Charlotte stood back and admired how clean the front of the house now looked. “The rock is perfect,” she said. “You were right.”

Dawson pulled off his work gloves as he turned toward her. The man was muscle and machine, as he never stopped working. They’d spent the morning laying the weed barrier, and he’d come with her to drop off her paperwork and buy her car.

Even the cute Mini Cooper couldn’t distract her at the moment. Dawson did that all by himself. It would probably help if he wore a shirt, but it was mid-afternoon and they’d just finished spreading out the black lava rocks she’d bought after lunch. He’d discarded his shirt a while ago, and Charlotte hadn’t complained.

He’d dug all the holes for the new plants and bushes. He’d shoveled rock into a wheelbarrow and moved it. She’d done most of the spreading, but still.

“It does look nice,” he said. “The house is so light, the dark rock really contrasts.”

She thought it might be natural for her to bump him with her hip, but she refrained. “And all the native plants will be amazing.” She’d insisted on buying only things native to the island, and the ‘illima papa bushes already had the most glorious yellow flowers on them.

Around the side, they’d put the bigger a’ali’i bushes, because they could grow into small trees and loved the drier soil. She wanted to put some bigger trees in the back for shade, but she didn’t want to block the view of the bay. So she’d ended up getting nothing quite yet.

She’d put the native hedge alahe’e along both sides of the doorstep, and filled in the other side of the house with a groundcover that wouldn’t take much water to keep alive.

Satisfaction bloomed in her at all she’d done with a few plants, bushes, and hedges, and she smiled up at Dawson. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course,” he murmured. His hand touched hers, and while her first instinct was to jerk away, she controlled it and kept very still. He slipped his fingers through hers, and she squeezed.

So maybe she liked him. Liked having him nearby, liked talking to him, liked not having to traverse a new place by herself.

She looked up at him and decided to be brave. When Hunter had told her he wanted a divorce and that he was leaving, she’d let him go. She hadn’t even really asked any questions. She hadn’t been brave enough. She definitely hadn’t fought to keep him. Didn’t even know how to be that strong.

But she said, “I thought we weren’t going to start something while you lived here,” now, feeling very strong and very brave.

“Hey, you made steak and cake last night.” He chuckled and tugged her a little closer to his side. “Chocolate cake.”

She laughed and enjoyed the feel of it as it shook her chest and filled her with happiness. The warmth of his hand was the only welcome heat in this afternoon. “So chocolate is what it takes to win you over. I’ll make a note of that.”

“Maybe it was the steak,” he said.

She studied him for a moment, the glint in his eyes playful and bright. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Come on. I’m baking.” She started for the front door, because at least the air conditioner worked in this house.

Inside, she turned on the sink to wash her hands, and a spray of water hit her in the face. She yelped, and Dawson came to her side. “You just have to….” He jacked the faucet left and then right and back left again, and the spray lessened to a gurgle. “There.”

Charlotte shook her head and said, “I can’t wait for the plumber to come.”

Dawson shook the water from his hands and agreed. Charlotte turned toward him, the air conditioning not doing a single thing to cool her attraction to him. Why did he have to be so good-looking? So hard-working? He clearly liked her, and his eyes dropped to her mouth, so he was thinking of kissing her the same way she was currently entertaining fantasies of kissing him.

Kissing him? What in the world would that do?

He lives here, her mind screamed.

But he’s moving out, her heart argued.

We’re not interested in a relationship, her brain shot back.

Yes, we are.

Especially if it was with Dawson Dane.

He did not move, and Charlotte had the suspicion that he would not make the first move. He was being careful with her, and she really liked that about him.

She put one hand tentatively on his chest as she twisted toward him. “Dawson.”

He had frozen, and he didn’t move when he vocalized, “Hmm?”

Instead of saying anything, Charlotte stretched up and touched her lips to his. A quick brush, but enough to make her want more. She opened her eyes and looked right into his.

“What are you doing?” he whispered. “Trying to drive me crazy?”

“No.”

He swept both arms around her then, pulling her tight against his chest, and when his mouth touched hers, it was a real kiss.

Charlotte hadn’t been kissed with this level of heat and passion for a very long time, probably since the first year of her marriage to Hunter.

“I can’t stay here tonight,” he said, his voice ragged and husky. Before she could answer, he kissed her again.

She clung to him, unsure if what she was doing was wise, but wanting to do it anyway. Maybe she’d lived too much of her life in the safety zone, and Dawson felt dangerous and like a refuge at the same time.

“I’ll move out tonight, okay?”

She nodded and tucked herself into his chest. His heart thumped like he’d just shoveled another wheelbarrow full of rock, and hers matched his. She felt wildly out of control, and it felt…good.

Charlotte watched Dawson load up his SUV from the second-story windows. She wasn’t embarrassed about what had happened in the kitchen. She simply didn’t know what to do next. He turned and faced the house, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

He’d left her standing in the kitchen with the words, “I’ll shower and go.”

She’d escaped upstairs to figure out what to do next, and nothing had come yet. But she couldn’t let him leave without speaking to him. Could she?

No, she told herself, and she headed downstairs. She pulled open the front door at the same time his Land Rover’s engine started. “Dawson?”

His window rolled down, but he did not get out of the truck. She walked over to him, slowing the closer she got. “I thought maybe you’d want to go to dinner tonight.”

Relief replaced the anxiety on his face. “Sure, I’m starving.”

“I didn’t…I feel bad you have to leave.”

He got out of the SUV and took both of her hands in his. “I’m not. This isn’t where I’m meant to be. And I’d rather—yeah. It’s fine.”

“Where are you going to go?” He’d mentioned an apartment but he’d said he’d be moving out next weekend.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Another wave of guilt hit her. “You really can stay here.”

“No.” He shook his head with determination. “Not if I want to do this.” He leaned down and paused half a breath away from her. She closed the distance and kissed him, wishing she understood her insane feelings for this man.

He pulled away and cleared his throat. “So dinner?”

“Yes, just tell me where.” She stepped out of his arms and smiled at her car before training her attention back on him. “I can get myself there now.”

“How about I figure out where I’m sleeping tonight, and I’ll text you?”

“Sure, yeah. Of course.”

He climbed back in his truck and grinned at her. “Great. See you soon.”

She watched him back out and flip around, kicking up dust on the dirt road as he left her standing in the driveway. She pocketed her hands, a range of emotions storming through her. Regret that she had to stay here alone when he’d been here first. Which made no sense, as she owned this house.

An overwhelming sense that she had no idea what she was doing. In that moment, standing in her driveway and watching his truck disappear from the horizon, she really wished she had a girlfriend she could call and discuss things with.

But she had no one on this island.

No one but Dawson.

“Are you sure?” she asked him for the third time.

“I’m not working tomorrow.” He pushed the hammock with his foot, sending it gently swaying again. “It’s fine.”

Charlotte swallowed her protests. The plumber had just called to say he’d be at the house between nine and noon tomorrow, and it was her first day at Your Tidal Forever. So she’d asked Dawson if he’d come to the house and meet with the plumber.

“I’ll leave a check on the counter,” she said.

“Wow, I didn’t know people still used checks.” He chuckled and the vibrations of it migrated from his chest into her side while she snuggled against him.

The past several days had been filled with magic for her. A new man. A new house. An upcoming new job. A brand new life.

She gazed over the bay, watching the sun sink by degrees, comfortable within the circle of Dawson’s arms. No, she didn’t know everything about him, but they talked twice as much as they kissed, and she was learning.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

“Go on, then.”

“Did you grow up in South Carolina?”

“We moved a couple of times. Why?” She shifted so she could see his face. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days, and the beard he had was impressive for such a short time. She’d traced his whiskers just before kissing him, but she didn’t now.

“I knew a Wilma Madsen once,” he said. “In Arizona. I asked her to a dance. Homecoming or a Christmas thing.”

Charlotte’s heart started pounding and she could barely hear herself above the thumping it made in her chest. “Wilma is my older sister.”

“I thought so.”

“You thought so?” Charlotte pushed herself up and perched on the edge of the hammock. “When did you make this connection?” And why did it matter to her so much? Only because Wilma had always gotten the best dates in high school, always corrected Charlotte in how she applied her makeup and what she wore, and had not supported her when Hunter had left Carter’s Cove and come back with a new bride.

There were a lot of reasons Charlotte hadn’t called her sister last week when she needed a friend to confide in.

“A few days ago. We’re friends online. It said you guys were too, and I thought she looked like you a little. Saw her maiden name was Madsen.” He sounded entirely too nonchalant to Charlotte.

She needed to think through this and why this pinched her the wrong way. “Did you tell her about us?”

“Why would I?” He put his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her toward him. “Why is this freaking you out?”

“I don’t get along with my sister.” And the fact that he’d once found her attractive, even if it was over twenty years ago? Charlotte didn’t like that either.

“We went out once,” he said. “Maybe twice. I apparently didn’t get along with her either.”

“She has that affect on people.”

He touched her back, and she calmed a little. “Does she know you’re here in Getaway Bay?”

Charlotte shook her head, this part of her life what she’d left behind when she’d left the mainland.

“Kind of funny we lived by each other growing up, don’t you think?” Whether his voice was deliberately light or he really found it amusing, Charlotte didn’t know. She knew she liked lying in his arms, watching the sun sink into the water, the scent of her new flowers below the deck lilting through her nose.

So she did that, determined not to let her thoughts about her sister and her once-husband ruin her evening.