“Yeah,” Dawson said with a sigh. “I love her too, but I’m worried this proposal is going to be a nightmare.” He should’ve just put the diamond in his pocket, gotten down on both knees the moment Caroline pulled up to the cabin, and asked her to be his.
“Well, Uncle Bishop says the house is coming along real nice. I didn’t ride up the road, but I’m gonna go back that way to look at it.”
Another smile sprang to Dawson’s face. “Yeah,” he said. “The house is looking real good.”
Link grinned at him and pulled him into another brotherly hug. “I’m really happy for you, Dawson.”
“Thanks, Link.”
Link pulled away, his grin as contagious as his happiness. “Stay in touch with the owls and the wedding venue.”
“You’ll be the first to know on both,” Dawson said.
Link stepped up and swung himself into the saddle, pulled his horse around, and said, “Good luck, Dawson,” as he rode away, his shovel balanced horizontally in front of him on the saddle.
“Thanks,” he called after his friend, and he once again found himself looking up into the sky.
Still crow-less.
“This is so going to be a disaster,” he muttered to himself as he moved to get behind the wheel of his truck. “But I’m doing this today, with or without the help of a silly crow.”
And with that, Dawson headed back to the cabin where he’d only live for another couple of months. Then his house would be finished, and he’d move in there ahead of his marriage to Caroline.
“If she says yes,” he growled as he drove. “She has to say yes first.”
Chapter Forty-One
Caroline didn’t see Dawson’s truck when she arrived at his cabin. The absence didn’t concern her, and she parked, reached over to the passenger seat, and picked up the sheet pan of cooked, crispy bacon. She’d made it this morning in preparation for her second annual New Year’s Day breakfast with Dawson.
She’d been looking forward to this morning for weeks now, and she looked left as she got out of her SUV, expecting to see Dawson heading her way from out on the West End Fence. He’d said he’d be working on the owl burrows this morning, but he’d meet her here at eight-thirty.
Maybe she’d shown up a few minutes early, but she went up the sidewalk to the front porch, then climbed the steps to the front door. She knocked, and when noone answered, she twisted the knob and entered the cabin.
“Dawson?” she called. “Brandon?”
No one answered, so Caroline continued to the counter at the back of the house and set down the pan of bacon. She turned to heat the oven, which would get the bacon slowly back to warm. She didn’t need to cook it; she just wanted to warm it up a little.
Dawson had promised eggs, hash browns, and toast, and Caroline didn’t really want to make more than she had. She would gladly sit with Dawson while he did, so she sat at the bar and pulled out her phone.
Are you almost here?she asked him.I’m inside your house.
She then tapped over to her maps app, where Dawson had shared his pin with her a few months ago. She smiled at the memory, because it had been a defining moment in time for her, for their relationship. It felt like such a spousal, ultra-significant-other thing to do, and while the ranch had been extremely busy during the harvest, then the round-up, then Market Day, she’d been able to find him any time she wanted to.
Then Dawson had slept for an entire weekend and gone right back to his regular day-to-day life. With her back in it, of course.
She’d partnered with Zona for food when the cowboys returned with the herd, and she’d come several times during the harvest simply to give Dawson andBrandon sandwiches out in the fields they were mowing, baling, turning, and then clearing.
No, she didn’t super-love autumn on the ranch, other than the weather had cooled slightly, and the trees in the Panhandle had turned colors in the most glorious of ways.
She found Dawson out near the West End Fence, but his status had been updated six minutes ago. He certainly would’ve left by now or called her to say he’d be late. He hated running late, and Caroline slid from the barstool and moved toward the front door.
Outside, she found him literally pulling up to the cabin, and she tucked her phone in her pocket in favor of smiling at her handsome cowboy boyfriend. She leaned against the post of his porch as he parked and got out.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he called. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not,” she assured him, though she didn’t move. She loved it when he hurried to her, as he was now, and she giggled as he took the steps two at a time to get to her.
He drew her into his arms and whispered, “Hey,” in a much softer, sexier voice.