by Erin Wright
It had messed with her mind, her self-esteem, her belief in her innate sexiness…it was almost difficult to state how much damage it had done. Only years of therapy and reading self-help books got her back to even being willing to smile at men again.
Quite frankly, it amazed her that he even wanted another go. He probably assumed she’d become more proficient in it over the years. Ha, that was a laugh. He’d just be disappointed all over again, and she’d end up rejected and destroyed again.
The sex couldn’t be that good. It wasn’t worth it.
She had coiled up into a chair to avoid sharing the couch with him, and she curled her hands into fists when she heard his footsteps approaching. He paused in the doorway, looking a little puzzled when he saw her in the chair. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked toward her, crouching beside her instead of taking a seat on the oh-so-open-and-available couch. She curled her fists tighter.
“He’s asleep.”
Chloe nodded. “He was getting tired; he was blinking all through dinner.”
“Is it always like that?” Dawson’s eyes gleamed. “Does he always curl up with you to read and talk ‘til he falls asleep?”
“Most of the time.”
An expression she’d never seen crossed his face. “It’s amazing. It makes me feel…” He trailed off before shrugging. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
Chloe nodded, reaching out to touch his shoulder without thought. “I know what you mean. I felt it the moment I first held him. It only gets stronger.”
She pulled back, her hand flinching from his chest like she’d just touched a branding iron. You can’t touch him. You can’t go down that path. No matter how sweet and kind he appears in this moment, you know what he is really like. You know he isn’t to be trusted.
He saw her pull back and frowned. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching over to stroke her hair. She flinched.
“Let’s just…let’s just talk for a minute. I’ll sit here and you can sit over there.” She pointed at the couch. The far end of the couch. “And we’ll talk all you want.”
The corners of his mouth tightened and she could tell he was unhappy with where this was going, but he moved down to the far end of the couch and sat. The hurt in his eyes was like icepicks, taking chunks out of her heart, but Chloe couldn’t let that get to her. She’d let him in one time, and only pain followed. She couldn’t do it again.
“So,” he said, obviously searching for a place to start, “how is Tommy doing in school?”
She grinned widely. Now there was a topic she could discuss all day long. She launched into his reading scores (off the charts) and his math scores (not as high) and his social skills (pretty good for an eight-year-old boy), and Dawson listened, his eyes intent on hers, smiling occasionally as she told proud-momma stories. She knew she was rambling at times, but it didn’t seem like he minded.
This is his son we’re discussing, not a stranger, even if they’re really strangers to each other at the moment.
Her mind circled the idea of “at the moment” warily. That seemed to imply that in the future, they’d be more than that. And in all fairness to her son, they should be.
But still, it seemed…overwhelming. Scary. She wasn’t ready to come to grips with that idea, not yet, so she shoved it away.
Finally, she ran out of Funny Tommy Stories to tell and decided it was time to change topics. Enough of her talking.
“How did you get into rodeoing?” she asked. “You didn’t compete in them when you worked for my dad, did you? Or did I just not know?”
That idea seemed crazy to her – when he was working for her dad, there was very little she didn’t know about him. She was, to put it kindly, obsessed with him.
Hormones have a way of doing that to you. That’s all it was – hormones.
She just had to repeat that to herself about 62 more times and she might actually believe it.
“I did all through elementary school up to high school. That’s where I learned to calf rope. There’s not always a lot to do on reservations, but working with animals was something everyone seemed to encourage. For a long time, I borrowed the 4-H teacher’s horse so I could take the Working Ranch Horse class and then after that, I got into the junior rodeo program, once I saved up enough money to buy my first horse.”
Chloe shifted uncomfortably. She loved seeing the light in Dawson’s eyes. She loved hearing him talk enthusiastically about working with animals. She loved learning things about him that she didn’t know before.
And that’s why she was uncomfortable. She didn’t want to love anything about Dawson. Hate and anger were much easier to deal with. They didn’t end with her heart being broken.
After a long silence, Dawson picked up his story again. “When your dad told me he’d changed his mind that night, he gave me all the money I’d been putting towards buying the Bartell Ranch, plus a couple thousand dollars extra to keep me quiet. Did he tell you that?”
Chloe shook her head mutely. To be honest, she hadn’t really thought about it. She knew that her father had taken back his promise to sell the ranch to Dawson, but she hadn’t thought much about it beyond that. His harsh words that night – a virgin who has no idea how to please a man – had rolled around in her head, blocking everything else out.
Everything until she’d looked at the pee stick and realized that her whole life was about to change.
But no, she hadn’t spent much time thinking about how that night had affected Dawson, too. She felt a little guilt flush through her. Just a little.
“I used that money to get my start in the rodeo world. It’s not cheap to ride the rodeo circuit – there’s entry fees and gas and hotel rooms and restaurant costs. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the check your father handed me that night. It was my hush money, and I was a good boy. I hushed right up.”
The silence that descended over the room then was stifling. The tick of the clock on the wall seemed as loud as her heartbeat. What was she going to do? Who was this man? She thought she’d fallen in love with him all those years ago, but it had been lust. Now, she was left in the bizarre predicament of sharing a child with a stranger.
He scooted to the other end of the couch so he could reach for her. She instinctively drew back. She wasn't ready for that, not by a long shot.
“Not now,” she said. Not ever, her mind said.
She ignored that thought. Too much to decide right now. She could think about it later.
Dawson nodded his head, and even if he wasn't happy – the tight corners of his mouth had reappeared – he at least seemed to be understanding.
“Tomorrow is the first day of the rodeo,” he said. “I know that Tommy would love to come with me and hang out with all the horses in the paddocks. I’ll pay for his ticket to get in so you don’t have to. I think he has horse fever as much as I did when I was a kid.”
Chloe's mouth quirked at that. Yeah, that was the understatement of the century. She'd never really understood the fascination with horses – they were so big and tall, they were scary and intimidating to her – but Tommy got bit by horse fever since he was old enough to know what a horse was. She'd always assumed that had come from her father, but it seemed like it was, yet again, something else that had come from Dawson.
Tommy really was a “mini me” of Dawson.
“He would enjoy that,” she said slowly. It scared the living daylights out of her to allow Tommy to spend time with Dawson like that without her around, but on the other hand, they were father and son. Tommy should get to know his father. Dawson should get to know his son.
No matter how much that scared her.
With one last look that said so much without him saying a word, he headed out the front door and to the local motel. Chloe collapsed against the chair and squeezed her eyes tight.
I did the right thing. I did.
I did.
So why do I feel like shit?
Chapter 8
After a s
leepless night on a bed made out of what he’d swear was plywood and rocks, Dawson headed over to the house bright and early. He was never one to sleep in much, but with the promise of being able to spend the day with Tommy and Chloe, he couldn’t fathom sleeping another moment.
You’re only spending the day with Tommy. Don’t get your hopes up for something more than that.
He turned down the long, dirt road, the bumps in the road as jarring as his thoughts. The sun was peeking over the horizon, sending long beams of golden light into the sky, almost as if nature was welcoming him to Chloe’s place.
Not her place – the vet’s place. Don’t forget that. For all you know, they’re dating. And if yesterday was anything to judge by, you’re not going to find out the truth about that relationship for quite some time, if ever.
His gut tightened at the thought. He grimly wished for his gay, wizened old vet that he’d imagined in his mind when Chloe had been describing him. If only…
He pulled into the circular driveway and cut the engine. The morning sounds surrounded him – birds chirping, cows lowing to each other, and yup, there was the goat. Her high-pitched neighing were a good reminder that he needed to get to milking. Anything that saved Chloe time and energy were good for him to do.
The neighborly thing to do.
On the front porch, he hesitated. Yesterday, Tommy had been up and awake, and Dawson had entered the house with his permission. Just entering this morning without anyone’s permission seemed a bit…questionable. But on the other hand, knocking loudly and forcing Chloe to wake up and let him in did seem to defeat the purpose.
He finally knocked quietly to assuage his conscience, then tried the doorknob. Yup, unlocked. He should talk to Chloe about locking up at night. Living out in the country without any protection was a dangerous thing to do.
Except, she probably wouldn’t want to hear a word about it. He wasn’t her father or her lover, and he needed to stop acting like it.
He tiptoed through the living room as best he could in his cowboy boots, and then up to the second floor. He looked down the hallway and saw Chloe’s door was partially open. God, he was so damn tempted to sneak down there and just peek in. She’d never even know, and then he could find out what kind of nightgown she slept in…or none at all.
His groin tightened at the thought, but he pushed it all away. He couldn’t, just could not, do that. No matter how much he wanted to.
He instead pushed the door open to his son’s room – oh, what a thought! – and saw him sleeping peacefully in bed, his arm flung wide. His PJs, covered in cowboy hats, went right along with his bedspread, covered in horseshoes.
Yup, definitely my kid.
He tiptoed over and gently shook Tommy awake.
“Whaaa…oh hi Dawson!” Tommy exclaimed, shooting straight up in bed, a huge grin on his face.
Dawson grinned back. “Good morning,” he whispered. “I want to surprise your mom again – what do you think about helping me with the morning chores?”
“Do I get to put my hand under the chickens and steal their eggs again??” Tommy asked in as hushed-as-an-eight-year-old boy’s voice ever got.
“Sure.” Dawson tried to keep the laughter out of his voice, but he had to admit that he failed spectacularly on that front.
Tommy sprang out of bed and whipped on a sweatshirt over his PJs and slipped his cowboy boots onto his bare feet.
“No socks?” Dawson asked, eyebrow cocked. Tommy just shrugged, so Dawson let it go. If he wasn’t worried, Dawson wouldn’t be either.
Hand-in-hand, they snuck back down the stairs and out the back door, snagging the milk buckets on the way.
“So how come your mom doesn’t let you do the chores with her every morning?” Dawson asked as they headed for the chicken coop.
Tommy shrugged again. “She does, she just doesn’t let me steal the eggs or milk the goat,” he clarified. “If there’s no chicken on the nest, she lets me take the eggs, but she doesn’t want me pecked at, so no egg stealing. And she won’t let me into the stalls with the animals.”
Dawson’s mouth tightened and he simply nodded in response to Tommy’s answer. It wouldn’t do to make his first act as fatherhood be, “Question all decisions made by Chloe thus far,” but he really wanted to have a chat with her some time soon. If she kept this up, Tommy would be a teenager and would have no idea how to work. You have to start kids young. If they’re raised to be afraid of animals, or at least not comfortable with them, it made it harder to teach them respect for the animals later on.
After some pointers on egg gathering to keep flapping wings and squawking to a minimum, they then headed to the barn. Closing the door on the chicken coop behind them, Dawson made a mental note to fix the broken hinge. Even if Chloe had the mechanical skills to do it, which he wasn’t sure she did, she probably didn’t have the time or the tools.
In fact, looking around the barn and the farm as a whole, he could see areas of neglect. The vet was probably busy with his mom and his career, and Chloe certainly had enough on her hands. Running a farm was no mean feat, and Dawson was surprised she’d held on as long as she had.
They practiced milking once again, and Tommy showed a little improvement over the day before. Day by day, he’d get better, until he was an old hand at it like Dawson.
Wet lips touched his back the same time that his shirt got yanked out of his jeans.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed, whipping around and coming face to face with Ivy, who’d managed to stick her head sideways through the slats in the stall and reach his shirt. She had her teeth wrapped around the fabric and just kept pulling it further into her mouth. Tommy was absolutely no help at all, doubled over with laughter as he was.
Dawson narrowed his eyes at his son for a moment and then the humor of the situation hit him and he grinned at Tommy.
“Is there anything Ivy won’t eat?” he asked him drily as he wrestled to get his shirt out of the goat’s mouth. Ivy clamped down further, chewing as she went, slobber flying everywhere. Finally, Dawson smacked Ivy on the nose, startling her into letting go. He looked down at his shirt, a mangled mess, and grimaced. He’d definitely have to stop by the motel on the way over to the rodeo. He couldn’t show up looking like this.
Tommy just grinned. “Not anything I’ve found,” he said cheerfully. “We caught her eating ivy one time, which is when Mom renamed her.”
“Oh? What was she called before that?”
“Dumbass,” Tommy said with a shrug.
Dawson tried not to choke on his laughter, but really, it was close.
“Adam named her,” Tommy continued. “Mom said Ivy was a better name.”
“I’m sure she did,” Dawson murmured under his breath.
Pails of milk and eggs in hand, they headed back to the house.
“So your mom said I can take you to the rodeo with me today.”
“Really??” Tommy squealed happily. “Yay!!!! Does this mean I can ride your horse? Can I pet him? I could brush him and do a real good job, I promise!”
“I’m sure you would,” Dawson said. Especially after I teach you how. “We’ll be able to do all of that and more.”
“Yaaaahhhhhoooooooo!!!!” Tommy whooped, and went running into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him.
Yet another thing to teach him to do properly.
There were so many things about becoming a man that Dawson wanted to teach Tommy. He didn’t want to leave after this weekend and pretend he never met him. Every moment that he spent with Tommy, Dawson fell in love with him just a little more.
Was he ready to be a dad?
Only one way to find out…
Chapter 9
The warm summer sun beat down on his head and shoulders, and he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. Damn, even up here in the mountains of Idaho, summers got a little warm to be standing around in direct sunlight.
“Dawson,” Tommy said, “look at this one!” He pointed at a paint
horse, contentedly chewing on a mouthful of hay, completely ignoring Tommy's yelling, which that was good, at least. Dawson ambled over and they admired and petted the horse, while Tommy told Dawson all about how he wanted to ride horses all the time, but he only got to when Adam had time for it and Adam didn't very often and he'd told his mom that having a horse would help out around the farm but she never seemed to believe him and he didn't understand why, because of course having horses could only help and—
“Do you want something to eat for lunch?” Dawson cut in, finally realizing that if he was going to wait for his son to stop talking on his own volition, they could both starve to death long before that.
“Oh yeah!” Tommy said and jumped off the railing of the corral, heading towards the food stalls. Dawson's stomach rumbled, and he had to remind himself that he didn't want to stuff himself too full. Nothing like jumping off a horse and sprinting towards a calf with an overfilled belly that jiggled with every step. He'd made that mistake before and had ended that event by upchucking behind the calf corral.
No siree bob, he did not gorge on fair food any longer, no matter how good the fry bread smelled.
After buying Slurpees, fry bread, corndogs, french fries, and a turkey leg, they made their way over to a shady spot underneath a tree. As they sat down in the dappled shade, Dawson closed his eyes with a happy sigh. Damn, that felt nice.
He opened his eyes and began digging into their feast with his son, laughing as they talked, but trying to casually watch him eat. The way Tommy grinned up at Dawson…it was his smile. It was his face looking up at him. The same face he'd seen in the mirror his whole childhood.
It was a little creepy, and a whole lot amazing, to see that. How had he just not known in some deep part of his soul that his son existed? How had he not just sensed it?
“So you're my daddy, aren't you?” Tommy asked, munching away on the fry bread covered with a sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar.
“I…uh…” Dawson stuttered. He hadn't exactly asked Chloe if it was okay if he discuss this topic with Tommy, and he was suddenly completely unsure what Chloe would want him to say. Surely she wouldn't want him to lie to their son, right? Sending up a quick prayer for forgiveness for what he was about to do, Dawson nodded slowly.