Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

D awson had the distinct thought that he should've brought flowers to show up unannounced at Caroline's house. His heartbeat bounced like a tightly coiled spring that had finally been released.

The door opened, and anticipation drove through him. Anticipation of seeing Caroline. Smiling with her. Chatting for a few minutes. He'd worn a jacket as the evenings could be cool in the winter, and he was willing to simply sit on the front steps and talk with her for as long as she could.

His fantasies dried right up when he caught sight of the fiery irritation in Caroline's eyes. And if he'd missed that, he did not mistake the way she flew from the house, barely opening the door wide enough to squeeze out, as she hissed, "What are you doing here?"

Dawson backed up a step, all of his defenses lifting right back into position. He'd had walls in place when it came to Caroline, and he should've known better than to think a single breakfast and some filed paperwork would change things so drastically between them.

"I had to come to town for groceries," he said. "Thought I'd stop by and say hi for a few minutes." He glanced to what she held in her hands. Cookie butter.

His smile grew as he raised his eyes back to hers. He caught her looking at her post-dinner treat too, and she quickly concealed it behind her back. That only made Dawson chuckle—and Caroline to go, "Shh."

She glanced behind her to the closed door and then gestured—with a spoon, mind you—for him to go down the steps and get off the porch.

He did, because he wasn't sure what she'd do next with that spoon. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said as she followed him. "Not that way."

Irritation fired through Dawson. "I'll just go."

"No, we can sit over here." She spoke a bit softer, and Dawson turned back to her. She gestured for him to go back down the sidewalk and onto the lawn. "You're standing right in front of the window."

He looked up to it, didn't see anything alarming, and heaved a sigh that he let out in a slow, hissing stream as he moved back toward her. "It's not warm out here, darlin'."

Caroline didn't go back into the house to get anything, and she did wear a pretty pink sweater with a fox on the front. Perhaps she'd be warm enough, and Dawson started fantasizing about loaning her his jacket in one great show of chivalry.

Yeah, and then you'll be cold , he thought. But it might be worth it too.

She led him over to a bench, and when she turned back to him, she didn't try to hide the Biscoff. He nodded to the jar. "Crunchy or creamy?"

"Crunchy," she said, lifting her chin as if she had to defend her choice of cookie butters.

"I like it on graham crackers," he said. "My niece turned me onto it. It's her favorite snack." He groaned as he settled onto one end of the bench and waited for Caroline to do the same on the other side.

She hesitated, and Dawson wondered what he was doing here. He should've called or texted first. Before he could offer to leave again, she sat down, but she didn't lean back the way he did. Oh, no. She perched nervously on the very front of the bench, refusing to look at him.

He suddenly didn't know what to say. He'd thought they'd have some light-hearted conversation about what she'd done that day with her family, and maybe she'd ask him about how things had gone at his brother's that night.

Something that wasn't tense silence.

"Do you like pasta?" she asked out of nowhere.

"Yes," he said simply .

She nodded a couple of times. "I was thinking I'd bring pasta tomorrow for lunch."

"You're still going to come?" He and Brandon had plenty of leftover soup, and while Dawson hadn't anticipated her canceling their date when he'd arrived, nothing had been as he'd expected it to be.

She looked over to him, her eyes wide. "I—yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"Maybe because you didn't invite me inside," he said, cocking his eyebrows to challenge her. "And you didn't want me standing in sight of the window. But out here is okay." He looked across the street, where they sat in plain view of the neighbors on all sides.

With his heart sinking to his stomach, he added, "So it seems to me that you want to hide me from Belle and Judy."

"No," Caroline bit out, and oh, he now knew that her bark was so much harsher than her bite.

"Let's go inside, then. It's cold out here."

She shivered even as she said, "I'm fine right here."

He scoffed, wondering what to do next. His attraction to her slithered through him, teasing him and taunting him in a maddening way. "Okay, well, how was your afternoon? You stopped texting."

"It was…."

He glanced over to her just as all the things she held tightly sagged away. "Miserable," she said with a sigh. "Boring. Long. "

Dawson reached over as his own heart softened toward her. He took the spoon from her and tucked it under his leg before sliding his hand around hers and settling his fingers between hers. Ah, yes. This was nice, and the sparks and flames that ignited when his skin touched hers warded off the chill of the night.

"Belle is not in a good place," she whispered. "We went to lunch, but she disappeared into her room when we got home, and she'd just come out when you rang the doorbell."

"Mm."

"Her husband doesn't want to be married anymore. It's—well, you know what? It's really hard to be told you're not wanted. That the family you'd been building with another person isn't wanted."

Dawson moved closer to her by sliding along the bench, and he released her hand so he could lift his arm over her shoulders. "I can't even imagine."

"She's about five weeks out from when Chuck came home and told her. She's in a lot of turmoil."

"I bet."

Caroline fell silent, and Dawson wondered where she was driving him with this backstory of her sister's. He figured if he waited, she might just come out and say it. When she didn't, he squeezed her shoulder and brought her closer to his side.

"And? You don't want to go out with me because of that? "

"It might be very difficult for her," she whispered. "I don't know how to tell her."

Dawson's heart wailed, but he couldn't argue with the situation. He had no idea what he'd do if he found himself in a similar spot.

Be patient , he thought, and he groaned again as he got to his feet. "Well, you know where I am and how to get in touch with me," he said quietly.

"Dawson, wait," she said as she hurried to stand too. She inched in close to him, then closer still. He could probably count the light freckles across the bridge of her nose then, and he slid his hand along the bottom hem of that pretty sweater to anchor himself so he didn't fall back or away.

"I'm waiting," he murmured.

Caroline ducked her head, eliminating any opportunity to kiss her. The clean, soapy scent of her hair hit him, and Dawson dang near fell down. This woman , he thought.

"I just need a couple of days to figure out how to talk to her. See if she has a good day or a good hour where I can mention it."

"I stole you away from a community event yesterday," he said. "What did you tell her?"

"That the sight of those potatoes made me see red, and I had to go up to your ranch for the owls anyway, and you made me—us—breakfast."

Dawson ducked his head, positioning his mouth close to her ear as he laughed almost under his breath. "I don't think things went in exactly that order."

"No," she said breathlessly. "But sort of. It's a tiny white lie so as not to hurt her." She curled one hand around the back of his head, and oh, Dawson had not been touched like that in a long time.

He didn't want to move away from her, but everything inside him told him he better. She wasn't ready to start a relationship, and he could never do what Lincoln had done a couple of summers ago and date someone casually.

No, Dawson played for keeps, and he was dead serious about the things—and people—he chose to spend his time on.

So he backed up and cleared his throat. "I should go. It's dark and late, and I get up early to run."

"Of course you do," she said with plenty of whip in her voice.

He gave her another head-nod without truly meeting her eyes and stepped past her. "It was great to see you, Caroline." It took all of his willpower to force himself to walk away from her, their lunch date tomorrow canceled and nothing on the calendar for when he might see her again.

He made it several steps before Caroline's soft, pretty voice said, "‘Bye, Dawson."

He lifted his hand in a wave over his shoulder and kept on going. Otherwise, he'd go back and do something he'd probably regret, though he'd never regretted a kiss with a woman. The last several he'd tried relationships with had been like kissing his sister, but he knew without a doubt his first kiss with Caroline would call down all the stars in the heavens.

The rain abated and didn't pick up again, which meant no one flooded. Dawson didn't have to field dozens upon dozens of texts and arrange schedules to go help out other ranches. No one was going to have to come up to the Rhinehart Ranch.

He did have to work through some mud and muck in the morning that put him behind, but that didn't matter, because he didn't have to be back to the cabin at any particular time. He didn't even want to go by himself, so despite his growling stomach, he texted Brandon to say he had work to do in his office, and he'd eat some snacks there.

I'll bring you a sandwich , Brandon said. Give me a half-hour.

"Right," Dawson grumbled to himself. "A half-hour." In Brandon-time, that meant an hour, and he was probably texting the new woman he'd met through his dating app. He liked talking to lots of different people, and Brandon's biggest problem was having too many chances to take someone to dinner .

His mood worsened as he tromped through the mud, not having seen his crows, to the chicken coops. Ruffin worked with him today, and Dawson did calm when he saw his chickens. The big rooster, Rusty, strutted toward him, and Dawson found a smile touching his mouth.

He loved the low warbling of the chickens, as they always seemed to be making noise in the purest way possible. A squabble broke out, and Dawson looked on as Lulu scattered away from some of the other hens.

They had a pecking order, for sure, and Dawson could only deal with the aftermath, and while he loved Lulu, none of the other hens did. It looked like she'd lost a few more feathers, and he clucked at Peach, Pearl, and Ruby. "You guys leave ‘er alone," he said.

The hens clucked and looked at him with their beady eyes that clearly told him they thought they were right. He fed them, his last task before he could escape to the barn-office, and his boots and the bottom of his jeans weighed ten pounds more by the time he'd tromped through the mud to make sure they had what they needed.

He cleaned his boots on the boot scrubber he kept outside his office, deciding to take off his shoes once he got inside. "Can't do nothin' about the jeans," he grumbled, his mood worsening again.

He just needed to get inside and go through his checklist, see his sticky notes lined up, grab a snack and a drink, and calm down. Once that happened, Dawson could finish the day on a high note.

He pushed open the door and stepped up into the office just as someone called his name. His grouchiness flew off the charts as he turned to find Alex Baxter jogging toward him.

"What are you doin' here?" he called.

Alex lifted a paper grocery sack and said, "I'm here for our lunch." As he came closer, his grin grew larger. "You forgot, didn't you?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I knew you'd forget."

Dawson's heart pounded in his chest, because he had forgotten. And now he had at least four men to try to figure out how to feed, like, right now.