DAWSON
Nine Years Later
August, 2017
Early on a Tuesday afternoon, Dawson angled the horse trailer into an extra-long parking spot, straightening the wheels before killing the engine on the truck. He saw an eighteen-wheeler parked a few spaces over, but they were the only large vehicles there. Otherwise, only cars and small trucks occupied the restaurant’s parking lot.
He locked the truck with the remote after sliding from the cab. Bolt nickered when he peeked inside the trailer. “Hey, guy. I’ll get you out of there soon.” He knew the horse had to be restless after seven hours in the trailer. After an early start, it had been a long day and he was ready for some lunch.
After grabbing a bite to eat, he’d set up at the fairgrounds and let Bolt have some time outside. The horse was chomping at the bit to get out of the trailer, and Dawson could relate. He was eager to get this rodeo performance out of the way, so he could get off the road for a while.
His thoughts were heavy when he entered Betty’s Diner. The Sawyer Stampede, set to start on Thursday evening, was the last rodeo of the season for him, even though there were several larger rodeos still to come. He needed a break from them all. Beyond that, he had no definite plans except to find somewhere he could hunker down and reevaluate.
With a shake of his head, he attempted to dismiss the thoughts as he took a corner booth away from the front counter. The stools housed cowboy-types, some looking authentic with dusty boots and frayed jeans, while others just dressed the part. The shine of their boots and immaculate dark-blue denim jeans gave them away – the typical rhinestone cowboys.
Dawson knew he’d present a puzzle to anyone trying to evaluate him. His cowboy hat and denim jacket were new, but dirt caked his black boots, and a seam on the side was coming undone slightly. His jeans were well worn, but his gold belt buckle would indicate he wasn’t exactly scraping out a living working the land or tending herds.
Maybe they wouldn’t have any trouble pegging him, he decided with a shrug. No doubt, Dawson stood out as a rodeo man, just like the others who would come into town over the next few days. Like him, they’d be gone by next week, and life would go on for the small town of Sawyer, the county seat in the Long Valley area.
Dawson started to lift his hand to get the waitress’ attention, but his hand fell to the table with a jerk as a shock of recognition coursed through him. She wasn’t looking his way yet, but he knew it was Chloe, even without her facing him. The short blonde bob and a well-worn pink waitress dress with a white apron were a far cry from the way he remembered her looking, but he had no doubts it was her.
Time had been good to her. She’d retained her lush figure, and her breasts had gotten fuller. From what he could tell, she had no visible lines marring her lightly tanned face. Time might have been kind, but clearly circumstances hadn’t been, since she was waiting tables at a greasy spoon in an obscure Idaho town. He couldn’t begin to guess what could’ve happened to have her end up here.
Just then, she looked up, holding up one finger to signal she’d be with him in a second. Her hand trembled, and her green eyes widened. The pad in her hand fell to the floor, and it took her a moment to bend over to retrieve it. When she did, one of the cowboys on a stool at the counter patted her on the ass.
Dawson was half out of his seat before common sense returned. He had no claim on her and no right to be pissed that some stranger had touched her. For all he knew, the handsome young man wasn’t a stranger. He might be Chloe’s lover. His stomach heaved with nausea at the thought.
She smacked the cowboy on the hand, looking anything but playful. Well, that rules lover out. He couldn’t hear what she told him from this distance, but the man dropped his head and appeared to mumble an apology. She went and ruined it by patting his shoulder, but he seemed more subdued when he lifted his head.
Dawson half-expected her to just ignore him, to leave him sitting in the corner booth until shift change, when he’d become another server’s responsibility. To her credit, she squared her shoulders and approached him with a carefully blank expression, as though he was no different from any other customer.
“What’ll it be?” she asked in a cool tone, positioning her body so he couldn’t fully see her face. Or her nametag, he realized with a small smile.
“Coffee and the special.” He didn’t even have to look at the menu on the table to know this place had one. It was just like a thousand other diners in a thousand other small towns. Except this one had Chloe.
She repeated his order. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. When do you get off?”
She ignored the question and started to walk away.
“Chloe?”
At the sound of her name, she stumbled but regained her balance and kept walking to the counter. He couldn’t help a small chuckle of amusement. He knew it was her, and she knew he knew it was her. No more pretending.
His mirth quickly faded when it sunk in that Chloe Bartell was in the same room as him, an event he’d thought would never happen again. It left a bad taste in his mouth to remember the last time he’d seen her. The memory of that evening…was not a pleasant one. She might’ve deserved to learn a lesson not to manipulate people, but the fact that he’d been the one to teach it to her so ruthlessly still didn’t sit well with him whenever he thought about it – which wasn’t often. Truthfully, Dawson did his best never to think about that night with Chloe.
She avoided his gaze when she returned with an empty cup and a half-full pot. The tremor in her hands was almost imperceptible as she poured the coffee.
Almost.
“Do I make you nervous, Chloe?”
Without a reply, she turned briskly on her heel and returned to the front counter, pausing to fill other customers’ coffee cups on her way.
He tried to look away, but his gaze remained fixed on her as she bustled about, working while he waited for his special. It was almost surreal to find himself served by her. Who would have imagined there could ever be such a reversal in positions?
A few minutes later, she returned with an oval platter heaped with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and Texas toast. “The special, sir.”
Without thought, he grabbed her wrist as she turned to leave, shocked by the spark of electricity that surged through his hand. It was like touching a live wire. “Wait,” he pleaded.
She stared over his shoulder, at the wall behind him, a determined set to her mouth. “Do you need something else?” she asked coldly.
“What time do you get done working?” he asked again. “We could grab a drink and catch up.”
Chloe finally looked him in the eye, an expression of disbelief distorting her features. “You have some nerve, Dawson Blackhorse. I wouldn’t want to ‘catch up’ with you if my life depended upon it. I just want to forget I ever saw you. My life is my business. You need to get the hell out of it, and get the hell out of Sawyer.”
He frowned when she suddenly paled and swayed. “You okay?”
She tore her wrist from his grasp and rushed away from him, not looking back again as he ate the amazing diner food. Usually, diner food was all the same – prepackaged ingredients from the same food vendors that everyone used, but at least here, someone knew how to cook.
It was impossible not to watch her as he ate, though she never looked at him. It was fascinating to see the changes in her face and body – the same but yet completely different than her 20-year-old naïve self. She’d lost the pounds of makeup and hairspray, instead settling for a little mascara and lip gloss, and a light curl to the ends of her bob.
She looked…natural. Real. And somehow, so much more alluring than the 20-year-old version ever could have been.
Hmmm…she sure was looking at the clock an awful lot. Maybe it was almost the end of her shift, and she was just counting down the minutes until she could sneak out the back door and leave him behind.
With a sigh, he finished the last of his coffee, deciding he would leave cash on the table to avoid confronting her again. His presence upset her, and he didn’t want that. She’d screwed him over, sure, but he’d gotten back at her and then some. The least he could do was leave her alone.
Dawson peeled a bill from his wallet and laid it on the table. He was busy pushing his wallet back into his pocket when he looked up in time to see Chloe glancing at the clock again, a look of relief on her face. She was damn happy to see him go. He tipped his hat slightly to her and started for the exit. It was time to leave her in peace.
As he reached to open the front door, it came tearing open on its own, almost whacking him in the shoulder. “Whoa, watch it, buddy,” he said when he realized it was a little boy who’d come through the door like his tail was on fire.
Dawson reached for the door again just as the boy exclaimed, “Mom!” He seemed damn happy to see…
Hold on, Chloe is the only female in the restaurant. At least that he’d spotted.
He turned just in time to see the little boy hurl himself against her. It ripped through his gut to realize she had a family. Of course she did. And probably a husband too. A woman like her didn’t stay single for years. She was too damn beautiful and rich to be single for nine years.
Well, maybe not rich anymore, but still damn gorgeous.
His gaze narrowed when he saw Chloe trying to turn the boy away from him, hiding him from Dawson’s gaze. All he could make out was hair so black, it almost seemed to have a tinge of blue.
Then the kid squirmed out of his mother’s arms, giving him his first look at the boy’s face. Dawson sucked in his breath as he recognized the miniature version of the features he saw in the mirror every day. His!
He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The world went in and out of focus as he tried to drink in every feature of the boy’s face.
She curved a protective arm around his son, trying to draw the boy away. “Stop!” he demanded. Silence descended on the diner, and all eyes turned his way.
“I…I have to go, Betty,” Chloe shouted, pulling the boy along with her as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Oh, she wasn’t escaping that easily. Dawson ran out the front door of the diner, racing around to the back in time to catch her herding the little boy into a hatchback car that must be older than she was. Chloe bleated in terror at the sight of him, quickly closing her door and locking the car.
He reached the hatchback as she turned on the engine. Pounding on her window, he demanded, “Open up!”
She ignored him and shifted into gear, hitting the gas hard. Dawson lifted his fist, seized by the asinine urge to break the window. The look of alarm on the boy’s face stopped him. He couldn’t scare his son like that.
His son.
He watched her peel out of the employee parking lot, tearing over the curb and down the street, the taillights fading away. He just stared after her, frozen in place. With a shake of the head, he jogged back to his truck, determined to catch up with her before he lost her. Sawyer was a small town, but it could take a few days to track her down if he couldn’t follow her car.
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