Page 13 of Love and Other Trials
After Dax talked to Rob, all of the arrangements might very well change anyway. She just had to get through tonight. It wasn’t long until morning anyway. God knew, she and Sherlock had stayed in rougher accommodations.
“Ariel will stay with me for the moment so she can get a decent night’s sleep.” Dax’s deep voice held the note of military command. “I have a two-bedroom cottage, and Carson won’t be getting in from Norfolk until Thursday. Come on, Ariel. You and Sherlock are dead on your feet. Good night, ladies.”
He turned her around with gentle hands and started to walk her toward the exit as her sisters cried out her name.
“Just keep walking,” Dax muttered.
Sherlock was trotting quickly, clearly eager to be gone.
“Are you sure about this?” she whispered.
“You betcha.” He let go of her arm when they cleared the lodge and glanced her way, making a face as the rain gently fell. “Five boys aged eight to thirteen? Between the farting and some other things boys do that I won’t mention, I’d be having nightmares for you. Jesus, I’m still a little stunned at their tactics, and this is after my butt got grabbed.”
“The sad thing is that I shouldn’t be surprised, but I kinda am.” She welcomed the humid air and gentle rain on her face as they left the main building and headed down the meandering walkway to the cottages illuminated by outdoor lighting. “They always make a big deal about me still being single. And not having kids.”
“So I heard, and it’s bullshit. You deserve as much respect as anyone else.”
The Three Tornadoes thought she was a freak for not having gone down the aisle at least once yet. Wasn’t she thirty-one? Why hadn’t she gotten married yet? The implication: something was wrong with her.
“It’s understandable why they’d want alone time with their partners, but it doesn’t mean they get to take advantage of you,” Dax finally commented as they arrived at his cottage.
He dug out his key card, and she took a moment to breathe in the sea air and listen to the crash of the waves along the property’s edge and the rustle of the palm trees as the rain hit their towering leaves. She’d been so looking forward to this little piece of heaven. Most of the cottages sat within a stone’s throw from the beach. All had screened-in porches with comfy chairs and couches and dining nooks. Thank goodness for Dax. She and Sherlock would have a quiet sanctuary after the long days she’d put in. It wasn’t Grandma’s house, but it held the same flavor, which was its own comfort.
Her dream of being given the deed to her grandma’s house had fortified her for this trip. But that dream felt pretty far off now, and she was suddenly sad and dispirited. If the wedding got canceled, her sister would hold on to the deed for future leverage. Or, worse, sell the house. Yes, she could find another place to live here in Charleston, but that would break her heart. Especially since her grandma wanted her to have it.
“My family doesn’t see it as taking advantage,” she commented quietly as she glanced around the porch before entering through the front door he held open. “They think you do everything for family because it’sfamily.That’s it. Grandma always said life is composed of love and other trials with family in the mix.” Of course Grandma had also added men to the list of trials. Ariel had always been extra wise on that score, having seen the fallout of her mother’s and sisters’ relationships.
Dax turned on a brass lamp beside the front door, illuminating the family room area that rolled into a kitchen and dining nook. A tall ceiling was decked out with a large white plantation-style fan and clerestory windows. Elegant colonial era furniture, seaside paintings, and antique knickknacks made the space feel welcoming and luxurious, as did the hardwood floors and brick fireplace.
She unclipped Sherlock’s leash. He immediately plopped himself down on the blue rug beside the fireplace and laid his head on his paws, clearly ready to sleep. “Poor fella. He’s my rock when I come back to see my family.”
“I’m glad you have him.” Dax set her luggage aside and leaned against the couch. “I’ve always known I’m from a great family. We have fun with each other. We all love and respect each other. When I think of my family, the concept of trials doesn’t even register.”
God, that sounded like a dream. “I’m glad for you.”
He crossed and laid a hand on her shoulder again, lightly stroking the tension in her muscles there. She wanted to lean in and bury her face against his chest. At five-two, she didn’t come up to his shoulder. He was a solid refuge, the way the famous Morris Island Lighthouse on Folly Beach always looked in a storm.
“Thank you for stepping in.” Their eyes met and held. “It helped. Knowing you had my back.”
“It was my pleasure.”
She searched his face. Fatigue was there, but so was heat. Her awareness of him grew, and the only sound was their breathing. God, she wanted him. He’d come and gotten her. He’d made her laugh. He’d been honest with her. Okay, sure, he wanted to stop the wedding, but that wasn’t his fault. He’d even protected her. How many more boxes did she need to check?
“You should get some sleep.” He caressed her shoulder, his thumb grazing the hard line of knotted muscle there. “You’ll feel better.”
His warm, compassionate look finally had her doing what she wanted. She closed the distance between them and laid her head against his strong chest. His arms came around her, and for a few minutes, all he did was hold her. There was comfort in the embrace, and there was sweetness in the way he ran his hands up and down her back.
“Come on, you’re dead on your feet,” he finally said, easing away and taking her hand.
After she said good night to Sherlock, he led her through the doorway to the small hallway and then to another door. She knew he was right. They were both beat, and this awareness between them would keep. He wheeled her luggage inside and gestured to the brass bed. “Good night, Ariel.”
His mouth tipped to the side, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind him. She stared at it and felt as if her heart had risen up like a birthday balloon and lodged in her throat.
Everything with her family was rock-bottom bad. But Dax Cross was oddly the bright spot. Yes, he was exactly like the Morris Lighthouse. Not only beautiful to look at but a much-needed light in the middle of turmoil.
They were going to need each other to weather the storm they were facing, because her sister would not back down easily if anyone tried to stop her wedding.
A part of her wanted to dive intoI need to fix thismode. Disaster recovery was her wiring. But how could she? Even worse to contemplate: should she? Dax was justified in how he felt, but he didn’t understand the full scope of the situation. Then again, did Ariel? She and Tiffany lived in different towns and saw each other two to three times a year. Maybe her relationship with Rob wasn’t as strong as it had seemed back in November. Certainly, Ariel wasn’t ruthless enough to help her sister put a ball and chain around his ankle just so she could get her grandma’s house. How could she justify going into fix-it mode without more information?
