Stables (Black Gulch Ranch #2)

11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dixon

Her lips thin, and I can almost catch the hint of a quiver in the corner of her mouth.

Why do I have this urge to smooth out that pinch with my thumb?

Mason looked at me like I was crazy when I asked him for a share of the beef. It’s not like he hasn’t offered for years, but I’ve rarely taken him up on it with the exception of a handful of steaks.

I just had this feeling that her freezer needed it more. I hate that I was right.

There’s a small sense of satisfaction knowing she’ll have good meat for a while.

She firms her jaw as she looks up at me. “I’m not sure how much to accept. It’s starting to feel like I’m going to owe you more than I can pay.”

What do I tell her?

“I lost a friend in college. Two, actually.” I pick up the cooler and let it hang by the handle in front of my legs. The memories make me uncomfortable, but I can see on her face that she’s feeling that way, too.

“One to jail, the other to the grave.” My fist clenches against my thigh. “I don’t want anything like that to happen to you.”

I could expand, but I don’t know her well enough.

She won’t want to hear how I walked in on my roommate beating his girlfriend, but did nothing? Or, how her death a few months later was what made me change my major from business to medicine?

No.

Char doesn’t need the extra baggage of my weakness.

Cowardice.

It won’t happen again.

“I’m sorry.” Char’s mouth softens and her tongue works a glistening trail over her bottom lip, pausing over the healing scab at the corner.

It’s hard to look away.

“The only thing I ask is that you stay healthy, safe, and thrive.” I feel like I’m her father lecturing her.

That’s the last position I want to be in.

So I give her a half-hearted grin. “Doctor’s orders.” And follow with a wink to try and lighten the mood.

Her moist bottom lip fills into a slow raise at the uninjured corner. But her smile moves into her sapphire eyes, making them almost shimmer in the low light.

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re looking out for me, then. Have a good night, Dixon.” She draws out my name like she’s fitting her mouth around it for the first time.

Why does it hit so differently when she says it?

And I catch her gaze lingering over my chest before she opens the door for me.

There’s a subtle flare of the whites of her eyes before she glances away.

My belly tightens in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time.

No. Not going to happen.

“I’ll be out by daybreak.” I don’t know what will happen if she catches me in the morning when my defenses are low.

Pull her in the truck maybe?

Fuck.

Stepping out onto the dark porch is the reprieve I need to distract myself from her damn lower lip.

I shouldn’t have stared. It was just impossible not to.

The cool night air helps to temper the fire in my veins. After tossing my Yeti into the rear seat, I rip off my shirt to let the chill work through me faster.

I felt like I was suffocating in there. But it sure as hell doesn’t feel any better out here.

Am I getting sick?

That has to be what’s going on. Probably a low grade fever I caught from Paisley.

Yea. I don’t need to check.

If I do, the seed of doubt tells me that it’ll come back as afebrile.

Then there’s only one other explanation, and I don’t want to deal with that shit.

I don’t have time for it.

And Char doesn’t either.

When I drop my tailgate, it makes more noise than I intended, rattling me back to the task at hand.

At least the sun has been down long enough that the metal isn’t scalding. July can be rough with temps over a hundred nearly every day.

That’d be my luck. Get heat stroke sleeping in the back of my truck when I have a perfectly air conditioned house and comfortable bed.

Thirty miles away.

It’s worth the risk to be here in case she needs me.

A flash of headlights from the road flicker over my bare chest before they continue around the curve and disappear.

I guess I’ll be making the neighbors talk now, half naked man sleeping in her driveway.

Toeing off my boots, I set them against the foot of the bedroll.

Well, if they want a show, I’ll give them one.

Peeling my dusty jeans off, only my boxer-briefs offer a barrier against the brisk breeze.

Feels good. I wish I could drop my nuts in an ice bath.

My sleeping bag is still warm after baking under the shell, so I leave it open and spread eagle over the nylon.

This isn’t so bad. I’m just a grown ass man, in my underwear, in the driveway of a beautiful woman’s house.

Wait. I shouldn’t think of her that way.

She is though.

Or maybe it’s her resilience that has intrigued me.

I’ve witnessed women who come in after domestic violence cases that were completely shattered. Their self-esteem often so ruined, they can’t function without the person who put them in the hospital to start with.

It’s a travesty I’ve seen over and over.

They’re too fearful to leave.

Char showed she was able to take the leap, and she’s fighting to survive her choice.

I respect the hell out of her.

It makes me want to do more to help her.

Protect her.

Hold her close, wrap my arms around her, and—

What was that noise? Did it come from the barn?

I almost hit my head on the shell when I sit up, straining to listen. It almost sounded like water?

No.

Glass.

What the fuck?

I’m pulling on my second boot when I hear a high pitched scream come through the thin walls of the house.

Char!