Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

C harlotte knew the moment Beau walked into the cabin. Not from hearing the door or the dogs or even him. His personality, the very essence of him, radiated with such power and charisma, she simply knew.

She looked up from her laptop, which she'd put on the bed in front of her, wondering what she should do. She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about Beau, and she'd told herself after his amazing birthday, with such a great dinner and even better kissing, that she'd take some time to figure things out.

Her work around the ranch had exploded, as cowboys she relied on to help her with the horses had been called in different directions this week. Still, she managed to make it home before Beau, and she'd wolf down something for dinner or bring it into her room, shower as fast as possible, and sequester herself behind the closed bedroom door.

Beau had texted her both nights, and her phone chimed as she reached for it to message him first.

Did you move out? I feel like I'm living alone again, and I'm not sure I like it . He'd added a laughing emoji, but nothing inside Charlotte felt like laughing.

She could respond via text the way she had the other evenings. Her computer played streaming TV and videos just fine, and she'd used headphones so Beau wouldn't know she hadn't gone straight to bed when she'd claimed to be so tired.

And she was tired. That hadn't been a lie.

But mostly tired from her confusing thoughts and feelings.

Instead of hiding behind her phone, she got up and left the bedroom. It only took her a few steps to get down the hall, where she found Beau filling a bowl with water for Pepper and Ruby. "I didn't move out," she said.

He jerked, obviously startled, and water sloshed out of the bowl. "Charlotte," he said in a gaspy voice. "You scared me."

She gave him a quick smile he didn't really receive, as focused on the water bowl as he was. "Sorry."

"Good thing I don't have vasovagal syncope, or I'd have passed out." He bent to put the bowl on the floor, and when he rose, he wore a bright smile that didn't fit the mood between them.

Ah, he'd gone into Public Relations mode. The Beau he wanted everyone to see and love, not the man she'd been steadily falling for.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes," she said.

He opened the fridge and promptly closed it again. "We don't have anything good."

"I can go to the grocery store."

"Right now?"

"I mean?—"

He faced her, something hard etched onto his face. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to be here alone."

Charlotte wasn't sure how to respond. It felt like someone had blown sand in her face, and she couldn't see which way to go.

"I'm going to make a sandwich and take a shower," he said as he came around the island between them. "Can you not disappear, please?" He grinned at her and wrapped his arms around her. She could admit it felt warm and wonderful to be held by him.

So maybe she did love him. Or at least was falling in that direction.

And would that be so bad?

He nuzzled her neck and said, "Mm, you smell fruity and fun." He lifted his head. "Give me twenty minutes, and I don't care if we don't talk. I just don't want to sit at my— our —dark, silent cabin alone for one more night."

She nodded, her voice balled up somewhere in her throat. Beau never seemed to have that problem, as his mouth always said what it wanted to. He eased away from her and went about making his sandwich, using the last of the ham and cheese. They really would have to get to the grocery store soon.

"We're working with Marlin tomorrow, right?" he asked as he capped his sandwich with the second piece of bread.

"Yes," she said.

"Then we can talk horses tonight, if you want." He raised his eyebrows, those gorgeous eyes almost too pretty for her to look into for more than a moment.

"That would be great."

He gave her that dazzling, flirty smile and headed down the hall to his bedroom. If they could talk about the horses tonight, then Charlotte wouldn't have to tell him why she'd retreated a little bit.

Maybe she could just make a comeback and never have to say anything about it at all. She scoffed as she moved toward the back door, where Pepper and Ruby ate their dinner with crunches and slurps.

She sank onto the floor there and absently stroked Ruby's pretty fur. "He's going to make me talk, isn't he?"

The collie didn't answer her. In fact, Ruby rarely used her voice. That was more Pepper's style, and Charlotte simply wanted to escape the four walls of the cabin. The walls that she'd put up around herself needed to come down too, but she wasn't quite sure how to do it.

"If you don't," she whispered to herself. "You'll lose Beau."

And that struck like a bolt of lightning right into the fleshy part of her heart. She didn't want to lose Beau. Not to her own stubbornness, her own inability to rely on someone who wanted to take care of her.

"You don't keep secrets," she told herself. "You've changed." She leaned her head back and looked up to the loft, where Beau kept his live-streaming supplies: tripod, ring light, extra cords. "I'm different, right, Lord? I feel so different."

She'd been praying for a way to talk to Beau, for a way to know how she felt about him. Precisely know. No answers had come.

But as she sat on the kitchen floor while the dogs finished their dinner, she knew one thing. She had to talk to Mason before she could take the next step with Beau.

"Mason?" she wondered. Why would she need to talk to him?

She wasn't sure, but she seized onto the feeling, because it felt very much like God telling her what to do, and she didn't want to ignore that.

Charlotte also didn't want to talk to Mason. At all. Not even a little bit.

But she got to her feet and opened the back door. She and the dogs went outside, where they settled in the shade of the tree where she'd found the canines on moving day, and she tapped to call her brother.

Mason always had his phone with him, she wasn't surprised when he said, "Heya, Char," only a moment later.

Something stormed inside her, muting her voice. Something she recognized as…angry. She wasn't sure she'd ever been truly angry at Mason before. He'd done so much for her over the years. Provided her way of life, took care of her, protected her.

Shielded her. Talked down to her. Criticized her. Caged her.

Maybe not all true, but she let the feelings romp through her however they wanted.

"Charlotte, are you hurt? Are you there? Do you need help?"

She took a breath, and said, "Just the fact that you think I'm hurt and need help says so much."

"It says what?" he fired back. "You didn't answer when I answered. You called me ."

She didn't want to fight with him, and all that negativity simply streamed out of her. Someone had definitely just helped her, because she hadn't been able to let go of so much until that very moment.

Yes, I am with you.

Buoyed by the strength of Jesus, she took another breath. "I'm okay," she said in a much softer voice. "Mason, how did you know you loved Felicity and wanted to be with her?"

"I—" he cut off, clearly not expecting this radical change in Charlotte's demeanor. She could go from hot to cold and back at any moment, and she'd been working on her temper. She really had been.

And she really wanted Mason to know that, to see it, to understand that she was capable of taking care of herself.

"Thank you for all you did for me," she said next, the words just there. The sweetest feeling of forgiveness ran through her. "I've been blaming you for some things that might not be entirely fair, but it really hurt when you told Beau I was an expert at keeping secrets."

"Charlotte," Mason said just as quietly. "I know I overstep with you sometimes. I'm sorry about that."

She leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree behind her. "You and Felicity and the kids have been so good to me. I love it here at Three Rivers so much." She pressed her eyes closed. "And I really like Beau, Mace. I really like him."

"I know you do." His tone carried a hint of displeasure, and Charlotte wanted to root it out and watch it die.

"Why does that upset you?"

"It's just…you haven't dated a lot, Char. Just because he's the first man who comes along and sweeps you off your feet doesn't mean it's a forever love."

"Is there a number of men I need to date before that will happen?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why not him?"

"It's just—he's—honestly, I'm surprised you guys get along as well as you do. He just doesn't seem like your type."

"What would be my type?"

"Charlotte."

"No, I'm serious, Mace. We had such a great time on his birthday, and I think I'm falling in love with him. But I've never been in love before, and I'm…."

Scared. Confused. Worried.

Any number of words could fill that pause, and thankfully, Mason didn't run his mouth and try to do it.

"Trying to make sense of things," she said. "I'm trying to make sense of things."

"Just take it," Mason said, and Charlotte wasn't sure what was happening. Then Felicity came on the line with, "You think you're in love with him?"

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "How do you know?"

"Okay, honey, listen to me." Felicity had her Mom-Boss voice turned on, and Charlotte actually smiled. "Love is not something you can write on your clipboard, Charlotte. It's not something you analyze or find a rational pathway through. There are no checklists or numbers of men you need to go out with."

Her smile widened, because surely Felicity had just shot a death glare in Mason's direction.

"It's something you feel," Felicity said. "You have to allow yourself to feel it. It just comes, and when it does, Char, it's so beautiful and wonderful. And you'll just…know."

"What if I'm past feeling?" Charlotte asked. "You know how I am, Felicity. I'm so harsh sometimes." Tears filled her eyes. "What if it's there, and I just can't feel it?"

"Being stubborn and harsh is not the same as being a sociopath."

Charlotte burst out laughing, her tears still stuck in the corners of her eyes, but everything so much happier now. "A sociopath."

Felicity giggled with her, then sobered. "Seriously, Charlotte. Just let yourself go. Then you'll know."

"Thank you, Felicity," she whispered.

"Do you want to talk to Mason again?"

Charlotte considered it for a moment, really trying to listen to that voice that sometimes entered her head. It didn't come. "No," she said. "I think I'm good. I love you guys. Kiss the kids for me, and tell them I'm going to come visit really soon."

"We all miss you terribly," Felicity said. "I'm putting you on speaker. Kids, it's Charlotte. Tell her you love her!"

Yells and shouts of adoration came through the line, and Charlotte let herself feel those. They sank right into her soul, and she knew she was so loved.

Now, she just had to figure out how to let herself feel her own feelings and decide if they were love or not. She ended the call and opened her eyes, the gentle breeze only slightly cooling the evening heat.

"There you are," Beau said a few minutes later. "I thought you'd run off."

She got to her feet, because she knew he didn't want to sit outside and bake. She didn't really want to either. She approached Beau, who grinned at her in that impish cowboy way he had. "Guess what I found in the freezer?"

Charlotte climbed the steps to join him on the back deck. "What?"

He held up a gallon-sized Ziplock bag. "Cookie dough. Come on, we're bingeing on oatmeal chocolate chip tonight."

She laughed as she followed him inside, and then she took over the cookie prep. "You're sick," she said. "Go lie down and I'll bring in the treats."

He did what she said, and she recognized that they'd perhaps put a bandage over the wounds between them. It might hold for a little while longer, but it might just get ripped off and cause more bleeding too.

But Charlotte didn't have the words that would stitch everything up neatly and nicely, so she used a knife to cut cubes out of the frozen cookie dough, and when the first batch had baked, she took a plate over to the couch where Beau…had fallen asleep.

He was cowboy perfect when he didn't carry the weight of the ranch on his face. So handsome, and while those eyes she loved couldn't be seen, the pure goodness of him made up for it.

Her feelings expanded, and while her first instinct was to pull back, harness the power of them, she forced herself to let them go. They didn't go far, and she brushed his hair off his forehead with, "Cookies are done, cowboy."

Beau didn't stir, which testified of how tired and sick he truly was. So Charlotte leaned down and barely touched her lips to his skin, getting plenty of sizzle and spark from that simple act.

And she knew—on some level, she loved this man, and now she just needed to figure out how to tell him.