Page 52 of Sassy Love
“Bye, sweetie.”
She hangs up, and I turn back to find Lawson leaning on the door frame. He’s showered, dressed for dinner. And hell, the man is something else with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes snagged on me with a lazy smile stretching his mouth.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Lawson.”
“I wasn’t. You were finishing up when I opened the door. How’s the head?”
“Better. Now I’m starving.”
“We better feed you, then.” He winks at me.
Something that feels suspiciously like a cloud of butterflies takes flight low in my belly.
For fuck’s sake.
Damn you, Mills, for putting your daydreams in my head.
Chapter 14
LAWSON
Carlie bolts from the chair across the small table from me and rushes from the room. What’d I say?
Manuel forces a smile and rises to go after her.
Honesty hour.
More like emotional-trauma hour. If the look on her face is anything to go by.
We each have three questions. One about our families. One about our dreams. One about our greatest fear.
She almost faltered on the first one but managed a two-word answer. The second, she gave a more elaborate answer. The third...
Well, I’m currently sitting in this small therapy room by myself.
I guess asking if her greatest fear revolved around being not good enough hit home.
Only seven minutes in, and we’ve hit a wall.
I feel like the asshole, but that’s the point, isn’t it? To make us uncomfortable together, to become comrades in arms, so to speak. As we weave through our messy bits, we get to know each other at a deeper level, so this superficial back-and-forthdefensiveness we’ve both tossed at each other can be replaced with something more productive.
Ten minutes pass before I leave my seat and wander into the large communal area. Manuel meets me as I reach the dining area. “Mr. Lawson, she needs a moment. We can continue together, if you like?”
“No, it’s fine. Where is she?”
“Ah . . . she?—”
“Never mind, I’ll find her.”
He turns as I head for the pool area, calling out, “Tread easy, please.”
I wave a hand over my shoulder. Nothing about this is easy. I severely underestimated the impact this week would have on me. On the both of us. But the vulnerabilities it has pulled from Carlie are what surprise me the most.
I was raised with the notion that we take care of our own.
And I am well aware Lamont is not my family, but something propels me around the resort searching for her, regardless. Twenty minutes later, I find her sitting against a big old tree, knees up and head bent, her forehead pressed to her arm in the dark. Stopping mere feet from where she sits, I watch her shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The half-moon overhead illuminates the rose-gold hair around her shoulders.
“Need a punching bag?” I say softly.
