16. Olivia

Olivia propped her back against the goat feed shed and stared at her new foster. The terrier mix lay on the blanket she'd used to dry it off after the second bath, snapping and biting at it like the piece of cloth would attack at any second.

"Dawson is going to flip when he sees you." She threaded her hands into her hair and tugged. Pacing the small yard outside the goat barn, she tried to think of something to say to him when he showed up. She was running out of time to figure it out.

She didn't plan to keep the dog, but when a friend called and asked if she could foster, she couldn't say no.

Dawson would understand, right?

Probably not. You don't get burned–or bitten–twenty-four times and still get excited about meeting another dog.

"This is only temporary," Olivia told the dog. "But you have got to be nice to him. For the love of all things good, please don't bite him."

"Liv!" Dawson called from the other side of the barn.

Olivia tugged the blanket from the snipping dog and got down on her level. "Please. I'm begging you. I'll give you all the treats you want. Just don't bite him."

Dawson's footsteps rounded the corner…and halted. Olivia looked up to see him frozen, staring at her and the dog.

Busted. She might as well have "Traitor" stamped on her forehead.

"Cheese and crackers, Liv. What did I ever do to you?"

The dog hopped up and lunged at Dawson, but Olivia had expected the move. She grabbed the little beast out of the air and plastered it to her chest.

"What did we talk about, Betsy?" Olivia asked, infusing every ounce of calm she possessed into her words.

"Betsy?" Dawson asked, eyes wider than a saucer.

Olivia shrugged. "I thought it was cute."

A low scoff escaped Dawson's throat. "You can give it a cute name all you want, but she'll still want to tear the skin off my bones."

Olivia cuddled her new friend. Well, Betsy would be her new friend if she could learn how to get along with her other friend. "She just needs some love. For a little while. I'm fostering."

Dawson crossed his arms over his chest, but the hardness in his eyes was melting away. "Twenty-four bites, Liv," he reminded her.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't say no. She needs a home. Just until the shelter finds someone else."

Dawson's jaw relaxed, and his eyes softened. "I know you wouldn't turn her away. You're right. She needs help, and you're the best person for the job."

Olivia perked up at his unexpected compliment. "Thanks."

Dawson took a tentative step forward. Betsy lowered her head and growled at him, not letting up.

"What do I do? She already hates me."

"She's been mistreated. It's not you. I'm sure you'll like her eventually. Once you get to know her." Olivia grasped at every straw within her reach. They all just needed to get along for a little while.

Dawson stared down at the dog. "That's not the problem. She has to like me first."

The little fireball in Olivia's arms wasn't making this easy. What could she do when Betsy had been hurt by men and Dawson had been bitten by dogs? Trust wasn't even in the distant future for these two.

Dawson's shoulders slumped. "You're doing a good thing. I'll just…keep my distance."

"I'm going to work with her. She's not really fond of anyone at this point."

"Except you," Dawson pointed out. "Well, who can blame her? Instinct probably tells her you're a good woman."

Why did he have to say such sweet things? As if she needed another reason to be hung up on Dawson. He'd hardly left her thoughts since the wedding reception. Memories of his fingers tangling in her hair and the warmth of his breath on her neck still sent shivers up her spine.

Olivia ducked her chin and nuzzled the dog's fur. The rotten smell from earlier was almost gone. "I'm just asking for patience."

Dawson rubbed his chin. "Do you need any help with her?"

A grin quirked up the corners of Olivia's lips. What exactly did he think he could do to help her care for his nemesis?

"I think I've got it."

The phone in Olivia's pocket rang, and she adjusted her hold on the dog to answer it.

Dawson jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to get started on the milking."

Olivia gave him a single nod before checking the screen. Anna.

"Hey. How are you?" Olivia asked in greeting.

Anna cleared her throat, and her words had a rough edge to them. "Back in the land of the living. That stomach virus is no joke. My throat is sore from throwing up."

"Yikes," Olivia said. "Did the electrolyte drinks I dropped off help?"

"I'm happy to report that I'm not in danger of dehydration."

One of the newest kids hopped over to Olivia's side, and she bent to let Betsy down. She'd taken to the goats a lot quicker than humans. "What about the crackers?"

"They were gross, but I kept three of them down yesterday."

"You're on the road to recovery," Olivia said.

Anna groaned. "I just hope Mom doesn't get this after being around me so much. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"Give her some of those vitamins I dropped off the other day."

"She already took some. And she said to tell you that the potato soup was amazing."

Olivia watched Betsy and Hank dart around as they played. When she was convinced Betsy wasn't going to attack the baby goat, she started toward Cluckingham Palace. "Thanks. I'll send her the recipe."

There was rustling on Anna's end of the line, and she sighed. "You're so good to me. Have I told you how much I love you?"

Olivia swallowed hard past the swelling of her throat. Anna was a constant in her life. When Olivia's mom died, Anna didn't leave her side. When she had to stay in because the endometriosis pain was too much, Anna stayed in too. Through boyfriends, breakups, and broken hearts, Anna was always there. "I love you too."

"Any news I've missed? I feel like I've been hidden under a rock for three days."

Olivia looked over her shoulder toward the goat barn. Betsy wasn't following her, but she'd be fine as long as she played well with Hank. "I'm fostering a dog. Her name is Betsy."

"Aww, that's adorable. I can't wait to see her. If I'm feeling better, can I come over tomorrow?"

Bending to turn on the hose, Olivia pressed the phone between her shoulder and ear. "Of course."

"How is Dawson? I haven't seen him since before the wedding."

How was Dawson? Just being ridiculously hot and directing all of his flirtatious charm at Olivia, making him impossible to resist.

No biggie.

"He's fine, I guess. Just hanging out with his four-legged friends."

"Is he there? Shoot, Liv. You get to see him all the time. I'm so jealous."

There was the guilt. Right on schedule. "He's with the goats. I'm feeding the chickens. We're not actually here together."

"You know what I mean. You see him a lot more than I do."

"We just run into each other at the farm a lot." And at Beau's garage. And at the station. And at church.

No sense in mentioning those things to Anna.

"Yeah. He did call yesterday to check on me. That was sweet."

Olivia got a call or text from Dawson at least once a day. Sometimes, there were many in a twenty-four hour period. As far as she knew, he didn't call Anna that much, and they didn't make plans to hang out together the way he and Olivia did.

The comparisons were enough to both worry and excite her. Did Anna notice that Dawson called Olivia more? Did it bother her more than she was letting on?

Safely steering the conversation to Anna's job at her dad's law firm, Olivia fed the chickens, refilled their water stations, and gathered eggs.

Anna's words started to get lower and lower until she huffed a deep breath. "Okay, I can't talk anymore. I need a nap."

"Get some rest. I'll swing by Sticky Sweets later and grab you some chicken salad."

Anna hummed. "You're the best. Love you."

"Love you too."

Olivia slipped the eggs into containers and looked around. She hadn't heard a peep out of Betsy in a while. The pup was cute as a button now that she was clean, but they'd have to have a come to Jesus meeting if Betsy sank her teeth into Dawson.

The sun was starting to set as she trekked back to the goat barn. Only a few of the goats milled around outside, which meant Dawson was probably milking inside.

She raised her hand to rap her knuckles against the wooden door frame when she stopped. Dawson's baritone voice reached her just in time, and she leaned to peek inside the barn.

Dawson was crouched in front of Betsy with a hand extended toward the dog. Betsy was crouched with her head low to the ground. Her teeth were bared at him with a soft, continuous growl.

"Come on, Betsy. We have to get along."

Betsy's growl died, but she didn't change her stance. She stayed poised for battle as Olivia held her breath.

"Come on," Dawson whispered. "I promise I'm a good guy. Olivia likes me. I think."

Covering her mouth, Olivia waited to see how the meeting would go. She did like Dawson. A lot. Way more than she should.

Dawson left his hand hovering in the air. "Come on, girl. I promise I'll be good to you too. Just give me a chance."

Betsy's head bobbed up and down as her attention jerked from his hand to his face.

Dawson turned his hand over and opened it. "Olivia is my girl. If you're gonna be in her life, you have to make room for me. I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia bit her lips between her teeth. If Dawson was going to stay in her life, she had to figure out a way to manage her feelings. She couldn't pinpoint the moment when her crush on her brother's best friend turned into love. It snuck up on her when she wasn't looking.

Now, she needed to do damage control. After years of letting everything Dawson did burrow into her heart, he'd broken down her walls without setting off the alarms.

Betsy leaned forward, sniffed Dawson's hand, then darted away.

Olivia brushed her hands over her shirt and stepped into the barn. "Hey."

Dawson stood and flashed her a grin. "Hey."

She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. Ever since their moment at the wedding, the urge to reach for him had been building. "I'm gonna head out. You need anything?"

Dawson's jaw worked one way, then the other. He was giving the simple question a lot of thought. "I'm good. See you tomorrow?"

"Probably. I'll be around." They ran into each other often–sometimes planned, and sometimes not. Even in the times they weren't together, she was thinking about him.

They'd worn a path in this routine. Why did it suddenly feel dangerous?

"Do you know where Betsy went?" she asked.

Dawson pointed to the back of the barn. "Probably playing with Hank and Henry."

"Did she bother you?"

Dawson adjusted his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nah. I think she'll warm up to me. No worries."

"I'm not worried. Women can't help but love you."

Dawson's grin dipped a fraction of an inch before perking back up. "If you say so."

"Thanks for understanding."

He winked and started stepping back toward the exit. "Anything for you, my queen."

That nickname sent her stomach tumbling every single time. Dawson was the king of making her feel special. Was he like that for everyone? Was she silly to think she was special?

Olivia turned to look for Betsy. She needed to put distance between Dawson and herself before she did something stupid, like run after him.