“Yes, sir,” Smiles said, and he took three cookies too.
Dawson came bustling down the hallway wearing sneakers, and he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the couch. “You guys okay here?”
“Yes,” a whole chorus came back to him. “Go,” Link added.
“Good luck,” Libby called as Dawson jogged toward the front door, trying to put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Unsuccessfully, but still trying.
Link could only grin at him as he pounded through the door, and then he looked over to Finn. He shook his head, smiling, and they all started laughing again.
“Go get ‘er, Daws,” Alex said, and Link could’ve echoed that sentiment. As he left the Rhinehart Ranch and took the private dirt road that led north to Shiloh Ridge, he prayed that Dawson would one, drive safely, and two, get exactly what he wanted when it came to Caroline.
If anyone deserved happiness, it was Dawson, and Link wanted that for his friend.
Chapter Twelve
Caroline looked away from the ground and instead focused her gaze on the horizon beyond her front yard. The panic she’d breathed through reared up again, and she fought against it until her heartbeat started to settle again.
“I’ll call Belle,” she said, and she pulled her phone from her pocket. She felt like she’d done this once already, but she didn’t think she’d called or texted her sister. Sure enough, one glance at the phone showed her she hadn’t.
She’d texted Dawson instead.
And he’d said,On the way, Caroline.
“Caroline,” she said softly, imagining Dawson saying it in his throaty, husky, kind voice. Not the growly one, though she wouldn’t mind that either. He didn’t say hername much, but he had called herdarlin’orsweethearta time or two.
She looked at when she’d texted him, and she couldn’t believe twenty minutes had passed. Now that she’d calmed and her rational thought had returned, having Dawson come from his ranch in the Southern foothills made no sense.
Caroline could call a neighbor to come right the ladder that had fallen and stranded her on the roof of her own home. She tapped to call Dawson, unsurprised when he picked up after the first ring.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Wanna tell me what I’m walking into?”
“Oh, I, uh, well, the swamp cooler was having trouble, so I got up on the roof to take a look.” She took a moment, so she could pretend she existed on low, level ground.
In that pause, he said, “Wait. What? You’re on the roof?”
“Yes,” she clipped out. “I’m capable of fixing everything around my house, Mister Rhinehart, believe it or not.”
“I—”
“And Belle left with Judy to go to the petting zoo, so I’m here alone, and I must not have set the ladder right, because after I fixed the swamp cooler, I went to where I’d left it, and it had slid sideways.”
He said nothing, and Caroline couldn’t blame him. She’d barreled her voice right over the top of his.
“I tried to get it up,” she said. “But it’s an odd angle, and well, I may not be strong enough to do it.”
“I’m fifteen minutes out,” he said.
“I can just call my neighbor,” she said.
“Then why did you text me?”
Caroline really only had one answer, but she didn’t want to say it. She fought against the words surging up her throat, but so many of them flowed out. “I panicked,” she said. “I’m not exactly the best of friends with heights, and well, the ground started to swim, and I had to scamper backward, and I—I gotta be honest. I don’t even remember texting you.”
“Just what every man wants to hear,” he said dryly, and Caroline blinked.
“Did you—did you just make a joke?”
“I can hear you’re okay,” he said. “So I’m going to hang up, and I’ll be there in a few minutes to help with the ladder.”
