Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Caroline looked up to the corner of the mirror when she caught movement there.
“Aunt Caroline,” Judy said in her cute little-girl voice. “Can I help you with your makeup?”
Caroline nodded instantly. “Come sit by me here.” She scooted over a little on the bench where she sat at her vanity, and Judy climbed up.
“Your hair is so pretty,” her niece said.
“Your momma did it.” Caroline smiled warmly at the girl in the mirror. “When I’m finished with my makeup, we’ll take out the net, and the curls will fall down.”
Judy picked up the eyeshadow case and popped it open. “Ooh, this one is blue.”
Caroline smiled at her and said, “You can put on a little bit. It just goes right here on your eye.” She dabbed on a little more of the creamy eyeshadow she’d been putting on. “Not all over your face.”
Judy did that, extending the blue too far up and too far out, but Caroline didn’t correct her. Belle let her put makeup on any way she wanted, and Caroline simply wanted to enjoy the innocence of a six-year-old.
“How do I look, Auntie-C?” Judy got up on her knees and blinked her eyelashes, probably the way she’d seen countless princesses do in animated movies.
“You’re always beautiful,” Caroline said. “With or without the makeup.” She rubbed her nose against Judy’s. “Okay? Remember that, honey. You don’t need the makeup to be beautiful.”
“Why do you wear it then?” Judy put both hands on the sides of Caroline’s face. “I wear my blue dress to be pretty.”
“No,” Caroline said gently. “You wear your blue dress to feel pretty. You are pretty whether you wear a blue dress or a red pair of jeans or a big brown potato sack.”
Judy giggled. “No one wears potato sacks, Auntie-C.” She sat down flat again and picked up the eyeshadow applicator again. She hummed to herself as she brushed on more color, and Caroline looked at herself in the mirror.
After her divorce, she’d examined every single thing in her life. Did she make her eggs over-easy because Joe had told her to, or did she like them that way? Did she even like any of the clothes in her closet, or had she bought them and worn them to please Joe?
Who was she? What did she like? What made her feel good about herself?
She’d had to answer all those painful questions, because she felt like she’d bent herself completely to his whims. They never ate breakfast for dinner, because he wouldn’t allow it.
She couldn’t wear jeans more than two days in a row, or she wasn’t taking care of herself according to his terms. In fact, Caroline now wore more makeup than her ex-husband would’ve preferred, and he’d made her wash her face before he’d go out with her on his birthday.
Her birthday?
Ignored. They didn’t go out. He never said a word to her about it.
She blinked, and that past version of herself disappeared. She looked at Judy, and she hoped and prayed with everything inside her that she’d never have to go through what Caroline had.
“Or Belle,” Caroline murmured, but Judy didn’t hear her.
The doorbell rang, and Caroline startled, her adrenaline spiking and shooting to the top of her head. “What time is it?”
“I’ve got it,” Belle called, and Caroline wouldn’t be running down the hall in her netted hair and slip anyway.
She got up from the vanity and stepped into her dress, a pretty white background with watercolored flowers on it in a variety of reds and pinks. Very fitting for Valentine’s Day.
She needed heels, a chunky necklace, and her hair let out, so when Belle appeared in the doorway—a bit flushed—Caroline gestured her closer. “Is it Dawson?”
“He said he was too nervous to wait at home.” Belle closed the door behind her. “Seriously, Caroline, he is the sweetest man alive.”
Caroline smiled as she turned her back on her sister. “Get the net, would you?”
“I mean, you’ve been dating for what? A month? But he’s nervous to come pick you up on Valentine’s Day?” Belle sighed, and she got the bobby pins out of the net keeping Caroline’s curls bouncy and contained.
Her hair now flowed over her shoulders, and she turned to face Belle.
“He’s…he’s definitely got some anxiety. He hasn’t shared a whole lot more with me, but he’s meticulous with things.
Loves lists. Keeps track of different things on the ranch with colored sticky notes.
Sets a schedule and sticks to it religiously. That kind of thing.”
“You like routines too,” Belle said.
Caroline draped a string of red beads around her neck. “Yes, but this is different. He hasn’t told me yet. We’re in month one.”
“Going on two.” Belle smiled at her and added, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“What about me, Momma?” Judy stood on the bench at the vanity now, and her whole face bore color. Caroline sucked in a breath, but Belle only laughed. She went to swoop Judy into her arms, and Caroline turned to step into her heels—also bright red.
With every piece making her feel as beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside, Caroline drew in a deep breath of her own. She could only imagine what Dawson might be wearing tonight for their Valentine’s Day evening together.
She left her sister and niece giggling in the bedroom to go meet her cowboy. Dawson stood in the living room, holding an enormous bouquet of roses—all in shades of red and white. He had the deep burgundy ones, the bright red ones, a smattering of pink ones, all accented by white.
He wore a black-as-midnight cowboy hat on his head, pure light in his eyes, and black slacks that hung over black cowboy boots.
She couldn’t quite see his shirt past the flowers, and she wanted to pause time and take as many pictures of him standing there with those blooms, from as many different angles, as possible.
“Howdy, ma’am.” He somehow reached up and tipped his hat a millimeter.
“My goodness, Dawson.” She rushed at him and straight into the flowers. “These are gorgeous.”
“I’ve heard women like roses, but I wasn’t sure with you.”
She looked up, only the bouquet separating them. “You think I wouldn’t like roses?”
“You seem to like things a certain way, and well, I forgot to ask about your favorite flower.” He smiled at her, unleashing the full power of Dawson Rhinehart. Caroline had vowed to never let the special occasions of her life dictate major decisions. Not again.
But her heart swooped, and her pulse fluttered, and since she’d once fallen very far, very fast, she knew what such a thing felt like.
That had been her downfall, and the aftermath had not been pleasant.
This falling felt a little different. Exhilarating, and freeing, and like she was in only helpless for Dawson for a moment. Then she regained control, smiled back at him, and said, “I’m going to need five vases for these.”
“Wow-wee,” Judy chirped as she entered the living room. “Look at all those pretty flowers.”
“Wow-wee,” Dawson said right back to her, not making fun of her at all. He didn’t pitch his voice up to talk to little children, something she’d learned when they’d gone to help Shiloh and JJ last week. “Look at your makeup. Did your momma do that?” He grinned at her. “Or did Auntie-C?”
“I did it!” Judy spread her arms wide and turned in a circle.
“Come on, Judes,” Belle called from down the hall. “Leave Auntie-C be.”
Judy turned and went down the hall, and Caroline gathered as many of the roses as she could. “I think we can put them in the mixing bowl.”
“The mixing bowl?”
“I’m not a big baker anyway,” she said as she bent to get out the metal bowl. It tapered at the bottom to fit into the stand, and she put her roses in and held them to the side so Dawson could cram in the rest. She beamed at them. “They’re really kind of pretty with the metal.”
She held another stem out of the way as she filled it with as much water as she could hold, and then she turned and set the bowl in the middle of her dining room table. Dawson moved to her side, and she leaned into him easily.
“I love these,” she said, melting into his warmth. “I love roses.” She turned toward him. “Thank you, baby.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured just before he kissed her. He’d texted her early this morning too, the same words but the thought meaning so much to her.
“I love your hair,” he said as he moved his mouth to her jaw. “I love those shoes.” He kissed his way down her neck. “I love this dress, and I adore the way you smell.”
Caroline hung onto his shoulders as he lifted his head. She grinned at him, loving the way she fit in his arms and the way he knew how to hold her close while still letting her have space.
“I love that you’re wearing a pink shirt,” she whispered as she pressed her cheek to his. His beard tickled as it brushed against her skin. “I love that your tie has birds in the shape of hearts on it. I love that you were early, and I adore every minute I get to spend with you.”
He pulled away, something akin to lightning in his eyes. “I was early, Caroline, because I can’t stand being ready and waiting around.”
“Mm hm.” She fiddled with his tie, the heart-birds making her so happy.
“I’m early.” He cleared his throat. “Because this date is the last thing on my list, and I just wanted it to get started. Then I could stop obsessing about it.”
Caroline realized he was telling her something important here, and she slid her hands down his chest and around to his back. “Okay.” She tilted her head back and looked at him, waiting.
“I have OCD,” he finally said. Just like that. “Diagnosed. I manage it pretty well, though I do take a mild medication to help with that. I’ve seen a counselor for years to develop coping strategies. I…I know who I am, I guess, and I’m okay with how I do things. I’m hoping you will be too.”
Caroline gazed at this beautiful man, and she couldn’t believe he was the same grump she’d come home fuming about only a few short months ago. My, how things could change when she got to see the layers beneath a person’s facade.
“I will be,” she said.