Chapter Twenty-Six

Charlie tossed her new phone into her bag, then took the hand Beck offered and climbed out of the town car he’d hired to drive them to the picnic. She smoothed her hair, which had been highlighted, trimmed, and swept into a twist. The shade of red the manicurist had painted her nails perfectly matched her lacy red sundress. She batted her eyes against the sun, feeling like she had some little insects stuck to her eyelids with those fake eyelashes on. Seeing Beck’s reaction to her makeover had been worth the three hours she’d spent at the salon.

She hated the idea of flying home tomorrow. They hadn’t had enough time together.

“You ready for this?” He squeezed her hand.

“I suppose. It’ll be nice to go home and check on Baby Back, but I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

“We’ve still got tonight.”

“Yeah, but I don’t get you all to myself.”

“We have to stay long enough for me to accept the award. Then we can head back to my place, and you can have your way with me again.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re a hard woman to please, Ms. Walker.”

“Oh, stop it. Just promise me you’ll stay by my side the whole time.” She was nervous enough about trying to fit in; she didn’t want to navigate the upper echelon of New York society on her own all night.

“I promise.”

If only she’d packed those heeled sandals she thought she’d thrown in her bag. Instead, her feet were comfortably encased in her cute boots. She wouldn’t hesitate to wear boots with a dress at home. But how many of these chic fashionistas would be sporting Tony Lama’s?

As they passed through the waterfront estate of one of Mr. Holiday’s business associates, she scanned the guests on the lawn. White, beige, light blue, muted pastels. It was like entering some sort of high-class Easter party with the colors muted by a dim filter. She bit her lip and held her straw bag closer to her side. Beck squeezed her hand, probably trying to send a jolt of silent encouragement through his fingers.

Before she could fake some sort of illness and make a break for the car, an older couple approached.

“Beck, so glad you could make it.” The man wore white dress pants with a light-blue blazer and a pin-striped oxford.

“Mr. Samuels, thanks for having us. My dad sends his regrets.”

“We tried to change the date when we found out he’d be out of town, but you know how it is trying to get the party planner and caterer rebooked. Not to mention the florist.” The woman gestured behind her, where tables with tall bouquets of flowers dotted the gigantic paver patio. She took Beck’s hands and air-kissed both of his cheeks. “We’re glad you could be here to accept the award on his behalf.”

“It’s my pleasure. Mr. and Mrs. Samuels, I’d like you to meet Charlotte Walker.” Beck put his hand on the small of her back, propelling her forward.

“Charlotte, how lovely you could join us.” Mrs. Samuels took Charlie’s hand in hers and glanced toward the boots. “Can we assume you’re from Texas? I hear that’s where Beck has been hiding out this summer.”

“Nice to meet you, and thanks for having me. Yes, I’m from Holiday.”

Mr. Samuels let out a deep laugh. “We got such a kick out of that. Finding out your dad had a whole town named after him down in Texas. Welcome, Charlotte.” Mr. Samuels took her hand in a firm grip. “Can’t say we have any barbecue or cowboy fare. But you should try the lobster rolls. They’re my favorite.” He let go of her hand and patted his nonexistent belly. Seemed like everyone at the party could have posed for a fitness magazine. She didn’t see a roll of skin, a wrinkle, or a flabby tricep on any of the partygoers.

“We don’t want to monopolize the guest of honor. Why don’t the two of you go mingle? Make sure you get one of the rhubarb martinis. The caterer said they’re all the rage this summer. Rhubarb? Can you imagine? I’ve never made anything from rhubarb before.” Mrs. Samuels twittered and waved a jeweled wrist in the air, like she’d just made a hysterical joke.

Charlie could imagine. Sully had taught her how to grow the tart plant as an annual in the shade of a giant pecan tree, and she’d perfected her own strawberry-rhubarb pie. But she hadn’t had a rhubarb martini before. And by the looks of things, she was going to need at least a couple of them to get through the afternoon.

“I can’t wait to try it.” Charlie looped her arm through Beck’s, hoping the physical contact would bolster her courage. This wasn’t exactly the kind of place she’d imagined spending a summer afternoon. She stuck out like a platter of sizzling steak fajitas on a buffet full of paper-thin cucumber sandwiches and petit fours.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to go check in with the caterer.” Mrs. Samuels touched Charlie’s arm. “I do hope you enjoy yourself this afternoon.”

Charlie nodded and smiled, doing her best to blend in to the five-foot floral display behind her.

Mr. and Mrs. Samuels turned away, leaving Beck and Charlie standing on the stairs leading down to the patio, where dozens of pastel-clad clones mingled among the flowers, white-linen-draped tables, and waitstaff holding trays of bite-sized savories.

“Do you see the bar?” Beck asked, scanning the large expanse of lawn.

“Is it that tent over there?” Charlie nodded toward an arbor draped in white linens and strung with flowers. She’d seen weddings that didn’t match the level of decor of this “picnic.”

Beck took her hand and led her to the tent on the far side of the patio. Along the way, he had to stop to shake hands, make a quick intro, and give a few nods and waves. By the time they reached the tall, portable counter, they’d been bumped through the crowd like those inner tubes on the Guadalupe.

“Did you want to try one of those rhubarb drinks?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“We’ll take a rhubarb martini and a club soda, please.”

“You don’t want something to drink?”

Beck grabbed a couple cocktail napkins. “Not until after I make the acceptance speech.”

“Oh my gosh, are you nervous?”

“Nah, it’s…” A muscle along his jawline pulsed.

She bumped her hip into his thigh. “You are nervous. Wow, finally.”

The bartender handed them their drinks, and Beck took a sip of his water. “Finally what?”

“I finally get to see what you look like when you’re nervous. How bad is it? Butterflies in the stomach? Feeling light-headed? You’re not going to puke, are you?”

He took her elbow and steered her toward a cocktail table at the edge of the patio. “I’m not nervous.”

“Mm-hmm, if you say so.”

“Just a little, uh, tense. Want to make sure I don’t blow it, you know?” His fingers fiddled with the paper napkin.

“Yeah, that’s what the general population calls nervous. Don’t you do stuff like this all the time?”

Beck lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“What do you enjoy about your work?” She’d gotten to know the Holiday, Texas, version of Beck. Seeing him here, in his element, gave her a much more rounded picture of the man. It was difficult to reconcile the Hamptons-garden-party Beck with the Levi’s-wearing version she’d gone head-to-head with in the pigpen. Not to mention hip-to-hip with in the truck and on her couch and so many other places. Her face warmed even thinking about it.

“I like the challenge. The idea of building something from nothing. Or revamping a failing property into something successful.”

“Like Sully.”

“Excuse me?”

“The Rambling Rose wasn’t doing so well when Sully took it over from his father. Of course, that was years ago, so it’s not like I was there. But I’ve heard the story so many times I may as well have been.” She took a sip of her drink. The tartness of the rhubarb mixed nicely with the squirt of lime. Maybe she could come up with some sort of rhubarb-spiked punch they could serve at the party after the Founder’s Day parade. Heaven knew she had enough rhubarb in the freezer she could make gallons of it.

“What story?”

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in learning more about your down-home roots?” She batted her eyelashes at him, overplaying her flirting card in an attempt to both get his mind off his speech and distract herself from how out of place she felt.

“I’ve been looking through the scrapbooks at my grandfather’s place. He had boxes of them. I even found a couple photos of you I snagged out of a shoebox.”

Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Me?”

Beck pulled out his wallet and handed her a small, washed-out photo of her and Sully on the front porch of the Rambling Rose. Her heart did a little two-step in her chest, her hand shook, and her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t seen this particular picture before. Someone must have snapped a candid around the time Sully brought her on board. Could Beck be developing a sentimental side? Maybe the importance of the town and the Rose was finally starting to sink in.

Before she could form her thoughts into words, a shadow darkened the tablecloth, and a man’s voice cut through her visit to the past. “Hey, Beck. Who’s this?”

Beck turned and caught the tall, dark-haired stranger in a grip that seemed to be half hug, half handshake. “J.T., I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure myself. But Bella’s plans changed, so here we are.” He stepped aside, and the waifish woman behind him leaned in to give Beck the standard air-kisses on both cheeks.

“Hi, Beck. Who’s your friend?” Her gaze raked over Charlie—a stark contrast to the friendly smile she offered.

“J.T., Bella, this is Charlotte Walker. She’s the manager of the Rambling Rose. It’s that place I’ve been telling you—”

“Charlotte. At last. You’re like a Texas wildflower among all these boring white lilies.” J.T. took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

Bella’s eyes narrowed. “How long are you in town?”

Charlie looked back and forth between them. “Until tomorrow. And I feel more like a weed than a flower this afternoon.” She gestured to her dress. “Beck wasn’t exactly clear on the dress code.”

“That’s a man for you. Well, I think you look gorgeous. Red certainly is your color.” Bella looped her arm through Charlie’s and began to lead her away. “You don’t mind if I steal you for a little bit? There are so many people I want you to meet, and I’m sure the boys have business to discuss.”

Charlie cast a helpless glance over the top of Bella’s head, but J.T. had already stepped in front of Beck and started yapping about something. Beck shot her a reassuring smile and turned his attention to J.T.

So much for sticking together. Before Bella pulled her into the crowd, she snagged her drink off the table. It was becoming more and more obvious she’d need all the help she could get to make it through the rest of the day.

* * *

Beck half listened to J.T. while he tracked Bella and Charlie’s progress through the crowd. He probably shouldn’t have let Bella drag her away.

“So, did you get everything sorted out with your dad?” J.T. asked.

“Huh?” Beck’s hands clenched as a colleague from another firm shook Charlie’s hand across the patio.

“Dude. Where are you right now?”

Beck shook the twinges of jealousy away and let out a breath. “I’m here. What were you asking about?”

“Your dad. He give you the all-clear on the Morris Park project?”

J.T. didn’t need to know that Beck had been having second thoughts. And third. And fourth. He had been on board with handing over his dad’s birthright, but something Charlie said had him second-guessing things. It would only be fair for his dad to have a chance to make things right in Holiday, just like he’d be able to set things right and fulfill a dream by putting together the Morris Park property. But that meant his ties to the Rose, to Holiday, to Charlie would be severed. Even though he’d never planned to stick around, he’d been experiencing a slight change of heart.

“So far so good, although—”

“Although what?” J.T.’s eyebrows wrinkled. “What’s holding you back? I thought we were going to try taking the company in a new, more philanthropic direction and start making a name for ourselves. Are you still in this?”

Beck ran a hand over his freshly shaved chin. He kind of missed the scruff he’d grown used to in Texas. “Yeah, I just need to figure out the best way to proceed. I want to make sure my dad’s plans for the Rose align with what the town needs. He hasn’t been there in so long. I think he’s lost touch with what might be best.”

“And how long am I supposed to sit around on my ass while you figure this out?”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re in a tight spot. It’s—”

“A tight spot? Bro, you know your dad keeps my balls in a vise. This is our chance to take on a bigger role. He won’t give us a second chance. You’ve got one week to figure out how you want to spin this, or I’m walking.”

“Look, I’m working on it, okay?”

J.T. leaned in close. Close enough that Beck caught a whiff of scotch on his breath. “I know exactly what or should I say who you’re working on, and she doesn’t fit into our plans. You keep thinking with your dick, and we’re both going to get screwed, and I don’t mean the kind that ends with your cowgirl wet dream screaming out your name.”

Beck gritted his teeth together and wrapped his hand into a fist. Wouldn’t be a good idea to lay out his coworker with an uppercut to the chin in the middle of the Samuelses’ patio. “You leave Charlie out of this. I said I’ll figure it out and I will.”

“I know you will.” J.T. backed off and clapped a hand on Beck’s shoulder. “Let’s make sure it’s sooner rather than later, eh?”

Before Beck could fire back a smart-ass response, Mr. Samuels tapped on a microphone that had been set up on the stairs.

“If everyone can find their seats, we’ll get started with the ceremony.” He took his wife’s hand and escorted her to a table in front then motioned to Beck to join him there.

“Better go get your award.” J.T. clucked his tongue. “If we get things going on our own, it could be you or me accepting that thing for ourselves in a few years. Not you standing in for your old man.”

The award. The whole reason behind the stupid party. His dad would join leagues of powerful businessmen before him as the Fiscal Friends of NYC’s Contributor of the Year. It was mainly a reason to get together, write off a weekend in the Hamptons, and make a bunch of business owners feel good about themselves for doing a good deed or two. Beck was proud of some of the projects Holiday Enterprises had sponsored. The company had donated land and a building for an after-school club for kids in the Bronx. And his dad had paid for an entire elementary school to attend a Yankees game.

Of course, Beck later found out they’d had to unload the property and building as soon as possible to avoid some major tax implications and rezoning issues. And his dad made sure a news crew documented the Yankees game in the hopes it would balance out some bad publicity he’d earned for forcing out a homeless shelter when he razed an entire block. Yeah, the elder Holiday didn’t usually do a good deed unless there was something in it for him.

Beck brushed past J.T. to search out Charlie in the crowd. She wiggled her fingers at him in a wave, and the cage squeezing his heart eased a bit. They moved toward each other, meeting in the middle of a sea of tables.

“I think we’re supposed to sit at the table up in front.” He put his arm around her and steered her toward their seats.

“I feel like everyone’s looking at me.” Charlie peeked from side to side as they made their way past the other guests.

“If they are, they’re just thinking how beautiful you look in that dress.”

She smiled and shook her head, downplaying the compliment. He wanted her to feel at ease. If he could manage to work out a win on both fronts, he and Charlie would be spending a lot of time around his colleagues in places like the Hamptons. No doubt Charlie could manage to hold her own no matter where she went. If she had the desire, she could even get involved in some of his business deals. The idea of Charlie working some poor real estate exec over in her sweet Texas drawl made him break into a grin right there.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as he held out her chair for her.

“You.” She sat down, and he kissed her forehead before taking the seat next to her.

Her eyes sparked with that glint of heat and humor he’d come to appreciate. He’d have to figure out a way to have it all. Losing Charlie wasn’t an option.

* * *

Charlie strolled across the porch of the giant seaside estate. Beck had gone to follow up with Mr. Samuels on a business lead while they waited for their driver to return. She wanted to take a few minutes to get her fill of the salty air and wrap herself up in the feelings spending the whole weekend with Beck had brought up. She settled into a white wicker chair and closed her eyes, letting the breeze kiss her skin and the warm glow spread throughout her limbs.

“Did you see the boots?” The woman’s voice came from the lawn below. Charlie’s eyes snapped open, but a large flowering bush prevented her from seeing who stood on the grass below.

“Oh my God, yes. And that dress. Who wears red to a garden party in the Hamptons?” Another female voice joined the first, and they both giggled.

Warmth flooded Charlie’s face, and a coldness squeezed her heart. They were talking about her. Her boots. Her red dress.

“She stuck out like a whore in church with all that red. The nails, the lipstick. Was she wearing fake eyelashes? And that accent. It had to be fake. Who talks like that?” The first woman laughed so hard she snorted.

Charlie moved to the railing, trying to peer through the greenery to get a glimpse.

A bag unzipped, then the second woman spoke. “Here, have a tissue. I don’t want you to mess up your makeup. What do you think Beck sees in her? She doesn’t seem his type.”

A mixture of rage and embarrassment coursed through her limbs, and she leaned over the rail. Who would talk about her like that?

“Probably killing time. I heard he has to spend three whole months in that dive before he gets his inheritance. Can you imagine? Snakes and cockroaches the size of rats. God knows what else.”

“That makes sense.”

The first woman shifted. Charlie caught a glimpse of auburn hair and a light-pink top. Bella? Could it be J.T.’s girlfriend, who’d been so polite to her?

“Yeah, J.T. and Beck are finally getting a project of their own to manage. Beck has to stay in Texas until some crazy parade to get that bar.”

“So he’s moving to Texas?”

“No, silly. J.T. said he’s going to turn it over to his dad so he can come home for good.”

“I can’t believe Holiday Enterprises would waste time on a bar in some backwoods town in Texas.”

“Oh, they’ll probably do what they do with most of the businesses they buy—take it apart and sell off the pieces.”

Charlie covered her gasp with a hand. Beck had told her early on he’d make sure she could stay on at the Rose, but was he really going to pawn her off on his dad? Couldn’t be. That was before they’d started…what? Dating? Sleeping together? Could she have misread him? He’d been talking about booking events for next year. Had he changed his mind?

Would he really let his father destroy everything?

“You think they’ll stay together?” the second woman asked.

“Who? Beck and the boot-scootin’ harlot?”

How could Bella be so friendly to her face and then be so mean behind her back? Reminded her of junior high and the way one of the cheerleaders had mocked her for choosing 4-H over the pep squad. But that was nothing compared to the sense of betrayal she felt from Beck. She’d shared things with that man, pieces of herself, pieces of her heart and soul—and he’d been playing her the whole time.

The second woman giggled. “Yeah, I guess not. Well, good. I wanted to ask him to the Met’s fund-raiser next month.”

“Aw, Naomi, you should. He’d be crazy not to go with you. But make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into with Beck.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hear he’s a wild man in bed, but he’ll never—”

“Excuse me, ladies?” Charlie used the term loosely. Enough was enough. She couldn’t stand by while they rocked her world with rumors about the Rose, trashed her reputation, and talked about her and her…her what? After everything that had happened between them, what could Beck be to her now?

The women moved out from under the bushes and squinted up at Charlie on the deck. Bella had the decency to blush, her neck and cheeks taking on a deeper shade than her twinset. The second woman—Naomi, as she’d been called—gaped like a wide-mouth bass that’d been caught hook, line, and sinker.

Charlie gave them one of the smiles she saved for assholes at the bar, the ones from out of town who’d grab her butt, then try to play it off. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Charlotte, oh heavens, we didn’t know you were up there.” Bella’s hand fluttered toward her chest.

“Well, that’s a relief. I’d hate to think what you might say if you knew I could hear you.”

Bella and Naomi shared a glance between them like they were trying to figure out how to make light of the situation.

Naomi shaded her eyes. “We were, uh—”

“You were talkin’ about things you don’t know nothin’ about.” Charlie didn’t give them a chance to come up with some flimsy excuse. “Oh, and as for Beck?”

The two women looked back and forth from Charlie to each other.

“Y’all can have him.” Before her knees turned the consistency of Mrs. Martinez’s homemade salsa, Charlie sashayed to the end of the porch, swishing her lacy, red skirt with extra malice. She took the steps on shaky legs, only letting go of the pristine white railing when the driver of the town car took her hand and helped her into the back seat.

“Are we waiting on the gentleman?” He paused before closing the back door.

“No. Can you take me to the airport? LaGuardia?”

The driver nodded and secured the door, putting a solid barrier between her and the noise from the party, the smell of the sea, and the possibility of a future with Beck. As the car pulled away from the circle drive, she glanced back to see him rushing down the steps.

He belonged here. This was his world, not hers. For a brief moment, she’d let herself get swept away in the possibility that he might stay in Holiday. How stupid she’d been to think he’d settle down with her.

For years, her daddy had said, “You can take the cowboy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the cowboy” or something to that effect. Why should Beck be any different? New York, these people, they were his crowd. He’d made that perfectly clear by choosing to follow in his dad’s footsteps. He was turning his back on her, on Holiday, and on the Rose. And just when she thought Sully’s words had finally reached him.

She’d never fit in here, and he’d never fit in at home. They went together about as well as caviar and collard greens.

She peeled the eyelashes off, letting them fall to the floor. Her lipstick came off on a tissue that she’d shoved into her bag. He’d gussied her up, trying to get her to fit in. But she didn’t belong in his world. If this weekend had taught her one thing, it was she didn’t want any part of it.