Chapter 10
Gavin
“We have to stop meeting like this,” I say to Charlotte with a grin. She is trying to scrape her surprised expression off the floor. I shouldn’t be smiling. It’s not nice, but it is kind of funny.
“I think we have to stop meeting all together,” she says, closing the door behind her.
“Ouch,” I say, leaning back in my chair. Charlotte is wound as tight as the mechanisms in a pocket watch, and she’s about to spring loose. I offer her a chair. It’s the least I can do.
“Sit, please,” I gesture.
“I’m fine standing, thanks,” she says. I watch her face twist into different emotions as she pieces the puzzle together. “So you’re Gavin Lacey,” she says and I nod. “And you’re the owner of this resort.”
“Yep,” I answer with steepled hands.
“And you’re the father…” she stops to swallow. I don’t know if she’s going to cry or throw-up, but either reaction would kind of hurt. “Of the groom…”
“Yes. Ben is my son.”
“Ben is your son,” she murmurs under her breath, and then she grabs the edge of the leather chair. “On second thought, I think I do need to sit down for this.”
I watch as Charlotte pinches the bridge of her nose and decides to get up and grab her a glass of water. “Sorry,” she says. “Just saying it out loud is…humbling.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I say, handing her the water and sitting back down in a chair next to her.
She scoots over slightly, putting more room between us.
“You know, we haven’t done anything wrong.
You being the wedding planner for my son after we slept together doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. ”
Charlotte’s face hints at something else that’s bothering her about the whole thing, but I don’t know what. I think she’s just trying to get her land legs back after the shocking wave of news.
“You know,” she says, biting her lip. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Why not?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“Because we slept together!” she whisper yells.
“I’m aware. It was good. Outstanding, if I remember correctly.” Charlotte’s cheeks begin to turn red.
“It’s going to make it really awkward being around your son all the time,” she says.
“Just because you and I had a one-night stand?” I ask. Boy. I knew this girl was wound tight, but has she really never let loose at all?
She opens her mouth and then snaps it back shut, swallowing down whatever she was about to say. She squares her shoulders and takes what I assume is another route. A more logical route, of course. “It wasn’t just a one-night stand,” she says, and a grin spreads across my face.
“Wow, I didn’t know it meant that much to you,” I tease.
“That is not what I meant!” she snaps. “I only meant that…I never do things like that. And I don’t want it to follow me, you know? That means no flirting in front of people. No hinting, no inside jokes, no implying in any way that you and I have ever met before.”
“Business and pleasure can not be mixed, got it!” I nod.
“And there will be no more pleasure,” she adds.
“So it was good for you,” I tease, and it earns me a glare. I deserve a slap across the face right now, so I’ll take her response as an act of grace. Although knowing me, being slapped by a woman like her would probably be a turn on.
“I mean it, Gavin. No one can know. And I mean no one,” she says and I nod. This girl is actually terrified of the repercussions of a simple one-night stand getting a little ethically messy.
“I won’t say a word,” I tell her. “Scout’s honor.”
“Not just words. No smirking, no winking, no stolen glances. Nothing,” she warns me.
“So, no finding you candidly attractive. It will be hard, but I understand,” I say.
“And stop with the Boy Scout references,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, fine,” I say. I am enjoying myself way too much. If only she’d loosen the girdle and join the party. “Anything else?”
Charlotte purses her lips, staring behind me before darting her eyes back over to me again. “Yes. And this is the most detrimental detail of them all. Ben cannot, and I mean absolutely not, find out that you and I slept together.”
“Fair enough,” I nod.
“I mean ever, Gavin,” she reiterates.
“I understand,” I nod.
“You promise?” she asks.
“With my pinky,” I say, holding mine out. She ignores it.
“You have to swear, Gavin,” she pleads.
“I mean it. On my mother’s grave,” I say and she pouts.
“Your mom died?”
“She was seventy-five,” I say.
“Still…”
“She was a vibrant lady who lived on a diet of grilled cheese and the devil’s lettuce.
She died a happy woman,” I tell her. It’s true.
“Yes, Charlotte. I promise that Ben will never know the truth. You’re not the one with the relationship at stake here, so trust me when I say I do not want my son to pay the price of his bride-to-be having to find a new wedding planner because of a conflict of interest.”
After a pensive moment, Charlotte nods. It’s a small nod, an unconvincing nod, but a nod nonetheless. I know that’s about the most water I am going to squeeze out of the rock that is Sweater Dress Charlotte. I stand up and offer her a hand. She takes it and comes to her feet.
“I guess we should have talked more about the wedding planning,” she says.
“What’s there to talk about?” I ask. “I have faith in you.”
“There are a lot of details to hammer down, Gavin. The wedding is in less than a month. We need to discuss—”
“There’s no budget,” I say, and she stops.
“Okay, when you say no budget…I’m going to need at least a ballpark. Because landing caterers and music arrangements and things like that are going to come down to bidding.”
“No budget means no budget,” he says, pulling a card from his wallet. “That’s a business card. Do whatever you have to do. Whatever makes the bride and groom happy. Whatever you think is best.”
Charlotte blinks at the card in her hand. Then she nods and clears her throat. “Alright then. Well. I guess I should get back.”
“Sounds good,” I nod.
Charlotte turns to leave but then stops right before the door. “Oh and Gavin,” she says, turning back around. I already know what she’s going to say, so before she can say it, I cut her off.
“Charlotte.” I say before making a zipper motion over my lips with my fingers.
She nods and walks out, and I wait until she is gone to grin. Good Lord. What have I gotten myself into?