Chapter 2

Chapter Two

" C ome with you?" Caroline Thompson stumbled after Dawson Rhinehart, because she had no other choice. The man had a grip on her hand she wouldn't be able to break even if she wanted to.

By some miracle in heaven, she didn't want to. His hand was big, warm, rough, and absolutely amazing surrounding hers. She just hadn't held hands with a man in a while, that was all.

She did not like Dawson Rhinehart. The man had been nothing but a stubborn mule for months now, and no one needed to know she'd often sat on her back porch, the sun sinking into the evening with her flipping her phone over and over and over, a text to him started but never finished and sent.

She'd tried a couple of times, and when he hadn't answered, she'd given up .

Now Belle was here, and she needed help with Judy. They both needed a lot of support as Belle navigated the divorce process and tried to keep herself and her daughter safe from her abusive ex-husband. Thankfully, Chuck hadn't followed them to Three Rivers, and Caroline hoped and prayed it could become a sanctuary for her sister and niece the way it had been for her.

"Where are we going?" she demanded as Dawson took her outside in the New Year's temperatures.

"I can't eat that garbage," he said. "We deserve a good breakfast." He cut her a look out of the corner of his eye, and how he looked so sexy and strong doing it, Caroline would never know.

"I'm not going to the diner with you," she said. "They have?—"

"Home fries," he said. "I know." He clicked something on his key fob, and the closet truck to them beeped. He opened the passenger door for her, and Caroline simply looked at him.

He kept his head ducked down, his eyes barely able to meet hers past the brim of that deep, dark black cowboy hat. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," she said without thinking.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He let go of her hand. "I can't stand breakfasts like this, and I'm starving, and we deserve to start the day with a good, hot meal."

Sparks popped through her blood, and she wondered if someone had poured baking soda into her veins, hoping for this kind of explosive, chemical reaction. "Where's the best place for breakfast in this town? Because it's my favorite meal, and I have yet to find somewhere that does what you speak of."

He grinned at her, and oh, that thing should be criminal. Just like those cold, rubbery hash browns in the community center. "That's because you haven't eaten breakfast at my house."

Pure nervous energy ran through her, but Caroline thought it might actually be adrenaline. Excitement. She had the very distinct thought that this man could introduce some color and life into her existence, and she wanted that very, very badly.

"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll see where this goes, but I need to drive myself."

Dawson's face fell. "Can your sister get home without your car?"

Caroline blinked at him and said simply, "No, sir."

"I'll bring you back the moment you say," he said, and she didn't detect an ounce of dishonesty in him.

She still gave him a side-eyed look and squeezed past him to get in the truck. She honestly had no idea what she was doing. The Rhinehart Ranch sat forty-five minutes south of town. She couldn't just leave Belle and Judy at the community center.

Panicking, Caroline pulled her phone out of her pocket and started texting frantically. Dawson slid into the driver's seat and backed the truck out. He drove in silence, and Caroline had learned that he was familiar and comfortable and best friends with silence.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she took the opportunity to text her sister where she'd gone and that her keys were sitting next to her plastic cup of water on that table.

I am going to get the whole story when you get back , Belle said. Or I will fake a heart attack and interrupt whatever it is you have going on with Dawson.

Caroline scoffed, which drew Dawson's attention. "You okay?" he drawled.

Okay , she tapped out quickly, and then she shoved her phone back into her pocket. "Yes," she said. "Just telling Belle what's going on."

"Mm. What did she say?"

"What are you going to tell your parents?"

"That something came up on the ranch." He grinned at her, that lopsided smile so adorable. "It's not exactly a lie."

"Do you regularly tell little white lies?"

"Technically, I haven't told either of my parents anything yet," he said. "So no." His smile remained as he turned to get on the road that led south. Caroline knew the area pretty well now that she'd been in town for nine or ten months, as she had to drive to a lot of the ranches and farms in Three Rivers for her job.

"Besides," he said. "I'm thirty-two years old, and if I want to take a pretty woman home for breakfast, I don't need to tell my mommy and daddy."

Ah, there was that familiar bite and fire. "Wait," she said as her brain caught up to her ears. "A pretty woman?"

Dawson's jaw jumped in that tell-tale way Caroline had seen in other men. He might not be a big talker, but he had plenty of non-verbal cues she could read just fine. Maybe she hadn't seen another man's jaw jump like that for her in a while, nor had she been called pretty by anyone but Belle or Judy in longer, but she wasn't new to dating and relationships.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I think you're pretty."

"Well…thank you," she said, not sure what else to say. Her momma had taught her that she could always be grateful, so "thank you" seemed appropriate.

"You ordered over-easy eggs at the diner a few months ago," he said. "Is that your favored way to take eggs?"

Caroline swiveled her attention toward him again. "Favored way to take eggs?"

"Yeah," he said without missing a beat. "Eggs are the most versatile food there is. You can?—"

"Besides potatoes," she said.

He looked over to her. "Besides potatoes." He drove with one hand on the top of the wheel and the other draped lazily over his thigh. He seemed at-ease on this road, in this truck, with her. "So…how do you take your eggs?"

Caroline relaxed into the leather seat behind her. "I do like a really good over-easy egg. They're hard to do, and I'll admit I usually break mine on the flip."

"I've done that too," he said.

"If I'm going to be real honest, though, I'd go with a poached egg. Over a nicely toasted English muffin, with hollandaise sauce."

"So an impossible task," he said.

"So far in Three Rivers, yes," she said. "There was this cute little bistro in Sweet Water Falls that made the best Eggs Benedict I've ever had." She smiled, the morning sunshine of this New Year streaming in through the windows. "Gonna be a nice day."

"Yep," he said. "Good day to be outside for sure."

He made the turn to go west from the highway, and they bumped along a nice dirt road and onto the Rhinehart Ranch. The homestead, a shed, and a barn sat straight ahead, with another much newer, nicer, and bigger house to her right.

Dawson didn't make that turn, and Caroline wondered who lived there. Obviously not him, and he went past another dirt road that went south again.

"Main house and barn here," he said. "Big vegetable garden back there my mama tortured us with." A smile cracked his face. "That place up front is my brother's. He's the foreman and runs the ranch. When Daddy dies, he'll own it outright."

"You won't share ownership with him?"

Dawson shook his head. "Daddy says it's just easier to have one owner. We have other clauses and whatnot in place to give us all a place here on the ranch."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Two," he said. "One full sibling, one half. My daddy's first wife passed away, and he married my mama and had two more boys."

Caroline's heart expanded with emotion, because it seemed like Dawson had a good relationship with his family members, but she knew better than most that families were so complicated. Even when things were good, they were twisted and knotted and never simple.

"You?" he asked. "You've got Belle. Who else is in your family?"

"We have another older sister," she said. "Her name is Abigail. And I have a younger brother—my daddy's pride and joy." She heard the slight tang of bitterness in her tone as it landed on her tongue. "His name's Davy."

"A, B, C, D," Dawson said.

Surprise once again struck her right across the throat. He'd picked up on the alphabet in her siblings' names? Tall, handsome, and smart. A dangerous combination for her heart.

"Where do they live?"

"I grew up in Colorado," she said. "We're all over the Mountain West these days. Well, I mean, we were. Belle's here now. Davy's still in the Colorado Springs area. Abigail is in Boise."

"All good country," he said.

"Have you ever lived outside of Texas?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am." He went around the shed and barn and continued down the road. "My brother, Brandon, and I live together. We've got a cabin out here. We have a man who works with us. Kevin Bentley. He had to give up his farm a bit ago, and he lived at Shiloh Ridge for a few months. His sister-in-law is a Glover. But we had a need, and he wants to work, so they moved up here. Him and his family. They've just got the one daughter."

Caroline had never heard him say so much, and it made her smile. "Is that everyone?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We're not nearly the size of some other ranches. Five hundred and fifty acres. The four of us work it just fine."

She liked how he made a one-syllable word into two. "Just fiy-yine ," she echoed, grinning at him.

"Are you gonna poke fun at how I talk?"

"Only when you make short words into long ones," she said, well aware of her flirting.

He pulled up to a cabin that bore blonde-wood logs, a sturdy roof, and bright blue shutters. He parked out front and killed the engine. "This is it. Don't be thinkin' it's gonna be nice. Two men live here. "

"Give me a minute to prepare myself." She drew in a deep breath, as if she needed the oxygen as a shield against what she'd find behind that black door. Caroline held it for a silent count of four, then released it. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Dust and shadows," he muttered as he opened his door and got out of the truck. He slammed the door and glared at her through the windshield as he went round the hood. He dang near pulled her door off its hinges and looked at her again.

"Dust and shadows?" she repeated.

Dawson said nothing as he turned and headed for the cabin. She scurried after him, her stomach an empty well of nerves and hissing snakes. The cabin had a porch that ran the width of the house, with a swing built-in on one end and a rocking chair with a small round table on the other. Something sat on the table, and it took Caroline a moment to recognize the pocketknife there.

Shoes that obviously didn't belong to him or his brother sat on a mat a few feet from the door. Something fit for a teenager—or even younger. Not as young as Judy, but definitely not Dawson's age.

A couple of opaque rocks sat among the shoes too, along with a penny, a nickel, and a spare bit of metal.

What in the world?

A football, a Frisbee, and several dog toys waited neatly in a bin, indicating more to Dawson than grumpiness and veiled invitations .

Caroline's interest piqued, and while Dawson had longer legs than her and a massive angry stride, he'd left the front door open for her. She entered and stopped to take in his space.

"Close that, would you?" he asked, his voice almost a growl. "I don't need to be heatin' the outside."

"Sure, right." Caroline moved out of the way and pushed the door closed behind her. She'd stepped into a living room, where he and his brother had a sofa and love seat set in brown leather. A coffee table sat in front of the couch, and it all faced the front window. No TV.

Caroline couldn't see one of those in the room at all. In fact, a radio sat on the back counter, and she watched almost in slow motion as Dawson reached over and switched it on. Something low warbled out of it, but it wasn't loud enough for her to make out words or a discernible melody.

A dining room table sat pushed against the wall in the kitchen, with the back door of the house behind that. Curtains hung on all the windows. Matching curtains in plain blue fabric.

The carpet at her feet looked clean, as did the kitchen when she reached the counter and leaned against it. Dawson had already started getting out breakfast foods, and he loudly put two pans on his stovetop and flipped on the burners.

The flames whooshed as they came to life, and Caroline took a seat at the bar to watch the show .

His fridge had colorful drawings and notes attached to it with magnets. This man had children in his life, and for some reason, that made Caroline's heart soften toward him.

"I'm gonna do over-easy eggs," he said without looking at her. "I don't have English muffins, and I'm too hungry to go to the trouble of hollandaise sauce."

"Sounds fine," she said, not teasing him this time. She enjoyed watching him work in the kitchen, and he could apparently only focus on one task at a time, because he made no effort to speak.

She took in the hat rack with jackets and hats on it next to the back door, and she couldn't help wondering who'd given him the potted plant in the window above the kitchen sink.

A niece? Nephew? Sister-in-law? His momma?

Fifteen minutes later, he held two plates, one in each hand, and nodded over to the table. Caroline slipped from the stool and went to join him. She gave him a side-eyed look as she sat and he placed a beautiful plate of hot, perfectly cooked over-easy eggs—the yolks still whole—several strips of bacon, and a whole pile of crispy, browned, perfectly shredded hash browns.

"Do we get to talk over this breakfast?" she asked as he sat down.

"If you'd like," he said. He nudged the salt and pepper shakers closer to her and picked up his fork.

"No pancakes. "

Dawson met her eyes, pure fire raging in his eyes. Blue-green fire was something she'd never seen before, but it felt like she could dive into the aquamarine color of it and swim around. Or get scorched.

She was up for either.

"Next time," he said, and he dropped those beautiful eyes to his plate. She hurried to pick up her fork too, her mouth watering for want of crispy potatoes with ketchup.

"Oh." Dawson got to his feet and went around her to the fridge. He returned with the ketchup she'd been about to ask for and set it in front of her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." She squirted it onto her potatoes and mixed them up a little, her smile growing. "This is so amazing, Dawson. Thank you so much." She took a bite, and instant rejoicing sang across her taste buds. They had the right amount of crunch to soft potato, salt, and pepper.

"Oh," she moaned, the ketchup adding the right amount of tang to the party already happening in her mouth. She swallowed and immediately scooped up another bite. "These are the best hash browns I've ever had."

Dawson smiled slightly, the left side tipping up higher than the right. "I'm glad you like them."

She liked every bite she put in her mouth, and she sat back when her plate had been emptied and pressed one palm to her belly. "Dawson, that was incredible. Thank you."

He'd already finished, and he picked up his plate and hers and took them over to the sink without accepting her gratitude. She twisted and watched him wash the dishes they'd just used. "Are you always this grumpy?"

"About," he said.

She got up and went to join him at the sink. She gently inserted her hands into the water and took the plate from him to rinse it. He looked over to her, and in that moment, everything softened between them. Caroline could certainly get her ire up too, and she'd been plenty irritated and frustrated with this particular cowboy.

But that melted away under the heat of his look, and Caroline forgot how to rinse a dish and set it to dry. All she knew was his eyes, that blue, the scent of his skin and the lingering scent of bacon in the air.

He leaned toward her, and Caroline tensed, ready to receive his kiss. Her eyes drifted closed, only to rudely fly open again when a shrill noise pierced the air between them.

Dawson likewise jumped away from her, and she winced at the sound of the plate clattering against the sink. She'd dropped it, and she hastened to pick it up while Dawson's phone rang again.

"What?" he barked into it, his back turned to her .

Caroline's nerves felt like flapping bat wings against her inside organs as she finished the dishes quickly and turned off the faucet. She grabbed a towel from the handle on the stove and faced Dawson.

He wasn't holding the phone to his ear any longer but staring at something on it in front of him. "This is not happening," he said.

"It's happening," a man said on the other end of the line, his voice echoing through the cabin as Dawson had put the call on speakerphone. "Where are you? I need you back at the ranch ASAP."

Dawson didn't answer, and Caroline was actually glad she wasn't the only one he stayed silent with.

"Daws," the man barked. Probably his brother. "Get up here. We need to deal with these burrowing owls."

Ice flowed through her, and she stepped right over to Dawson's side. She looked at his phone while her legs locked, and she couldn't remember if that was good or bad. Was she about to pass out?

His phone showed a picture, and Caroline had plenty of experience with the animal she saw. It wasn't a great picture, but she knew a burrowing owl when she saw one.

"Dust and shadows," she whispered, and Dawson finally looked at her. Only his eyebrows rose, slow and steady. In any other situation, Caroline might have given him a flirty smile.

"Dawson," his brother said. "I can see you're at your cabin. Get out to the West End Fence immediately." His brother sighed. "And call that wildlife officer. She's going to be the death of us, but we can't put her off any longer."

The call ended, and still Dawson held his phone in front of him.

Caroline plucked his device from him, which caused a growl to come from his throat. "I didn't think today was a good day to cause death, but it looks like it might be." She offered him his phone back, which he swiped from her. "Let's go."

Then she led the way out of his cabin with the longest strides she could.