Which put Dawson right behind Caroline, with his frowny father hot on his heels. He wanted to say something to her, but all of the things that came into his head would embarrass him greatly.
Do you want to go to breakfast again? My treat.
Couldn’t say that.
Your hair sure is pretty down like that, Caroline.
He hallucinated and pictured himself reaching up to tuck it behind her ear just before he kissed her. Certainly couldn’t say or do that.
I’ll file the paperwork, okay? Just don’t be mad at me anymore.
But he’d been stubborn for too long about the paperwork, and he couldn’t back down now. Caroline was a smart woman, and she’d want to know why he’d suddenly decided to file. He couldn’t tell her it was because he found her gorgeous, even as unrelenting as she was.
She clearly didn’t like him, though he’d never known someone to get so worked up over burrowing owls and paperwork before. She wasn’t the first Wildlife Conservation Officer he’d worked with, for crying out loud.
“Oh, my goodness,” she muttered ahead of him, and Dawson blinked to get himself out of the fantasy where he and Caroline held hands and shared intimate things about their lives—like the real reason her sister had come to stay with her in Three Rivers.
“This is a crime against potatoes,” she muttered, some limp shreds falling off the spoon. They were white and obviously cold, not a stitch of browned, crispy goodness anywhere.
Without thinking, Dawson looked up and handed his paper plate of cold scrambled eggs to the woman standing there. “Can you take this?” he asked. She did, a squeak of surprise coming from her that wasn’t really a protest.
He took Caroline’s plate and handed it to her too. “Thank you.” Then he took Caroline’s hand, his skin burning where it touched hers, and said, “Come with me.”
Chapter Two
“Come with you?” Caroline Thompson stumbled after Dawson Rhinehart, because she had no other choice. The man had a grip on her hand she wouldn’t be able to break even if she wanted to.
By some miracle in heaven, she didn’t want to. His hand was big, warm, rough, and absolutely amazing surrounding hers. She just hadn’t held hands with a man in a while, that was all.
She did not like Dawson Rhinehart. The man had been nothing but a stubborn mule for months now, and no one needed to know she’d often sat on her back porch, the sun sinking into the evening with her flipping her phone over and over and over, a text to him started but never finished and sent.
She’d tried a couple of times, and when he hadn’t answered, she’d given up.
Now Belle was here, and she needed help with Judy. They both needed a lot of support as Belle navigated the divorce process and tried to keep herself and her daughter safe from her abusive ex-husband. Thankfully, Chuck hadn’t followed them to Three Rivers, and Caroline hoped and prayed it could become a sanctuary for her sister and niece the way it had been for her.
“Where are we going?” she demanded as Dawson took her outside in the New Year’s temperatures.
“I can’t eat that garbage,” he said. “We deserve a good breakfast.” He cut her a look out of the corner of his eye, and how he looked so sexy and strong doing it, Caroline would never know.
“I’m not going to the diner with you,” she said. “They have?—”
“Home fries,” he said. “I know.” He clicked something on his key fob, and the closet truck to them beeped. He opened the passenger door for her, and Caroline simply looked at him.
He kept his head ducked down, his eyes barely able to meet hers past the brim of that deep, dark black cowboy hat. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she said without thinking.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He let go of her hand. “I can’t stand breakfasts like this, and I’m starving, and we deserve to start the day with a good, hot meal.”
Sparks popped through her blood, and she wondered if someone had poured baking soda into herveins, hoping for this kind of explosive, chemical reaction. “Where’s the best place for breakfast in this town? Because it’s my favorite meal, and I have yet to find somewhere that does what you speak of.”
He grinned at her, and oh, that thing should be criminal. Just like those cold, rubbery hash browns in the community center. “That’s because you haven’t eaten breakfast at my house.”
Pure nervous energy ran through her, but Caroline thought it might actually be adrenaline. Excitement. She had the very distinct thought that this man could introduce some color and life into her existence, and she wanted that very, very badly.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll see where this goes, but I need to drive myself.”
Dawson’s face fell. “Can your sister get home without your car?”