by Erin Wright
“Oh, and Dawson?”
“Yes?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.
“Thanks for asking this time.”
He pulled back and smiled down at her.
“Always.”
Chapter 14
They started the adventure on a beautiful autumn Friday afternoon. The sun shone brightly overhead, lighting up the brilliant blue sky, but thankfully, the heat of summer had finally passed. The orange and brown leaves swirled down from the quaking aspen trees as they followed the curves of the mountain road.
Tommy was practically vibrating with excitement in the backseat of Dawson's Ford. Chloe could totally relate, unable to sit still herself. Her excitement had little to do with a day of hiking, fishing, or any other camping-related activities, though. It was just so damn nice to spend the weekend together as a family. She'd even asked Betty for Sunday off, so they could spend two nights out in the wilderness together.
It didn’t take long to reach Eagle Rock State Park. She was glad to have Dawson there to help put up the tents. She was capable of putting up tents herself, of course, but it had always taken a long time, which made Tommy antsy while frustrating her. It was great to see someone else deal with an antsy eight year old instead of her.
With a grin, she watched as Dawson showed their son how to put up the tents, patiently walking him through each step. It was hard for Tommy to concentrate, considering the fact that Dawson had promised him a fishing trip that day, but finally, Dawson told Tommy quietly that either he helped with setting up the tents and truly concentrated on the task at hand, or they wouldn't go fishing after all. What a difference from the Dawson just two months earlier, who hadn't been able to tell Tommy no at the rodeo. Tommy immediately put his mind to the task and they finally got the tents erected.
After they finished setting up camp, they grabbed their fishing poles and headed down to the lake to fish. An osprey swooped and dove overhead as they cast from the bank, and they watched in awe with only a little bit of grumbling at how many fish the bird was catching, compared to their pathetic haul. Tommy and Chloe ended up netting one fish each, but none for Dawson.
“You get to clean them,” she said with a grin, passing the bucket to him. With some good-natured grumbling, he took the fish to the cleaning station and proved he was adept at that task, too.
They headed back to camp where she set about preparing dinner. The backup cooler of food, filled with red potatoes, veggies, and condiments, helped round out their meal. Afterward, they sat around the small fire in the fire pit and roasted marshmallows. This time, she watched Dawson keep an eye on Tommy's intake of sweets, and was happy to see that Tommy was listening to Dawson just like he did to Chloe.
She kept waiting for him to start trying to play Dawson and her off each other, but so far, he hadn't. She loved seeing Tommy snuggle up to his father, arms around each other as they competed on who could roast their marshmallows to a golden brown without setting them on fire.
Yup, he truly was a “mini me” to his dad.
“Next time, we’ll have to bring some ATVs and hit the trails,” said Dawson to Tommy, ruffling his hair. Tears pricked her eyes when she imagined how different their life could have been if she’d been able to find him before their son was born.
With a sigh, she pushed away the melancholy thought, knowing there was no use dwelling on what might have been. It was time to concentrate on the future, and more specifically, their sleeping arrangements that night. Tommy hadn't batted an eyelash when Dawson had told him that he was going to sleep with his mom that night. It was the first time they were going to openly sleep together around Tommy, but he'd taken it like a pro. Tommy'd fallen in love with Dawson almost as much as she had, listening to everything he had to say, following him everywhere he went.
It tugged at her heart strings to think about it.
Tommy started yawning and was coaxed into going to bed with the promise of a sunrise walk with Dawson.
“I’ll be sleeping in,” she said, grinning. Tommy didn't grumble but instead, kissed her on the cheek and headed to the tent with a mumbled “Goodnight,” as he went.
His soft snores emerged from the tent soon after, leaving them virtually alone. She scooted her chair closer to Dawson’s and put her hand on his thigh. “I’m so glad we're doing this.”
“Me too.” He shook his head. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
“I’ve always thought so.” She winked at him. “He’s a lot like his father.”
He didn’t pick up on her lighthearted mood. “That must’ve been tough to handle.”
Her brows furrowed when she frowned. “What?”
“Having him look like me when you hated me so much.”
Chloe sighed. “I don’t think I ever hated you, Dawson, although the sentence ‘A virgin who has no idea how to please a man’ was one that I had to go to therapy to get over.” He began to apologize again, but she waved it away. “Yeah, I was hurt, and my confidence took a beating, but I couldn’t hate you. I definitely couldn’t regret that Tommy looked and acted so much like you. He’s a terrific little boy, with a pretty terrific dad.”
Dawson slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her as close as the camping chairs would allow. “His mom is damned special, too.”
Slowly, she trailed her hand higher up his thigh, pausing near the juncture. The material of his jeans strained under her hand as he hardened.
With a groan, he put his hand over hers, arresting her ascent. “You should stop now, Chloe.”
“Or what?” she asked in a husky drawl.
Their gazes locked, silently speaking of mutual hunger. “If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to, and that will blow the hell out of my plan to just sit around the fire and talk to you as the wood burns down.”
“I’m tired of talking.” She pushed her hand higher, easily circumventing his halfhearted attempt to stop her. “We can watch the fire burn tomorrow night, promise.” Another groan signaled his surrender as she reached her destination, cupping the length of him and stroking through the well-worn denim.
He jerked away from her hand and stood. She didn’t protest when he pulled her from her chair. Chloe twined her fingers through his and led him to their tent. As soon as they were inside, and he’d zipped up the mosquito flap, he took her in his arms. She lifted her head, straining to touch his lips to hers.
He lowered his mouth to meet hers while gathering her even closer. The kiss started out slow and gentle, but she shifted restlessly, pushing her tongue inside to taste him. Their tongues caressed each other. She stroked his, swirling around his mouth and eliciting another groan. His thick hair was silky between her fingers when she plunged a hand into the depths to drag him closer. Right then, she wanted to be part of him.
They shared a hungry kiss, each eager to merge with the other. She strained against him, bringing her hands to the hem of his t-shirt to push it up. His skin beckoned before she’d accomplished the task of removing the shirt, so she left the fabric bunched under his arms as she stroked his taut stomach. The dusting of hair tickled her fingers, and she scratched him lightly. Dawson hissed, his breath a harsh exhalation against her lips.
She didn’t resist when he grasped her hand to pull it away from his stomach. He held it in his, trapped between their bodies. Undeterred, she brought her free hand to the waistband of his jeans, tugging at the snap and starting on the zipper before he intercepted that hand. She looked at him through the veil of her lashes as he held her hands captive in his. “You’re not making this easy.”
A throaty chuckle vibrated in his chest. “You’re making it too easy, babe. If you don’t slow down, it won’t be any fun for you.”
“I disagree.” She tugged lightly, and he released her hands. With a shrug of surrender, Dawson stripped off his shirt. As he lowered his hands to take off his jeans, she took advantage of the moment to remove her tank top and khaki shorts. By the time she started to undo her bra, he was naked. Chloe stopped when he p
ut up a hand, dropping hers to her side.
Dawson undid the front clasp of her bra with a steady hand, but the ragged sigh he released at the sight of her breasts spilling free betrayed he wasn’t as unruffled as he pretended to be. Chloe lost her own battle to maintain a cool façade when he cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her already tight nipples into rigid peaks. She arched her back and tossed her head when he lowered his mouth to taste one.
She grasped his hair, pulling him closer as he sucked one nipple before turning his head to pay equal attention to the other. As one, they dropped to the sleeping bag, with Dawson on top of her. His mouth never left her breast as they settled into place. Grasping his shoulders, she held on to her tenuous control, remembering the necessity to be quiet as he lowered his head, licking a trail down her belly.
It took every ounce of control not to cry out when he nestled his face against the crotch of her silken panties, inhaling her scent. She squirmed, eager to open up to him, as Dawson darted out his tongue to taste her through the fabric. “Please,” she rasped. Could she die from sensual torment? If he didn’t give her more soon, she was about to find out.
With a low chuckle, Dawson grasped the elastic of her panties between his teeth and pulled them down to her thighs. She was trapped, unable to open her legs more than a couple of inches, but that was enough. His warm tongue slipped inside her, making her bite hard on her lip to stifle the shout that wanted to escape when his tongue touched her slippery nub.
He spent several minutes exploring her contours, finding each of the delicious places that made her writhe and want to scream with pleasure. Chloe stuffed her hand into her mouth to hold in her cries when he sucked her into his mouth while simultaneously thrusting two fingers into her slick folds. Her body yielded to his masterful touch, and she arched against him, tossing her head to keep quiet.
The orgasm broke over her before she realized it was happening, her arms flinging wide, back arching, and she would’ve screamed if Dawson hadn’t clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. She twisted and shuddered under the force of release, all the while knowing it was a pale imitation of how she would feel when their bodies fused together and she once again trembled on the brink of climax.
As if he’d read her mind, Dawson moved his hand to strip away her panties. He nestled between her thighs and she was thankful once again that she’d gone on birth control and they no longer had to have a barrier between them.
As he sank inside her slick heat, she welcomed every inch of him. He moved gently within her, easing in his full length before withdrawing to repeat the process, and it was as if the past nine years had truly melted away, once and for all – disappearing into the cleansing mountain air. They were once again on the pool table, making love for the first time, but this time, without the anger between them.
Dawson stroked her nub as he quickened his pace. Chloe met each thrust with equal vigor, longing to reach fulfillment with him at the same time. Her orgasm hovered on the edge of her consciousness, and she deliberately staved it off until he stiffened, his arms trembling as he held himself above her. Feeling him spasm within her, she gave up her own weak control and surrendered to her release, letting go and falling into the abyss with him.
Afterward, they lay curled together, still joined. Dawson kissed her forehead and cheek. “I love you, Chloe. I have for a long time, but I cocked it up and forced myself to pretend like you’d never meant anything to me.” He shifted enough so their gazes locked. “You probably won’t believe it, but I thought about coming back to the ranch more than once in the weeks after I left. I thought you’d betrayed me, but I still wanted you.”
She sighed. “I wish you had. Maybe you could’ve found me before Tommy was born, and we wouldn’t have lost all these years.” Chloe pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “And…I love you, too.” She breathed the words into the quiet night air, her heart thrilling that she could finally speak them out loud.
They hadn't said those words to each other since that night in August, when he'd thought he had to leave her behind, that he wasn't a wanted part of their lives.
To finally say those words to each other on a night like tonight – gorgeous and fulfilling and touching…it meant the world to Chloe. Dawson meant the world to Chloe.
Snuggled up against his side, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, she drifted off into a contented sleep, listening to the crickets chirp and the owls hoot their way through the darkness.
Epilogue
Seven Months Later
May, 2018
Dawson made the last turn of their journey, knowing that they were almost there, and that neither Chloe nor Tommy knew where they were going. He was part nervous, part excited, part ready to throw up.
God, please…
He left the prayer unfinished as the farmhouse came into view. He looked over at Chloe, grinning. “We're almost there,” he told her.
“Oh good!” she said, starting to take off the blindfold.
“No, no, no!” he said, slapping her hands away from the fabric. “No cheating!”
Tommy was bouncing ecstatically in the back seat. “C'mon, Dad,” he said cajolingly, “can't we just peek?”
Even as Dawson's heart contracted with love over the word “Dad” – he would never tire of hearing his son call him that – he held firm. “Nope, no peeking for you!” Tommy groaned in pain, but Dawson ignored it.
He wasn't going to screw this up. After all this time, he was going to get it right.
He stopped in front of the house and cut the engine. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said dramatically, “I give you…the Blackhorse Ranch!”
They tore their blindfolds off and squealed in perfect unison. If he hadn't known any better, he would've thought they had practiced that.
“Oh, Dad!” Tommy said, throwing the back door open and scrambling out of the truck. “It's awesome!” Chloe and Dawson climbed out after him and watched as he tore down to the creek that ran through the backyard.
“This is so cool!” he hollered back as he knelt down in the mud on the creek bank.
“I think you're going to have laundry to do tonight,” Dawson said drily, watching the giant brown blotches on his son's clothing grow in size as he lay on his stomach and tried to catch fish as they swam by.
Chloe just laughed. “I am the mother of a 9-year-old boy. I think I have laundry to do every night.”
He slipped his arm around her waist.
“So come check out the house,” he said eagerly. “It has four bedrooms and two bathrooms! One bathroom has been remodeled, and one…most definitely has not.” He slipped a key into the lock and pushed the front door open, leading into a beautiful living room with original hardwood floors and leaded glass windows. “It was built in 1882,” he said proudly. “The Miller family built it, so it’s one of the first in the area.”
She gasped with delight as she fingered one of the massive wooden columns that connected to a bookcase, splitting the living room in half. “Oh Dawson, it's gorgeous. You know how much I love original woodwork like this. And you bought it?!” She turned to him in surprise. “When? How did I not know this?!”
“Because I wanted to surprise you. For once, I wanted to not talk to you about something that I was doing that was wonderful, instead of always clamming up when it came to the shitty stuff.”
She laughed, the happy sound spilling out of her as she admired the fireplace mantel.
“I do have to say, I much prefer positive surprises that you've kept to yourself, as opposed to the other times, when you just assumed you knew what I was thinking or feeling, and didn't bother asking to make sure.”
“Somehow, I thought so. Just a wild guess…” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the remodeled kitchen so she could ooh and aahh over that, too. “The house has four bedrooms and two bathrooms,” he said, a little too casually, as she pulled the oven door open to inspect it and turned the water tap on and off in the kitchen sink.
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“Yeah,” she said distractedly, looking at the inside of the fridge. “I think you should look at having the seal around the edge of the door replaced though. This isn't a real tight fit and you'll lose cold air out of it.”
He tried to swallow his laughter and his nerves. “I'll definitely get right on that,” he promised, while she headed down the hallway to the remodeled bathroom. Done up in blues and creams, with a chair rail and beadboard around the bottom 2/3s of the walls, it was peaceful and beautiful and exactly what he wanted in a house.
In a home.
He tried again.
“So, did I mention that there are four bedrooms and two bathrooms?” he asked, a little desperate this time. She stopped inspecting the toilet seal on her hands and knees and instead stood to stare at him.
“Dawson Blackhorse, either you think I've gone deaf or senile or both. You've told me that there are four bedrooms and two bathrooms in this house three times now. Are you really excited about having an office or something?”
Finally, the moment had come and yeah, maybe he hadn't expected to do it in the bathroom but hell, they never had done anything normal. Why start now?
He dropped to one knee, fumbling with the ring box but finally getting it pointed the right way, and open. A miracle, considering how much his hands were shaking.
“Chloe Joy Bartell,” he said, his heart in his throat, “I want to marry you and give you a hundred more sons and daughters and start a horse breeding ranch and make you mine. Will you be mine?”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, staring at him for a moment and he couldn’t breathe and then she laughed, tears streaming down her face as she did so. “I was always yours,” she breathed happily, throwing herself at him and knocking him backwards onto the cold tile floor, “but we may need to have a discussion about a hundred children. I really don't think four bedrooms will house that many kids, for starters, and—”