by Lucy Gilmore
“Is that true?” he demanded.
“Of course it’s true!” Bea said. “I don’t know where the paperwork is, but Dawn says she’s happy to sort through all that crap in the basement to find it. Seeing as how I’m letting her off the hook with the garden and all.”
“I didn’t say I was happy about it…”
“She also thinks I should hire a professional cleaner to come through here and lend a helping hand, but that’s where I draw the line. I’ve never met anyone with so many opinions on things that aren’t any of her goddamned business.”
It would have been easy for Dawn to take offense at this, but she just laughed. “I could say the same of you, but you’ll notice I refrained.”
Adam cleared his throat before they got too far off course. This conversation was more productive than any of the ones he’d tried to start with Bea for the entire past year combined.
“Are you serious about this, Mrs. Benson?” he asked. “All this time, all these negotiations, and there’s literally no way you can sell us the property?”
“Goddamn lawyers,” she said by way of answer. “They’re part of the Illuminati—did you know that?”
Dawn coughed gently. “What Bea means is that she’s not overly fond of legal entities imposing their will on her.”
“No, what I mean is that they’ll take the skin off your back and prance through town wearing it like Lady Godiva.”
Dawn’s hand stole under the table to touch Adam’s knee. It was a quick gesture and could have easily been interpreted by anyone at the table as a way for Dawn to pet the puppy rather than the man, but he found it comforting all the same. Trust me, that touch said. Believe in me. Give me all your problems, and I promise to make them okay.
She obviously had no idea how tempting that was.
“I won’t know until I find the papers she’s talking about, but it sounds as though it’s pretty straightforward.” A gurgle of laughter escaped her throat. “And easy to get around. Bea can’t sell to you, but there are no limitations once the property has been moved out of her hands.”
Adam’s heart rate picked up. “You mean…”
“I mean that what the next owner does with this godforsaken mud pit is no concern of mine,” Bea said. “Or the damn lawyers.”
“Yes, Adam,” Dawn said in a much gentler tone. “That’s what she means.”
“Wait…I’m confused.” Phoebe scraped her fork across her plate. The high-pitched sound caused Methuselah to twitch, but Adam stilled her by running his hand over the back of her neck. “What are we talking about? I thought we just decided that the sale is off.”
“It is,” Adam said. “At least, the sale to Dearborn Ranch is off. But if Dawn were to make an offer, what’s to stop her from signing it over to us as soon as the dust settles?”
This neat—if somewhat immoral—summary of the situation shocked Phoebe into momentary silence, but Bea’s cackle rose anew. It was accompanied with a hearty slap of her hand on her leg. “Damn if I don’t almost like you, Adam Dearborn. You’ve got grit. Your grandfather had grit.”
Coming from Bea Benson, that wasn’t much of a compliment, but Adam took it as one anyway. There were worse things in the world than to be compared to the man who’d built the Dearborn name into what it was.
“I’m not saying my mind is made up,” Bea warned. “Until Dawn finds those papers, there’s no saying what will happen. But I’m willing to let her poke around a little. She has grit, too.”
Dawn had a lot more than that going for her, but Adam wasn’t about to start listing her virtues. Once he got started, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Once again, she was doing so much for him—for his whole family. And for no reason he could easily discern unless it was the novelty of it all.
“I wonder if I should do it under cover of night,” Dawn said in a laughing, teasing voice that made Adam feel like novelty might not be too far from the truth. “Sneak in when no one is looking, sort through the boxes away from the prying eyes of the Illuminati.”
“I’m not so sure that much secrecy is required,” Adam said. “I doubt either the Illuminati or the Smithwoods pay that much attention to what goes on around here.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” a slow, somewhat dry male voice said from the doorway to the house. “Contrary to what the Dearborns believe, some of us are able to see what’s going on right under our noses. Uh, no offense.”
Adam’s hand stopped on top of Methuselah’s neck. The puppy took instant exception to this, squirming her body so that her stomach was exposed and he could continue his ministrations. There was no denying such a demand, though it made Adam feel like a villain, sitting in his chair and stroking his pet while his nemesis approached.
“Hello, Charlie,” he said, trying to keep as much of the villain out of his voice as possible. There was no need to add to the theatrics around here.
“Adam.” Charlie Smithwood’s voice was equally level. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
He was, and they both knew it, but the unspoken arrangement between the two families was one of unperturbable—if resentful—civility. Even when they’d been kids meeting across the schoolyard, Charlie had been unfailingly polite in the way he’d put them all down. Oh, look. There are the Dearborns. Did you want to play on the monkey bars, or would you rather sneak in the classroom and steal everyone’s pencils while their backs are turned?
“Of course not,” Adam lied. “We were just having some lemonade with our favorite neighbor.”
Bea snorted her appreciation for this remark but didn’t add anything to the conversation. No one did, which was something Adam never enjoyed. He didn’t like feeling as though he was missing something.
Dawn must have realized it, because she quickly and easily stepped into the breach. “I’d offer to pour you some of it, but it’s highly alcoholic and you don’t look like much of a day drinker. Now I, on the other hand…” The ice in Dawn’s glass clinked as she presumably took a sip.
From the conversation that followed, that wasn’t the only distraction she intended to provide. “Oh no!” Phoebe cried. “Dawn, what happened to your neck? It looks like someone bit you.”
Adam did his best to appear natural, but it was difficult when most of his body functions had all but stopped. He wished he knew what Dawn was wearing, whether she’d made an attempt to cover up the proof of his loss of control or if she’d brazenly bared it all just to provoke him. He wasn’t a betting man—and neither was his grandfather, goddammit—but he’d have put everything he owned on the latter.
“Someone did bite me,” Dawn said, and with such a saucy air that no one could mistake her meaning. “I like to live dangerously.”
Bea made a sound that could only be classified as a harrumph. “We had a name for girls like you back in my day,” she said. “It starts with the letter—”
As much as Adam hated to admit it, Charlie proved himself a gentleman when he interrupted Bea before she could get one more syllable out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Charlie Smithwood, but considering the conversation I walked into, you must already know that.”
“I managed to put two and two together,” Dawn said, her arm brushing past Adam as she extended it for a handshake. “I’m Dawn Vasquez. I came with these two gorgeous creatures—the canine ones, not the humans. The big, gray one with the eyelashes is Uncle. The pampered one on Adam’s lap is Gigi.”
“Methuselah,” he said mechanically, but his heart was no longer in it.
“I’m training Uncle to be Adam’s service dog. Gigi is my personal pet, but she’s recently discovered that Adam’s lap is the best place to be.”
“I imagine that’s a matter of taste,” Charlie said. His voice was filled with the heavy sarcasm that almost always accompanied any conversation in which both he and Adam played a part, but Adam found him
self almost warming to the man. Whatever else his faults, he was taking this whole situation in stride. If Adam had overheard someone talking about plans to steal land out from under his nose, he’d have reacted a little more forcefully.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your party, Mrs. Benson, but my mom sent over a box of her famous lemon bars and a gallon of that cider you like,” Charlie said. “The good cider, if you know what I mean.”
Bea knew. “Your mom knows the way to my heart, that’s for damn sure. Pie and cake are all well and fine on an afternoon like this one, but that cider gets me through many a long, lonely night.”
Considering that the Smithwood cider also had enough alcohol content to set the entire county ablaze, Adam could see why it appealed to her.
“Why don’t you come help me carry them in, Phoebe?” Charlie asked with an air of innocence that Adam didn’t trust for a second. He doubted Phoebe did, either. His sister was no fool. “I left them out in the truck.”
“Oh, let me,” Dawn said before Phoebe could answer. “I’m glad to be of use. And if it just so happens that a few of those lemon bars don’t make it to the kitchen on the way, I refuse to be blamed.”
“Didn’t you just eat half a pie?” Adam asked.
“Manual labor always makes me ravenous. All physical activity does, actually. When I work up a sweat, it’s like I become insatiable.”
It was to the benefit of everyone sitting around the table that Dawn and Charlie headed off to grab the bribes. Nothing Adam could think of to say to that was appropriate for company—especially this company. When Dawn worked up a sweat, he had a tendency to become insatiable, too.
“In case you’re wondering how to win me over next time, I could use a new transmission for my truck,” Bea said with a whoosh of her hands rubbing together. “If your two families are going to be battling for my favors from here on out, I might as well get something more than food out of it.”
“You’re already getting free labor,” Adam pointed out.
“Free?” Bea snorted. “That damned dog trainer of yours wasn’t here five minutes before she talked me out of working in the garden. She’s not much of a one for sitting back and letting life happen to her, is she?”
Adam had a lot to say on that subject, but Phoebe interrupted before he could get started. “If I’m not needed here, I’m going to head out,” she said. “Adam, you can get a ride back to the house with Dawn, yeah?”
Adam tilted his head in assent.
“And please don’t remind me that we have that call with the bank later this afternoon,” she added as a parting shot. “I know already. I’m the one who scheduled it. I promise to be home in plenty of time.”
That seemed a little unfair, since the bank was the last thing on his mind, but he just raised a hand in farewell.
“Well, well. A call with the bank? You’re taking an awful lot for granted, aren’t you?” Bea didn’t wait for him to defend himself. “Provided we find that paperwork, I don’t see why we can’t come to some sort of arrangement. I wasn’t kidding when I said there’s nothing keeping me here. I’m an old woman and a tired one. Dawn thinks I should go somewhere with sun and sand and young men in those tiny swim trunks.”
“That does sound like Dawn’s idea of paradise.” Adam was forced to agree.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Bea replied, but she didn’t expand on the topic. “Tell Dawn I’ll see her later, yeah?”
She didn’t make any further attempts at conversation, so Adam took it as their cue to leave. Setting Methuselah carefully on the ground, he gave his low whistle to bring Uncle to attention. Once again, the Great Dane outdid himself in terms of obedience. He came immediately to Adam’s side, his gentle press directing him where to go to safely leave the porch.
Bea must have noticed it, too. “That big one seems like he could come in handy,” she said. Adam was about to agree when she added, “But for my money, I like that soft, brown-eyed one better. Useless for ranch work, of course, but she knows her value. The beautiful ones always do.”
Adam could no longer tell if they were talking about the golden retriever or the woman who’d foisted herself into his life, but it didn’t matter. He knew damn well that Methuselah—Gigi—would never fit in his life. At least, not in any way that counted. Marcia had warned him that she’d probably always be a little on the small size and more inclined to take naps than perform work duties.
She’ll be more work than she’s ever worth, I’m afraid, Marcia had said. But she’s got a certain something about her, doesn’t she?
There hadn’t been anything to say to that, either. Everyone was trying to talk him out of a puppy that wasn’t technically his to begin with, yet here he was, holding on to her leash like it was his only lifeline.
Uncle did an admirable job of leading him back through the house and down the front steps. Adam was half-afraid that Charlie would still be there, chatting with Dawn and spilling more family secrets, but Dawn greeted him with a brief explanation.
“Charlie took off as soon as he put the food in my hands. He didn’t even help me take it into Bea’s kitchen, the louse. I can see why you dislike him so much.”
“His manners have always left a little something to be desired.”
“The lemon bars are good, though. I shoved a few in my bag, if you want one. Bea will never notice they’re missing.”
He chuckled and opened the passenger door to Dawn’s car, waiting patiently while the dogs tumbled into the back seat. “You’re stealing an old woman’s food now?”
“Um, have you ever been in her basement? It’s wall-to-wall junk down there. It’ll take me weeks to clear it. She’s lucky I didn’t pinch the cider, too.” She paused while Adam settled himself in and allowed the golden retriever to wriggle her way over the middle console and into his lap.
“Don’t say it,” he warned.
“I wasn’t going to!”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“In addition to being able to smell my nonscent, you can hear my not-sounds now, too?”
Yes, he could. He could also feel her not-touch and taste her not-kiss. It was starting to seriously unbalance him.
Dawn reached over and gave the puppy a gentle pat. “She’s destined to become a great lapdog someday, that’s for sure.”
“You mean ranch dog.”
“Not if I get you what you want, I’ll wager.” She started the Jetta and pulled out of the drive, but so slowly he could not-see her looking at him. “That’s how your family works, isn’t it? Place a bet and watch to see how everything unfolds? Stake half of your lands and hope the dice fall in your favor?”
“First of all, it was poker, not dice,” he retorted. “And how was it my grandfather’s fault that Peter Smithwood was a degenerate gambler who put half his family’s fortune up for grabs?”
Dawn gave a crow of laughter. “I knew you couldn’t be nearly as upright as you want us all to believe. What other scandalous deeds litter your family’s past? Are there bodies buried in the woods? Illegitimate Dearborns in every cradle across the county?”
“I’m not dignifying either of those with a response.”
“Well, what about my wager, then? Does that warrant a response?”
“Not really, no,” he said, but of course Dawn couldn’t let it rest there.
“You heard Bea for yourself. The property is all yours.” She paused a beat. “Provided I act as mediator, that is.”
There were so many things he wanted to say to her—to thank her for—but the words lodged in his throat. He and Dawn didn’t have that kind of relationship. They could tease and taunt and take steamy showers together, but heartfelt honesty was off the table.
“You’re only offering to act as mediator because you think I’ll give you Gigi if you do,” he said.
“I’m sorry—who?”
He realized his error at once. In his distracted state, Dawn’s name for the puppy had just slipped out.
“Am I wrong?” he asked, ignoring the implication of having given in. Methuselah was a ridiculous thing to call the puppy—and had been from day one—but saying so out loud would only be the start. Once he opened those floodgates, he’d also have to admit that there was no way he could keep Gigi forever. A few weeks of Uncle’s company had more than proven to him that what he wanted and what he needed were two very different things.
A few weeks of Dawn’s company had done the same. Already, he was falling way behind schedule, letting his ranch duties slide so he could have vodka and pie on Bea’s back porch. Already, he found himself wishing Dawn would stay for more than just the day, her laughter and whirlwind existence sweeping him up and away from the realities of his life.
He sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. All he had to do was say no. All he had to do was decide to go on the way he always had, without a puppy of any kind in his life. All he had to do was shut the door against Dawn and pretend that he didn’t live for those stolen moments they shared both in and out of bed.
“You’re not wrong,” Dawn agreed. “I’m just surprised to hear the words from your own lips. So it’s a trade? If I get you the Benson lands, you’ll give me Gigi? Just like that?”
Adam shrugged uncomfortably. It sounded so sordid when put into words like that. So final.
But “Why not?” was what he said. “Even if you don’t succeed, it’ll piss Charlie off something fierce to know you’re at Bea’s every day, bringing us closer to the final purchase. It’ll be worth it just for that.”