CHAPTER 3
He watched Sam pull into a parking space across the parking lot where she sat for several minutes. Oh, to be a fly on that dash. As she got out, she paused, looked up, and shook her head as if reconsidering her decision to be there. Dawson smiled as she shook it off and gave herself what looked like a pep talk; that’s right, go get ’em tiger
. It took her several minutes to find her way into Baker’s.
She was easy on the eyes and made him sweat with one look, even in those scrubs she was still wearing, but there was more there. Temptation was getting the best of him; he had to figure out what it was about this little sex kitten that made him want her for more than a midnight run of naked Olympics. He knew she would push all the right buttons in bed, keeping him warm while he kept her satisfied—he knew he was a scholar in the sack.
He imagined her sprawled across his sheets, crying out from his touch, just about every night in his dreams. They would please each other in bed, no doubt, but he wanted to please her in other ways too. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t like it. He was better off alone; it made more sense that way…much safer.
His temptress was getting the better of him. For some reason, he was willing to take risks he had sworn off a decade ago. He needed to know why she invaded his sleep, confused his thoughts, and what made her Sam…his
Sam.
“Hey, Tayler,” she said, taking the bench across the booth from him.
“I ordered your coffee and fritter,” he proudly proclaimed, hoping that impressed her.
“What if I don’t like coffee and fritters?” She questioned with a coy smile, challenging him, reluctant to make this easy for him.
“Then you probably shouldn’t have said, ‘Baker’s, coffee and fritters
’ earlier.” Amused, he quoted her words in a high-pitched retort, and an amused ‘you aren’t fooling anyone’ look.
“Touché, Tayler. Touché. And I don’t sound like that,” she said, annoyed by his mocking. She did not sound like the stuffy snob he portrayed.
“You kind of do.” He winked, busying himself with a packet of sugar for his coffee. “I didn’t add anything to the coffee but grabbed a little of everything.”
“Oh, I like it just like this; tall, bold, and hot.” Just as she said it, she wished she could call it back; she just offered that one up to him on a silver platter.
“Are you still talking about the coffee, or…” He left the or
open-ended; he would let her fill in the blank and enjoy watching her squirm as she filled it in.
“Nice try. So, let’s cut the crap. Why breakfast?” Her quick change in direction didn’t help her case. This was a one-time deal, and she wanted to make that clear.
“Breakfast was your idea, I wanted dinner.”
“Okay, why this?” She flailed her arms around in a circle, indicating this
meant them.
“Why not? We’re friends. What’s wrong with friends getting together for a bite to eat and getting to know each other better? We’ve worked together for a long time and know nothing about each other. Maybe I want to know Sam, the girl in the bakery, as well as Sam, the life-saving nurse.” He made his point, delivering it with innocence. Friends…that’s all this was.
“Interesting. We can play it that way. So, where are you from; what brought you to McKenzie Ridge to play super, hunky hero who saves lives?” She bit her tongue a second too late, really needing to quit offering him her thoughts so easily—hunky?
Really? Shoot me now, she thought.
“Super hunky? Okay, I can work with that. Well, about 10 years ago, my entire family died in a plane crash. I was the only one left, so I left
. I was supposed to be on that plane.” He paused briefly, questioning how much was too much, before continuing. “I traveled a bit, but nothing felt like home except McKenzie Ridge. I grew up coming to this area. My uncle had a cabin not far from here. He would bring in all the cousins, and we would spend a few weeks together every summer,” Dawson shared in a less than tactful way, not intentionally delivering a shocking admission.
“I had no idea, Dawson. I’m sorry. That must’ve been awful. What am I saying; of course it was awful. I didn’t mean to…” She was shocked and at a loss for words, which didn’t happen often to her.
“Don’t worry about it, you couldn’t have known, and it was a long time ago. Isn’t this why we’re here? To get to know each other? Your turn…spill it.” He wasn’t sure why he was sharing this, but the words just fell out, displaying his past like clothes on the line.
“Spill it? Oh, yes, well, I grew up kind of all over, literally. My dad left before I was one, and my mom doesn’t do single or broke, so we followed several stepdads
around before landing here. That’s when I met Evie and Granny Lou; they became my family. The rest is history.” Simple and to the point, that was the short and sweet of it and all she felt like sharing. It’s not exactly a warm and fuzzy story in its entirety.
“What about your mom?” Confused by her admission, he briefly paused before questioning the obvious; there wasn’t anyone else, that he knew of, living in the Taylor or Shaw household. Where was the rest of her family?
“What about her? She’s out there somewhere, married or chasing—gotta be around husband nine or ten…not sure which.” She was good at saying that with a straight face now, with years of practice under her belt, and she had finally convinced herself that it didn’t bother her. “Once we were here, she trusted Gran; so she would ‘go on trips,’ and I would stay with Gran and Evie. Eventually, her trips
became longer and more often, so she gave Gran guardianship, and that was that.”
“So, she just left you?” Wincing at his own question, he realized natural curiosity reared its head and got ahead of him. He didn’t mean to ask such a pointed question, but he was genuinely shocked by her story. How does a mother just leave?
“Well, no, yes, I don’t know; I guess. It was better that way. I got Gran and Ev and got to go to the same school every year, have roots, and it worked out for me.” She honestly felt that way. They were family, more so than her mother or the countless stepdads ever were. “I couldn’t imagine how my life would have turned out if I’d stayed with her, chasing man after man—what kind of life is that for a kid? Who even does that, besides Bette Morrison
, serial bride and man chaser?”
“Wow, that’s…I don’t even know what that is. Let’s move on to something else. What do you like to do when you aren’t at the hospital, playing super seductive nurse, and saving lives?”
That earned him a spirited laugh, one that was deep and spontaneous. He liked that and hoped he saw more of that
Sam. The morning continued on as they shared simplicities in a light, non-date manner; like what their hobbies were, favorite foods, and several other nonsensical things that ended a very nice and enjoyable breakfast together.
Granny Lou spreads gossip like wildfire, but only the good kind if you asked her. Mornings at Baker’s were like a game of telephone. By the time the morning rush ended, juicy gossip got a whole lot juicier…steamy even. She knew a couple when she saw it, and Sam and Dawson were a mighty handsome one. They would make beautiful babies, in her wise, old, never wrong, opinion.
Spunk, honesty, and say it how it is—Granny Lou was a real kick in the pants. The old lady lacked a filter, but at least she was always honest. If you didn’t like what you heard, it was probably because you needed to do some soul searching. Wisdom spewed as fluidly as sarcasm. There wasn’t a person around who didn’t love this lady. Her ears occasionally strayed into other people’s business, and she was known to share stories…gossip, but her heart was always in the right place. Gardening, horses, match making, and saving lost souls were her hobbies.
Granny Lou lost her husband 20 years ago and never remarried; she didn’t even date really. She believed in only one true love, and she’d already had that. Tragedy followed again, just a few short years later, when her only son and daughter-in-law were lost in an accident. As the only living relative, willing and able, Gran took in her granddaughter, Everly, and they saved each other.
Everly was part of a package deal; her best friend, Sam, came with her…most of the time. Sam’s mother was more interested in men than her own daughter, leaving at any given moment to chase her true love—money. Granny loved that child like her own and preferred to have her around. She didn’t trust the life her mama was providing, so there they were, a family.
Dawson and Sam hadn’t even seen her when she stopped in for a caffeine fix to chase the doughy, sugar fix she ordered to go, but Granny sure saw them, happy with what she was seeing. Sam was going to be harder to sell, but Lou saw something brewing, whether the two of them wanted it or not. Fate never got it wrong, and neither did Louise Shaw.
She just needed to draw it out for them, give them a road map of sorts, if necessary. She didn’t know Dawson’s story; nobody did really, but she knew Sam’s, and her gut told her Dawson was a good boy with a lost soul…nothing a little love couldn’t fix. This was going to be her biggest triumph yet, and she was already patting herself on the back and high-fiving herself.
That was the benefit and burden of living in a small town—everyone knows everyone, and everyone
knows everything.
It was a foregone conclusion; half the town was already buzzing about Taylor and Tayler. Bets were probably waging on the unlikely twosome, too.
As expected, Taylor and Tayler were the main topic of conversation around the hospital and at the House. Both found themselves defending their new routine morning breakfasts as just that, two people who need to eat before ending their day and starting over. The gang at the House was a little less forgiving, taking every opportunity they could to rub in the fact that Dawson was dating.
“Seriously bro, you guys have been at Baker’s every morning for weeks. That’s dating. Getting any perks
? I bet she’s full of…” Colton started the ribbing; he was
a relationship guy, or wanted to be, anyway.
“Shut it, Sparks; they aren’t dates. You have breakfast and
dinner with Blake here all the time. You two dating, man?” Dawson knew he was being overly sensitive, but protecting whatever it was he had with Sam felt instinctive; it was off limits, even to the people who knew them best. “Do you get burns from his scruff? I bet you like a good beard burn.”
“Go to hell, Tayler! This is between you and Sparks; besides, he’s not my type.” Blake Cooper could take a joke, dish a few good ones himself, but giving beard burns to Sparks wasn’t funny. He’d rather it be a five-foot nothin’ spit fire, but it just wasn’t in the cards, for now.
“What do you mean, I’m not your type?” Sparks shot back. “Have you seen alllll this? You wish I played for the same team.”
“Neither of you is worth a hissy fit; get over yourselves.” Jessie was a good sport, but boy, banter annoyed the crap out of her, and this was a shut the eff up
moment. Sometimes, she was better at being one of the guys
than the guys, which was her way of surviving in a man’s trade, all five feet three inches of her. “If Tayler says they aren’t dating, then they aren’t dating. Some people are just casual that way, friends with benefits
, if ya know what I mean.”
“Of course you had to go there; thought you were offering support from the female regime. Guess you left all your estrogen at home?” Appreciating her input, crass as it was, crap from Jessie was a compliment, and Dawson welcomed it.
“Suck it, Dawson, like seriously hard.” A classic Jessie Clarke response—vulgar.
“Spoken like a true lady. Look, Daws, it’s no one’s business what you are doing. She’s a nice girl. Who wouldn’t get buns
every morning if they could?”
“And there it is…I expected more from you, Morgan. And, its fritters. We eat fritters.”
“Alright, lay off guys. You are all just jealous that Tayler has someone to have breakfast with and none of you do,” Carigan interjected, always kind, always level headed. Although around the same age, Carigan O’Reilly was the mother
of the bunch, always making sure everyone was okay. “Daws, I do want to point out, as your partner and the person you spend most of your time with, that you do seem to be a lot happier these days. I hear she’s getting the same crap over at the ER, and survey says she has been smiling non-stop for weeks now. Non-dating looks good on you.”
“Thanks for having my back, O’Reilly. So, I make her smile? Huh. Interesting.”
Dawson could always count on Carigan to have his back, which was why they worked so well together. They watched out for each other, understood each other. He knew the gang was just giving him crap—they were his family, and that’s what families do. He would partake if it were any of them, but for some reason, he felt Sam was off limits to them. They weren’t dating, but they certainly were more than just colleagues; something about that was both exciting and frightening.
It had been several weeks of mornings at Baker’s. It wasn’t even a question anymore, just a see you there
standing arrangement. They even found themselves there together, on a couple days off, not breaking routine. He was really enjoying Sam, getting to know her, spending time with her; it was like they were old friends rather than new friends. He didn’t know what this was, where it was going, but he really liked it, even if it was kind of like dating.
Today was much different than those of the past few weeks. Their routine had been challenged, and Sam didn’t like it. Dawson was one of the only EMTs who wasn’t attached, didn’t have family or consistent outside commitments to speak of, so he picked up a lot of the extra shifts to cover for those who needed the time off. He wasn’t going to be at Baker’s because he was picking up a few extra hours to help out one of the guys at the House.
The sexual tension had been building. Far too many times, they had found themselves in precarious situations, nearly in the throes of passion before one of them broke the spell, remembering where they were just in time. Having public get-togethers
was their saving grace as neither was much of an exhibitionist. Privacy would certainly lead to one thing. They would keep things very public…for now.
Sam craved this regular daily custom. The idea of not seeing Dawson for breakfast left her with an unfamiliar and unwelcome sense of melancholy. She had the day off; her schedule was fairly open, so she suggested they meet for lunch at the pavilion in the park since she would already be over that way. It was the perfect solution, even if it did concern her that she needed
a solution.
The park was large, several acres, surrounded by the beauty that was McKenzie Ridge—full of nature, views of the surrounding mountains, and of course, lots of people. The pavilion was nestled at the far end of the park, near the local equestrian center, Sugar Pine Stables, which bordered the east side. Not only could you rent rafts, canoes, and inner tubes to take down the creek, as well as rods and bait to fish, but you could also find some of the best hoagies and fried anything in town.
Dawson was elated by her desire to take this non-dating breakfast in a new direction, even if he was somewhat surprised. After all this time, and no matter how much she seemed to enjoy their non-dates, she was still pretty guarded with him. He would work on that, but this was progress, even if only slightly. Something in her past really made a mark on her. He briefly thought it was the mother who kept leaving her, but something said there was more to this elusive event that erected walls around Sam. What was she protecting herself from, really?
It was a beautiful midsummer day, with clear blue skies and a gentle breeze to keep the day’s heat at bay. The park was alive with people and nature alike, along with mind blowing views of the surrounding mountain peaks and landscapes—the perfect non-date spot. They ordered their food and found a nice table under a large, shady tree, picking up where they’d left off from their last non-date. The squirrels and birds provided the entertainment, fighting over the food they scavenged for, keeping the afternoon light and easy.
“So, what brought you to the park today anyway? You mentioned that you would already be over this way,” Dawson prodded, curious to find out the real reason they were there for lunch rather than their typical morning meeting.
“Oh, I was next door at Sugar Pine Stables; I’m there every week.”
“Every week? You ride?”
“Of course I can
ride, but that’s not why I go.” She shifted in her seat, regretting her reply because she didn’t have a good answer as to why she was really there if not to ride.
Dawson sensed some kind of unease and hesitation coming from her, like a secret spilled before she could catch it. She promptly tried to reel it in and deflect whatever it was she thought she’d just divulged. What was there to be uncomfortable about, with going to Sugar Pine Stables every week? It’s an equestrian center, lots of people like horses and even volunteer. Perhaps this was part of the wall she had built around her—too personal—she was letting him in faster than she was contented with.
“So, you volunteer?”
“No, well, not really. I’m friends with Rene who runs it, and Morgan Jameson goes often. Everly does, too, for Search and Rescue stuff. I guess it just kind of rubbed off, something we all have in common,” Sam replied, satisfied with her answer.
“Oh, I forgot that they had a new person over there—Rene, that’s right. She is so familiar to me, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Dawson’s mind wandered, recalling seeing Rene Garcia at Sugar Pine and how oddly familiar she seemed, but the feeling must not have been mutual because she never gave any indication she already knew him.
“I thought that about Rene, too! So familiar, she must have one of those faces because she isn’t from around here.” Sam recalled her first meeting with Rene; it was like running into an old friend from junior high, a serious case of déjà vu.
“Maybe, sometime we can go riding then. Have you ever been up the trails along the creek to the peaks? It’s a pack your lunch and ride all day kind of adventure.” Innuendo delivered, Dawson gave her a wink and left it at that.
“I haven’t been up to the peaks. That might be fun,” she countered, making it clear that his message was received and quickly shot down. “So how were your fried mushrooms and spicy mustard, sour dog sausage thing?” She chuckled.
The awkward change of subject, and distracting laughter over his peculiar food combination that followed, wasn’t lost on him. She really wasn’t comfortable talking about Sugar Pine and what it was to her. He would have to explore that. What was so secretive about the horses, or was it something about the horse stables? The more she became a mystery, the more intrigued he became.
“It’s a beer brat, spicy mustard and sauerkraut, and it was delicious. My dad used to say, ’That’ll put hair on your chest.’ Try one next time!” he said, beating his chest with a closed fist.
A stunned look of familiarity crossed her face at his statement, and was gone as quickly as it came. Interesting. He was missing a piece of this puzzle, a big piece. He didn’t like secrets, but until he could whittle away at that wall of hers some more, it would have to be explored another day.
“Good, it smelled awful. I’ll stick to hoagies, corndogs, and curly fries with lots of ranch dressing—the good stuff, but thanks! You ready to head out?”
Always a gentleman, he gathered their empty trays and wrappers and disposed of them while she waited for him next to the table. Dawson had grabbed her hand at some point as they walked to the parking lot to part ways and say goodbye. She let him hold it as if it was the most natural thing in the world and completely part of their non-dating routine. The more her mind sent up red flags and warnings, the more her heart reached for her guy. Her guy
. She didn’t know when he became her guy or all that it entailed, but she had conceded and decided to live in the moment, for now.
It felt good. He felt good. Sam didn’t know what possessed her to suggest they break routine and meet for lunch. Their shifts had crossed that day rather than being on par with each other. The idea of breaking their morning routine at Baker’s, and not seeing him for the day, actually disappointed her. Before she could stop herself, she had asked Dawson to meet her for lunch in the Pavilion at the park.
It still wasn’t a date. No, she didn’t date, but a lunch companion is always nice. Sam liked Dawson in a ‘friends who have coffee after work every single day and lunch when breakfast isn’t in the schedule’ kind of way. Friends held hands, and she liked how his big calloused hand felt, wrapped around hers. She wondered where they would feel elsewhere.
That was all she was capable of having with a man; it was all she had room for and all she was willing to let in. Friends. He was something to be looked at, there was no question there, and he was what every good author wanted on the cover of their sexy books. Yes, Dawson was sex, the kind that sells! A lot! So she would stick to having a really smoking hot, sexy friend.
Sam found that he was more than just inspiration when she broke out her battery operated best friend. There was much more to this man; the real Dawson was showing his true colors more and more, and she was enjoying him. It wasn’t just those rippling muscles that hid beneath those t-shirts of his, or how amazing his ass looked in those navy cargo pants he wore for work, or how they squeezed his thighs, that made her burn and have to sit sideways, sending her mind straight to the gutter where she could hang out for days.
She wanted to squeeze his ass and a few other things. How he didn’t burn a smoldering hole through the seat of his pants was beyond her. Speaking of ass and thighs, he would fit well between her own thighs. What on earth was she doing, fantasizing in the middle of a busy family friendly park, holding Mr. Hot Pants’ hand while picturing him between her thighs? She needed to get a grip or a really cold glass of ice water to dump in her lap. There was more to Dawson. Sure he made her tingle everywhere, but he gave her sweet butterflies too.
Dawson wasn’t a commitment guy. The only commitment he made was to keep his late-night callers private. He hadn’t had any late-night company since that first morning at Baker’s with Sam. He was a virile man with manly needs, but he just couldn’t seem to find interest anywhere but with Sam. It felt wrong to even consider a midnight romp with anyone else, like he was betraying something between them. This was new territory for him, territory he vowed to never explore again, a decade ago. Your heart can’t break if it isn’t invested anywhere, but somehow his heart had forgotten all the rules. So, he made a temporary deal with himself to just live in the moment…to see where this goes.
He wanted more from her, to know
her, not just her body but her
, to figure her out. Where did that sass and hard exterior come from? What happened to her to make her so invigorating, yet guarded? He didn’t understand his new desire that was Sam. She was a menace with his emotions. He liked who he was around her. She drudged up old feelings and new ones he didn’t yet understand. He enjoyed how easy she was to be around.
Conversations were easy, and she wasn’t impressed by all that charm he laid on. She didn’t buy it for a second, which he liked. He could just be him; she wanted nothing more or less. She was starting to find him just as interesting as he found her, he thought. She actually invited him to lunch today, and it was Sam who had determined their mornings at Baker’s were a regular thing rather than the occasional only if there’s time
. The more he got from her, the more he wanted, and the more he looked forward to having.
A date. He was going to do it, the unthinkable; he was going to ask her on a real date. Not a cup of coffee and apple fritter with half the town, or corn dogs in the park with the squirrels, where they would talk about a mysterious horse hobby, but a real date. Dawson was consistent with his convictions, but this felt right, even if it did break all of his rules. And he was willing to continue bending those rules to get more of her.
They approached her car when he turned her around so she was facing him, both arms on either side of her, so close he could smell the sugary sweetness of cream on her breath, which had been left by her dessert. So many times, they had found themselves in close proximity – within total make out in front of everyone range – but one of them always pulled back. They were now hand-holding friends, but they certainly weren’t kissing friends. Until now, as far as he was concerned. Today he was changing that rule too.
Trapped between two enormous biceps, wedged between her car and rock-hard abs, with the deepest, wicked, green eyes locked on hers, she began to sweat. Panic set in; this was too intimate and way too public. She was surrounded by his massiveness and felt safe in his almost embrace. This man was overwhelming in every good sense of the word. Her faith in what was coming next outweighed her fear, and she stared back, inviting his next move.
She was overwhelmed by the scent that would forever be burned into her memory as Dawson—spicy yet earthy, masculine but sexy and entirely way too hot. Unable to look anywhere but his eyes, she read his every thought as they darkened, and desire was the only thing readable. Anxiety was replaced by dirty thoughts of pressing her chest up against his, tempting him, seeing what his response would be, and exploring that cocky mouth of his that held a scandalous grin. Shocked by her own thoughts, she blushed as he laughed, as if he knew what obscene thoughts were going through her sinful mind.
Assuming he knew what mischief was dancing around in that beautiful head of hers, without even asking the question, Dawson took her response to his proximity as a yes and kissed her. Long, deep, and hard. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot; he could do this forever. She softened and leaned into him, hands straight to the back of his head. Oh yeah, he had read her just right. She was into him and completely into this kiss. Where red flags and alarms would be going off once upon a time, all he heard now was angels singing hallelujah
.
One arm dropped as his large hand found her waist, paused slightly, before moving south and resting his palm on her ass, pulling her closer so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him. She was overwhelmed with sensations she couldn’t remember ever feeling. She was warm head to toe, and her body was buzzing, but more so than that, her heart was dancing. Jesus, he was good at this and probably better at the other things that were racing through her head right now. Crap! What was she doing? They were in the middle of a parking lot, giving a really hot show to anyone interested! She would wave a ‘you’re welcome’ to the fan club when they were done.
She reluctantly broke the kiss and slowly pulled back from the pleasure he gave her and comfort she felt in his arms.
“So, is that a yes?” He asked, still holding her close, with his forehead to hers.
“Is what a yes?” She questioned, confused, not sure where her legs went or how she was still standing.
“Tomorrow night, seven o’clock, I’ll pick you up,” he said, standing tall, hands around her waist. She wasn’t getting out of here until she gave him the answer he wanted.
“Is that what that was? You asking me out? Wow, things really have changed!” She replied, giving him a puzzled look, clearly stalling as the tug of war between her heart and mind ensued.
“No, that was a kiss, a really eff’ing great kiss,” he declared before his confidence softened, and his tone changed to soft and sweet, and perhaps a little insecure, afraid of receiving the wrong answer. “This is me asking you out…do you want to go out tomorrow night? We’re both off; it’s like fate or something.” He was really selling this, calling on fate for help. He sincerely wanted a date with this woman.
“But…we don’t date.” She was still stalling, wanting desperately to say yes but lacking the courage. Every instinct in her body said absolutely not, but somewhere deep down in the depths of her soul, she was screaming hell yes.
“I know we don’t. If you would rather stick to fritters at Baker’s, we can do that too; it’s just not as fun.” He lightened the mood, adding a little silliness, sensing how serious this had become for her, hoping to make this an easier answer.
“I love fritters… “
He kissed her again, interrupting her protest, but this time it was soft and sweet, the kind of kiss you savored because it brought you total bliss and led to panty melting ecstasy. With her hands at his
waist, she couldn’t help but explore the hills and valleys of his insanely chiseled physique. His body should be illegal, it was that good, and she wanted a front row seat to more of him. He was right; this kissing was really eff’ing good.
He slowly pulled away, giving her a seductive half grin and a knowing wink. He walked away, leaving her standing there doe-eyed and shocked, touching the lips he had just pleasured. He gave himself an imaginary high-five and double pat on the back—mission accomplished.
“Yes.”
He tossed his gorgeous head back and let out the sexiest, throaty laugh she had ever heard.