Caroline’s interest piqued, and while Dawson had longer legs than her and a massive angry stride, he’d left the front door open for her. She entered and stopped to take in his space.
“Close that, would you?” he asked, his voice almost a growl. “I don’t need to be heatin’ the outside.”
“Sure, right.” Caroline moved out of the way and pushed the door closed behind her. She’d stepped into a living room, where he and his brother had a sofa and love seat set in brown leather. A coffee table sat in front of the couch, and it all faced the front window. No TV.
Caroline couldn’t see one of those in the room at all. In fact, a radio sat on the back counter, and she watched almost in slow motion as Dawson reached over and switched it on. Something low warbled out of it, but it wasn’t loud enough for her to make out words or a discernible melody.
A dining room table sat pushed against the wall in the kitchen, with the back door of the house behind that. Curtains hung on all the windows. Matching curtains in plain blue fabric.
The carpet at her feet looked clean, as did the kitchen when she reached the counter and leaned against it. Dawson had already started getting out breakfast foods, and he loudly put two pans on his stovetop and flipped on the burners.
The flames whooshed as they came to life, and Caroline took a seat at the bar to watch the show.
His fridge had colorful drawings and notes attached to it with magnets. This man had children in his life, and for some reason, that made Caroline’s heart soften toward him.
“I’m gonna do over-easy eggs,” he said without looking at her. “I don’t have English muffins, and I’m too hungry to go to the trouble of hollandaise sauce.”
“Sounds fine,” she said, not teasing him this time. She enjoyed watching him work in the kitchen, and he could apparently only focus on one task at a time, because he made no effort to speak.
She took in the hat rack with jackets and hats on it next to the back door, and she couldn’t help wondering who’d given him the potted plant in the window above the kitchen sink.
A niece? Nephew? Sister-in-law? His momma?
Fifteen minutes later, he held two plates, one in each hand, and nodded over to the table. Caroline slipped from the stool and went to join him. She gave him a side-eyed look as she sat and he placed a beautiful plate of hot, perfectly cooked over-easy eggs—the yolks still whole—several strips of bacon, and a whole pile of crispy, browned, perfectly shredded hash browns.
“Do we get to talk over this breakfast?” she asked as he sat down.
“If you’d like,” he said. He nudged the salt and pepper shakers closer to her and picked up his fork.
“No pancakes.”
Dawson met her eyes, pure fire raging in his eyes. Blue-green fire was something she’d never seen before, but it felt like she could dive into the aquamarine color of it and swim around. Or get scorched.
She was up for either.
“Next time,” he said, and he dropped those beautiful eyes to his plate. She hurried to pick up her fork too, her mouth watering for want of crispy potatoes with ketchup.
“Oh.” Dawson got to his feet and went around her to the fridge. He returned with the ketchup she’d been about to ask for and set it in front of her. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She squirted it onto her potatoes and mixed them up a little, her smile growing. “This is so amazing, Dawson. Thank you so much.” She took a bite, and instant rejoicing sang across her taste buds. They had the right amount of crunch to soft potato, salt, and pepper.
“Oh,” she moaned, the ketchup adding the right amount of tang to the party already happening in her mouth. She swallowed and immediately scooped up another bite. “These are the best hash browns I’ve ever had.”
Dawson smiled slightly, the left side tipping up higher than the right. “I’m glad you like them.”
She liked every bite she put in her mouth, and she sat back when her plate had been emptied and pressedone palm to her belly. “Dawson, that was incredible. Thank you.”
He’d already finished, and he picked up his plate and hers and took them over to the sink without accepting her gratitude. She twisted and watched him wash the dishes they’d just used. “Are you always this grumpy?”
“About,” he said.
She got up and went to join him at the sink. She gently inserted her hands into the water and took the plate from him to rinse it. He looked over to her, and in that moment, everything softened between them. Caroline could certainly get her ire up too, and she’d been plenty irritated and frustrated with this particular cowboy.
But that melted away under the heat of his look, and Caroline forgot how to rinse a dish and set it to dry. All she knew was his eyes, that blue, the scent of his skin and the lingering scent of bacon in the air.
He leaned toward her, and Caroline tensed, ready to receive his kiss. Her eyes drifted closed, only to rudely fly open again when a shrill noise pierced the air between them.
Dawson likewise jumped away from her, and she winced at the sound of the plate clattering against the sink. She’d dropped it, and she hastened to pick it up while Dawson’s phone rang again.
