Charlotte waited another sixty seconds after the front door closed before she left the safety of the bathroom on the first floor. And it wasn’t all that safe, as Dawson had clearly been using it. The scent of his cologne and aftershave hung in the air, and she’d been surprised at how neat he was. One bath towel, hanging on a hook. One washcloth, folded over the rack by the sink. Toothbrush, razor, deodorant, and shaving cream lined up inside the drawer. Lined up.

His actions spoke of someone in the military, and she wondered if his helicopter piloting was a second career. With the gray in his sideburns and beard, he had to be in his forties. Didn’t he?

“Honestly, why do you care?” Charlotte left the bathroom door open and went down the hall to the kitchen and dining room. The space was a little segmented, but the home was older, so she’d expected that.

The house was a great big box, with a few bay windows that jutted out. But there were two bedrooms on this level, tucked away into the front and back corners, with the bathroom near them both. Across the hall from that was the living room, boasting those huge windows that overlooked the bay, with a wraparound deck that had access from all the bedrooms, the living room, and the kitchen.

Charlotte thought she’d spend more time on that deck than anywhere else, and the living room had high ceilings with exposed beams that made the place airy and comfortable. The dining room was functional, and if she were back in South Carolina, where she entertained frequently, she’d want the wall between the living room and dining room to come down.

Then she could have one big open area that flowed from kitchen to deck to living room so she could enjoy the party and her guests while she finished a tray of canapés.

Oh, how different her life was now, as evidenced by the sloppy sound of her shoes as she stepped into the water still on the kitchen floor.

Pure exhaustion pulled through her, but she couldn’t just leave water on the floor. Could she? Her proper Southern breeding wouldn’t allow it, though her mind screamed at her that Dawson obviously had left the water for her to deal with.

She opened one door and then another one before she found a broom and a mop, and she started soaking up the water.

With that done, she returned to the front foyer, where a paper towel with purple numbers on it sat on the table there. She’d heard him say he had to go to work, and she’d let him go.

“You can’t really be considering letting him stay here,” she said to her reflection in the crusty mirror beside the front door. The room to her left was a small office, with empty, built-in bookshelves and a desk with nothing on it. To her right was a formal living room, with a piano that looked gray from all the dust on it and a small loveseat that had seen about a billion better days.

The steps leading to the second floor went straight up from the front door, and she tested her weight on the first one. The wood creaked, but held, and she went up, up, up to see what awaited her in this dilapidated house she’d bought.

Three more bedrooms up here, two on the front of the house and one on the back, with two bathrooms and a massive multi-purpose room, which, at the moment, only held a pool table. Huge windows. Great views.

In Charlotte’s mind, she could see this place as it should be, with fresh plants in each room, happy laughter, and a yard with trees, grass, benches, and bushes.

As she looked down from the windows on the second floor, she could see where the yard had once been defined. But the wild grasses and years of neglect had taken over, leaving behind what resembled a jungle more than anything.

It mirrored how she felt inside, actually. Years of neglect. Years of thinking certain things were important only to find out they weren’t. Years invested into a man and a marriage, wasted.

Yes, she felt very wild and jungle-y on the inside, and she hoped it would be as easy to straighten up her life as it would be to rip out overgrown bushes, cut back unwanted trees, and pull out the weeds in the yard.

That was all Hunter was. A weed she’d removed from her life.

Well, technically, he’d removed himself, but Charlotte didn’t need to get technical. She opened the window on the second floor and took in another breath of the salty air.

Oh, yes. She could put her life back together, one piece at a time, while she did the same thing for this house. They could both get a second chance.

What about Dawson?

The thought annoyed her, but she couldn’t brush it away.

“He doesn’t own this house. He has no right to stay here.” But there had been something desperate in his expression when he’d asked. And if there was anyone who understood what it was like to be desperate, it was Charlotte.

Her stomach growled, and she decided she’d make her decision about Dawson once she saw what he stocked his fridge with.

An hour later, she pulled a ham and cheese quiche from the oven, proud of herself for putting a meal together.

After her life had literally fell apart, she either didn’t eat or grabbed something and ate it in the car. She couldn’t remember the last time she cooked, or sat at a table to eat. But she was going to do both tonight.

The sunlight glinting off the water as it set caught her eye, and a new plan formed in her mind. She sliced herself a piece of the steaming quiche and put it on a paper plate she found in the cupboard.

Dawson clearly didn’t own dishes, which was probably a good thing since the sink didn’t seem to be in great shape.

Her to-do list for tomorrow grew as she mentally added buy dishes to it, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. That was tomorrow, and yes, she had a lot to do. But tonight, she could enjoy the sunset and a homecooked meal.

As she took her first bite of the quiche, she felt more relaxed than she had in a long, long time—even before her marriage dissolved and her husband left.

Yes, everything here in Getaway Bay was going to be different. She was going to be different.

The next day, Charlotte woke to absolute silence. It was odd but welcome at the same time. Since she’d lived in a very busy tourist area on South Carolina’s premier island vacation spot, it was never quiet.

She drew in a deep breath and kept her eyes closed. Today, she’d get into town and get her own groceries, dishes, and home goods she needed.

Her eyes snapped open, and she pushed the covers back to get out of bed. She’d meant to unpack her interview clothes last night, but after she’d stuffed herself full of quiche, watched the sun set, and rocked herself into a doze in Dawson’s hammock, she’d forgotten.

She’d stumbled to bed after dark but before he’d returned—if he’d even come back. She never did text him to let him know one way or the other. A pinch of guilt hit her in the chest, but it wasn’t enough to derail her focus.

The black pencil skirt definitely had some wrinkles in it, but she didn’t think this house would have an iron in it. She snapped it straight and hung it up, intending to take it into the bathroom with her when she showered so the steam could aid in getting it in even better shape.

The blouse was a simple white and yellow checkered garment, and she’d chosen it for the interview because it felt like something one would wear in sunny Hawaii. It was cotton, and normally traveled well, but this huge trip hadn’t been kind to it.

She hung it up too and took both hangers with her into the bathroom. Since Dawson had taken the bedroom and bathroom downstairs, Charlotte had chosen the one in the back corner above the kitchen. It was easily the biggest bedroom, with an attached bathroom. Dawson, if he’d come back last night, was in the opposite corner of the house.

Her reflection showed her that the jet lag had caught up to her. “Good thing you made room for all your makeup.” Because she was going to need it to make herself look human.

She closed the door and hung her skirt and blouse on the back and turned on the shower. Forty minutes later, she looked and felt less like a zombie, and she shouldered her purse and went downstairs.

The quiche had been cleaned up, but she hadn’t done it. She stilled in the kitchen and took in the scene. Someone had definitely been there.

“Morning.”

She spun at the sound of Dawson’s deep voice. “You didn’t text last night, and all my stuff’s here.” He loitered in the doorway, wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a T-shirt that showed off his impressive muscles. Did he flap his arms to power the helicopter? Because, wow.

“Sorry,” she said. “Jet lag is a real thing.”

Dawson chuckled and nodded. “I see you found the food.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that was the least you could provide in this situation.”

“Definitely, yeah.” His voice sounded a bit fake, but he didn’t show anything on his face. “Is this going to be a situation?”

Charlotte didn’t know if she had room in her life to deal with any situations at all. “Why don’t you have a place to live again?”

He reached up and rubbed his hand up the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

Boy, if anyone understood complicated, Charlotte did. She tried not to let her heart bleed for this guy. She didn’t know him, and he wasn’t her responsibility.

“How long will it be complicated?”

“It’s hard to say. I’d need a few more weeks, probably.” A definitely edge of desperation crept into his expression, the same as she’d seen last night.

“I suppose I can put your muscles to use for a few weeks. You said you don’t work every day, right?”

“I’m off all day today.”

“I have a lot to do in town,” she said. “And a job interview later this afternoon.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’ve got the business attire on.” His eyes slid down her body and back to her eyes, and Charlotte wished the gaze didn’t feel like it was made of lasers. But her whole body lit up, and she shifted her feet to keep her emotions contained.

She was not interested in finding another man. No boyfriends, and definitely not husbands. Dawson didn’t seem like the marrying type anyway, but he was quite handsome.

“Yes,” she said. “So maybe you could—”

“Where are you interviewing?”

She cocked her head, not appreciating the interruption. But she let it go. She didn’t need to be friends with Dawson. “Your Tidal Forever?”

“The bridal place?”

“It’s a full-service wedding planning company,” she said, her voice with quite a bit of bite. Why she felt defensive, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t own the company or even work there.

“You come from that business?” he asked.

“I come from indoor and outdoor design, yes,” she said. “I’ve worked with wedding planners, hotels, and gardens.” She watched him for any sign of respect or appreciation. He grinned at her and nodded.

“No wonder you bought a house that’s one stiff wind away from falling down.”

Charlotte couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her mouth. “Well, you’re the one who’s been staying here. What would you have done had the roof come caving in from the wind?”

He laughed too and shook his head.

“I’m going to fix this place up,” she said. “The inside and the outside. If you’re not working today, you can start outside.”

“And do what, exactly?”

“Is there a lawn mower here? Maybe you could mow what’s supposed to be the yard, and then I’ll have a better idea of the blueprint.”

“Yeah, sure I can do that.”

“And if you want me to get you anything at the store, you can text me.” She picked up the paper towel with the purple writing on it and quickly sent him a text. “That’s my number.” When she looked at him again, he was leaning in the doorway with his arms folded, watching her with a glint in his eye she didn’t understand.

“Okay, I’m going to go,” she said, edging toward the front door. “My ride should be here in a few minutes.”

“Are you going to buy a car?”

“Depends on if I get a job in town or not.”

“Did you call a cab?”

“No, I contracted with a car service for a few days.”

“Which one?”

“Um, Your Ride?”

“Best on the island,” he said, as if she’d change companies if he didn’t approve. She flashed him a tight smile and left the house.

Sure enough, a shiny black car waited behind his huge SUV, and Charlotte slipped into the backseat. “Thank you,” she said, swiping her hair off her face.

“Of course. Where are we going today?” The woman in the front seat wore a nice smile and her long, black hair in several braids.

“I need a grocery store,” she said. “Where I can get things like dishes and towels too.”

“So Sunshine Market,” the woman said.

“Sure, sounds great.” Honestly anything with Sunshine in the title appealed to Charlotte.

The woman made small talk by first introducing herself as Inej and then giving details about the island, the buildings they passed, and the downtown area.

She pulled up to the Sunshine Market, which looked like the big box department stores she was used to back home.

Home.

The thought echoed through her mind, and she corrected herself that this was home now. This island, not the one off the coast of South Carolina. This store, not the ones she knew like the back of her hand.

“Take as long as you need,” Inej said. “I’m yours all day today.”

“Thank you.” Charlotte got out of the car, the heat lifting off the asphalt in the parking lot. She faced the store, somehow committing to staying in Getaway Bay and making a life here by buying something.

She replaced Dawson’s ham and cheese and eggs, as well as filled her cart with fruit, vegetables, yogurt, and anything else that caught her eye and looked good. She bought towels, dishes, paper towels, and everything she needed to make the house into a home.

Inej helped her put everything in the trunk, and then Charlotte asked, “Is there a hardware store here?”

“Three, ma’am.”

“I need some basics.” Charlotte had done several home improvement projects, and being several minutes from town and without a car—and a job—she needed to get to work. She liked being busy, and sitting in Dawson’s hammock while he worked wasn’t going to happen again.

By the time she finished getting paint, tools, and a few yard items, her stomach was growling like an angry bear.

With hardly any room left in the trunk, she said, “Lunch?”

“What are you in the mood for?” Inej didn’t seem to notice the sun at all, but Charlotte felt like she was melting.

“Something local,” Charlotte said, enjoying the vibe across the street. The beach sat right there, with lots of colored umbrellas and people. A boardwalk went along the road, with food and drink stalls in the sand with bikini-clad women and men in board shorts.

Families played in the sand, and more moved along the boardwalk under a copse of trees that led somewhere else.

“That’s east bay,” Inej said, coming to stand beside Charlotte. “It’s the beachier side of the dual bays. Getaway Bay is over there, and a big piece of the beach is private to the hotels and bed and breakfasts.”

Charlotte nodded like she’d come here to lounge on the beach. But she had her own private beach right between both bays.

“Where’s Your Tidal Forever?” she asked.

Inej pointed east. “It’s down on the end of the beach there. They do have a private area for their weddings.”

“I have a job interview there in an hour.” She faced Inej. “But maybe some really great fish tacos first.” She smiled, and it felt like the first genuine smile she’d used since Hunter had sat her down to talk to her.

“Oh, I know just the place for that. And they’re fast too.” Inej opened the door and got behind the wheel. They made a quick five-minute drive over to a parking lot on the other side of the street, and Inej led her to a taco stand that had been established in a mobile home.

“They have the best fish tacos here.” She joined the line behind Charlotte, who was still searching for a sign.

“What’s this place called?”

“Manni’s.”

“There’s no sign.”

“All the locals know about it.”

And Charlotte was going to be a local, another thought that brought a true smile to her face.