“There are eight that I can see,” Dawson said, his growly voice striking all kinds of chords inside her. They vibrated and hummed into a beautiful harmony, and heat rose past Caroline’s lungs, tickling them as it eased into her throat.
“More than yesterday.”
“Four hundred percent more,” he said, looking past her to her vehicle. “Let’s get the supplies out and get this done before it starts raining.”
“Is it supposed to rain today?” She looked up into the sky as if she hadn’t seen it yet. Clouds filled it, but they didn’t look like the thick, dense, heavy gray ones that would drop gallons of rain in only a few minutes.
“Later, yes,” he said. “I’ve got other work to do outside, so I just need this done.”
So he was going to be Grumpy Gus this morning. Fine. She could play that game for now. She opened the back of her SUV and let the cowboys gather the wood, fencing, and tools they might need.
Shivering, Caroline reached into the back seat to get her jacket, and she quickly thrust her arms into the sleeves as the wind picked up again. She could wield a hammer and nails, but the cowboys were ten times faster and more capable than her, and it didn’t take long for her to instruct them to build a fence around them with a perimeter of fifteen feet so the owls could still come and go from their new dens.
“There,” she said. “And now it’s up to the owls to decide what they do.” Satisfied, she looked over to Dawson. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone, and he struck her as rugged and sexy as he pulled off his gloves. Lincoln did the same thing, and the two cowboys shook hands.
“I better call Uncle Cactus and get goin’,” Lincoln said, glancing up into the sky. “This doesn’t look good.”
“At least it’s not a dry summer, so the ground won’t soak up the rain.”
Caroline looked between them. “What’s…what’s that about?”
“A couple of summers ago, we got so much rain,” Lincoln said.
“The whole town flooded,” Dawson said, and she liked the two of them telling this story tandem. She smiled at them both, her eyebrows lifting up.
“It wasn’t bad up here,” Lincoln said. “We’re a bit higher, and the river doesn’t branch until down in town.”
“So much of the town flooded,” Dawson said. “And yeah, the ranches north and along all the branches where Three Rivers actually branches into three rivers.”
“Remember Alex’s place?” Lincoln looked at Dawson, the two of them clearly close. “Those sinkholes?”
“Unbelievable,” Dawson said as he shook his head. He looked back at Caroline. “I know we seem like a small town where not much happens, but you stick around a while, and you’ll see.”
Caroline tucked her hands into her jacket pockets. “See what?” She looked over to Lincoln. “Floods? Fires? Snow?”
“I reckon,” Lincoln said. “All of the above.” He swatted at Dawson’s chest. “Remember the year we couldn’t get off Shiloh Ridge, because the snow caused a landslide?”
“And the fire in the apartment complex that brought Misty up to your ranch.”
Lincoln laughed, his blonde head tipping back. The wind decided to kick up again, and it stole his cowboy hat from him. That cut his laughter short, but it didn’tstop it completely. Dawson took a step closer to her as Lincoln went to chase his hat.
“Misty is his fiancée. They got back together a bit ago after a fire in her apartment complex.” He glanced over to Lincoln, clear admiration and brotherly love in his expression.
“So you have friends,” she said.
He met her gaze again, and she wondered if he could see the teasing flirtatiousness she felt racing through her bloodstream. “Of course I have friends. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I’m still getting the bigger picture of you,” she admitted.
Lincoln returned and said, “Hey, call me if y’all want to double. I bet we could get Finn and Alex too.” He glanced over to Caroline, something uncertain in his eyes now. “But maybe that’s too many.”
“It’s fine,” Dawson clipped out, finally tearing his eyes from Caroline’s. “I’ll call you, brother.” He threw one arm around Lincoln and gave him a quick clap on the shoulder. “Tell your momma and daddy hello. That mess of cousins and aunts and uncles.”
“Yep.” Lincoln embraced Dawson the same way and pulled back. “And you come get that pot of soup, or I’m gonna have my aunt blowing up my phone all night.”
“I’ll come get it.”
“I ain’t got time to be fielding texts fromEtta,” he said sternly, but his blue eyes sparkled as if someone had plugged them in and set them on fire at the same time.