by Erin Wright
Yet something else he must’ve brought home from the Shop ’N Go. That gallon of OJ probably put him back $7. Oh, to be that rich…
“Better,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed. “I threw up all over Mom yesterday.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Dawson said. “And as punishment, you and I get to clean your mom’s car, before she drives to Boise in it. So why don’t you eat up real fast so we can put your mom’s car to rights while she’s taking a shower?” He slid a plate with bacon and Mickey Mouse pancakes in front of Tommy, along with a glass of orange juice. He poured…was that real maple syrup? It was in a glass bottle. I haven’t bought real maple syrup in…well, ever. I forgot what it’s like to be rich!
Tommy shot straight up, his eyes glowing with happiness.
“You remembered!” he crowed, digging into the pancakes excitedly.
“It was just yesterday,” Dawson said drily, but winked at Tommy who grinned back, his mouth full of pancake and syrup.
“Tommy!” Chloe said, trying to stifle her groan at the sight. “Not with your mouth full!”
He opened up his mouth, thought better of it, chewed, swallowed and then said, “Sorry, Mom.” She stroked his hair off his forehead, trying to get his cowlick to behave for once. He looked like a Native American version of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes at the moment, and she couldn’t help grinning at him. He was just too damn adorable most days.
Especially the days where he didn’t puke on her.
Dawson slid a plate in front of Chloe, also loaded down with food, and said, “Eat up! You need to get some fat on your bones. I’m afraid you’re going to blow away any moment now.”
She ignored that comment but dug into her pancakes lustily anyway. If she was going to get fat, homemade pancakes with real maple syrup was the way to do it.
Chapter 11
Dawson jumped off Bolt and rubbed him down, taking off his saddle and halter before giving him a small sugar cube that he ate eagerly. “Good boy,” he crooned in his horse's ear as he curried the sweat and straw out of Bolt's mane. “You've been doing so good,” he told him. Bolt's ear flickered. He may not understand what Dawson was saying, but he did understand that tone of voice.
While Dawson cleaned up his horse for the day – yet another first place win for Bolt and him – he wondered eagerly if Chloe and Tommy were going to be there that night. He'd asked Chloe to stay after the calf roping event was done, but she'd just shrugged and told him she'd think about it. He wanted to know; the suspense was starting to get to him.
Finally done with cleanup, he led Bolt to a horse stall in the Long Valley County Barn, a place he could rent out for Bolt during the rodeo. Some people kept their horses in the horse trailer the whole time, saving on fees, but Dawson never did. He wanted to treat his best friend and working buddy the absolute best way possible. With a final pat to his neck, Dawson headed back out in search of Chloe and Tommy. Her bright blonde hair contrasting against his pitch-black hair shouldn't be hard to spot, right? Dawson searched through the crowds milling about, the sidewalks between vendors full of couples and families out for an evening together.
Had she left after all? Had Tommy gotten sick again? Dawson had only given in to Tommy's pleadings once and had let him eat one ball of cotton candy. But surely that didn't make him sick. Maybe she just didn't want to be around Dawson. Maybe, despite how warm and open she'd seemed that morning, she was second guessing her choice to have him in her life again. Maybe—
The flash of platinum blonde hair caught his eye and he spun towards the sight, spotting the top of her head through the crowds. Hurriedly, he wove his way past slower pedestrians, suddenly anxious to get to her. He wanted to see her face, wanted to see Tommy's face, wanted…
Except, she was alone. He glanced around, looking for Tommy – maybe he'd wandered over to look at a vendor's booth – but Chloe's voice cut through the noise around them. “He's still not feeling good,” Chloe said. “I dropped him off at Adam and Ruby's house for the night. I appreciate you only giving him one ball of cotton candy today, but I think it was still a little much for an already sensitive stomach.”
Dawson had finally gotten to her and, picking up her hands, stared down at her. God, she was so damn beautiful. He wondered for a moment if she even realized how much it hurt – in the best way possible – to see her smile at him. Something he'd never expected to see again.
“Sorry. I thought I was being good by only giving him one wand of it. His soulful brown eyes staring up at me? He’s damn hard to resist.”
Much like his mother, except his eyes are brown instead of a rich green.
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she replied drily, the edges of her eyes crinkling in amusement. “He’s been plying his wares on me for eight years. I’ve just grown a thicker skin.”
They began wandering through the booths then, hand in hand, the smell of fair food and bull poop mixing together to create a rich aroma that can only be found at county fairs.
It was a smell he adored.
“So, did you see my win?” he asked a little too casually. She nodded. “Just one more day and the Sawyer Stampede is over. But do you know what a winning cowboy likes to do to celebrate their wins?” He pulled them to a stop and gathered her against him, nestling her between his thighs.
She shook her head and then said hesitantly, “Dawson, I don’t know if I’m—”
“They like to take their favorite girl out dancing,” he broke in. “You ready to do some Boot Scootin’ Boogie-ing with me?”
She laughed, the concern and hesitation gone. “Yes, I’d love it!” she said happily.
He grabbed her hand, soft and slim in his roughened bear paws, and began pulling her towards the large grassy area where music had begun thumping already. He’d thought she’d love it – she may not have been into horses growing up, but she did years of dance. The times he’d seen her in tights…well, the memories still made him break out into a sweat.
They joined a line dance, and once…did she mean to swing her hip and bump his? He glanced over and her eyes, lit up and green and brilliant, gave him his answer.
Dawson Blackhorse, Ms. Chloe Bartell is flirting with you. Don't hesitate – seize the moment!
So as the line began moving the other direction, he did a hipcheck on her. She grinned up at him, and her tongue flicked out over her pink, rosy lips.
He felt his groin tighten in response. Oh man, she was delicious. He had visions of that amazing mouth going down on him and he closed his eyes for just a moment, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. He had to keep himself under control. At least in public.
The live band switched over to The Dance by Garth Brooks, and all thoughts of keeping himself under control were swept away as Dawson roughly pulled Chloe into his arms. He wanted – no, needed – her there. Against him. He pulled her against his body and they swayed to the music, listening as the haunting lyrics rang out.
The song finally ended, and Dawson reluctantly stepped back. It was hard to drop his arms, to not be holding Chloe against him and he hesitated for a moment. Maybe he could –
“Hey Dawson!” someone said, slapping him on the shoulder. Dawson swallowed hard and turned to see Rex, a bull rider and someone who he usually loved to see, standing there. “You're killing it in the rankings right now. I can't wait to see how you do tomorrow! Are you going to the Northern Rodeo Association Finals in Billings after this?”
Without even looking, he felt Chloe stiffen and then move away.
Dammit, this is what I get for not talking to her before now. Dawson could've cursed a blue streak in frustration, but bit down on his tongue instead.
“No,” he told Rex. “I have a kid here, turns out, and so I'll be here for the long run. I don't know if I'll continue the rodeo circuit or not, but I'm not going anywhere, not for a long time.”
Rex's eyes flicked towards Chloe's stiff back as she chatted with some other dance attendees, attempting to smile as she talked to the
m. Even from here, Dawson could see it was forced, and his gut twisted.
“A kid, huh?” Rex said, the surprise evident on his face. He paused for just a second, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dawson and Chloe. “Well, I see…" Rex said slowly, and winked at Dawson. “I’m going to head down to O’Malley’s and get a bite to eat, but I'll see you around. Wish you all the best,” he said, jerking his head towards Chloe, and then disappeared into the crowd, his white cowboy hat quickly swallowed up by the hundreds just like it.
Dawson headed towards Chloe, his fists clenching and then releasing as he walked. He was not going to let a little misunderstanding come between them, not after all they've been through already.
He slipped his arm around Chloe's waist, which caused her to stiffen even further. “Let's dance,” he whispered in her ear. The band had obligingly switched back to a slow song, so he was able to pull Chloe away from her discussion with the gaggle of women and back to the dance floor, which in this case was just a giant swath of grass.
At least he didn't have to try to talk to her while doing the Macarena. Small blessings.
He pulled her into his arms and unlike last time, where she'd been pliable as putty, this time she was unbending, as rigid and cold as a bar of steel.
“Rex is an old rodeo friend,” he said, figuring that facts were always a good place to start. “He doesn't know that I have been thinking of maybe staying here for a little while.” Instead of softening her up, this just seemed to make her more stiff. Not exactly his intended effect. “I don't want to leave, Chloe. Not right now. Not when I'm just starting to get to know my son.” He stopped swaying and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. The people continued dancing around him but neither of them noticed. They were in their own world, their own universe, as they stood there.
“I don't know where this is going between you and I, or if it's even going anywhere. What I do know is that I'm not ready to walk away from you or Tommy. Give this between us some time.”
She softened a little – just a smidge. But it happened. He smiled, feeling victorious. It was amazing what a little looseness, a little relaxation of the mouth, could do for his soul.
“For right now, let’s just be us. Let’s dance.”
She nodded and lifted her arms, draping them around his neck. He pulled her close, and as the music flowed around them, they swayed and laughed and fell just a little bit in love.
***
They tumbled through the front door, Chloe shushing Dawson as they went. “You're going to wake up Tommy,” she whispered loudly.
He couldn't hold back his laugh, he really couldn't. It was a real treat to see Chloe drunk. Between dances, he got her soused on wine coolers, an increasingly entertaining state of being for her.
“Chloe, you dropped Tommy off at Adam's house, remember? I gave him cotton candy so he wasn't feeling good…?”
“Oh!” she said, her eyes rounded in surprise. “I forgot about that. I can't believe I forgot that. How did I do that?”
“A lot of wine coolers,” he said drily.
“Huh.”
Which seemed to be all she had to say on the topic, which was fine by him. He wanted her in bed, and that meant less talking and more walking.
He grabbed her hand and began pulling her up the stairs. “I think we should visit a certain bedroom,” he said as he tugged. She stumbled up behind him, her coordination all shot to hell.
“The guest bedroom?” she asked and he realized that she was at least with it enough to make jokes.
“If you'd like,” he teased. “I was thinking a bigger bed might be nice, though. A king, perhaps?”
“Ohhhh…for a king-sized guy?” she asked, laughing.
“You could say that.” He'd let her judge size when they'd disrobed. Arizona was a long time ago, and she was a virgin at the time. She didn't have much experience to judge by last time.
They got to her bedroom door, and despite his teasing tone, Dawson realized that he really did feel special to be there. Last time she'd allowed him to get this far, he'd taken advantage of her on top of a pool table, he'd laughed at her gift to him, and then he'd walked away.
This time, he was going to make love to her. He was going to make her scream in delight.
He was going to make her his.
He’d stopped in the doorway and Chloe began to walk around him to get into the bedroom but he blocked her with his body. “Let me,” he said, and scooped her up into his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and squealed in surprise.
“You should warn a girl before you do something like that,” she said, laughing with delight. Her laughter belied her stern words, and he grinned down at her, feeling like he'd won some great prize. And he had. For Chloe to allow him back into her life was truly a wonderful prize.
He carried her, bouncing her up into the air a few times as he walked, listening to her squeal, pressing her body closer to his, and then once he got her to the bed, he dropped her. Bouncing across the bed, she howled, “Whaddya do that for?”
“'Cause all the best parts of you bounce when I do,” he growled and, shucking his clothes as quickly as his fumbling fingers would allow him, he crawled across the bed towards her. She licked her lips in anticipation, looking him up and down as he moved towards her.
“Oh my,” she sighed happily.
Which was pretty much all he had to say on the topic, too.
He clasped one foot and then the other in his hands, gently pulling her ballet slippers off her feet. Sensing his more serious, more sensual mood, her eyes darkened and then she leaned back against the pillows with a happy sigh.
Rather than moving up her legs, as he was sure she was expecting, he instead pulled her right foot up to his mouth and sucked on her big toe, laving the pad of it with his tongue.
“Whaaaaaaaa—“ she gave a hoarse shout, and then the most amazing moans spilled out of her. Eyes closed, her back was arching and she began moaning, “Yes, please, yes, I didn't, ohhhhhhh…” He moved down the most adorable row of toes he'd ever laid eyes on, and then across the arch of her foot. “Whaaaaaaaa—” she let out, the look of pure sexual gratification on her face as she did. God, she was sexy.
He didn’t let up. He was going to make up for his earlier churlish behavior, even if it had taken him nine years to do it. Better late than never, right? He picked up her left foot and began nibbling on her perfect toes. Her back was arching and she was moaning and shaking and he hadn't even gotten to her calves yet.
Oh, it was going to be a good night tonight.
There was a certain looseness to her body and actions that he knew was a direct result of getting her drunk, which meant, his plan was working exactly as intended. He wanted her to stop thinking, to stop worrying, to just be. If he needed a little help in making that happen, well, he’d use that crutch.
This time.
“You know what I've always loved about your body?” he murmured as he began kissing his way up her calves. She thrashed on the bed and, well, it looked like she could be shaking her head, so he took that as her answer. “Your legs.” He nibbled in circles around her kneecaps, one and then the other, and her moans hit a fevered pitch. Dawson stopped for just a moment to thank God Tommy wasn't home tonight. He was going to have to remember that Chloe was a moaner in bed.
A trait he would happily get used to.
He continued his move up her thighs, smooth and strong from years of waitressing, dancing, and cow milking. What a combo…
“They’re so damn sexy. You should wear short skirts more often. Or short shorts.” He reached the juncture of her thighs and began focusing his warm breath on her soft curls, slick with moisture. “You used to wear short shorts back at your dad's ranch. Oh, the daydreams I had about your legs,” picked up one leg and draped it over his shoulder, “wrapping themselves,” picked up the other leg and draped it over his other shoulder, “around my head and neck as I licked,” he pursed his lips and sent a stream of cold air over her and
she shivered, groaning as she did, “and sucked my way into an orgasm for you.”
“Please, please, I…please…” she groaned, her eyes screwed tight, her head flipping on the pillow, her body shaking. “Please.”
He leaned down and finally pressed his lips against her, her sweet taste and moisture exploding across his tongue and he began his very best effort to make her forget her middle name. Or first name. Or any name at all, except for his. He liked the sound of his name on her lips.
“Ahhhhhrrrrrrggghhhhhhh!” she half yelled, half moaned, as she arched her back, her body rigid, her legs shaking, and he tried to move with her, keeping his tongue moving over her, and she was shaking, shaking, shaking, until finally, her body collapsed into a boneless heap on the bed.
He grinned triumphantly. He was off to a good start in terms of redeeming himself, if he did say so himself.
He moved over her, kissing his way up her delectable hip bones, her adorable innie belly button, her gorgeous breasts with a mole on the right one, reminding himself to go back and explore that more later, and finally, he was up to her mouth and was kissing her, and she was moaning again. He settled himself between her thighs, about to move inside, when he remembered.
Dammit, he almost got her pregnant again. Wouldn't that just be ironic. He rolled off her and went in search of his wallet, his hands shaking with need.
“Wha…” she asked drowsily, opening her eyes and trying to focus on him.
“I just need to keep Tommy 2 from arriving nine months from now,” he said, chuckling as he rolled the rubber into place. Finally suited up, he moved between her thighs and this time, he was able to come home.
All of the traveling he'd done over the past nine years, and all of the places he'd gone, no one had felt as amazing as Chloe did. She was his north star. Sinking into her, he began thrusting, her warmth surrounding him, and he was so damn afraid he was going to make a fool out of himself by only lasting moments but she felt so damn good and it was almost impossible to hold himself back and then she was raising her hips, meeting every thrust with equal passion, equal vigor, and he was slamming in, his vision whiting out and he was coming, pumping, his back rigid as he spilled himself into her, unable to speak or think but only be.