!”
“Hold your horses, Princess.”
I narrow my eyes at him. That name has taken on an entirely different meaning now that he knows my story, has taken care of me, and still calls me it with his tone that feels like . . .
“You’re coming home with me. We’re going to go to Montana and spend the long holiday weekend planning, making calls, and using the best resource we have.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Who.”
“Pardon?”
Annoyance lances through my veins. How can he be taking this any way but serious right now?
“You mean who, not what.”
“Okay, fine, tell me who is our greatest resource when planning a gala.”
The grin stretching his mouth sends warmth to my chest. “Ruby Rawlins, that’s who.”
“Your sister-in-law? Doesn’t she live in Montana?”
He blinks, and stares at me as if waiting for the penny to drop.
“Sister. And yes, she does live in Montana, but she was an event planner from the east side before she married Reed. Did a heap of big galas and stuff.”
“Hold on, you mean Ruby Robbins?”
My jaw drops to the floor.
Surprise contorts my face. I’d seen the woman in action at a few events my clients were invited to. If anyone could pull off a gala at Christmas, with only four weeks’ notice, it would be Ruby Robbins.
“You know Rubes?” he asks.
“I—”
“That’s great, this will be even easier than I thought.”
“I don’t exactly know her. I’ve just admired her work, for years. But then she . . . vanished.”
“Moved to Montana, actually.”
“Oh,” I breathe, stunned.
“She’s going to love you, Princess.”
“Okay . . .” I can barely respond, my mouth gaping.
I don’t know what else to say. For the first time in, I have no idea how long, I’m at a loss for words and excited out of my skin for something close to my heart. A trailblazing woman who takes no shit. In my area of interest, no less.
“So I’m coming to Montana with you, then?”
“Millie is most welcome, too. Reed and Ruby host a Thanksgiving dinner every year on their guest ranch.”
“N—no, she goes to her sister’s place. It would just be us.”
“Sure. We all good, then?”
“I don’t know, I can’t think straight . . . Why didn’t you tell me about Ruby?”
“I didn’t know you were a fan.” He shrugs. “Come on, Princess, let me ride off with you into the sunset. Just this once. It’s for a good cause.”
Now I find my composure and roll my eyes at him. “Does that line really work, Lawson?”
He chuckles, and the biggest smile stretches his face. “I wouldn’t know, never used it before.”
“Mills, make sure to pack your extra charger for your phone. And your medication bag,” I call out from my bedroom, busily throwing anything I could need for a Thanksgiving dinner and ranch life into my luggage.
God, never thought that sentence would run through this head. Ever.
“Got them, Mom.”
I smile at her comeback. Cheeky little lady.
When we’re both ready for the airport, I order an Uber. We stand in the foyer of our building as we wait.
“You won’t do anything I wouldn’t do, will you, sweetheart?” Mills looks up at me, patting my cheek.
“Absolutely not. Besides, is there anything you wouldn’t do?”
“Touché.” Her eyebrows lift. “I mean it. You look after yourself, and if his family is no good, you come home, okay?”
“It’s only a couple of nights, Mills. Not a month. Besides, I doubt they’ll be around much. We have a ton of work to get done. It’s a work weekend.”
“Sure, honey. Sure.”
The smile on her face doesn’t slip. Not for the whole Uber ride to the airport nor when we check in and drop our luggage off. I’m about to text Lawson when he appears by my side. “Ready to get lost in the middle of nowhere?” he whispers into my ear.
Millie’s eyes light up, and I give her a harrowing glare before the smile I’m tamping back slips.
The PA calls for the Florida flight passengers, gold class, and I walk Mills to her gate. “I’ll pick you up in a week, okay?”
“I’ll be here, sweetheart.”
I fold her into a hug. I always hate our one week a year apart. I know it’s silly, but it feels like I met this wonderful woman too late. And the time we have left is finite. So much so that any time apart makes me nervous.
“You better be, Mills.”
She pats my cheek again and pulls the handle up on her small carry-on. With a wave to us both, she makes her way to the small line at Gate 5.
“Bye,” I whisper.
The gate agent takes her ticket, and she passes the roped off area. Before disappearing, Mills turns back, and her cheeky smile is back on her face as she lifts a hand to her forehead. Is she tipping a nonexistent hat?
Good lord, she’s so corny. But a chuckle leaves my lips, and her eyes light up as she looks to my left and smiles.
Right at Lawson.
I stare at the dwindling line of strangers at Gate 5, and jerk with a start when the PA announces our flight.
Great Falls, Montana, here we come.
“Ready for this, Princess?”
I turn back to find Lawson shouldering a backpack. His usual casual dress is ready for the Montana weather, with his trench coat over his arm. Hell, I hope I packed enough warm clothes.
“Ready, but we are going to have to come up with a new nickname. I’m not going to your family for the holiday with you calling me Princess.”
“Sure, what do you want me to call you?” He takes my bag, and we walk for our gate. After I show the hostess both our tickets— Lawson’s hands are full—we make our way onto the plane and to our seats.
I take the window seat as Lawson puts our carry-ons overhead. He drops into the seat beside me, and we’re shoulder to shoulder. We haven’t been this close since I was sick. I fasten my seat belt and watch as he struggles with his. The buckle’s bent?
“Here, let me take a look.” I flick it over and slide the metal back in place. Leaning over, I click it into the latch and pull the lap strap tight.
“Thanks,” he rumbles, his breath sinking into my hair.
“You’re welcome,” I say, releasing the belt.
His hand catches mine. “I mean it. Thanks for coming with me. I can’t imagine trying to fix this Serenity disaster on my own.”
“Of course. And I’m pretty sure the problem belongs to both of us.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s nervous about something.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Not much of a flier.” He forces a smile.
Who would have thought? I plant my earbuds in my ears and turn on my favorite women-in-business podcast.
We take off, and by the time we reach altitude, Lawson is white-knuckling the armrest. I pull one earbud out and study the tight features of his face. Every angle is accentuated. He looks terrified.
“Hey Cowboy, you need a hug?”
He snaps his gaze to me. “Maybe.”
I pry his fingers from the armrest between us and lace my fingers with his. “You’re okay.”
But he shakes his head.
His dark hair falls onto his face before he brushes it back and quickly reaffirms his grip on the seat with his other hand.
“Lawson, look at me.”
He turns his head too slowly, like a ventriloquist’s doll would.
I palm his jaw. “Breathe.”
“I know to breathe, it doesn’t make it any easier. There’s a reason I only go home a few times a year.”
“You need something to distract you, then?”
“That would be good.”
I take my belt off, shuffling closer.
“No, put that back on!” His eyes widen.
“I will, after.”
“After what?”
I pull my hand from his and cup his face with both hands. “This.”
I cover his mouth with my own. Lips exploring over his, I nip his bottom lip and pull back a little. The fear holding him before has melted to something more intense. Need.
His hands leave the seat, trailing up my neck and into my hair as his mouth crashes over mine.
A heartbeat later, a voice from behind tells us to get a room. I chuckle, breaking away, and find Lawson breathing heavy and deep.
At least those breaths will be useful. I think . . .
He studies my face before settling back into his seat. Every few minutes, he glances at me. I slide my earbuds back into my ears and lean back and close my eyes.
Well, that boundary is shot to shit.
We can still be friends, right?
Seven hours and one more languid kiss after a bunch of semi-scary turbulence later, we land in Great Falls, Montana. Lawson is quiet. And I don’t push. We got through the flight. All’s well that ends well. He grabs our carry-ons, and we disembark.
A few minutes later, we’re strolling through the terminal the size of my local post office to find our luggage.
“I got it,” Lawson says as our bags travel around the conveyor belt at a turtle’s pace.
I hear the squealing before I see the source. A blonde who I recognize and a brunette who I don’t rush toward us.