The drive to her house happened during a single country music song, he swore. He couldn’t even remember making the turn or if the light had been green when he had. But he now drove down her street, his mind kicking at him to focus and be present.
He pulled into her driveway, every muscle in his body tense and screaming. Probably because of theorange shirt, which also had a lot of white in it. It wasn’t really orange at all, at least not a solid color. “It’s fine,” he said. He didn’t have a back-up shirt, so it would have to be fine.
The trek up her sidewalk to the porch took at least as long as it had for him to drive here, and he listened to her doorbell ding and dong through her house. Dawson tucked his hands into his pockets, praying with all he had that he hadn’t missed a text.
He’d left his phone in the truck, so he couldn’t even check.
The door didn’t open, and he checked to make sure her car sat in the driveway. It sure did, which meant she was home. Belle had her own car, and it wasn’t here. That only made Dawson’s pulse accelerate, and when the door started to swing open, something grabbed him by the throat and held on tight.
Caroline appeared, a beautiful smile on her face and a gorgeous flowered dress falling to her ankles. It spilled pink, blue, purple, and peachy blooms from top to bottom, and Dawson couldn’t help smiling at such a fun pattern. Her bare shoulders teased him, as did the V in the neck that stopped just short of showing too much. “Hey,” she said easily. “I just need my sweater.”
She turned slightly away from him to collect that, and Dawson somehow knew to move into the house to help her put it on. It came in the same color of blue as the flowers, a perfect match, and he said, “Youare stunningly beautiful, Caroline,” in a voice he himself hardly recognized.
He held the sweater while she put her arm through it, and he smoothed down the sleeve as she settled it in place over her chest. “Thank you.” She looked up at him, and Dawson didn’t even think.
He simply took the woman he’d definitely been pining over into his arms, lowered his head, and kissed her where he’d wanted to days ago.
Yes, her lips tasted just as amazing as he’d imagined. Better. Softer. She didn’t protest in the slightest, and the way she kissed him back told him she’d been pining after him too. Every woman he’d been out with in the past couple of years had been stale. Dry toast. No spark when he kissed them.
But Caroline…oh, Dawson had caught fire and was burning, and he didn’t even care. As long as he got to keep kissing Caroline, and kissing Caroline, and kissing Caroline.
Chapter Eighteen
Caroline did her best to keep up with Dawson. He knew how to kiss a woman to make her feel adored and cherished, like he’d do anything just to make sure he could kiss her again later.
She hadn’t been kissed like this before. Not ever. Not even with her husband. Never, ever, ever. The level of care he could broadcast, the way he seemed to want her but also respect her was a whole new thing for her.
When he finally pulled back, Caroline’s chest heaved. She kept her eyes closed, and she had no idea where the words came from as she asked, “Well? Was that like kissing your sister?”
“Absolutely not,” he said huskily. “In fact, I’m going to do it again.” He claimed her lips again, but only for a couple strokes. Then he moved that magical mouth ofhis to her cheek, her ear, and down her neck. “There’s a whole lot of something here, darlin’.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice mostly made of air. “I think so too.”
He pulled back and straightened. Caroline managed to open her eyes and look at him. No shyness or embarrassment pulled through her, and Dawson gazed back at her just as seriously. “Sorry, I suppose I should’ve waited until after the date. You just…I’ve wanted to go out with you for a while is all.”
“It’s absolutely fine,” she said, straightening her sweater and shouldering her purse again. She ran her fingers up the buttons on his shirt, a cute orange, white, and blue checkered pattern. “I really like this shirt.”
One of his hands tightened on her waist. “Are you just sayin’ that?”
“Why would I just say that?” She flipped up one corner of his collar and then smoothed it flat again. “You look amazing. It goes with your hair, and sort of…brightens your personality.” She smiled at him, but his lips didn’t tip at all.
“I need my personality brightened?”
“No,” she said. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, what did you mean?”
“I just meant that you look good in it,” she said. “You wear it well. It fits you.”
“It is my size,” he said dryly. He put pressure on her lower back, just enough to get her to exit the house.
“That’s not what I meant either,” she said. “It fitsyou, like who you are.”
“How so?”
She watched her step as she went down the stairs, because she wore a long dress and a pair of sandals she didn’t normally strap her feet into. “Because you have all these different facets of yourself, you know? You’re the favorite uncle, and you’ve got crows for pets, and you make lists, but you’re also sort of this rough-and-tumble, not-afraid-to-get-his-hands-dirty kind of cowboy too. So the shirt isn’t something I’d pick for you, but it fits, because you have a lot of different parts of yourself that make you, you.”
Dawson started to laugh, and Caroline smiled at the throaty sound of it, almost like it was rusty and he didn’t do such a thing very often. “That was a lot of words, sweetheart.”