Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Char

“What do you mean he stayed the night?” Libby shrieks into the phone.

I hold the speaker away from my ear until she settles down. “He slept in his truck. In the yard.”

I’m not sure I want to make more of it than it is.

Matt has exhausted any part of me that wants a relationship. He didn’t seem that bad when it started, either.

He put me on a pedestal, showered me with gifts, and demanded all of my time.

I thought that was love.

Now I know he was just trying to control me, and alienate me from what few friends I had.

Libby is the only one who saw through him.

She tried to warn me gently, but I was too stupid to listen.

I can’t afford to make the same mistakes. Not with Paisley involved.

“Even on the property is huge, Char. Did he try anything?” At least she sounds more serious.

“No, he was actually pretty standoffish.” Every time he looked at me he was either clenching his jaw or his eyes were pinched. “In fact, I think he barely tolerates me.”

“Hmm. Well, maybe that’s for the better until all this crap with Matt gets worked out,” she sighs. “I don’t know if I can make it today. One of our tanks took a shit.”

“Oh no! I hope nothing too bad?” Those things hold hundreds, maybe thousands of gallons of milk.

“Bad enough that Dad and Devon are heading to Missoula for parts.” Her voice gets muffled like she’s talking to someone else. “I gotta go. I’ll try and zip up later to feed the horses for you, but I might just sneak.”

“Oh, Dixon did that already. I appreciate it though.” I hate that I can’t do my own chores. I think today I’m going to tackle cleaning the kitchen though, it’s driving me nuts.

“ Dixon? You’re on a first name basis?” Her pitch rises before she starts giggling. “Daddy Dix is here to save the day!”

My eyes roll, even if she can’t see them. “I’m not going to hear the end—”

She cuts me off. “I gotta go, I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Paisley looks up from her project on the floor when I toss my phone on the counter. “Mommy, look.” She holds her hands out proudly to show me the line of plastic lids she has in a row.

“Very pretty, baby girl. Are you going to help me put them in the dishwasher?” Flipping open the ancient machine, I turn on the faucet to let the water start getting warm.

Everything in this old house takes time to get going, including me this morning.

Some of the ache is starting to work its way out of my leg, and I can see better out of my swollen eye.

It would have been another day to lay around if I didn’t have things to do.

I can’t afford to sit on my butt. As embarrassing as it was this morning to run out of coffee for the doctor, it’s becoming the least of my worries.

He was unexpectedly rugged looking with his messy dark hair and bristle of whiskers.

Why do I almost feel guilty thinking about him like that?

I shouldn’t. There’s nothing wrong with admiring a handsome man.

“Eye candy” is what Libby calls them.

“Paisley, remember when you get older, sweets are bad for you.” I’ve always found that the pretty ones are crazy.

That reminds me, where’s my sugar jar? The last place I saw it was when I gave Dixon tea.

Well, crap. And my mug?

Maybe he left it on the porch?

After drying my hands, I swing the door open to check. I’ve no sooner stuck my head outside before Paisley jumps up and runs after me, screaming my name with tears and snot streaming down her reddened face.

“Oh, sweety! It’s okay. Mommy’s right here.” I start to pick her up out of habit, but the pinch in my ribs tells me otherwise.

Bending awkwardly, I try to soothe her. “I’m here, baby. Let’s go finish cleaning up.” I know some people say their kids are clingy when they’re little.

But I doubt much of it compares to the full blown terror of a child who’s witnessed their mom almost dying.

She’s glued to me, except when Libby is here. That’s the only person Paisley is calm with.

I bet if my mom was still alive, Paisley would have felt safe with her.

Except when Dad was drinking.

After growing up seeing him attack mom, I should have been better prepared to know what to look for.

I’m so stupid.

Maybe I should just stop the doctor now. Nip whatever he’s doing in the bud.

It’s obvious I can’t make good decisions about men.

Therapy would be the smart move, if only I could afford it.

With the house picked up as best as I can manage and the garden watered, I settle down with Paisley in the living room to enjoy the last of the alfredo that Libby made yesterday.

The knock at the door startles us both.

Panic races through me.

Is it Matt?

Libby?

“It’s Dixon.” A deep voice cuts through the thick wood.

My initial fear morphs into fluttering in my stomach.

When I swing it open, he’s framed in twilight holding my cup and jar with a scowl. “I forgot to give these back this morning.”

He smells like leather and horses, with dirt still clinging to the creases in his snug clothes.

It’s not fair how good he looks with that scruff on his jaw that blends in with the edges of his dark mustache.

“Thank you.” Is all I can muster as I hold out my hands for my dishes.

They’re still hot from his palms.

“You’re walking better.” He shifts to lean his shoulder against the frame, but doesn’t step inside. “How’s Paisley?”

“Princess!” she answers him unprompted.

I turn back just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’m sorry, Princess Paisley.” He reaches up and tips his cowboy hat at her, eliciting a wide smile from my daughter.

That’s new. My shy little girl isn’t so much with him.

“She’s doing much better today. Sassy and happy.” I move back near the back of the couch near the entryway.

What do I do now? As tempted as I am to invite him in, I don’t want to encourage anything.

“I have a question for you.” Dixon’s caramel colored eyes narrow on me. “My brother just put a steer in the freezer and gave me some, but I rarely cook. Did you want some steaks?” His gaze never falters as he watches me.

“Oh, wow. I haven’t had beef in—” I stop myself. That sounds awful when I put it into words.

It’s been months since I had the money for any. When I sold that horse, I only allowed myself a single coffee with Libby as a celebration. But he doesn’t need to hear that.

My arms wrap over my ribs as doubt begins to worm its way into me.

“Dixon, what is going on here?” I’m having a hard time reading him.

His head tilts back as he mirrors my movement, crossing his thick arms across his broad chest.

The way his biceps bulge under the tight fabric of his t-shirt momentarily distracts me before I jut out my chin. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” I don’t want to be obligated to him, to owe him for whatever this is he’s trying to do.

He looks down, letting his hat block my view of his face. “I see shitty things happen to people every day. From patching up accidents and fights, to declaring the time of death on those I couldn’t save.” He raises his head far enough I can see his jaw tick. “This is me trying to do something…anything to save just one person.” He turns to glance at Paisley. “Two.”

“Am I supposed to feel lucky?” I try to chew on my lip, but the scab pulls on it.

“Char, you can feel however you want to,” he growls. “The meat is going to go bad in my truck. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. Can I put it in your freezer until morning at least?”

“You’re staying here again tonight?” Why does that make me both happy and terrified?

He nods.

“How long are you going to do this?” I ask quietly.

Those thick arms and shoulders of his shrug. “Until I know you’re safe.”

I blink at him.

What do I say to that? “I have room in my freezer.”

His hat dips before he disappears outside.

I’m not sure what I did to deserve his protection, but so far he seems legitimate. He’s so much bigger than Matt, there’s a little sense of peace knowing that he could probably hold his own against my ex.

Look at me, pitting them in a battle royale like I have a choice in the matter.

The cooler appears first, and it’s much larger than I expected.

“Oh, um, is that full?” I don’t think I have room in this fridge.

He grunts as an answer.

“There’s plenty of space in the freezer on the back porch.” It’s embarrassingly empty, but I’m slowly gaining some traction as the garden kicks me produce.

He sets his load down for a moment to kick off his boots. “Lead the way.” Lifting the meat to his waist, he follows me through the kitchen.

Pushing open the sliding glass door, I start to open the heavy lid, but my ribs stop me.

“I got it.” With a thump, he drops the Yeti and raises the top. “Is that zucchini?” he asks as he starts to transfer white wrapped packages into the icy depths.

“Yep. They are doing really good with the heat.” I won’t admit it took me two summers to get them to grow decent enough to get a crop.

Libby teased me as the only person in the world who isn’t successful with them.

I don’t think I’d have much food left if it wasn’t for them this year.

He moves the last of the meat quickly, and it nearly doubles the amount of stuff in the cavernous container.

The last time it was that stocked was before Paisley was born.

“My damn brother always gives me more than I can use,” Dixon grumbles. “So if I can keep this here for a while, feel free to charge me a storage fee of a few packages.” He pats the worn lid, then takes a deep breath like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Grabbing his cooler, he pulls one more thing out before he picks it up.

A big bag of coffee.

An expensive brand, too.

Handing it to me, he brushes past. “Rent for your driveway,” he mutters as he traces his steps back to the front door.

“You didn’t need to do that.” I try to hand it to him, but he ignores me to pull on his boots.

“You said you were out. There’s no reason you have to go all the way to town for a bag of beans.” He stands up and leans over me, his eyes flickering over my face. “Let me help you.”