Dawson stepped forward, handing over his half-filled cup and reaching for Grace. “I’ll take the baby. You drink that.”
Peyton didn’t argue. She took a long sip of the coffee and sighed. “Oh, that’s good.” She breathed in the crisp morning air, and a faint smile lifted her lips as she tipped her face toward the sky. Birds twittered from a nearby pine tree.
Dawson's breath caught. She was beautiful like this. Hair mussed, face soft in the morning light, that small smile playing at her lips. The last five years had added a faint scar along her jawline and loosened some waves in her hair. There were also intangible differences. A quiet steadiness that had never existed before, a stillness…almost…a peace?
He tore his gaze away and busied himself with adjusting Grace’s blanket. It was pink with stars dancing across it. The baby whimpered from behind her pacifier, so he swayed rhythmically, hoping it would keep her content. An idea formed. He pulled the keys from his pocket and undid the clip holding Grace’s pacifier to her shirt.
“What are you doing?” Peyton asked.
“Giving us an advantage. Here…hold Grace for a second.” He passed the baby back to her before removing the GPS tracker on his key ring. He attached it to Grace using the pacifier clip, tucking it between the layers of her clothing so it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. “There. If, in the unlikely event, someone grabs Grace, we’ll be able to track her on my phone.”
“That’s brilliant.” Peyton smiled up at him.
“It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.” Dawson took Grace back so Peyton could drink her coffee while he filled her in on the little they knew.
Peyton asked a few questions, but then fell into silence, fiddling with the carton sleeve on the coffee cup. “How did it come to this? Lilia has stumbled into trouble, but never anything this serious.”
Dawson had no answer for that.
She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about your offer. To stay on the ranch.”
“And?”
“It’s generous of you to help, but are you sure you want to do this? Will your family be okay with me being there?” She let hergaze drift over the grounds. “I wouldn’t blame any of you if you hated me. I hurt you, Dawson, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry…for a lot of things.”
A sadness swept over him, along with compassion for the pain trembling in her voice. “No one in my family hates you. And I don’t either. But if you’re uncomfortable staying at the ranch, Jax said Knoxville PD can set you up in a hotel under a fake name. The choice is yours.”
She bit her lip, and then her gaze dropped to the baby in his arms. Her shoulders dropped, as if the tension in her muscles had finally eased. She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go pack our stuff.”
The knot of worry in his stomach loosened. “Sounds good.”
Peyton turned toward the sliding door and then stopped. She glanced over her shoulder. “Dawson, you should know, I’ve thought about calling you hundreds of times. I didn’t because…well, it seemed unfair after what I did. But if you’re ever ready to talk, I’d like to.”
The words landed somewhere deep in his chest. There was a lot he wanted to say too—questions he'd never gotten answers to, hurt he'd never fully voiced. But now wasn't the time. “Let's focus on finding Lilia and protecting Grace. After that, we’ll see.”
She nodded and slipped inside the hotel, leaving the faint scent of jasmine in her wake.
Dawson lifted his gaze to the sky.Okay, God, I’m not sure where you’re leading me, but I’m trusting You.
SEVEN
Morning sunshine streamed through the gauzy curtains covering the window. Awareness came slowly as Peyton swam up from a deep sleep. The soft bed and thick comforter were so cozy, she was tempted to keep her eyes closed and drift back off, but the scent of coffee and the faint sound of a door slamming somewhere in the house pulled her to full consciousness. With regret, she rolled over to check the time on her cell phone.
And immediately sat straight up. Nine thirty. She’d slept for over twelve hours.
Grace. She looked toward the crib set up in the corner of the room. It was empty, save for a discarded blanket. Someone—likely Dawson or his mom—must’ve come in and taken the baby while she was sleeping. Peyton kicked off the covers and went into the adjoining bathroom to clean up before heading toward the sound of voices coming from the kitchen.
“Good morning!” Ellen Graham, Dawson’s mother, flashed a bright smile from the other side of the island covered in sugar cookies. In one hand, she wielded an icing bag, and the other rested against the soft cloth wrapped snugly around her chest. Her brown hair was streaked with gorgeous silver strands thatbrought out the brightness of her cerulean eyes. A cup of coffee rested nearby. “Did you sleep well? There’s fresh coffee.”
“I slept very well. Too well. I didn’t hear Grace wake at all.” Her gaze scanned the kitchen for any sign of her ward. “Where is she?”
“Right here.” Ellen tilted slightly, and Grace's wild curls came into view, nestled against Ellen’s chest in the folds of the wrap. The baby's eyes were closed in bliss, her little mouth moving against the pacifier absently. “She loves the sling. I found it’s the best way to get her to sleep.”
Peyton smiled and gently brushed a soft curl away from Grace’s rosy cheek. “What time did you take her out of my room?”
A flash of guilt creased Ellen’s features. “About thirty minutes after you went to bed. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but you looked so tired, hon, and it was clear Grace has a touch of colic.”
Peyton remembered all too well staying up most of the night with a screaming baby. “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
