20. Olivia

Olivia gripped Betsy to her chest as she stepped over a fallen tree. They'd been walking for ten minutes, and the dog was starting to get antsy, wiggling in Olivia's grip and letting out soft whimpers every so often.

"Just a little longer, babe," Dawson called over his shoulder as he led them through the woods.

"Babe?" Olivia said as she held Betsy up until they were face-to-face. "He gets me out of the house one night, and he's already calling me babe."

"I was talking to Betsy," Dawson said over the crunch of the dried leaves covering the forest floor. "You'll always be my queen."

Olivia pulled Betsy back in to nuzzle against her neck. It was a good thing Dawson was walking ahead of them or else he'd see the color blooming on her face.

He had no idea that her heart thudded against the walls of her chest every time he called her his queen. She might be able to gloss over it and convince herself he was just teasing, but he always said the words with such care. They were never hastily tacked onto a sentence.

She wanted to wrap up in those words and live there–safely surrounded by Dawson's affection.

Let's not get started on the crazy excitement she'd been keeping a lid on since he showed up at her door with an invitation and a smile.

They walked for a few more minutes in silence before voices drifted over the crunching of leaves.

"Are you kidding me?" Dawson said.

"What's wrong?" Olivia leaned to the side to see what was in front of him.

A small creek that had carefully dug out its own trench in the rock and dirt wound down the mountain. The gorge was about four feet wide.

Olivia clicked her tongue behind her teeth. They were close enough to hear their friends laughing on the ridge, but the chasm in front of them was a little too deep and wide for her taste.

"I told them to bring some boards down here to make a bridge." He tossed the snack bag and Betsy's food across the gap and turned to her. "Give me your bag."

She let the backpack fall from one shoulder, then the other, as Dawson lifted its weight.

"Anything fragile in here?" he asked.

She glanced at the bags on the other side of the creek. "No."

He hefted the bag into the air as if it hadn't been giving her back pain since they started walking.

"You're not tossing Betsy over there," Olivia said, holding the dog close to her chest.

Dawson wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her close to his side until she was flush against him. She held onto the dog with one arm and wrapped the other around his back just in time.

"Dawson!"

The exclamation burst from her as he lifted her. He took one massive step across the creek and set her down on the other side.

The roaring in her ears was loud enough to wake up all woodland creatures within a half-mile radius. Clutching Betsy, she stayed plastered to his side, all too aware of the hard planes of his muscular back.

"You gonna dig your fingernails out of my back, Liv?"

She jolted, looking up at him with her mouth gaping open. What did he say?

Oh, she was still holding onto him as if he could save her from herself.

Disentangling her arm from around him, she cleared her throat and stepped back. "Thanks for the lift." She looked back at the trench. She couldn't have crossed over it the way he had. Even a running jump might have sent her to the bottom.

"Anytime," Dawson said as he bent to pick up their bags. When he hefted her backpack over his shoulder, she didn't protest. Her knees were still quaking from the unexpected flight, and they didn't have far left to walk.

Dawson grabbed her hand and led her up the incline to the clearing where their friends waited, and the contact seared her palm. She'd touched Dawson before. It was no big deal.

Except, the adrenaline coursing through her body hadn't gotten the memo to stand down. Friends held hands sometimes, right?

When they reached the top of the hill, Dawson released her hand and stepped aside, letting her walk into the clearing first. A handful of people she knew were huddled around the fire pit.

"Miss Olivia!" Levi shouted. He jumped from the stump where he'd been sitting and darted toward her.

"Hold up," Dawson said, extending a hand to stop Levi's charge. "Betsy here gets scared easily."

Levi's mouth opened as he noticed the dog in Olivia's arms. "Oh! You got a dog?"

"I'm fostering her."

"What's that?" Levi asked as he tiptoed toward her.

"I'm taking care of her until someone wants to make her part of their family."

Levi held out a hand, letting Betsy sniff it. "Why don't you keep her?"

Olivia glanced at Dawson. She'd agreed to only foster when she was afraid her friend wouldn't like the new pet. Now that Dawson and Betsy were friends, there wasn't a reason to cut her time with Betsy short. "I might."

Some of the others made their way over, giving hugs to Olivia and slaps on the back to Dawson. Maddie Harding stood beside Levi and gushed over Betsy.

"She's adorable," Maddie said. "If she wasn't so small, I'd say we could take her."

Levi looked up at Maddie. "What does that matter?"

"We have Dixie, and she's a big border collie. She can take care of herself most of the time. But this girl," Maddie said, tentatively brushing a hand over Betsy's side. "She'd probably have to stay inside. A predator might gobble her up."

"Yeah. We wouldn't want that," Levi said with a scrunch of his nose.

Lauren worked her way into the circle of Betsy's adoring fans. "I'm so glad you came. Now we have four ladies for our cabin."

"Four? There are three," Levi said. "You, Maddie, and Olivia."

"And Betsy," Lauren pointed out.

Levi's shoulders sank. "Aww. I was hoping Betsy could sleep with me."

The dog was already licking Levi's hand. "We'll see how she does before bedtime. She might want to sleep with you."

A hand rested on her shoulder, and Dawson leaned in to whisper, "I'll put your bags in your cabin."

"Thanks." It didn't seem like she'd be able to get away from Betsy's fans anytime soon.

Levi showed Olivia around, pointing out everything they'd been doing at the campsite that day. A grill was set up near the fire pit, logs were stacked by the cabins, and brush had been cleared from the area and put into piles around the tree line.

Lucas Harding was busy grilling hamburger patties, and his wife, Maddie, set out buns and condiments on a picnic table.

Sometime around twilight, everyone sat down to eat. Betsy roamed on a leash near the stump where Olivia sat. Everyone huddled around the fire for warmth and light. The conversation died for a bit as everyone scarfed down the food after a long workday, but Levi told everyone exactly how he and Lucas had built the picnic table.

After dinner, Olivia and Dawson cleaned up while Lucas tended the fire and whittled points on sticks for roasting marshmallows.

"I put an air mattress in your cabin," Dawson said as he stashed the condiments in a cooler.

"I thought you said no beds."

Dawson shrugged. "Well, I didn't like the idea of you sleeping on the floor, even if it's only one night."

Olivia didn't need to read too much into his care. He would have probably brought an air mattress for the women even if she hadn't come.

Putting away the last of the food, she wiped her cold hands on her pants. Gloves would be necessary for the rest of the night. The temperatures had really dropped since the sun sank beneath the trees.

Olivia checked to see that Betsy was well taken care of with Levi and Lauren. "I guess I'd better blow up the air mattress."

"I'll get the fire going in your cabin," Dawson said as he gestured for her to lead.

Betsy was sprawled out on her back getting tons of attention. The night had fully settled in, making it impossible to do any real work.

There were no excuses to get out of this one, and she didn't want any. Hanging out with their friends was great, but the selfish part of her wanted Dawson all to herself.

It was ridiculous. He didn't belong to her in name or in secret. He was just her friend and nothing more.

But that didn't stop her from wanting. Every time he did something sweet, every time he innocently touched her, every time he looked at her, she fell a little harder for him.

The sharp whisper in the back of her mind said she should squash the feelings before they had a chance to grow, but she didn't want to. She was here with Dawson, and she wanted him all to herself.

Dawson slowed his steps to walk beside her on the way to the cabin. His pinky brushed against hers before wrapping around it. The connection was so small, so imperceptible to anyone around, but it sent her heart racing. She should pull away, but it was impossible.

He pushed the door open and let her enter first. The cabin was dark, but Dawson walked straight to a lantern and lit it. He walked back outside and reappeared a few seconds later with firewood stacked in his arms.

Olivia unrolled the air mattress and spread it out on the floor. It took up most of the room, so she slid it against the wall. She found the battery-powered pump and got things going. Once it was started, she sat back on her heels and let the machine do its job.

She stood and inspected her bag. Pajamas? Check. Toothbrush? Check. Retainer? Check (unfortunately).

There was one thing she couldn't find, but she couldn't remember taking it out of her purse and putting it in her bag.

"Shoot," she whispered.

"What's wrong?"

Dawson was right behind her as she turned. "I forgot my medicine in the truck. It's to prevent migraines."

Stupid migraines had been interfering in her life for a few years now. She still had breakthrough migraines every once in a while, but the preventative meds certainly kept them manageable.

Dawson looked out the window into the black night. "I'll go get it."

"I'll go with you. This is my fault. I should have remembered it."

"I'd rather you stay here. Quite a few predators come out at night."

Okay, that didn't sound great, but she was the one responsible for leaving it in the first place. "Now I don't want you out there by yourself either."

Dawson lifted the hem of his hoodie to reveal a pistol in its holster on his waist. "I'll be fine."

Sometimes she forgot that Dawson carried a gun as part of his job. He could also use it effectively. Why was competence so attractive? Why did it make him more appealing knowing he could protect her if necessary, with or without a gun?

"Good. Then I'll be fine too. It's not that far. We can bring some boards to put over the creek on our way."

Dawson grinned down at her, and his eyes were shadowed in mischief. "You didn't like being carried?"

"I didn't say that."

The words were out before her brain filtered them. What was she thinking?

Stepping closer, Dawson brushed the pad of his thumb over her jaw. Every muscle in her body froze, then melted at his touch.

"I'd carry you anywhere," Dawson whispered.

Oh, wow. That was definitely not a friendly declaration, and a magnetic force pulled her toward Dawson. She wanted him to carry her, hold her, and shower her with the pretty words he used to adore her.

Why was it so wrong to give in? Why did being with the man she wanted have to come at the consequence of her friend's broken heart?

There was another secret holding her back. She likely couldn't give Dawson the future he wanted with a wife. He would never be content with just her. He'd want a family–kids who shared his last name and his sea-blue eyes.

Snared by his gaze, she studied his face. They were on the same page now, but this wasn't the story with a happily ever after. If they took the leap, someone would get hurt.

Dawson let his hand fall from her cheek to grasp her hand. "We need flashlights, and we can leave Betsy with Lauren and Maddie."

Right. A plan to get her medicine from his truck. The words made sense, but she was having a hard time focusing on anything except his hand gripping hers.

When they walked outside, a deep darkness had set over the camp, and the fire cast long shadows behind their friends huddled around it. The crackle and pop of the burning wood played a soundtrack behind the talking.

Dawson grabbed a flashlight from the ground beside the stump Lucas was sitting on. "Gotta make a trip to the truck. We'll be back in a few."

"Everything okay?" Lauren asked.

Olivia waved a hand in the air, the one that wasn't gripped tightly in Dawson's. "I left my medicine in the truck."

"We'll play with Betsy while you're gone!" Levi said as the dog lapped at his face.

"Thanks. I think she likes you," Olivia said. It warmed her heart to see Betsy so happy and comfortable around her friends.

Dawson gently tugged on her hand, and she followed him to the path that snaked into the woods. They walked down the hill in silence before stopping at the creek.

"We forgot the wood," Olivia said, turning back toward the camp.

"I'll do it in the morning when I can see better." He turned to her and handed over the flashlight. "You ready?"

She couldn't see his face, but she could tell by the lilt in his voice that he was smiling. Her stomach flipped before he wrapped his arm around her. She knew what was coming, and her body's instinctual reaction was a bubbly celebration.

This time, she was ready. When he settled his hold around her, she did the same, wrapping her arms around his neck and reveling in the closeness. Taking a chance, she rested her head against his shoulder as he leaped over the creek.

The moment in the air was fleeting, but her heart kept flying long after he rested her feet back on the ground. He was her anchor, and her gravitational force had shifted.

It was Dawson–the man who would walk out into the night for her, show up at her door with an adventure, and protect her heart like he protected her body.

When her heels met the dirt, she didn't let go, and Dawson only hesitated a second before pulling her closer.

"Liv?"

"Yeah?" she whispered. Anticipation buzzed over her skin as her fingers slid into his hair.

"You okay?"

That was a loaded question. She was flying and falling, freezing and burning, weightless and heavy.

Was she okay? She couldn't even take a full breath.

"I think so."

Dawson brushed the tip of his nose along the side of hers, and all of the air around them rushed into her lungs. Tilting her chin up, she waited for him to make the first move. Had she been imagining the special treatment he gave her? Was she reading too much into his flirting?

She needed him to show her. He wouldn't risk their friendship if he wasn't serious. They were already playing with fire, and there was no going back.

He shifted his hold on her, bringing them closer together. His fingertips trailed from her temple to her jaw before framing her face. "Did you do all this so you could get me alone?"

A laugh burst from her chest, and it was pure freedom. Freedom to be herself. Freedom to play Dawson's game that drew the fear from her bones. "Did I?" she asked.

His breath was warm against her cheek as his mouth hovered a mere inch from her skin. "If you wanted to kiss me, you should have just asked."

Oh, now her skin was burning–tingling as if fire danced over it. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

Brushing his thumb over her lower lip, he whispered, "May I have this kiss, my queen?"

"Uh-huh." It was the most ungraceful response, but it was all her mind could conjure at the moment. She was wrapped up in Dawson's affections–too lost in the fog to find her way out.

His mouth captured hers, stampeding all of her senses. She breathed him in as his lips brushed over hers. Softly, then harder. Trying and failing to contain the years of longing pouring out of them.

He dropped the flashlight and tightened his hold around her waist, dragging her to him as if he could meld them together into one being.

Her hands trailed down his face, over the scruff on his jaw, memorizing the features she'd known for thousands of days. The fear seeped out of her as his lips danced over hers.

This was her Dawson. He always had been.

A knowing settled in her middle as she matched his kiss. This was right, Dawson was different, and everything was about to change. Her world went from black and white to screaming color, and the shadows turned to highlights.

His heavy breaths mingled with the night air as he broke the kiss, only to pepper her with smaller ones–punctuating every one with a silent promise.

He chuckled, and the sound vibrated against her chest. "I thought we were supposed to talk first," he whispered.

"I don't know that we're doing a lot of thinking," she whispered back.

His thumb brushed over her brow, smoothing the frown lines he couldn't see in the dark but knew would be there. "Don't overthink it before you give me a chance, Liv."

"No, I'm not doing that. It's just… we do have a lot to talk about."

He let out a deep exhale and scanned the forest behind her. "Okay, but not here. We need to get to the truck and get back." Rubbing his hands up and down her arms, he leveled her with a shadowed stare.

Olivia blinked out of her daze and looked around–her eyes adjusting to the dark, jagged lines of the forest. "Yeah, it's getting a little creepy out here."

"Let me take you back," Dawson said, clasping her hand in his.

"No, I'm not chickening out. Just realizing we should have been keeping our eyes peeled for critters out here."

Dawson lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. The gentleness of his kiss mixed with the strength of his big hand in hers, creating a perfect storm. "You're the boss."

Good grief. If she was the boss, they were in trouble. She'd done nothing but make emotionally driven decisions since lunch, and she was walking a metaphorical tightrope.

Dawson picked up the flashlight and kept Olivia close to his side as they walked to the truck. The path was easy enough to follow despite the dark, but nothing was about to tear her away from Dawson's side. The wilderness was spooky. Wilderness at night was going to leave her paranoid.

They reached the truck and Olivia went to the passenger's side while Dawson went to the other.

"Which side is it on?" Dawson asked.

"I don't remember." She opened the back door, but the cab light didn't come on. "Shine the light over here."

Dawson pushed through a few things on the other side of the truck and shone the light on the small space. "Is it in the front?"

"Must be." She reached for the door and started to close it, but Dawson grabbed for her other hand.

"What?"

"Get in the truck," he whispered. Any joking she expected from him was completely gone, replaced by a stern warning.

"Dawson?" she whispered.

"Get in the truck, and close the door behind you. Now." His attention was focused on something over her head.

Without hesitating, she got in the truck. She'd barely settled in before Dawson lunged across the back seat and grabbed her door, jerking it closed with a loud thud that filled the night.

Not even a second later, something hit the truck on her side, rocking the full frame. There was a high-pitched whine following her scream.

Dawson turned to his door and shut it, closing them in the dark cab. He reached for her instantly, wrapping her in his arms.

When the tightness eased from around her throat, she dared to ask, "What was that?"

Dawson took two full breaths before answering. "Wolves."