Chapter 4

The alarm woke her much too early. She had lain awake most of the night, her mind a jumble of fearful and confusing thoughts. Sometime near dawn, she had come to the decision that she and Tommy would have to leave Sawyer and start over somewhere else, where Dawson couldn’t find them. It would be painful to leave their friends, but not as painful as it would be to have him interfering with her life, trying to take over.

She hit snooze on the alarm, deciding the animals could wait a few more minutes. She would skip on makeup to indulge in a couple of snooze sessions. Her eyes closed almost immediately, and she slipped into a deep sleep.

A couple of hours later, Chloe bolted straight up, knowing the position of the light streaming through her window was all wrong. It must be late. She looked at the clock and groaned. With luck, Betty would be in a forgiving mood, because she was going to be late. There was no way to take care of the animals, shower, and drop off Tommy at the Community Center Day Camp and make it to work in fifteen minutes, when her shift should begin.

She dragged herself from bed, cursing at oversleeping and at Dawson for wearing her out so much with worry that she’d slept through the snooze alarm. Slipping into jeans and a flannel shirt, she shoved her feet into rubber boots and trudged down the stairs. On her way past Tommy’s door, knowing he must still be asleep since he hadn’t woken her up, she shouted, “Wake up, sleepyhead. We need to leave in thirty minutes.” They’d only be able to leave then if she could just milk and feed the cow and goat, plus gather the eggs and feed the chickens, plus squeeze in a shower, all in a half-hour. Okay, fine, unrealistic at best, but she really didn’t have a choice.

Chloe stumbled to a stop when she saw the buckets of milk on the kitchen table. Wearing a frown, she rushed outside, wondering if Tommy was up and had slipped out to milk the animals. She’d already told him countless times that he was too young. Skunk — named by Tommy when he was so young, everything black and white was a skunk — was a placid enough cow, unless one yanked her udders the wrong way. The old girl wasn’t above kicking.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as she pictured Skunk kicking Tommy, knocking him unconscious. He could’ve died.

Well, obviously, he didn’t since he’d gotten the pail of milk onto the table, but that didn’t keep her from imagining it all in great detail in her mind. And Ivy! There were two buckets on the table. He’d milked the goat? She was ornery as could be and was just as liable to stand still as she was to head butt and kick.

Now in a high state of panic, she went running down the porch steps and across the yard before freezing at the sight of Dawson’s truck parked in her driveway. She looked at the corral, surprised to see a chestnut horse sharing space with Skunk the cow and Ivy the goat. Her eyes narrowed with anger as she searched for her uninvited guest.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard Tommy’s high-pitched voice coming from inside the chicken coop. She hurried to find her son, her mouth dry when she saw him standing so close to Dawson, a look of admiration on his all-too-grown-up face. He held a basket while Dawson gathered the morning eggs from the indignant chickens.

When Tommy saw her, he beamed, waving his arm frantically. “Mom, look, Mom.” He held up the basket. “Me and Dawson collected the eggs and milked Skunk. Ivy tried to get away, but we caught her and milked her too.” He grinned up at her as she approached. “Dawson let me carry the buckets into the house.”

“That’s nice.” She glared at Dawson over her son’s head. “You should call him Mr. Blackhorse though.”

Tommy stuck out his lower lip and crossed his arms over his chest, the basket dangling from his hand. He looked so much like his father, her heart twisted in her chest. It was the same look Dawson had given her just last night.

“Dawson said I could call him Dawson, Mom. It’d be rude not to call him Dawson when he said to call him Dawson.”

She sighed, letting it go. “Okay, little man.” With a hug around his shoulders, she said, “Could you take the eggs up to the house and put them in the egg keeper? I need to talk to Dawson.”

“Sure!” His eyes sparkled with the responsibility. He grasped the basket and ran toward the house at breakneck speed.

Chloe managed to contain her anger until she heard the sound of the screen door slamming behind Tommy. “Why are you back?” she demanded.

He had the gall to only look somewhat ashamed. “Well, I left for town for a while, figuring that’d give you enough time to make dinner and do the evening chores, and then slipped back here after dark. I put Bolt in the corral and bedded down in my trailer for the night.”

“What do you want?”

“My son.”

Her eyes widened, and the panic she’d only just managed to shove down came roaring back. “Over my dead body! You can’t just come into his life and try to take him—”

“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “Hold on. I meant I want to get to know him. I’m not trying to take him away.”

She continued to glare at him for a moment longer. “You’d better not even think about having the faintest idea of doing so. I would do anything for my son, including kill.”

His lips twitched, but he at least had the good sense not to laugh. Out loud, anyway. “I just want to spend some time with him and help you out. Ease your burdens.”

“Where were you when I wanted your help?” She swallowed the urge to scream and stamp her foot. “You know, whatever. It doesn’t even matter. The only thing that matters is Tommy.” She poked him in the chest with one finger. “Just make real sure you’re prepared to stay in his life to some degree if you decide to spend time with him. It’s better for him to never know his father at all than to have you for a few days before you just up and disappear.” Chloe sneered at him. “We both know you’re good at that, don’t we, Dawson?”

Before he could answer, she whirled around and headed back to the house. Tommy met her halfway, and she said, “Go wash up and get dressed. We’re going to be late as it is.”

His face fell. “Aw, Mom, I wanted to spend the day with Dawson.”

She shook her head. “I’m sure Mr. Blackhorse has other things to do, and they’re expecting you at the day camp.”

“But—”

“Besides, Adam and his mom would miss having you for lunch.”

Tommy scuffed the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. “I guess.”

She took a deep breath, relieved not to have to deal with an argument. “Let’s get ready.”

“Will you be here tonight, Dawson?” asked Tommy eagerly.

“No,” said Chloe.

“Yes,” said Dawson.

She gritted her teeth.

“Yes,” Dawson repeated, ignoring Chloe. “I’ll be here for a few days, at least. I’m supposed to compete in the rodeo, but I don’t have any other plans.” He shot her a glance of amusement. “I’m all you and your momma’s for a while.”

Tommy pumped his fist in the air. “Awesome.” He turned to run into the house, finally deciding to get dressed, apparently.

She growled, finding it almost impossible to keep from yelling. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dawson grinned, and his teeth were just as white and straight as they’d been nine years ago, looking so beautiful against his coppery skin. “I’m pissing you off by inviting myself to stay with you for a few days.”

Arrggghhhh!

Rendered speechless by her rage, she spun away from him and marched into the house, hoping a shower would clear her mind a little and allow her to at least have a conversation with the annoying man invading her life. One that he didn’t win.

Dawson held in his chuckle until he was sure she couldn’t hear him. From the flames practically shooting from her eyes, a blind man would’ve been able to tell she was livid. If she knew he was amused, she’d likely slug him. Of course, he’d have to stop her before her hand could connect. Then he’d take her into his arms and…

With a sigh, he tried to dismiss the thought. The strong attraction to Chloe took him by surprise. Knowing she hadn’t lied to him wasn’t what brought it back. It had been smoldering just below the surface ever since he spotted her in the diner yesterday. One look at Chloe and he was back to feeling like he’d grabbed hold of a live wire.

He sighed again, taking off his Stetson to run a hand through his hair. His attraction to Chloe was the least of his concerns. Or, at least it should be. He had a son. Even after lying awake most of the night, staring at the ceiling of the horse trailer, he still found it almost impossible to believe he and Chloe had created a life.

A life she’d had sole responsibility over for the last eight years.

He winced. The last thing he’d ever wanted was to ruin her life.

He’d been angry that last night, and in a vengeful mood, but not that vengeful. Not like that.

Rational thought just hadn’t entered into the equation. He’d thought with his fury and his zipper, not his brain. He shook his head at his stupidity. All these years, it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could’ve gotten pregnant from it.

In all fairness, if he’d considered the idea, he probably would’ve just assumed that she’d “handle” it if something like that had happened. It had seemed so clear that she was going to marry King and had been leading him on. It had never occurred to him to question that.

It had never occurred to him to ask her questions.

Cursing under his breath at his stupidity — all nine years of it — Dawson went over to unhook the trailer from the truck. Chloe was going to be angry — even more so than she already was — but he was going to drive them into town. No way was she leaving his sight now that he knew about Tommy. He still didn’t trust her not to take the boy and run away. Chloe hadn’t yet grasped that he had every intention of living up to his responsibilities. He would’ve done it nine years ago, if he’d known about the baby.

He grimaced, thinking about how much of his son’s life he’d missed. The boy was a stranger. And after all this time, Chloe was a stranger too. He guessed she’d always been a stranger to him. Lust. That was what they’d had between them when he’d worked for Hank, that’s all they had between them for two long years. Two long years of never touching, and then…spontaneous combustion.

And she hadn’t known him either. Even after he’d worked for her dad for years and years, she’d still had no clue where to start looking for him when she’d left Hank’s.

Dawson growled low in his throat. Left, or had the old man kicked her out when she hadn’t lived up to his expectations? It was another question to add to the list he was mentally putting together. He was going to sit her down — staple her butt to the chair if need be — and get her to answer some questions the next chance he had.

He saw them heading towards the car and intercepted them. “How about I drive you today?” he asked casually, staring Chloe straight on.

“No!” Chloe said emphatically, even as Tommy was running to his rig.

“Whoa, Mom, look at this,” he called out, opening up the door and staring inside. “It’s even nicer than Doc Whitaker’s truck.”

She trudged towards the truck, resignation in every step. Dawson grinned to himself as he headed to the driver’s side. Yup, going through Tommy was definitely the way to get Chloe to do something.

“It sure is something,” said Chloe, clearly reluctant as she climbed into the cab after her son. Judging from her body language, the Ford might as well have been a torture chamber.

Dawson climbed inside and suppressed a groan, discovering it really could be a torture device. He was so close to Chloe and her tantalizing scent, and yet, he couldn’t touch her. He checked Tommy’s seat buckle to make sure he’d properly strapped himself in on the bench seat, a much-needed buffer between him and Chloe. “Everyone ready?” he asked, bringing the diesel engine to life.

“Yeah,” said Tommy, practically bouncing. Chloe didn’t bother to answer, so he took her silence for assent and put the truck in gear. He couldn’t deny a twinge of nerves as he wondered what the day would bring.

Chloe shot a baleful glance at Dawson, sitting at the stool farthest from her, tapping away on his laptop. He’d come in with her after they dropped off Tommy. First, he’d ordered breakfast, and then coffee, pie mid-morning, followed by lunch during the rush. He wasn’t sitting around or loitering, so she couldn’t ask Betty to kick him out.

Especially since the older woman found him so charming. Dawson had poured it on thick with Betty and May, the other waitress, and after what seemed like only minutes, he had them laughing girlishly and flirting shamelessly. Never mind they were both in their fifties, and he was only thirty-five.

Deputy Connelly, or just Abby to her friends, came walking in just then, a big smile on her face as always. It was her job to pick up the lunch meal for the inmates at the Long Valley County Jail and it was usually the highlight of Chloe’s day. Abby was a great friend and someone who could always cheer her up.

She was pretty sure Abby was going to fail today.

She sent her a beleaguered smile, doing her best to appear happy, and failing miserably.

Abby slowed her pace, her nightstick swinging on her hip when she came to an abrupt halt. “Hey, girlfriend,” she said slowly. She leaned on the counter and looked up at her, confusion writ large. “The Sawyer Stampede is this weekend, and this town is full of hot cowboys, all of whom are going to stop by this cafe. How are you not dancing on ceiling about this? Or at least have a little bit of drool wandering down your chin?”

Chloe could sense Dawson’s extreme interest in this conversation, even as he pretended to be looking intently at his laptop. She gritted her teeth in frustration.

Abby caught the flick of her eyes down to Dawson and back again, and, leaning forward a little too obviously, checked him out. His dark skin, his long silky black hair, his muscles bulging everywhere, stupidly sexy…

She viciously stomped that thought out. She wasn’t going to let Dawson’s muscles, sexy or otherwise, enter her mind. He was just another patron. A customer of the restaurant, and someone who Abby was making a fool of herself over.

“Speaking of,” Abby breathed quietly. Dawson’s mouth quirked. Chloe thought about throwing her washrag at his head.

“Are you ready to pick up the lunch for the inmates?” she asked Abby loudly, wondering if she was going to have to get a stack of napkins so she could mop up the drool about to collect in a puddle under Abby’s chin.

“Yeah, sure,” Abby said absentmindedly, still staring at Dawson. Chloe marched to the kitchen, grabbed the prepackaged meals, and brought them back out to the front counter, shoving them into her face. This jerked Abby back to reality and she looked up at Chloe with a laughing grin on her face.

“Well, it looks like you have…a lot on your hands, eh? Give me a call later and tell me about…everything you’ve been up to.”

She had a half a mind to chuck her washcloth at Abby’s head instead as she headed back out the front door, meals in hand, whistling innocently as she sauntered out into the sunshine, but knew that Dawson would just take that as a victory.

And he most definitely had not won.

She returned to wiping the already clean front counter, not looking up again until she heard May giggling. She was ostensibly pouring Dawson another cup of coffee, but the pot sat on the counter, while the other woman leaned across it to talk to him.

She definitely wasn’t jealous of the attention he gave the women. Obviously. She’d have to like someone to be jealous. Chloe just found their behavior…absurd. Ridiculous, even.

She scrubbed hard at the counter.

At least she’d made it through most of the day without having to talk to him or even look his way. They’d traded a few words, but she’d managed to keep herself busy with tasks that kept her well away from him.

It irked her to no end that she had to give him a chance to get to know Tommy. There was no way she was giving him a chance to charm her again, though. Chloe snorted. As if that were possible.

“Got a cold, hon?” asked Betty, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

Chloe mumbled something along the lines of, “Wlkdnsesnd,” and continued polishing the counter.

No, she didn’t know what that meant either. That was kind of the point.

“You’re going to wipe the white clean off that tile if you keep scrubbing, Chloe.”

With an annoyed grunt, she lifted the damp cloth and then stared at it balefully. She’d run out of things to do and her boss wasn’t helping matters. This was the perfect day to clean out the fryers — in the kitchen, far, far away from Mr. Dawson Blackhorse who seemed to have molded his rear end to the bar stool at the front counter — but Betty had told her no when she’d suggested it.

The ringing phone saved the day, and she snatched it up a little too aggressively, barely keeping her voice pleasant when she said, “Betty’s Diner, how may I help you?”

“Chloe, it’s Adam.”

“Oh hi!” She smiled. Adam was her best friend and usually cheered her up just with the sound of his voice. “What’s up?”

“I just picked up Tommy, but I’ve got a call from Stetson Miller. One of his cows is feeling poorly. Is it okay if I take Tommy with me for the call? I’d drop him off by the diner or at home with Mom, like usual, but we’re really close to the Miller’s. I can bring him home after.”

“Sure, that’d be fine. Thanks, Adam.”

When she hung up, Betty asked, “Everything okay?”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, fine. Adam wanted to know if he could keep Tommy long enough to make a house call. The youngest Miller boy has a sick cow.”

With a speculative look at Dawson, the other woman said, “Why don’t you take off early, girl? It’s dead around here — the rodeo ain’t started yet — and, well, I’m sure you can think of a way to fill the time before Tommy gets home. His daddy will probably have a few ideas.”

She jumped, shocked that Betty had recognized Dawson as her son’s father. It was stupid to be surprised, since they looked so much alike. She’d just sort of hoped no one would have eyeballs. Or use their eyeballs. Or at least restrain themselves from mentioning the fact that they’d used their eyeballs. “That’s not necessary,” she said, emphasizing every word.

Betty took the damp cloth from her hand. “Sure it is. Why should I pay you to stand around doing nothing?” She chuckled, raising her voice as she looked in Dawson’s direction. “Young man, why don’t you give this lady a ride home?”

With a big grin, Dawson shut his laptop and stood up.

Fuming, Chloe stripped off the white apron and tossed it into the box under the counter. “Thanks, Betty,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Anytime,” said the other woman serenely, as though she were completely oblivious to Chloe’s true feelings.

It was too bad Betty was her boss; she had a whole string of words to say if she wasn’t. “Have fun,” Betty added with a big grin.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she ground out, ignoring Dawson as he came up behind her.

“It’s okay if you’re feeling sick and can’t come in.” Betty winked at Dawson as she spoke.

“I’ll be here, right on time,” said Chloe through a forced smile.

Betty waved a hand. “Get on outta here.” The gentle affection in her tone was sweet, as always. Betty was sweet. Betty was a good boss.

At the moment, Chloe just couldn’t bring herself to care. Without looking at either one of them, she headed out into the bright, August sunshine.