Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

D awson hadn't realized how loaded his question had been until Caroline didn't answer it with one of her snappy comebacks. "Let's start with something easier," he said, making the last turn that would get him to their dinner reservation. "When's your birthday?"

The woman wanted special, Dawson knew. She hadn't come out and said so, but the need for it pulsed in his heartstrings. He had a feeling she had spent most of her first marriage as an invisible identity, and she simply wanted to be seen, acknowledged, cherished, and loved.

"May tenth," she said.

"Brandon's birthday is in May," Dawson said. "Twenty-third." He gave her a smile. "Mine's in October, so we've got a ways to go to get to that one."

"What day?" She picked up her phone, like perhaps she'd type in the date. Like they'd still be together in eight months' time.

"The second," he said. "I'm glad it's at the beginning of the month, though the stores do bring out Halloween about mid-August these days."

Caroline grinned, agreed with him, tapped and tapped, then looked up. "I like to decorate for the holidays."

"Do you?" he asked. "I didn't see anything for Valentine's Day. No wreath or anything on the door."

She paused, and Dawson wished he could get inside her head and see all the layers there. He couldn't, so he waited for her to say something as the big barn he'd booked reservations with tonight came into view.

"You're right," she said. "Traditionally, I've hated Valentine's Day. Nothing good for me to celebrate." She wrapped her arms around herself in a crossed-arm hug. Pure vulnerability streamed from her, and Dawson wanted to wash it all away. Make everything better.

"You don't have to tell me right now," he said. "But your ex-husband…did he abuse you?"

"In so many ways, yes," she said. "Physically, no. But it's the mental and emotional wounds that take the longest to heal." She drew in a deep breath through her nose. "And no one sees those."

"Don't they?"

She swung her attention to him, those gorgeous curls bobbing a little with the moment. "They do? "

"We see how people act," he said quietly. "And if there's anything I learned in therapy, it's that nearly all decisions we make and the subsequent actions we take stem from our experiences." He made the turn into the big parking lot and followed the directions of the man with the light-up sticks, motioning for him to come forward and turn down an aisle on the right.

"So we see the wounds; we just don't categorize them that way. We think a person likes to make lists, or they enjoy getting up at five a.m. to run, or they like having rules for their life. But those, darlin', are the scars of our emotional and mental wounds. They're visible, if you know how to look."

"I—" She clamped her mouth shut, and Dawson pulled into the appointed space. He quickly turned off the ignition and grabbed his wallet before vaulting from the truck to go help her down in that sexy, vibrant, red-flower dress.

When he opened the door, he found her brushing at her eyes, and panic like Dawson had never felt before flooded him. "Dust and shadows," he swore as he crowded into her personal space. "I said something stupid, didn't I? I'm sorry."

She shook her head and sniffled. "No, you said something perfect." She gave him a kind, if a little watery, grin. "I've never thought of my emotional wounds being so visible."

"You follow the rules to a T," he said gently. "It's not a bad thing, but it also tells me that, at some point, you've been punished for coloring outside the lines." He put one hand on her knee and reached up with the other to cradle her face. "You can color anywhere you want with me, darlin'."

Her eyes drifted closed as she pressed into his touch. "Thank you, Dawson."

"Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are tonight? Did I say hello? Or did I go straight to kissing again?"

She grinned at him, bringing back the vibrancy that fueled his spirit. "You said hello, baby. Howdy, actually." She dropped to the ground and pulled her skirt with her.

Dawson linked his arm through hers. "Okay, now this just looks like a regular barn, but I'll have you know it's one of the biggest reasons I love Texas."

"You do love Texas," she said with a giggle.

"Don't act like you don't," he said.

"I'm still getting used to the Panhandle, though."

"Fair enough," he said. "Now, if you don't like this place, I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself until after the date. Then you can tell me never to bring you here again, and I'll have to decide if that's a deal-breaker for us."

The sidewalks leading to the big barn door—which was painted a bright white with a huge red heart in the middle of it—were lit by soft-glow lanterns hovering a foot or so off the ground. Everything had been cast in the color of romance, and Dawson felt it starting to hum through his veins.

"So you have deal-breakers for relationships," she said.

"Sure," he said. "The first one was that kissing my girlfriend can't be like kissing my sister, and you passed that one just fine." He cleared his throat. "Still do."

The door loomed closer, and Caroline's heels clicked with every step she took. He reached the door and opened it, letting out a wave of heat, but not much noise. It would get loud later, once the band started playing, but for now, Dawson's anxiety over tonight's festivities stayed dormant.

"Rhinehart," he said to the woman standing behind a podium that had been made from reclaimed barn wood. It too bore the romantic lights, and flowers existed everywhere. Wreaths, and vases, and more horizontal displays, like the kind Dawson's momma put out on the table for Thanksgiving.

"Dawson," Caroline gushed. "Look at these flowers."

"All of our floral arrangements are for sale tonight," the hostess said. "Your table is number thirty-one, Mister Rhinehart, and you can go back any time you want."

"Thank you." He took the ticket from her and went with Caroline to look at all the arrangements.

"Did you ever think to buy yourself some flowers for Valentine's Day?" he asked. "Or another special occasion?"

She looked over to him, part alarm and part relief in her expression. The two warring emotions didn't go together, and Dawson feared he'd messed up again.

"No," she whispered. "But I should."

"Pick one of these," he said. "I'll get it for you."

"Baby, you already got me the biggest bouquet of roses in the world." She took his arm again and leaned into him. "Honestly, I don't think any other woman in Three Rivers got roses, because you bought them all."

He laughed, and it felt so good to do that. He loved being with this woman, and he loved making her smile, and he absolutely adored the way she made him feel.

She turned away from the rest of the room, not even looking at the rest of the arrangements. "Come show me why you love Texas."

Dawson led her to the entrance of the main room in the barn. Sometimes they had shows out here, with Chuckwagon dinners and fiddles and real barn-raising music. Sometimes they had a display of Christmas trees that Three Rivers residents could buy, and all the money got donated to the Food Bank for the holidays.

And on special occasions like tonight, the big space had been transformed into a lover's paradise, with tables that weren't too close to each other, a big area in the middle for dancing, and huge, splashy urns full of…more flowers. Several had silver, white, pink, or red heart-shaped balloons rising from them, while still others had th e cardboard variety poking out of greenery and blooms.

Bare light bulbs hung from the ceiling over every table, providing a rustic atmosphere while also providing that pale, yellow, romantic light. The dance floor stood empty and waiting, and a man moved over to Dawson.

"What number, sir?"

"Thirty-one," he said, showing the man his ticket. All the waiters wore tuxedos, with the waitresses in black dresses.

"This way." The man led them out of the doorway and into paradise, getting them to the right table far faster than Dawson could've. He pulled out Caroline's chair for her, and as she sank into it, he leaned over and whispered, "I love Texas even more now that you're here."

He went to his seat and sat down, taking the menu from the man who'd escorted them to the table. Once he'd gone, Caroline said, "I've lived in Texas for a while, actually."

"Then in Three Rivers," he said without missing a beat.

The menu only held three choices for an appetizer, three for the soup and salad course, three main dishes, and three desserts. "It's one price," he said, noting there were no listings on the menu. "I've paid for two, and you get one thing from each section."

"Okay," she murmured .

"Do you like seafood?"

"Not this far from the ocean," she said.

He grinned at her, catching her eye for only moment as she glanced up while he looked down. "I love seafood," he said. "Even this far from the ocean."

"Noted," she said coolly as she lay down her menu. "I know what I want."

That she did, and Dawson needed to start praying that she'd continue to want him in her life. If he had a pad of sticky notes, he'd make himself a note to remember to pray for such a thing—on a white note.

Dawson had the menu memorized, so he set his aside too. "So do I."

"Can I guess?"

He gestured for her to go right ahead, feeling playful and alive, because she wore such a playful and vibrant look on her face.

"Well, knowing the seafood thing now, I think you'll get the scallops for an appetizer. You only eat green things when your momma makes you, so I'm going to go with the French onion soup for the second course. Surf and turf for your main, and the dessert…that's tricky." She folded her arms on the table and tilted her head in the cutest way.

"I'm going to go with chocolate," she said. "You seemed nuts about it in ice cream last week."

"It is the best kind of ice cream," he acknowledged .

"So the chocolate mousse cake," she said. "With ice cream, but I bet that's vanilla."

He grinned at her. "My turn."

"I want to know if I'm right."

"We'll do a tally at the end." He raised his eyebrows, clearly asking her if that was okay, and when she nodded, Dawson forced his shoulders down. He needed to relax. This was a fun date, not a job interview.

"So for your appetizer, discounting the seafood, you're going to get the Caprese salad. Your salad course is also going to be soup, but not French onion. Mushroom, which I've had here before, and it was excellent, so good choice. Your main…." He took a sideways glance at the menu. "I'm going to go with chicken cordon bleu. Feels like you. Dessert is one thousand percent going to be the butterscotch cheesecake."

He watched her lips twitch with every menu item he said, and he knew he'd nailed it. "So? How'd I do?"

"Rate me first."

Their game paused as a waiter appeared alongside another man. "I'm Omar," he said. "I'll be your server tonight, assisted by Gregory. He's got our signature wine tonight, but we have other drinks if you'd like something else." He beamed at Caroline and then Dawson.

"I'm driving," he said. "But I'd take a virgin mojito if you can do that."

"Of course," Gregory said, looking to Caroline.

"I'll take that wine," she said. He poured her a glass, and they all watched as the pink liquid flowed into the goblet prettily. "Thank you." She lifted it and swirled it, and Dawson had never found anything as attractive as her smelling it, brightening, and then taking a sip. "Mm, that's good."

"We'll give you a couple of minutes with the menu," Omar said. "You know how things go here?"

"Yes, sir," Dawson said. "Thank you."

They left, and he looked at Caroline again. "You got three out of four."

Her eyes widened, and then her face fell in a pout. "What did I miss?"

"I'm not going to get the scallops for the appetizer," he said. "I love a good steak tartar."

"Oh, my word," she said, a note of horror in her voice. "You like all the things I don't."

"Not all of them." He reached across the table and took both of her hands in both of his. "I like you, and you like you."

"Funny."

"We both like ice cream," he said. "And over-easy eggs. And potatoes. And breakfast for dinner. I'm wild about breakfast for dinner." He grinned and grinned until she finally cracked a tiny smile for him. "I got all of yours, didn't I?"

"Yes," she clipped out. "And quite annoyingly, too." She didn't pull her hands away, but she looked toward the dance floor. "I mean, who gets labeled as feels like chicken cordon bleu ?"

He laughed then, because he had said that about her. But he hadn't been wrong.

Everything inside the barn felt touched by magic, or maybe by the hand of God. He wasn't sure which.

He knew the food came out hot—or cold—and amazing, and he knew he was about to pop by the time the band started setting up. And he knew with one look at Caroline that she liked live music and dancing. Or at least one of those things.

She watched the band for a few minutes, and then she trained her pretty gaze on him. "Do you dance, cowboy?"

"Yes," he said simply. "It's a requirement of all true Texas cowboys that we know how to spin a lady around the floor."

"Spinning?" She lifted her eyebrows in a clear tease. "I just ate so much."

"Hm, seems like a you-problem."

Caroline blinked once and then threw her head back and laughed. Her curls had loosened as their dinner had progressed, and Dawson couldn't wait to run his fingers through them. Maybe fist his hand there while he kissed her good-night.

That was something to be considered too, as she'd mentioned that she didn't like kissing him on the doorstep. She felt like Belle might be watching, as they had a camera system, or she might realize how long they stood out there, ending their date.

And tonight, Dawson wanted a red-hot, fiery, Valentine's Day kiss good-night. He wanted one of those every time he kissed Caroline, but especially tonight.

The first strains of music met his ears, and he perked up. He pulled his napkin off his lap and tossed it on the table. "Will you dance with me?" He stood and offered her his hand. When she didn't immediately slide hers into it, he added, "I won't spin you."

"In that case." She put her hand in his and let him steady her while she got to her feet. They moved out onto the dance floor as plenty of other people did, and Dawson's private bubble burst. Of course he wasn't here with Caroline alone. Of course he couldn't kiss her the way he wanted to on the dance floor. Of course he'd have to mind his manners.

Especially when he saw Link and Misty step onto the floor ahead of them. Dawson hadn't been out with his friends and Caroline yet, though he, Finn, Alex, and Link had talked about it.

He reminded himself that Caroline knew the cowboys in this town, and she'd chosen to go out with him. It helped that all of his closest friends were married or engaged, but he pushed that thought away as he took her into his arms.

They moved effortlessly, and being with her even in the silence was so easy. Dawson had labored to talk to other women in the past, but not Caroline. She was the one who broke the silence between them with, "So what are your nieces doing tonight? Shiloh really didn't have anything going on with JJ? April is keeping her nose clean?"

"I think they had a party," he said. "At someone's house in town. I guess they decided going to the school dance was lame. Shiloh was driving them, and Zona lectured her for a solid twenty minutes about driving home late at night, in the dark." He smiled just thinking about his sister-in-law. "And, um, Zona and Duke would like to get together with us again, on a more, uh, formal I think was the word Zona used, basis. Dinner together or something."

"Sure," Caroline said easily. "I liked your family, Dawson."

"Miracles do still happen," he joked.

Caroline giggled into his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to knead her closer. "My friends and I go out sometimes too," he said. "Finn's married, and he and Edith have a baby on the way. Alex and Nicki are married too, and Link and Misty are engaged. Since we're to implied dates and all that, I'm wondering if group dates count."

"Yes," she said simply.

"So you'll go to Link's wedding with me?"

"Yes, I love weddings."

"Do you?" Dawson pulled back enough to look at her. "Seems like they'd be on the same level as Valentine's Day."

"My wedding was the one thing I liked about my marriage," she said. "They're such happy occasions. They hold so much hope. They're like a window to the future. I like that."

"All right," he drawled. The song ended, and another started. This one was definitely a twirling, spinning dance, and he stepped back again.

"I can do this," Caroline said. "It's been a while since I've danced this way, though, so consider yourself warned."

"I've been warned," he said, grinning. "My little nephew says, ‘I have to beware you, Uncle Dawson.'" He chuckled. "That reminded me of him."

Caroline smiled too, shooting joy out into the barn. "All right, then, baby. I have to beware you that I haven't danced this way in a while. I could fall down or kick you or step all over your feet."

"All risks I'm willing to take," he said, taking both of her hands in his. He waited for the next beat, and then he started the first steps of the swinging dance. They laughed, and he spun her away in a slow cadence, bringing her back after only one twirl instead of the two or three other women did.

And when that song melted back into something slow and beautiful, he tucked her against his chest and let himself fall and fall and fall toward being in love with Caroline.

It was a scary thing, falling, and Dawson had never done it with a woman before. He loved other things, of course. Ruffin, Rocks, and Nugget. All of his hens and roosters. His parents. His brothers. Duke's family.

He loved the wide Texas sky, and the town of Three Rivers, and being a cowboy.

And he loved dancing with Caroline, in the perfect place, on the perfect night—and he couldn't help but wonder: was she the perfect woman for him?

And if so, would it really take her twelve months and a road trip to realize it?

"I have another follow-up question about your twelve-month rule," he murmured. "But I can ask it another time. Will you just remind me to ask you?"

"Sure, baby," she said almost sleepily, and then she let him cradle her in his arms exactly the way he wanted to.