Texan's Baby (8 page)

“It's a two bedroom, and bigger cities have a higher cost of living,” she said defensively.

“Then I can save you even more than I thought. You could cut your hours at the bar and spend more time with Mason,” he countered. “That way I'll be helping without you feeling like you're standing at the mailbox every month. It's a win-win.”

That thought scared her, excited her and gave her night sweats all at the same time. Dawson would be good for Mason, there was no denying that.

She picked up a French fry and chewed on it.

And it looked as though he planned to be there for the long haul.

He'd made that much clear.

“What about your ranch? You've been dreaming of buying one forever,” she said. She couldn't argue with his point that it would make her life easier if all she had to work for was groceries, gas and utilities. Her parents had given her their second car last year, since they were on the road so much, so she didn't have a car payment, which had been another godsend.

“You know what they say. Priorities change when you become a parent. Owning a ranch doesn't seem as important to me as making sure my son has everything he needs.”

How could she let Dawson give up his dream? His mother's words wound through her head.
He'll resent you for the rest of his life.

While Dawson's intentions might be good right now, he hadn't really had time to adjust yet. She didn't want him doing something he might regret later.

“That's a great offer, so please don't take this the wrong way but I can't agree to that right now.” Fear hit her that he'd want to bring Mason around his mother. Dawson might want to be part of his son's life, but his mother was a whole different issue.

Heart racing, Melanie decided to set that thought aside. No way could she deal with Alice, this stalker and the fact that her own life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours.

He folded his arms.

“I just want a little time to think about it. This is a lot for me, too. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to spend more time with Mason. That's not it,” she said.

“Then what is? Is it me?”

The way he asked that second question nearly tore her heart from her chest. No. It wasn't him. Yes, it kind of was. Everything was all mixed up and she needed a minute to soak everything in.

“This is a lot to digest, Dawson. One minute, I'm home to support a friend and the next a crazed guy is trying to hurt me and you're here.” Did that come out right? “I'm grateful for that last part, don't get me wrong.”

Relief eased the tension lines bracketing his mouth.

“Good. I was afraid you were going to ask me to leave,” he said.

“I wouldn't be that stupid. Or unfair. I need you. Mason needs you. There's a lot we have to sort out for the long run. Right now we need to figure out what Sprigs is up to. I was home and maybe that's the first time he knew where I was. But he's wanted by the law and I'm shocked he would risk getting caught. His life is on the line. Why come after me at all?”

“I can think of one reason,” he said. She didn't like Dawson's ominous tone and she knew exactly what he was about to say. “And we already mentioned it.”

“He has nothing to lose,” she said under her breath.

The rest of their meal was spent in silence. She was contemplating Dawson's offer and how that might change her and Mason's life.

Mason cried, awake too soon, and Melanie excused herself to tend to him. His curls were tousled, his eyes still sleepy.

She made an excuse about needing to clean in order to keep a little distance between her and Dawson for the rest of the afternoon. Besides, she needed something else to occupy her thoughts, and the place needed a good once-over. That didn't normally happen until one of her days off.

Cleaning usually helped clear her mind.

Except one person kept cycling back in her thoughts... Sprigs.

Chapter Nine

More than a week had passed since the break-in at Melanie's parents' house. The few days off Melanie had spent with Mason and Dawson made her dread going back to work the following night even more. They had only broken the ice in terms of figuring things out, but hope was taking seed.

And as much as she didn't want to admit the fact, since she knew how temporary their situation was, having Dawson around was nice. More than that, actually. It was dangerous because she could get used to it.

The man had become decent at putting Mason to bed without any meltdowns.

Melanie had been able to shower without worrying about much of anything besides how warm the water felt against her skin. She pushed aside errant thoughts of the handful of times she and Dawson had made love under jets like those.

By the time Dawson had finished Mason's nighttime routine, she'd settled on the couch with a magazine. He, too, was fresh from the shower. He wore cotton pajama bottoms that he'd bought and no shirt. Water rivulets rolled down his muscled chest.

Melanie forced herself to look away. What could she say? The man was hot. She could hardly blame her body for reacting when he was close. Images of all the places she'd touched that perfect body of his crowded her thoughts. There was precious little she could do to stop those, too. Fine, some things couldn't be helped. She didn't have to wear it on a billboard, she thought, trying to ignore the heat climbing up her neck, flushing her cheeks.

The lights were low, and she hoped that Dawson couldn't see her reaction.

She was never more aware of how little either of them was wearing. Melanie grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it against her stomach as Dawson joined her on the couch.

Thankfully, he'd taken the other side of it.

“Hold on a second.” He held a hand up as he disappeared into the kitchen and then returned with two full wine glasses. “Couldn't find that red you used to like.”

“That merlot was so good. What was the name of it?” It had been so long she forgot. She also blamed the memory loss on the fuzzy brain that came with having a baby.

But then, when was the last time she'd relaxed and had a drink?

Melanie took a sip of wine and then set the glass on the coffee table, doing her level best not to think about just how long it had been since she'd really relaxed.

“Do you remember that time we caught your mom sneaking a smoke outside when we came home early from school?” Dawson asked.

“I do. We skipped the pep rally so we could hang out at my house,” she said. “I was mortified.”

“We learned a valuable lesson, though.” He laughed. Really laughed. And the sound was sweet.

“No snooping in anyone's business after that,” she said. There was the other time she'd come home early and found her mom passed out. The empty wine bottle on the counter had said everything Melanie needed to know about why her mother was facedown, snoring, on the sofa.

Melanie had never asked about either incident. There'd been a few others. Her mother had made such a show of trying to appear like the perfect family that Melanie didn't have the heart to confront her back then.

“I always wondered if Mom was ever truly happy,” she said. Every birthday, every holiday, her mother had put on a nice outfit and a smile. She'd spent most of the time in the kitchen while Melanie's dad watched sports on TV. Same story on the weekends. The most sincere thing was the effort her mother put forth in trying to sell the charade to her daughters.

“Did you ever ask?” Dawson took a sip of wine.

“Are you kidding? That was all I ever knew growing up. It never really occurred to me that we were different. I just thought all families were like that.” Although her mother had put up a good front, Melanie wondered if she'd ever truly been happy with her father. Did she ever really laugh? Or talk about something that really mattered?

“Funny how families slip into roles and we don't really ever question them,” he said.

“Mostly, I remember polite dinner conversation. Looking back, I remember that if anything bad happened we swept it under the rug.” Melanie never thought to expect more.

“Now that you mention it, I don't think I've ever seen your parents disagree in all the years I've known your family,” he said.

“They are almost like robots if you think about it.”

“You don't think they were existing happily together?” he asked.

“Can you think of one time you actually saw my mother laugh?” she countered. “I mean like really laugh?”

“Guess I never thought about it before. I'm sure I've seen her smile.”

“Really smile or polite smile?” There'd been such a vacancy behind her mother's eyes and a hollow quality to her laughter. And then there were the times when Melanie's dad went on hunting trips with his buddies and her mother believed Melanie was asleep. Hearing her mother cry at night had been the worst.

“I guess not.” He frowned. “How are they on the road together?”

“Probably as polite as ever,” she quipped, trying not to think about just how boring that might be.

“Why do you think that is?” he asked.

“Heck if I know.” She shrugged. “My family was never very demonstrative of their feelings. I mean, I know my dad loved me. I think he saw his role as the main provider of the family and Mom was there to take care of the girls. When I think back, there isn't one time I remember seeing my parents hug each other. Isn't that weird?”

“Families are complicated beasts,” he said.

“At least we became friends out of the deal,” she quipped, trying not to think about just how sad her parent's situation had been.

“How so?” His brow went up.

“Well, I couldn't stand being trapped inside my house, so I decided to bug you instead. My sister was too young, too boring.” She tossed the pillow at him.

He caught it.

“Lucky for me.” He put on one of those killer smiles and her stomach flip-flopped.

“Yes, it was,” she teased, trying to distract herself from the sensual shivers rippling through her, centering heat inside her thighs.

“Like I said.” He put the pillow behind his head.

“Hey, give me that back.”

“You gave it to me.” Another devastating grin.

“Everything in this house technically belongs to me, you know. So that makes you a thief.” It was so easy to fall back into their old routine. Getting along had never been a problem.

“No way. It was a gift.” He turned to give her another ice-melting smile. “And if you want it back, you have to come over here and take it.”

She wasn't falling for that trap again.

The last time he'd pulled that card on her, they ended up in bed together. And it had been without a doubt the best sex of her life, which was why she'd done it more. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands on her, roaming her body. She could still see the expression on his face when he looked at her naked. No one had made her feel so adored or so beautiful. This was not the time for her brain to remind her just how long it had been since she'd had sex. She told herself that she was too tired to think about it most of the time and part of that was true. And if she really wanted to be honest, she'd admit the physical act wasn't even what she missed most. Being held afterward, arms and legs in a tangle. Dawson's strong, male form pressed against her. Waking up to him beside her...

“We can always negotiate a compromise.” Dawson scooted over beside her, and her pulse sky rocketed.

“For what?” She tried to steady her breathing. He was so close she could smell that unique scent that was all Dawson.

“You want this pillow, right?”

That pitch-black hair. Those serious dark brown eyes. His strong chin and hawk-like nose. He was so close she could feel him breathe.

Melanie forced her gaze away from Dawson's face, his lips, as heat ricocheted between them.

Try as she might, she couldn't stop her gaze from lowering to the dark patch of hair on his chest. Or following the line down to the waistband of the pajama bottoms he'd bought.

“I missed you, Melanie,” he said, and his voice was gravelly.

All she had to do was lean forward a few inches and she'd be able to taste the wine on his tongue.

There were many reasons that would be a bad idea, none of which immediately came to mind.

So she didn't resist when his hand came up to her chin and guided her lips to his. They touched lightly at first. He hesitated. Before either of them could decide this was a bad idea, Melanie leaned into the next kiss.

Parting her lips for him, she slid her tongue inside his mouth.

His fingers closed around the base of her neck and she tunneled hers into his thick black hair.

She melted into his touch.

A quick shift in position and his muscled chest was pressed against her and she could feel his weight on top of her.

Getting lost in that moment was as easy as slipping into a sexy outfit. Everything about it made her feel wanted and like a real woman. Breathing in the masculine and clean scent that was Dawson filled her senses.

And she opened her eyes for just a blink. Just enough time to gain her bearings. She pulled back from the kiss.

Dawson responded, quickly pushing up to a sitting position and following her gaze to the hallway.

Nothing was there.

“Did you see something move?” she whispered.

“No.” Dawson was on his feet and to the hallway within a few seconds.

She followed a half step behind. They checked Mason's room, her room and both bathrooms and saw no one.

In fact, Mason was in a deep sleep.

When they returned to the living room, she sat down and took a sip of wine.

“I'm sorry. I'm just so used to being on edge.” Was that true? Or was she feeling guilty for enjoying herself? Especially with Dawson?

Dawson returned to his spot at the other end of the couch. “It's okay. You're staying alert and that's a good thing. I'm not sorry, though.”

* * *

D
AWSON
WASN
'
T
SURE
what the hell had just happened, but it was clear that his hormones could run away when it came to Melanie. And unleash more damn frustrating emotions than he needed to deal with while he sorted everything out.

Complicated.
Now, there was a good word when it came to his feelings for Melanie.

For now, it was best to keep a safe distance between them, especially because his body seemed to have different ideas. And sex with Melanie would blow his mind. Again. There was no denying that.

There was more than just the two of them to consider now. And Dawson hadn't even broken the news to his parents yet. In fact, he hadn't told anyone from Mason Ridge where he was or what he was doing. In part because he didn't want to take a chance word would somehow get to Sprigs that he was with Melanie or that they had a child.

So far, they'd been safe keeping things quiet. This situation couldn't last forever. Dawson had a life to get back to in Mason Ridge. He had work and friends. Family.

Speaking of his family, he didn't want to tell his parents about his son until he knew for certain that Mason was going to be okay. If he suffered the same fate as Bethany, it would destroy them both. And he needed to bring up genetic testing with Melanie.

So far, his thoughts kept winding back to that kiss and he didn't want to spoil tonight with serious discussion. They'd made good strides toward approaching how they might coparent Mason.

Was he still hurt that she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him when she got pregnant? Hell, yes.

If she'd told him back then, she wouldn't have had to go through all this alone. And he still hadn't gotten her to tell him the real reason she hadn't shared the news.

Melanie had a stubborn streak longer than the I-35. And he was trying not to let that get in the way of their tenuous friendship.

Besides, spending the past week getting to know his son had been right up there with the best of his life.

“I should get some rest,” Melanie said.

“You sure about that?” he said. “You barely touched your wine.”

“There's no way I can drink the whole glass,” she admitted.

“You don't have to. You've never been a big drinker.”

“Well, having a baby and working in a bar would've cured me if I had been.”

“In that case, I bought playing cards.” He set his glass next to hers. “I'm more of a beer and barbecue guy anyway.”

Dawson had his work cut out for him. No way could he spend 24/7 with Melanie and have his body not remind him just how desirable she was every time she moved.

Cards might distract him and help keep his hormones under control.

Then again, seeing her full breasts pressed against that white T-shirt made him want to say to hell with silly games.