by Erin Wright
“Sure!” His eyes sparkled with the responsibility. He grasped the basket and ran toward the house at breakneck speed.
Chloe managed to contain her anger until she heard the sound of the screen door slamming behind Tommy. “Why are you back?” she demanded.
He had the gall to only look somewhat ashamed. “Well, I left for town for a while, figuring that’d give you enough time to make dinner and do the evening chores, and then slipped back here after dark. I put Bolt in the corral and bedded down in my trailer for the night.”
“What do you want?”
“My son.”
Her eyes widened, and the panic she’d only just managed to shove down came roaring back. “Over my dead body! You can’t just come into his life and try to take him—”
“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “Hold on. I meant I want to get to know him. I’m not trying to take him away.”
She continued to glare at him for a moment longer. “You’d better not even think about having the faintest idea of doing so. I would do anything for my son, including kill.”
His lips twitched, but he at least had the good sense not to laugh. Out loud, anyway. “I just want to spend some time with him and help you out. Ease your burdens.”
“Where were you when I wanted your help?” She swallowed the urge to scream and stamp her foot. “You know, whatever. It doesn’t even matter. The only thing that matters is Tommy.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “Just make damned sure you’re prepared to stay in his life to some degree if you decide to spend time with him. It’s better for him to never know his father at all than to have you for a few days before you just up and disappear.” Chloe sneered at him. “We both know you’re good at that, don’t we, Dawson?”
Before he could answer, she whirled around and headed back to the house. Tommy met her halfway, and she said, “Go wash up and get dressed. We’re going to be late as it is.”
His face fell. “Aw, Mom, I wanted to spend the day with Dawson.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure Mr. Blackhorse has other things to do, and they’re expecting you at the day camp.”
“But—”
“Besides, Adam and his mom would miss having you for lunch.”
Tommy scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. “I guess.”
She took a deep breath, relieved not to have to deal with an argument. “Let’s get ready.”
“Will you be here tonight, Dawson?” asked Tommy eagerly.
“No,” said Chloe.
“Yes,” said Dawson.
She gritted her teeth.
“Yes,” Dawson repeated, ignoring Chloe. “I’ll be here for a few days, at least. I’m supposed to compete in the rodeo, but I don’t have any other plans.” He shot her a glance of amusement. “I’m all you and your momma’s for a while.”
Tommy pumped his fist in the air. “Awesome.” He turned to run into the house, finally deciding to get dressed, apparently.
She growled, finding it almost impossible to keep from yelling. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Dawson grinned, and his teeth were just as white and straight as they’d been nine years ago, looking so beautiful against his coppery skin. “I’m pissing you off by inviting myself to stay with you for a few days.”
Arrggghhhh!
Rendered speechless by her rage, she spun away from him and marched into the house, hoping a shower would clear her mind a little and allow her to at least have a conversation with the annoying man invading her life. One that he didn’t win.
Dawson held in his chuckle until he was sure she couldn’t hear him. From the flames practically shooting from her eyes, a blind man would’ve been able to tell she was damn livid. If she knew he was amused, she’d likely slug him. Of course, he’d have to stop her before her hand could connect. Then he’d take her into his arms and…
With a sigh, he tried to dismiss the thought. The strong attraction to Chloe took him by surprise. Knowing she hadn’t lied to him wasn’t what brought it back. It had been smoldering just below the surface ever since he spotted her in the diner yesterday. One look at Chloe and he was back to feeling like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire.
He sighed again, taking off his Stetson to run a hand through his hair. His attraction to Chloe was the least of his concerns. Or, at least it should be. He had a son. Even after lying awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling of the horse trailer, he still found it almost impossible to believe he and Chloe had created a life.
A life she’d had sole responsibility over for the last eight years.
He winced. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to ruin her life.
He’d been pissed as hell that last night, and in a vengeful mood, but not that vengeful. Not like that.
Rational thought just hadn’t entered into the equation. He’d thought with his fury and his zipper, not his brain. He shook his head at his stupidity. All these years, it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could’ve gotten pregnant from it.
In all fairness, if he’d considered the idea, he probably would’ve just assumed that she’d “handle” it if something like that had happened. It had seemed so clear that she was going to marry King and had been leading him on. It had never occurred to him to question that.
It had never occurred to him to ask her questions.
Cursing under his breath at his stupidity — all nine years of it — Dawson went over to unhook the trailer from the truck. Chloe was going to be pissed — even more so than she already was — but he was going to drive them into town. No way was she leaving his sight now that he knew about Tommy. He still didn’t trust her not to take the boy and run away. Chloe hadn’t yet grasped that he had every intention of living up to his responsibilities. He would’ve done it nine years ago, if he’d known about the baby.
He grimaced, thinking about how much of his son’s life he’d missed. The boy was a stranger. And after all this time, Chloe was a stranger too. He guessed she’d always been a stranger to him. Lust. That was what they’d had between them when he’d worked for Hank, that’s all they had between them for two long years. Two long years of never touching, and then…spontaneous combustion.
And she hadn’t known him either. Even after he’d worked for her dad for years and years, she’d still had no clue where to start looking for him when she’d left Hank’s.
Dawson growled low in his throat. Left, or had the old man kicked her out when she hadn’t lived up to his expectations? It was another question to add to the list he was mentally putting together. He was going to sit her down — staple her ass to the chair if need be — and get her to answer some questions the next chance he had.
He saw them heading towards the car and intercepted them. “How about I drive you today?” he asked casually, staring Chloe straight on.
“No!” Chloe said emphatically, even as Tommy was running to his rig.
“Whoa, Mom, look at this,” he called out, opening up the door and staring inside. “It’s even nicer than Doc Whitaker’s truck.”
She trudged towards the truck, resignation in every step. Dawson grinned to himself as he headed to the driver’s side. Yup, going through Tommy was definitely the way to get Chloe to do something.
“It sure is something,” said Chloe, clearly reluctant as she climbed into the cab after her son. Judging from her body language, the Ford might as well have been a torture chamber.
Dawson climbed inside and suppressed a groan, discovering it really could be a torture device. He was so close to Chloe and her tantalizing scent, and yet, he couldn’t touch her. He checked Tommy’s seat buckle to make sure he’d properly strapped himself in on the bench seat, a much-needed buffer between him and Chloe. “Everyone ready?” he asked, bringing the diesel engine to life.
“Yeah,” said Tommy, practically bouncing. Chloe didn’t bother to answer, so he took her silence for assent and put the truck in gear. He couldn’t deny a twinge of nerves as he wondered what the day would bring.
Chloe shot a baleful glance at Dawson, sitting at the stool farthest from her, tapping away on his laptop. He’d come in with her after they dropped off Tommy. First, he’d ordered breakfast, and then coffee, pie mid-morning, followed by lunch during the rush. He wasn’t sitting around or loitering, so she couldn’t ask Betty to kick him out.
Especially since the older woman found him so damned charming. Dawson had poured it on thick with Betty and May, the other waitress, and after what seemed like only minutes, he had them laughing girlishly and flirting shamelessly. Never mind they were both in their fifties, and he was only thirty-five.
Deputy Connelly, or just Abby to her friends, came walking in just then, a big smile on her face as always. It was her job to pick up the lunch meal for the inmates at the Long Valley County Jail and it was usually the highlight of Chloe’s day. Abby was a kickass friend and someone who could always cheer her up.
She was pretty sure Abby was going to fail today.
She sent her a beleaguered smile, doing her best to appear happy, and failing miserably.
Abby slowed her pace, her nightstick swinging on her hip when she came to an abrupt halt. “Hey, girlfriend,” she said slowly. She leaned on the counter and looked up at her, confusion writ large. “The Sawyer Stampede is this weekend, and this town is full of hot cowboys, all of whom are going to stop by this cafe. How are you not dancing on the ceiling about this? Or at least have a little bit of drool wandering down your chin?”
Chloe could sense Dawson’s extreme interest in this conversation, even as he pretended to be looking intently at his laptop. She called bullshit.
Abby caught the flick of her eyes down to Dawson and back again, and, leaning forward a little too obviously, checked him out. His dark skin, his long silky black hair, his muscles bulging everywhere, stupidly sexy…
She viciously stomped that thought out. She wasn’t going to let Dawson’s muscles, sexy or otherwise, enter her mind. He was just another patron. A customer of the restaurant, and someone who Abby was making a fool of herself over.
“Speaking of,” Abby breathed quietly. Dawson’s mouth quirked. Chloe thought about throwing her washrag at his head.
“Are you ready to pick up the lunch for the inmates?” she asked Abby loudly, wondering if she was going to have to get a stack of napkins so she could mop up the drool about to collect in a puddle under Abby’s chin.
“Yeah, sure,” Abby said absentmindedly, still staring at Dawson. Chloe marched to the kitchen, grabbed the prepackaged meals, and brought them back out to the front counter, shoving them into her face. This jerked Abby back to reality and she looked up at Chloe with a laughing grin on her face.
“Well, it looks like you have…a lot on your hands, eh? Give me a call later and tell me about…everything you’ve been up to.”
She had a half a mind to chuck her washcloth at Abby’s head instead as she headed back out the front door, meals in hand, whistling innocently as she sauntered out into the sunshine, but knew that Dawson would just take that as a victory.
And he most definitely had not won.
She returned to wiping the already clean front counter, not looking up again until she heard May giggling. She was ostensibly pouring Dawson another cup of coffee, but the pot sat on the counter, while the other woman leaned across it to talk to him.
She definitely wasn’t jealous of the attention he gave the women. Obviously. She’d have to like someone to be jealous. Chloe just found their behavior…absurd. Ridiculous, even.
She scrubbed hard at the counter.
At least she’d made it through most of the day without having to talk to him or even look his way. They’d traded a few words, but she’d managed to keep herself busy with tasks that kept her well away from him.
It irked her to no end that she had to give him a chance to get to know Tommy. There was no way in hell she was giving him a chance to charm her again, though. Chloe snorted. As if that were possible.
“Got a cold, hon?” asked Betty, a knowing gleam in her eyes.
Chloe mumbled something along the lines of, “Wlkdnsesnd,” and continued polishing the counter.
No, she didn’t know what that meant either. That was kind of the point.
“You’re going to wipe the white clean off that tile if you keep scrubbing, Chloe.”
With an annoyed grunt, she lifted the damp cloth and then stared at it balefully. She’d run out of things to do and her boss wasn’t helping matters. This was the perfect day to clean out the fryers — in the kitchen, far, far away from Mr. Dawson Blackhorse who seemed to have molded his ass to the bar stool at the front counter — but Betty had told her no when she’d suggested it.
The ringing phone saved the day, and she snatched it up a little too aggressively, barely keeping her voice pleasant when she said, “Betty’s Diner, how may I help you?”
“Chloe, it’s Adam.”
“Oh hi!” She smiled. Adam was her best friend and usually cheered her up just with the sound of his voice. “What’s up?”
“I just picked up Tommy, but I’ve got a call from Stetson Miller. One of his cows is feeling poorly. Is it okay if I take Tommy with me for the call? I’d drop him off by the diner or at home with Mom, like usual, but we’re really close to the Miller’s. I can bring him home after.”
“Sure, that’d be fine. Thanks, Adam.”
When she hung up, Betty asked, “Everything okay?”
Chloe nodded. “Yeah, fine. Adam wanted to know if he could keep Tommy long enough to make a house call. The youngest Miller boy has a sick cow.”
With a speculative look at Dawson, the other woman said, “Why don’t you take off early, girl? It’s dead around here — the rodeo ain’t started yet — and, well, I’m sure you can think of a way to fill the time before Tommy gets home. His daddy will probably have a few ideas.”
She jumped, shocked that Betty had recognized Dawson as her son’s father. It was stupid to be surprised, since they looked so much alike. She’d just sort of hoped no one would have eyeballs. Or use their eyeballs. Or at least restrain themselves from mentioning the fact that they’d used their eyeballs. “That’s not necessary,” she said, emphasizing every word.
Betty took the damp cloth from her hand. “Sure it is. Why should I pay you to stand around doing nothing?” She chuckled, raising her voice as she looked in Dawson’s direction. “Young man, why don’t you give this lady a ride home?”
With a big grin, Dawson shut his laptop and stood up.
Fuming, Chloe stripped off the white apron and tossed it into the box under the counter. “Thanks, Betty,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Anytime,” said the other woman serenely, as though she were completely oblivious to Chloe’s true feelings.
It was too damn bad Betty was her boss; she had a whole string of words to say if she wasn’t. “Have fun,” Betty added with a big grin.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she ground out, ignoring Dawson as he came up behind her.
“It’s okay if you’re feeling sick and can’t come in.” Betty winked at Dawson as she spoke.
“I’ll be here, right on time,” said Chloe through a forced smile.
Betty waved a hand. “Get on outta here.” The gentle affection in her tone was sweet, as always. Betty was sweet. Betty was a good boss.
At the moment, Chloe just couldn’t bring herself to care. Without looking at either one of them, she headed out into the bright, August sunshine.
Chapter 5
Tired of the silence in the cab, Dawson decided to ask Chloe some of the questions he’d been wondering about all morning. He’d even written them down on the laptop, so he wouldn’t forget them all, but that didn’t do a bit of good while he was driving.
He could always start with the obvious one though, and see where it went. He could pull out his laptop later.
“Why aren’t you still living at home with your father?” he asked, breaking the silence. “He would’ve been
able to help you and Tommy live…well, a lot easier than the salary of a waitress could afford you.”
She seemed to just ignore him, staring out the window at the passing pine trees. When the silence became awkwardly long, Dawson sighed. Time to think of another question. Maybe he could break the ice and work his way towards the important stuff.
And then she spoke. “He didn’t want me to have Tommy,” she said softly. “He offered to pay for the abortion so I could still marry King.” She snorted. “As if I would’ve done that. When I refused, he started threatening me. He was going to disown me and ruin my life.”
Dawson had to grind his teeth together to keep from revealing how much her words angered him. “What happened?”
She shrugged. “He locked me in my room. How medieval is that? I heard him on the phone beforehand, arranging for a private doctor. That bastard was going to bring in someone to kill my baby against my will.”
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “I wish I’d been there for you.”
Chloe ignored that and kept going. It was like she’d been dying for years to get this off her chest. And, maybe she had. “Ruth found out what he was up to and let me out, bless her. I took what I could carry and stopped at several ATMs, until I’d taken out all the funds my accounts allowed for the day.” A harsh laugh escaped her lips. “Sure enough, Hank had frozen my checking and credit card accounts by the next morning.”
“How—” He croaked before clearing his throat. “How much did you have?”
“Three thousand. I had three thousand dollars to live on, with no job skills.” A hint of fear laced her words, as though she still recalled the panic today.
“How did you end up in Idaho?” asked Dawson.
“I used the Mustang Hank had given me for my eighteenth birthday to get to Phoenix. Since he’d threatened to cut me off from everything, I figured he wouldn’t be above reporting the car stolen. I parked it at the airport and took the bus to one of the seedier car lots, figuring I could afford something there. I bought the car I’m driving now.”