by Lucy Gilmore
Since he knew damn well that she didn’t have enough clothes on to protect herself from a mosquito bite, he didn’t wait for an answer. Nor was it necessary to. Dawn suggested that Phoebe go for the supplies while she pulled the truck around—an idea to which his sister readily agreed. Adam accepted the leash Dawn put in his hand and did his best to remain unmoved when she said, “I’ll be right back. Will you be a dear and introduce the two puppies? This’ll be a great chance for you and Uncle to get to know each other.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. The crunch of her footsteps as she jogged toward the garage was all that was left to him. Well, that and the Great Dane.
He waited until he was sure Dawn was out of earshot before lowering himself into a squat. “I’m sorry about that,” he said as he ran a hand over the dog’s neck. The animal’s hair was short but soft, the thick, healthy texture of it at direct odds with the undernourished puppy he’d left convalescing inside the house. “You seem like a good boy, and I have no doubt that you’ll make some other blind schmuck very happy someday. Just not this one.”
The puppy licked his face in reply.
“I know. It’s juvenile of me, and I should know better than to let her get under my skin, but it’s harder than it looks. She slides in there and then latches on like some kind of parasite.”
He planted a kiss on top of the animal’s head and rose to his feet. If nothing else, this puppy was an exceptional listener. But… “You understand, don’t you?” he asked. “I’ve got nothing against you—I really don’t—but she gave me Methuselah, so Methuselah is who I’m keeping. She doesn’t get to flit around doing whatever she wants, whenever she wants it. I have some pride left.”
He gave the leash a light tug, thinking to lead the Great Dane along the well-worn and familiar path to the house, but the puppy took up a position at Adam’s side and waited for him to start walking first. Half an hour in, and Uncle already knew his job better than Adam did.
And so, it seemed, did Dawn.
“I didn’t say I had a lot of pride left, mind you,” he added. “But goddammit, there’s enough.”
Chapter 4
There was no doubt about it—Dawn was a serious bitch.
“I swear on everything you love and hold dear, you’ll listen to what I’m saying or pay the consequences.” Dawn held out her hand, which was smeared in a mixture of mud, molasses, and what she was pretty sure was cow poop. It had neither an attractive color nor an attractive scent. “Get out of the pen right now, or I’ll come over and make you get out.”
“That’s the ticket,” Adam yelled from the other side of the fence. The clean side of the fence, where the only thing that ruffled his exquisite exterior was a sole lock of hair out of place. The brown swoop fell across his forehead at a perfectly jaunty angle. “Talk to her like a rational human being. That always works. Cows understand every word you’re saying.”
Dawn relieved the worst of her temper by flipping him the bird with her outstretched hand. Phoebe informed her brother of it with a laugh.
“You don’t want to know what gesture she’s making at you right now, Adam.”
“Don’t worry—I can guess. Is she close enough yet?”
“Just a few more feet… Dawn, you’re going to have to get closer than that. Human Dawn, I mean.” Phoebe laughed again. She’d been doing that a lot ever since they arrived on the scene to find the wayward cow frolicking in a pit of mud and weeds like she was never going to see the sky again. “We should probably give the cow a new name. This is going to start getting confusing.”
“Start getting confusing?” Dawn asked. It was a rhetorical question, since both the Dearborn siblings were intent on the task at hand. As this apparently involved having her lure the cow close enough for Adam to get a rope around its neck, it hardly seemed fair that those two were the ones concentrating so hard. She was the one in imminent danger of being trampled to death.
“A little closer,” Phoebe said. “One more step. There you go. And…now!”
Dawn shrieked as a heavy coil hurtled past her face. She knew from the stories Zeke and Phoebe told that Adam was something of a savant when it came to roping cattle. Neither of them were able to explain how he did it, but assuming an animal was within the length of the rope, he could land the loop around its neck on the first try every single time.
From a distance, she had no doubt that Adam roping cattle must be a sight to behold. She’d never known anyone to be so comfortable in his own skin, so unconcerned with the way others perceived him. He was confident without being cocky, adept without being arrogant. The hard planes of his body were hewn by hard work. His clothes were functional rather than ornamental.
In other words, he knew his value, and he didn’t need anyone else to confirm or deny it.
Up close, she wasn’t so charmed by the picture he presented. Projectiles whizzing by her head and a five-hundred-pound cow bucking angrily against her restraints had a way of ruining the mood.
Enough. This was the second time in as many hours that this dratted cow was preventing Dawn from appreciating Adam as he was meant to be appreciated. She was putting her foot down. Literally. Without waiting to consider the wisdom of her actions, she squared her stance and faced down the agitated animal. Pausing just long enough to wipe her hands on the seat of her jeans, she put one finger on either side of her mouth and did what she did best—made a lot of noise.
The piercing whistle cut through the air, stopping everyone short. Humans, cow—even the birds in a nearby tree—all halted at once.
“That’s more like it,” Dawn said. She stepped toward the huge, bulky animal heaving a few feet away, the rope now slack around her neck. “I don’t know who taught you how to behave, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this lifetime, it’s that a lady is only allowed to cause as much trouble as she’s worth. And you, my precious, aren’t worth this much. Unless—” She turned toward Adam. “How much will a cow like this go for at market?”
“Right now? Twelve hundred dollars, give or take a few hundred. Although at this point, I’d pay twice that just to get someone to take her off my hands.”
Dawn turned back to the cow, one finger outstretched. “Then you are definitely not worth the trouble. Now, get moving. I’ve got two puppies to train and one very long shower to take, and you have some serious thinking to do about your actions.” She slapped a hand on the cow’s massive, muscled back for good measure, more surprised than pleased when it actually worked. The white-and-brown-spotted cow gave her only a mild stare before beginning a slow and careful trudge out of the mud pit.
A round of applause from somewhere behind her had Dawn turning in her tracks. She expected to find Phoebe standing there celebrating their success and was understandably surprised to see a strange woman doing the clapping. The woman was well into her seventies and wore her years defiantly, her wrinkles pronounced and her expression grim.
Like most of the people around these parts, she was also dressed for hard labor. While Adam looked like a flannel god chiseled from stone and Phoebe wore her jeans like they were a second skin, this woman looked as though she’d spent most of the morning rolling around in the mud pit with the cow. Baggy brown pants, an oversized button-down shirt that looked to be disintegrating at the seams, and a pair of boots that had to be six sizes too big for her were hardly what Dawn would consider cowboy chic.
“About damn time someone took that animal to task,” the woman said. She stopped clapping as suddenly as she’d begun, her eyes drinking in Dawn from the tips of her muddied toes to the spaghetti straps of her chiffon tank top. It was hardly the ideal outfit for working out in the middle of nowhere, but Adam was a tactile man. Dawn loved wearing fabrics that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands away from. “Though it beats me what the hell you’re supposed to be.”
Dawn laughed. “A puppy trainer, if you’d believe it.” She made
her way to the edge of the fence, her progress slowed by the clinging pull of mud against her feet. She extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Dawn—Dawn Vasquez.”
The woman stared at her hand for a few seconds. Too late, Dawn remembered that it was still covered in mud, but the woman accepted the handshake with a low grumble. Her own palm was rough and warm and none too clean itself. “Bea Benson.”
Ah, yes. The neighbor onto whose property the cow had strayed. Although Dawn hadn’t had much time to appreciate the scenery before, she took a moment now. Most of the land in this part of the county was flat and uninteresting, similar to the landscape she and Zeke had passed when fleeing with Gigi. The occasional stack of hay, small clusters of trees, and political signs of the conservative variety were all that provided much in the way of visual interest.
This area was similar, though a cute white farmhouse stood not too far in the distance. It was built on a slight rise so that it sat like a beacon against the bright-blue sky, with several fruit-bearing trees growing around it. Dawn had never been much of a one for nature, but she could see how a place like this might appeal.
Not with all this mud, though. For the life of her, Dawn couldn’t figure out why this particular area was fenced off. Images of late-night mud battles between buxom, scantily clad women flitted through her mind only to be immediately banished. That was way more fun than most of these people were used to having.
“Why do you have this section fenced off?” Dawn asked. “Does it have some kind of sentimental importance? Oh God…this isn’t your family cemetery or something, is it?”
She cast a quick glance around, fearful of finding evidence of mortal remains having once been laid to rest, but Bea just barked out a laugh. It sounded rusty from underuse, but Dawn liked the sound of it all the same.
“Of course it’s not a cemetery, you ninny. It’s my garden.” The laugh stopped short as evidence of the carnage seeped in. “Leastaways, it was my garden. Six months of sowing and weeding, my blood in every goddamn leaf.”
“I’m really sorry about this, Mrs. Benson.” Phoebe stepped forward, wringing her hands. “We had her all penned up this morning, but then the gate got unlatched, and…”
“And she ate my entire life and livelihood,” Bea finished for her. “That’s fine. No one around here cares if I die of starvation, so why would you be any different? Just don’t be surprised if I sneak over in the dead of night and eat your damn cow to make up for it.”
Dawn was unable to subdue a shout of laughter. Sneaking around at night and exacting personal vengeance was the same thing she’d have done in this situation. Bea turned a furious eye on her.
“And what do you find so funny, young lady?” Bea demanded. “They weren’t your butter beans she ate.”
“No. But I hope that when you do come for the cow, you’ll let me know ahead of time.” Dawn stared down at her outfit in disgust. She’d never be able to wear this tank top again. “I have one or two retributions of my own.”
Adam’s voice, quiet but firm, came from behind them. “Of course we’ll pay you for the damage, Mrs. Benson,” he said. “I know we can’t replace the effort you put into the garden, but feel free to name any figure you want.”
That seemed inordinately generous to Dawn, who would have unhesitatingly stated a million dollars just to see what Adam would do, but Bea snorted. “A bribe, you mean.”
He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t care what you call it as long as it leads to what we both want. The checkbook is in the glove box. You know what I’m prepared to pay.”
“It’s like a Dearborn to think money fixes everything.” Bea lifted her chin at a mulish angle and stared hard at Dawn, which seemed a little unfair. She wasn’t the one trying to buy the poor woman off. “Now, if one of the Smithwood cattle had come over here and turned my vegetables into a playground…”
Both Phoebe and Adam stiffened in a way that was almost comical. It was as though they’d both been jolted by the same electric shock.
Adam was the first to recover, which he did by putting on a smile that would have charmed Dawn right out of her dirty clothes, had it been directed at her. He hitched a thumb in his belt loop, too, which only added to his appeal. “You know we’ll match anything the Smithwoods say or do. I’ve made that clear from the start.”
None of Adam’s charm worked on the older woman. “They’d have offered to come over and replant this garden from the ground up, keeping a lonely old woman company all the while. Is that what you’re prepared to do, Mr. Dearborn?”
His voice remained level as he said politely, “If that’s what you want, absolutely. It’d be my pleasure.”
“They might even make me a cake, seeing what a sweet tooth I have. In fact, they’ve made me three this week already. What would you say to that?”
“That you must be getting tired of them by now. What if I were to offer you a pie instead?”
Dawn watched this exchange with interest. Never, not even in the deepest throes of passion, had she ever heard Adam be this conciliatory. He fought and argued and dug his stubborn feet into every challenge that came his way. Likening him to a cow was a bit much, but she was sure there was an ass or two around these parts that fit the bill. She had no idea what power this cantankerous old woman had over Adam, but it must be something good.
“Too bad,” Bea said. “I don’t want you. Or your milky little sister or that swoopy-haired musclehead you call a brother, so don’t go offering me them in your stead.”
Adam’s smile began to falter. “Excuse me?”
“That boy doesn’t have the sense God gave this cow, and if I had to spend as much as five minutes in the girl’s company, what with her constant bitching and moaning, I’d shoot myself in the foot.”
“Now, see here. My sister does not—”
“Don’t, Adam,” Phoebe hissed. Her own smile had long since vanished, replaced by a tight line. “She’s only trying to rile you up. I’m not worth the fight.”
Actually, Dawn disagreed. Phoebe was worth the fight. She might not be physically imposing, but looks were often deceiving. Dawn’s own younger sister was of the same slight build and mien, and Dawn couldn’t think of any person, living or dead, who had as much resolve as her. She’d take one look at this mean old woman and tell her exactly what she could do with herself—all done with such a deceptively sweet air that no one would see it coming.
Since Dawn was much less adorable than her sister, she had to resort to her own tactics, which better resembled a battering ram than a petite Trojan horse.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” She stared at Bea, holding the woman’s gaze until she was forced to blink. “I’ll be the one to come help you with your garden, and I’ll be nice and keep you company while I do it. I might even bring you that pie Adam promised. But I won’t hear a word against any of the Dearborns while I’m here, got it?”
“How dare you speak to me like—”
“I’ll admit that they have terrible taste in cows,” she continued, rising up under the challenge in the woman’s stare. Her sisters would recognize the danger of pushing her like this. After the incident with the puppy, Zeke might recognize it, too. But none of the people present knew her well enough to realize that once she took a stand against something, it was almost impossible to get her to sit back down again. When Dawn did a thing, she did it all the way.
Stealing dogs. Confronting mean old ladies. Falling in love.
“They should obviously invest in a better gate, too, but they’re accepting responsibility and have shown themselves willing to make amends,” she added. “Insulting them isn’t going to change anything.”
Phoebe turned her hiss to Dawn. “Uh, Dawn? Maybe now’s not—”
“Oh, now’s the best time—believe me. It’s no use letting something like this fester. It’s better to get it out while we’re all here.” She put her h
ands on her hips. “Well, Mrs. Benson? What do you say? It’s me and my hoes coming to do your dirty work, or it’s a big fat check from the Dearborn Ranch. Which do you prefer?”
A chuff of something that was either laughter or outrage sounded from Adam’s direction, but Dawn didn’t turn around to see which. She didn’t need him derailing her right now. She was on a roll. Not even her confrontation with No-Pants Shotgun could touch this one.
“Well?” she prodded. “Do you want my help or not?”
A heavy sigh escaped the older woman as she looked away. “You’re better than nothing, I suppose,” she said.
“I’m a lot better, actually.”
Bea pointed a finger at her. “But you’ll need to find some work clothes before you come over, because I refuse to look at your tits all day.”
Okay, that was a definite laugh coming from Adam.
“And you’ll have to keep coming for as long as it takes, mind. It’s not going to be easy, getting all this back in order. It’ll take hard labor and long hours and fingernails that look as though they clawed their way up from the gates of hell. You seem an awful lot like the kind of girl who quits as soon as the nail polish chips away.”
“Believe me, Mrs. Benson,” Adam said before Dawn could open her mouth to defend herself. “There’s a lot I could say about this woman, but if there’s one thing she doesn’t do, it’s quit.”
Despite the insult lurking in his words, Dawn’s spine straightened. Damn straight she didn’t quit. She’d tamed this cow. She could tame this woman, too, if given enough time. She was sure of it.
As for Adam Dearborn?
She gave in and peeked over her shoulder. Adam stood exactly where he’d been at the start of this conversation, stalwart and unmoving and so devastatingly handsome that she found it difficult to breathe. Every angle of him was sharp and strong, every line an architectural masterpiece. Long after the rest of the world crumbled away, he would be standing exactly like that.