No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(41)

Her hair was falling from the ponytail she’d pulled it into after changing into Dawson’s T-shirt, so she took a moment to put it up again. Then she went downstairs to retrieve her phone from the counter, where she’d left it.

She’d received a text from Petra.

Jayden took the news that he couldn’t come out to the farm pretty hard.

I’m sorry, she wrote back. I didn’t mean to get his hopes up. She wasn’t the one who’d gotten his hopes up. Dawson had done that by agreeing to let him come to the farm, thereby putting the decision squarely on her shoulders. But she couldn’t tell Petra how the possibility had cropped up, didn’t want to draw Dawson into the conversation. She hoped Jayden hadn’t mentioned him, either.

He’s fine now, came her response. I was just surprised by how badly he wanted to go. Usually he gets over disappointment much quicker.

I’ll bring him here when I can, she wrote but had no idea when that might be. It depended on Sly and how he behaved in the next few days—whether he calmed down or continued to cause trouble.

She checked her missed calls and her voice mails. Nothing from him so far. Where was he today?

Relieved that she hadn’t heard from him—and nervous at the same time—she turned on her music and poured herself a cup of coffee. She was about to carry her phone upstairs so she could listen while she cleaned Angela’s room when the sack she’d brought, which was on the counter with the coffeemaker, reminded her that she’d purchased a piece of Lolita’s homemade apple pie for Dawson.

She decided she’d change back into her blouse and take it out to him in an hour or so, but before she could go back upstairs, she heard a noise directly behind her and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Whoa! Take it easy! It’s me,” Dawson said when she screamed and whirled around like she was about to be attacked.

She pressed a hand to her chest in an effort to slow her galloping heartbeat. “Sorry. I...I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Probably because of the music. I wasn’t being quiet and certainly didn’t mean to startle you. I just ran out of water.” He lifted his thermos, but then his eyes lowered to her chest and she watched as the fact that she was wearing his shirt registered.

“I apologize for...for appropriating your clothes for my own use. I—” She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t feel comfortable telling him she’d worn a blouse to work she couldn’t actually work in.

“It’s fine,” he said before she could even come up with an excuse.

“Thanks. I’ll wash it, of course. I planned to put it through the laundry. It’s not as if...well—”

“How much do you weigh?” he asked, cutting her off.

She blinked in surprise. “A hundred and twenty pounds.”

He tilted his head, giving her a look that indicated he didn’t believe her.

“Okay, I only weigh about a hundred and eight, maybe a hundred and five. But...I’m trying to eat enough to build back up.”

“Why isn’t it working?”

She cleared her throat. “I guess I’m a high-strung person. Turns out nervous energy can really amp up metabolism,” she added with a humorless chuckle.

“You look like a teenage girl.”

She felt her smile slip from her face. She’d bought a new blouse, hoping to please him. She’d thought he’d liked what he saw—last night, anyway. This let her know that he didn’t find her attractive after all. She could tell by the censure in his tone.

“Yeah, I...I’ve struggled with my weight for a few years now.” She turned away to hide the fact that his comment had stung—because that was an unreasonable reaction. She was too thin. She had no business fantasizing about him, anyway.

Fortunately, she spotted the sack she’d brought with her, which gave her a way to divert his attention. “I brought you a piece of pie,” she mumbled and handed it to him. Then she escaped from the kitchen before he could react.





11


Dawson dropped the sack to his side without even looking in it and closed his eyes as he heard Sadie’s feet on the stairs behind him. What had possessed him to say such a thing? He hadn’t intended to hurt her. He’d simply been trying to remind himself that he wasn’t attracted to her, to shove that between them in hopes it would help him keep his thoughts where they should be. Lord knew he had to do something to gain control over his libido. He’d just dumped out the rest of his water under the flimsy excuse that it was getting too warm to drink so that he could come inside and see her!

He pictured the expression on her face as she’d whirled around to grab the sack with the pie. She’d looked crestfallen, as if he’d struck her for no reason.

Shit... It was coming upon her in his T-shirt, he decided. After last night, he’d liked the sight of that a little too much.

He considered following her upstairs to apologize. With Sly in her life, she’d probably had about all she could take of unkind men. But he could hardly explain what had caused him to act as he had—that he wanted her and was simply trying to find, or even build up, some flaw he could focus on that’d make him want her a little less.

No apology, he told himself. He needed to stay put. Better to let that little snippet of conversation go and simply be more polite in the future. But it didn’t make him feel any better that the pie was so delicious, some of the best he’d ever tasted. What’d made her think to bring him a piece?