No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(83)

“Safety? You’re saying the Silver Springs police force would protect him even if he were guilty? You’re accusing our entire department of corruption?”

“I’m not accusing the department. Given my suspicions, I believe I should have an unbiased party take a look—that’s all. The expert who’s coming will have no vested interest in pointing a finger at an innocent party. I’m not fabricating a case, Maude. If I were trying to do that, I’d lie and say I saw the man’s face when I looked out the window. Instead, I’ve been honest. I’m merely in search of the facts. If the facts drag someone’s reputation through the mud—Sly’s or anyone else’s—maybe that’s the way it needs to be.” What about Dawson’s reputation and what had been done to that? Sadie thought, but she didn’t bring it up, since she knew Maude would only defend his detractors. “Please? Let the inspector come,” she pressed. “Let’s see what he finds. That’s the only way I’ll be able to put my mind at ease. If I’m wrong about Sly, I’ll be the first to apologize—to both of you.”

Maude sighed into the phone. “Okay. He won’t be happy about it. I feel bad that he’ll perceive me as siding against him. But if this specialist you’ve hired can bring us some resolution, I’m all for it. At least then, like you say, you’ll be able to breathe easier.”

Sadie closed her eyes in relief. “I hope so.”

“Just tell me this isn’t because you’ve grown infatuated with Dawson Reed,” Maude said. “I don’t know anything that can cloud someone’s judgment quite like a new romance.”

“No,” she said. “How I feel about Dawson has nothing to do with it.”

“Really? Because Sly claims you’re sleeping with him. That you announced it at the diner.”

“I didn’t announce it, exactly. Sly accused me—as he always accuses me whenever I’m around another man—and I told him what he deserved to hear.”

“So it’s true...”

Sadie wasn’t willing to lie. “What happens between Dawson and I has no bearing on anything else.”

“Love makes people do crazy things, Sadie. I’d hate for you to be taken in if...if Dawson isn’t the man you think he is.”

“I understand. You have nothing to worry about. I’m not acting the way I am because I’m infatuated with him,” she said. And that was true. Dawson wasn’t the reason she believed Sly set the fire. Dawson wasn’t the reason she felt she should have the origins of the fire examined by an independent third party. Sly alone was to blame for that.

It was true, however, that she was developing feelings for Dawson. Although she’d cleaned his parents’ room because she wanted to be kind to someone who had suffered enough, someone who’d been there for her when she’d most needed a friend, kindness wasn’t what had her lingering outside his door every time she got up to go to the bathroom late at night.





22


“You’re quiet tonight.”

When he spoke, Sadie shifted her gaze to Dawson, who was sitting on the couch not far from the chair she’d taken. Since she’d put Jayden to bed an hour ago, she and Dawson had been flipping through channels, catching part of the news and then a little Sports Center. They had the house ready for Robin Strauss’s visit first thing in the morning. Every room was spotless, the vandalism had been fixed, the fields were in the process of being tamed—which showed that Dawson could likely support Angela—and all the broken junk and trash had been removed from the yard. But there were still things that needed to be fixed, things that weren’t as high on Dawson’s priority list, so Sadie guessed Dawson was nervous. He’d been quiet, too.

“Just tired, I guess.”

“Would you rather watch something else?” he asked.

“No.” Although she wasn’t a big sports fan, she didn’t see any reason to make him change the channel. She wasn’t paying much attention to what she saw on the screen. She had so many worries, and yet all she could think about was the night she’d made love with Dawson in the field—how raw and visceral and incredibly satisfying it had been, and how badly she wanted a repeat of that experience or the one that’d come after, in Dawson’s bed. The strength of her desire, the way she craved the opportunity to touch him whenever she saw him, surprised her. Maybe she didn’t have a low libido as Sly said—he was always telling her stuff that made her feel as if she didn’t measure up to his expectations in some way—because it was all she could do not to get up and straddle Dawson right now, while he was sitting on the couch.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

The feel of his skin. The taste of his kiss. The weight of his body as he pressed her into the mattress. That seemed to make the terrible stuff go away, at least for the moment. But she couldn’t say so. They’d managed to redraw the lines they’d crossed, needed to wait and see what the fire investigator found before making any decisions on whether or not to pursue a relationship. She was too dependent on him right now, couldn’t afford to get any more intimately involved in case it ended up ruining her job situation. Even if things between them worked out, chances were she’d have to move. Sly was in a more volatile state than he’d ever been. Why start something she might not be able to finish?