Chapter 12 #2
“I’m as serious as a stroke.”
Her eyebrows shifted upward. “Don’t you mean a heart attack?”
“Nope, that’s what everyone says. I’m different.”
“You sure are,” she acknowledged. “What part of my name are you from?”
Cavin belted out a laugh. “That’s pretty funny.”
She winked at him. “You’re not the only one with jokes, Cavin Dawson from Georgia.”
It impressed him that she caught and recalled his last name. “I live in Atlanta, but I travel a lot.”
“What brought you to Beaufort?” she inquired. “And don’t say an airplane or car,” she added with a snicker.
Cavin liked her wit and found her blonde hair and blue eyes attractive although he determined she was probably ten years his elder. However, the makeup she applied hid the wrinkles well, and she took great care of herself. He imagined she could introduce him to a local gym.
“I am here on vacation, but I like to mix business with pleasure,” he reeled off with a wink.
Georgia blushed at the flirty nature of his banter. “Let me buy you another drink,” she offered.
“How about I buy you two drinks and you give one of them to me,” Cavin insisted.
“Is that your pick-up line for all the ladies?” she smirked.
“Only the ones who are strong enough to knock a drink out of my hands and make the glass shatter on the floor,” he acknowledged while glancing down.
Georgia smiled and flexed her bicep although well hidden by layers of clothing.
When Cavin and Georgia stepped up to the bar, the bartender filled their order but only charged Cavin for one drink.
“It’s on the house,” he offered with a snicker, “since Georgia spilled yours.”
Tilting her head, Georgia squinted her eyes at him. “You’re too kind, Louie.”
“Thanks,” Cavin replied to Louie, nodding at him before returning his gaze to Georgia. “You must be a regular here if you are on a first-name basis with the bartender,” he added as they drifted from the bar.
“Cavin, this is a small town. Everybody knows everybody,” she explained. “Plus when you are a town councilwoman, you can’t get away with anything.”
“I see. So you run the show here in Beaufort,” Cavin postulated with a smile.
“I help keep things running smoothly.”
“You must be an intelligent woman,” Cavin ascertained.
“I can hold my own.”
“I have noticed.”
“Before I ran into you—literally,” she laughed, “I was sitting with some friends. You should join us.”
Cavin knew better than to pass up such an opportunity. “I would be honored.”
Cavin followed Georgia through the maze of people before shaking hands with a table full of locals including the mayor and his wife, another town councilperson, a doctor, and an insurance agent.
“It is a pleasure to meet each of you.”
Within thirty minutes of filling a chair at the table, Cavin received an invitation to the mayor’s party tomorrow night, an acceptance to join the Saturday morning golf outing, and a handful of business cards.
It appeared that meeting Georgia, whom he learned was an attorney, might have been his golden ticket.
“Would you like to dance, City Boy?” Georgia confidently asked Cavin as people shuffled to the dance floor at the onset of a popular song.
“Of course,” Cavin accepted.
Cavin quickly figured out that Georgia knew her way around a dance floor, and he sure was glad his mother forced him to start taking dance classes at age twelve.
“It is a sure-fire way to meet and get close to pretty girls,” his father told him when Cavin initially scoffed at the idea.
At the time Cavin didn’t realize the skill would continue to reap benefits well into adulthood.
“You and I might need to sign up for one of those reality dancing shows,” Georgia mentioned acknowledging Cavin’s abilities.
They danced, drank, and mingled with the group as well as other patrons who eagerly flocked to their table and then danced some more. Cavin never expected songs like “Run Run Rudolph” to cause so much commotion, but everyone hurried to the dance floor every time the band started a Christmas tune.
When Georgia asked how Cavin kept in such great shape, he told her about his rigorous workout routine. During that conversation she recommended the local gym where she said she worked out daily.
Although unsure how many drinks he consumed, Cavin knew when to call it quits.
Another rule his father taught him was that getting drunk in the presence of intelligent business people was a terrible idea, especially in public.
“You will show your hand to them if you have more than your share of alcohol, and if you aren’t careful, you will show your rear end as well,” his dad preached.
“Instead buy them drinks and let them show you their cards and whatever else they can’t control. ”
Most of the people at this table, or at any table where he sat, didn’t need anyone to buy them drinks; however, the gesture often received value well beyond the monetary kind.
As the evening wound down, Cavin picked up the tab for the whole group and walked away from the venue with more than a handful of new friends, one of whom mirrored his every step as the creek slapped against the boardwalk’s concrete wall.
“Thanks for buying drinks for me and my friends,” Georgia acknowledged. “Bumping into you really paid off,” she added with a wink and a simultaneous shoulder tap.
“Was that your plan all along?”
“Do I come across as that type of woman?” she teased.
Before Cavin had the opportunity to respond, a man stepped out from a dark area underneath a large, mysterious live oak tree. “Georgia, who’s your new boyfriend?” he slurred.
Cavin and Georgia both stopped in their tracks and turned their attention to the guy. Realizing the fellow knew Georgia by name, Cavin held his tongue.
“He is my friend, and his name is none of your business,” Georgia stated calmly and intelligently.
“You don’t know his name,” the man laughed then turned his attention toward Cavin while stepping close enough for Cavin to smell the alcohol on his breath or maybe he spilled some on his worn jacket. “Dude, she doesn’t even know your name.”
Cavin squinted his eyes. “What is your name?” he inquired while trying to diffuse the situation.
The guy’s eyes bulged. “My name?” he asked slowly and loudly, stumbling back a step. “Georgia knows my name.”
Despite the fact that pole lights lit the area well and many people from the bar remained within shouting distance, Cavin still felt uncomfortable. He glanced at Georgia but kept the guy in his peripheral vision.
“Everyone knows your name,” Georgia said to the man.
“I know his name,” the fellow responded, nearly sticking his finger into Cavin’s chest.
“This is the guy who was harassing me earlier . . . right before we met,” Georgia explained to Cavin.
The news made Cavin feel even less at ease.
“If you hadn’t walked away from me, maybe you would be going home with me instead of this dingbatter,” the man contested.
Cavin’s brow furrowed. What was a dingbatter? Did the drunk guy just create a new word?
“I doubt that,” Georgia hissed.
“You’ve gone home with me before,” he retorted.
“That’s the end of this conversation,” Georgia exclaimed. “Let’s go,” she insisted to Cavin. “And don’t worry, he’s harmless.”
“She’s right, I’m harmless, but Miss Big Shot here isn’t. She’s trying to ruin this town,” he claimed then paused. “Be careful who you go home with, especially in a small town, mister. Everybody knows everybody’s business around here.”
“You need to mind your own business,” Georgia barked as she reached for Cavin’s hand and led them away.
“Don’t let her tell you what to do, man. Be a man.”
Cavin figured things would likely work out best if he let Georgia’s words be the last. Although that guy seemed hammered and obviously jealous not to be the one walking beside this beautiful woman, he actually gave sound advice whether he meant to or not.
“Who is that guy?” Cavin asked once out of earshot.
“His name is Keaton, and although he can be a nuisance, he’s not really a bad person. He just has a sad story.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Cavin acknowledged.
“I am sorry he harassed us,” Georgia apologized.
Cavin glanced over his shoulder. “Do you think we have to worry about him following us?”
“Probably not,” Georgia replied, looking back.
After a few moments of silence, the wind blowing off the creek reminded Cavin of the temperature. “Speaking of stories, what is yours?” he asked, digging his hands into his pockets. “Where are you from and how did you end up in Beaufort?”
“I grew up in Boston, graduated from Boston College, took a position as an attorney for a large corporation, and traveled abroad handling casework for a while, then ended up here a few years ago. Now I am on my own.”
“What drew you to Beaufort?”
“My family vacationed here every summer when I was a kid. I absolutely adored the place and still do. I have so many fond memories of swimming in the creek, going out on the boat, getting sunburned on the nearby beaches, and exploring all the coastal areas. I still have friends here now who I met back then. The mayor and his wife are from here.”
“I kind of figured that with their accents,” Cavin assumed.
“Then I guess you realized I am not from here.”
“I speculated you were from up North, but it seems the time spent traveling abroad probably influenced your accent.”
“My travels influenced my whole life, which is why I now want to bring more opportunities to Beaufort.”
Those words were music to Cavin’s ears. “Like what?” he investigated.
“More diverse restaurants, luxury hotels, shopping, gated communities, golf courses, and the like. This area draws a plethora of wealthy tourists, and I think we can capitalize a lot more on what they bring to the table.”
“What’s holding Beaufort back?” Cavin asked.
“Tradition, old money, farmers, nostalgia . . .”
“That sounds normal for a small coastal town.”
“Yeah. So what is your story, Mr. Dawson?”
“I was born and raised in Atlanta, graduated with a master’s degree from Georgia Tech, and I currently work in business development.”
Although Cavin was pretty sure he and Georgia were on the same team in this town, he didn’t want to reveal too much too early.
“Do you travel frequently?” Georgia inquired, her heels clicking on the sidewalk.
“Yes, quite a bit.”
“For business or pleasure?” she asked. “Or both?”
The question made Cavin think more about the Cancun trip he was missing right now than his work travels. If he met someone like Georgia there on the first day, the rest of the stay would be all fun and games. Appearances and outcomes wouldn’t be much of a concern.
“Business, but I try to make time for both,” Cavin answered cautiously.
“What is your all-time favorite destination?”
Surprisingly, Cavin never really considered this question which struck him as odd as he struggled to find an honest answer. “I am not sure I have one. I like exploring pretty much any new area, but I guess I particularly enjoy small towns like Beaufort.”
“Why is that?” Georgia inquired.
“I guess I appreciate the people and, like you, the potential.”
“That’s a great response, but it doesn’t really answer my question,” she teased.
“It’s hard to pick just one. I really try not to fall in love with any specific place. I appreciate each for what they are; I enjoy the experiences and move on to the next.”
Cavin realized that pretty much summed up his romantic life as well. He didn’t have time to fall in love. He almost mentioned that he was supposed to be in Cancun, but that would certainly spark questions about his purpose for being here.
“Maybe you can think about it and tell me more next time we see each other.”
Next time. Cavin was glad to hear Georgia wanted to get together again, and his excitement split between business and pleasure. He enjoyed her company this evening. She was the type of woman he would have wanted to meet in Cancun—professional, flirty, attractive, carefree.
“This is my current residence,” Cavin relayed when he spotted his rental vehicle in the driveway from the creek side of the street. The walk seemed less cold with someone to talk to.
“You have good taste,” Georgia complimented.
Cavin grinned. “I appreciate the finer things in life in which category you seem to fall.”
Georgia blushed as they came to a stop in front of the house. “You appear to have some valuable qualities yourself.”
Only a narrow street stood between them and a warm, inviting house, yet the words of warning the drunk guy delivered earlier flashed through Cavin’s mind.