14. Dawn
Chapter 14
Dawn
A few weeks had passed since the cameras rolled onto the ranch, and life had settled into a new rhythm. Nash had become a near-daily presence, always finding ways to help, whether it was fixing a fence, tending to the animals, or tackling a chore that wasn’t technically his responsibility. His easygoing nature made his presence welcome, even when I didn’t admit it out loud.
Martha’s absence no longer felt like a weight pressing on my chest. Time had softened the edges of her departure, and to my surprise, I felt something close to peace. My sister and Willow had stepped up too, handling the day-to-day demands with a quiet understanding. I trusted Willow implicitly—crazy as she could be, her past made her the perfect guide for Billie, who was just beginning to navigate the turbulence of college and adulthood.
Still, the ranch was relentless in its demands. The roof hadn’t been repaired yet, and the work never stopped coming. But somehow, amidst the exhaustion and endless to-do lists, I found moments of happiness. More often than not, those moments had Nash at their center.
He’d attempted to fix the ceiling, but the damage was too extensive. Instead, we focused on cleaning out the residents’ lodging, a task that should have been tedious but had turned into something else entirely—something lighter. With Nash beside me, scrubbing the walls and sweeping the floors, the hours slipped away faster than I expected.
He had a way of making even the dullest chores entertaining. As we worked, he’d hum snippets of his country songs under his breath, occasionally breaking into full verses when the mood struck. His voice—deep, rich, and effortlessly smooth—filled the quiet space, making it easy to forget how sore my arms were or how much work still loomed ahead. Every so often, he’d toss out a joke, usually something dry and self-deprecating, and before I knew it, I’d be doubled over in laughter. I hadn’t laughed like that in months.
At one point, we ended up in a ridiculous argument over the best way to mop a floor. Nash, grinning, demonstrated an exaggerated sweeping motion, using the mop as if it were some kind of dance prop.
“You see? It’s all about the hips,” he declared, twirling the mop like a partner. “You’ve gotta put your soul into it.”
I rolled my eyes, but amusement tugged at my lips. “I’m sure you’ve perfected both mopping and dancing.”
He took a step closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Well,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, something almost intimate, “I can teach you—if you’re willing to learn.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. “I’m sure you’re a great teacher, but I think I’ve got mopping covered.”
“Are you?” His gaze locked onto mine, challenging, playful. His fingers brushed against my wrist, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. That knowing smile deepened as he took my hand, guiding me toward the middle of the kitchen, where dirt and debris still littered the floor.
“Dawn Taylor,” he said, placing his free hand over his chest in a dramatic bow, his cowboy hat clutched in the other, “would you do me the honor of this dance?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Nash, there’s no music. And there’s still a shit ton of work to do.”
He wasn’t deterred. “Come on, just let go for a moment,” he said before breaking into an exaggerated routine—hopping into the air, flailing his arms like a rag doll. “Go on! You need to loosen up, princess.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh as he took both of my hands and pulled me forward. Despite my best efforts to remain unimpressed, a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. Against my better judgment, I humored him, barely lifting my heels off the floor in what could only be described as the laziest attempt at jumping.
Nash shot me an unimpressed look. “Okay, let’s do better than this.”
“I am doing my best,” I said, feigning exasperation, though I couldn’t hide my amusement.
“You’re a damn rodeo star. I know you can do better than this.” He lowered himself until we were eye to eye. “Or are you telling me you stole all those trophies and medals?”
I gasped, laughing incredulously. “You really went there.”
If he wanted a challenge, I’d give him one. I pushed off the ground, this time leaping as high as I could, matching him jump for jump. His triumphant grin told me he’d gotten exactly what he wanted.
From there, the dance became chaos. Nash flailed wildly, adding exaggerated head movements that made him look like a mastiff shaking off water. I mimicked him, shaking my head so hard I nearly lost my balance.
Then, without hesitation, he extended his hand, hopeful and confident. I didn’t think—I just took it.
The world shrank to the space between us as he spun me around, leading me through a reckless, ridiculous waltz across the wrecked kitchen. We stomped over broken bits of wood and plaster, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the way his hand felt around mine—strong, warm, sure. The way his eyes gleamed with mischief. The way my fingers settled against his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath my touch.
Our laughter faded, but the air between us thickened with something else—something unspoken.
Nash tilted his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “I like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?” I asked, my voice quieter now, breathless.
“Spontaneous. Comfortable.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Free.”
He wasn’t wrong. I spent so much time tangled in worry, always thinking three steps ahead. But with him, in this moment, everything felt simple.
My pulse pounded as his hand on my back pressed me closer, the playful energy shifting into something deeper, something electric. His breath mingled with mine, and suddenly, we weren’t dancing anymore. We were just standing there, caught in something neither of us had words for.
Slowly, tentatively, I slid my hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. His skin was warm under my fingertips, his presence impossibly close. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the tension coiled beneath his touch.
He dipped his head slightly, his mouth barely inches from mine. If I just leaned up a little more?—
“Dawn!? We need help with?—”
Benjamin’s voice shattered the moment.
Nash and I sprang apart, turning our backs to each other as if that would somehow erase what had just happened.
Ben leaned against the counter, his eyes darting between us. “What were y’all doing?”
“Dance practice,” Nash answered smoothly, already gripping the mop again as if nothing had happened.
Ben blinked. “Dance practice. For what? Oh! Are you gonna be in one of his music videos, Dawn?”
I forced out a too-quick, “Uh, yeah. Maybe. We’ll see.”
Ben, thankfully, was too preoccupied with his own crisis to pry further. “Clara tried to give Charles a haircut, but now he looks like he’s wearing a toupee. I told her not to, but she said cutting horse hair isn’t different from cutting bangs. But Dawn—he’s ugly now.”
I exhaled, grateful for the excuse. “Urgent matter, sorry,” I murmured to Nash as I hurried toward the door.
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked—flustered. It was the first time I’d ever seen him shy.
Outside, I ran a hand over my forehead, willing my heartbeat to slow.
This was dangerous.
I liked him.
But Nash was only here for the summer. And falling for him?
That would only end in heartbreak.