Loving David (2 page)

He gestured toward the front seat. “May I join you? I’m afraid it’s rather cramped back here.”

She lowered the can of mace and nodded an okay to him, unable to do more than stare at him in wide-eyed wonder as he crawled over to the front passenger seat. He held out his hand to shake hers. “Well, thank you. And you are?”

She took his hand, surprised at its soft ruggedness. “Ch---Charlotte,” she stuttered, barely able to get her name out. “Charlotte Taylor.”

He grinned again and squeezed her hand. “Charlotte. What a lovely name. And lovely to meet you. And as you already know, David King.”

“David King,” she whispered to herself.

He leaned back against the seat, still smiling. “Most people call me David. You can do the same if you like.”

Charlotte blinked and shook her head in disbelief. Was this really happening? Was David King really sitting mere inches from her, filling up her car with whatever wonderful cologne he was wearing, knees brushing up against her dashboard? And had she almost maced those beautiful green eyes? She never considered herself star struck. Of course, she’d never had a celebrity in her car either.

“I would ask you to drive me to the inn, but I think that plan’s been ruined. That photographer and bloody who knows who else will be permanently camped out in that lobby.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans. “Better call my driver, have him come back up here to fetch me.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he pulled out his cell phone and started to dial. Charlotte gave him the once-over and liked what she saw; messy, coal-black hair, five- o’clock shadow, and wrinkled flannel shirt…gorgeous.

“I can drive you somewhere…” she blurted out before she clamped her mouth shut. Had she really just offered to drive David King around?

David glanced over at her as he put his hand over his cell.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded mesmerized by his British accent; she always thought accents were sexy. She had seen David King in movies in which he spoke with an American accent; she liked his real brogue better.

“The least I could do to make up for almost macing you.”

“Indeed,” he grinned at her, which made her uncomfortable. Charlotte busied herself with taking a sip of her latte and buckling her seat belt, hoping he wouldn’t see the effect he had on her.

“I can hardly turn down an offer like that. Except I’m not sure where to next.”

“What are you doing up here, anyway?” Charlotte asked.

“At the moment I’m in between jobs…so I thought I would come up here to the Inn for a little holiday. Wishful thinking.”

Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ears. “Where do I take you then?”

“Maybe to the nearest town, rent a car, find a B&B or something. What do you think?” He looked right at Charlotte while she stared straight ahead.

She glanced at her watch. “The car rental place is down the hill and will probably be closed by the time we get there.” Charlotte looked out the front window of the Jeep, her mind turning. It was getting too late to drive him back down the hill, and who knew if they’d encounter another mob scene. There was only one alternative. She shook her head, a warring conversation swirling around in her mind.

David noticed her moving her lips as she played out a few scenarios in her head. He laughed and poked her shoulder. A jolt of electricity coursed through her at his touch. She tried to ignore it. “Well, now you seem rather lost in thought. What are you thinking?”

Charlotte took a deep breath as she turned to face him, still not sure if she was doing the right thing. “If you just want to hide, I may to be able to help you.”

“I’m listening.”

Charlotte shifted in her seat. “Some girlfriends of mine are staying at a retreat up here ---- just a small group, very quiet, very private. I can assure you no one would know where you are or bother you while you’re there.” She cocked her head to the side. “It may be just the place you’ve been looking for.”

“Done,” he blurted out. “I don’t care how much it is; you seem convinced I’ll like it, so let’s go.”

She held up her hand. “You don’t have to pay; it’s a quiet little group of cabins. My friends go there to get away from it all. It’s just a few miles up the road.” She paused. “So… you’re game then?” Was she really having
this
conversation with
this
person?

He gave her a light tap on her knee, and Charlotte pursed her lips to keep her composure. “Yes! Let’s shove off then,” he said, a broad smile stretched across his handsome face.

“Sounds like a plan,” Charlotte said as she started the Jeep and got back on the road leading up to the retreat.

“So what else is on the set list?” David asked.

“What?” Charlotte asked, confused.

David rapped on the knob of the radio. “You know, for your concert?” he said, barely able to contain his laughter.

Charlotte turned red, hoping he’d forgotten about that particular incident. “That’s not funny. I thought I was by myself.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Like you don’t sing along to the radio when you’re driving.”

“Well, since I don’t really drive all that much, no, not really.”

“What? You don’t drive, or you can’t?”

“I
can
drive, I just don’t drive
often
,” David said as he slumped a bit in his seat and drummed on the dashboard with his fingertips. “I have a driver. Traffic makes me bonkers, especially L.A. traffic. Let someone else have the hassle. New York is the best. You can just walk everywhere or hop on the tube or as you would call it, subway.”

Charlotte pondered this for a moment and shook her head. “I love my car. And I love driving. I couldn’t imagine someone driving me around all day.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at how fast you got used to it.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I doubt it.”

The sun had just started to make its descent into the horizon, and the warm afternoon air had cooled a bit. Just then, a cluster of cottage-style cabins came into view. There were a handful of cars parked in a variety of makeshift parking spots out front. Charlotte maneuvered her Jeep into one and turned it off.

“Well,” she said as she gestured toward the cabins. “Here we are.”

“What is this place?” David asked as they got out of the car and he looked around. “Some sort of camp for adults?”

“No,” Charlotte smiled. “Like I said, it’s a retreat. Most of the ladies here may not realize who you are.” She looked over at him as she reached behind her seat to get her bags. “I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“
That
would be a nice change of pace.” He ran over to her side. “Let me get the bags for you.”

“How about you take the groceries and your backpack and,” Charlotte picked up her bags. “I’ll take these.”

David grinned. “Deal.”

As she stood in the evening light, watching him sling his backpack over his shoulder and hoist the grocery bags, Charlotte took the opportunity to get a better view of David King. He was even more handsome in person than he was on screen or in any of the tabloids she saw at the supermarket. He had to be at least six feet tall with broad shoulders, and even though his arms were beneath a flannel shirt, she could tell that they were muscular, the kind you could get lost in. A chunk of his dark, unruly hair kept falling into his piercing green eyes, which shone like emeralds.

Stop staring
, Charlotte admonished herself as she pulled the cabin keys out of her purse. She headed toward a small cabin that was squeezed in between two much larger cabins. Charlotte shoved the key in the lock and motioned for David to come in. The scent of pine cleaner greeted them and shadows from the fading evening sun cast themselves against the knotted wood floors. David took a look around as he sat the grocery bags and his overstuffed backpack on the small kitchen table.

“Nice place,” he said. “Now what are these ladies going to think about you dropping a veritable stranger down in their midst? You’re sure I’m not intruding?”

Charlotte placed her bags next to the table, deciding to sidestep the question for the time being. David started to take the groceries out of the bags and set them on the table. He inspected the bags of pretzels, cans of potato chips, and assorted boxes of pastries.

“A girl with a healthy appetite, I see.”

Charlotte began to put the groceries away. “I like my sugar and my salt. Sue me.”

“Should I be scared? I’m not walking into a coven of witches, am I?” he asked with a wink.

“No, no. Nothing like that.”

David pulled out a chair and sat down. “So what kind of retreat is this anyway? Are you all doing yoga or something?”

“No. We’re all writers. It’s a writers’ retreat.”

He looked at her, wide-eyed. “Writers? What kind of writers? Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re screenwriters,” he laughed.

Charlotte felt her heart speed up; his smile took her breath away. She pulled out a bottle of Arizona Iced Tea. “Can I pour you a glass?” she asked as she pondered her answer.

“Please, thank you.” David leaned forward. “What kind of writers are you all?”

Charlotte pulled two tall glasses from the cabinets and filled them with ice. “Well, we all write different things ---- novels, political articles, biographies,” she paused. “One lady writes educational books.” Distress flickered across David’s handsome face. “Don’t worry, David--- none of us write for the tabloids or anything like that.” She handed him a glass.

He exhaled. “Thank God.” He held up his glass to hers. “To new friends,” he said. Charlotte joined her glass with his and they clinked. “Cheers.”

Charlotte gulped her tea, not realizing how thirsty she was. David also drained his in a few quick swigs. They both plunked their empty glasses down at the same time and laughed.

“I guess we were thirsty,” Charlotte said as she resumed putting away her groceries.

“Apparently.” David reached for the bottle and refilled both glasses.

“Before we make our big entrance, there is something else I should probably tell you.” Charlotte paused. “All of the ladies here are either divorced or widowed.” She looked at him for his reaction.

“Divorced or
Widowed
?” He stammered. “Would you mind explaining?” he asked.

Charlotte leaned against the counter as she twisted her fingers around her long, auburn locks, trying to come up with an easy answer. “One of the ladies owns this property, and several years ago she started bringing colleagues here for a getaway. And she soon realized all of her friends were divorced or widowed. They would spend hours discussing their struggles. She also noticed her divorced friends would end up in one part of the house talking about their problems and her widowed friends would be in another part of the house talking with each other and it just developed from there.”

She finished putting away her groceries and joined David at the table.

“For a long time now, the group’s been gathering here once a year. The widows stay together in one of the large cabins and divorcees in the other. During the day, the two groups meet in their respective cabins to talk about their issues. We also hold book clubs, seminars---- that kind of thing. But at dinner time we all come together in the large dining cabin in the back. We all eat together and talk about our projects or play cards.” Charlotte shrugged. “There really is no set plan. It’s just fun.”

“Fascinating.” David leaned forward and looked at her. “So, why do you have your own cabin?”

Charlotte threaded her fingers together and looked down at the table. She let out a sigh. “I belong in both groups. Sort of.”

David frowned. “Oh. Both?” he raised an eyebrow. “Why both?” he asked gently.

Charlotte took another sip of iced tea. “I’d been separated for about two years before my husband was killed in a car accident, so the ladies put me in the ‘both’ category. I’m the only one with this particular situation, so I chose to stay in the small cabin. I spend time with both groups, but my
main
job is to make all of the arrangements for us before everyone else gets here.” Charlotte leaned back against her chair. “I usually come up here early and make sure the cabins are ready, clean, stocked--- that kind of thing. I had to run back to L.A. for some meetings, so this is my second trip up here in as many days. I help with the travel arrangements…. pick up prescriptions.” She took a deep breath and released it. “I am the youngest woman here, so doing all the leg-work is easier for me.” Charlotte shook the ice in her glass. “I’ve been doing this for about three years now, and I really love it. I’ve learned so much from these ladies.” Charlotte finished her tea. “They’re like family to me.”

He was silent for a moment as he drank his tea. “Which group do you talk with more?”

“Divorcees,” she said matter-of-factly.

He finished his drink as though he was unsure of what to say next. “Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here? This being a no-man zone and all,” he said to lighten the mood.

“No,” she said bluntly. “They’re going to kick my ass.”

David’s jaw dropped a bit. “You’re serious?” Charlotte shrugged her shoulders and cocked her head to the side to indicate a beat-down was a distinct possibility.

David rubbed his hand across his chin, concern crinkling around his eyes. “Maybe I should leave; I don’t want to get you in trouble with your friends.”

“Oh, the ladies may bark at first, but I’ll just explain to them what happened. I ’m sure they’ll understand,” Charlotte scoffed, trying to convince them both. She glanced at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. “They should all be in the dining cabin getting ready for dinner.” Charlotte stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Maybe you should go and talk to them first; warm them up a bit, and then introduce me.” David suggested.

“I don’t think so. Better to just take the bull by the horns.” She held up her index finger, a thought occurring to her. “You know, I do remember two years back one of the girls brought a friend with her who was in remission from cancer.” Charlotte grabbed her keys and started to walk toward the door. She was about to open it when David placed a hand on her arm and reached around to open it for her. Charlotte caught a whiff of him and closed her eyes, reveling at the woodsy scent. “Wow,” she mouthed out of his eyesight. They stepped outside, and she continued her train of thought. “They were okay with that, and she wasn’t a writer,
and
she had never been married.” She placed her finger on the corner of her mouth. “She didn’t have a penis, though,” she said with a sly grin.