Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dawson hadn’t realized how loaded his question had been until Caroline didn’t answer it with one of her snappy comebacks. “Let’s start with something easier,” he said, making the last turn that would get him to their dinner reservation. “When’s your birthday?”
The woman wanted special, Dawson knew. She hadn’t come out and said so, but the need for it pulsed in his heartstrings. He had a feeling she had spent most of her first marriage as an invisible identity, and she simply wanted to be seen, acknowledged, cherished, and loved.
“May tenth,” she said.
“Brandon’s birthday is in May,” Dawson said. “Twenty-third.” He gave her a smile. “Mine’s in October, so we’ve got a ways to go to get to that one.”
“What day?” She picked up her phone, like perhaps she’d type in the date. Like they’d still be together in eight months’ time.
“The second,” he said. “I’m glad it’s at the beginning of the month, though the stores do bring out Halloween about mid-August these days.”
Caroline grinned, agreed with him, tapped and tapped, then looked up. “I like to decorate for the holidays.”
“Do you?” he asked. “I didn’t see anything for Valentine’s Day. No wreath or anything on the door.”
She paused, and Dawson wished he could get inside her head and see all the layers there. He couldn’t, so he waited for her to say something as the big barn he’d booked reservations with tonight came into view.
“You’re right,” she said. “Traditionally, I’ve hated Valentine’s Day. Nothing good for me to celebrate.” She wrapped her arms around herself in a crossed-arm hug. Pure vulnerability streamed from her, and Dawson wanted to wash it all away. Make everything better.
“You don’t have to tell me right now,” he said. “But your ex-husband…did he abuse you?”
“In so many ways, yes,” she said. “Physically, no. But it’s the mental and emotional wounds that take the longest to heal.” She drew in a deep breath through her nose. “And no one sees those.”
“Don’t they?”
She swung her attention to him, those gorgeous curls bobbing a little with the moment. “They do?”
“We see how people act,” he said quietly.
“And if there’s anything I learned in therapy, it’s that nearly all decisions we make and the subsequent actions we take stem from our experiences.
” He made the turn into the big parking lot and followed the directions of the man with the light-up sticks, motioning for him to come forward and turn down an aisle on the right.
“So we see the wounds; we just don’t categorize them that way.
We think a person likes to make lists, or they enjoy getting up at five a.m. to run, or they like having rules for their life.
But those, darlin’, are the scars of our emotional and mental wounds.
They’re visible, if you know how to look. ”
“I—” She clamped her mouth shut, and Dawson pulled into the appointed space. He quickly turned off the ignition and grabbed his wallet before vaulting from the truck to go help her down in that sexy, vibrant, red-flower dress.
When he opened the door, he found her brushing at her eyes, and panic like Dawson had never felt before flooded him. “Dust and shadows,” he swore as he crowded into her personal space. “I said something stupid, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and sniffled. “No, you said something perfect.” She gave him a kind, if a little watery, grin. “I’ve never thought of my emotional wounds being so visible.”
“You follow the rules to a T,” he said gently. “It’s not a bad thing, but it also tells me that, at some point, you’ve been punished for coloring outside the lines.” He put one hand on her knee and reached up with the other to cradle her face. “You can color anywhere you want with me, darlin’.”
Her eyes drifted closed as she pressed into his touch. “Thank you, Dawson.”
“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are tonight? Did I say hello? Or did I go straight to kissing again?”
She grinned at him, bringing back the vibrancy that fueled his spirit. “You said hello, baby. Howdy, actually.” She dropped to the ground and pulled her skirt with her.
Dawson linked his arm through hers. “Okay, now this just looks like a regular barn, but I’ll have you know it’s one of the biggest reasons I love Texas.”
“You do love Texas,” she said with a giggle.
“Don’t act like you don’t,” he said.
“I’m still getting used to the Panhandle, though.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Now, if you don’t like this place, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself until after the date. Then you can tell me never to bring you here again, and I’ll have to decide if that’s a deal-breaker for us.”
The sidewalks leading to the big barn door—which was painted a bright white with a huge red heart in the middle of it—were lit by soft-glow lanterns hovering a foot or so off the ground. Everything had been cast in the color of romance, and Dawson felt it starting to hum through his veins.
“So you have deal-breakers for relationships,” she said.
“Sure,” he said. “The first one was that kissing my girlfriend can’t be like kissing my sister, and you passed that one just fine.” He cleared his throat. “Still do.”
The door loomed closer, and Caroline’s heels clicked with every step she took. He reached the door and opened it, letting out a wave of heat, but not much noise. It would get loud later, once the band started playing, but for now, Dawson’s anxiety over tonight’s festivities stayed dormant.
“Rhinehart,” he said to the woman standing behind a podium that had been made from reclaimed barn wood. It too bore the romantic lights, and flowers existed everywhere. Wreaths, and vases, and more horizontal displays, like the kind Dawson’s momma put out on the table for Thanksgiving.
“Dawson,” Caroline gushed. “Look at these flowers.”
“All of our floral arrangements are for sale tonight,” the hostess said. “Your table is number thirty-one, Mister Rhinehart, and you can go back any time you want.”
“Thank you.” He took the ticket from her and went with Caroline to look at all the arrangements.
“Did you ever think to buy yourself some flowers for Valentine’s Day?” he asked. “Or another special occasion?”
She looked over to him, part alarm and part relief in her expression. The two warring emotions didn’t go together, and Dawson feared he’d messed up again.
“No,” she whispered. “But I should.”
“Pick one of these,” he said. “I’ll get it for you.”
“Baby, you already got me the biggest bouquet of roses in the world.” She took his arm again and leaned into him. “Honestly, I don’t think any other woman in Three Rivers got roses, because you bought them all.”
He laughed, and it felt so good to do that. He loved being with this woman, and he loved making her smile, and he absolutely adored the way she made him feel.
She turned away from the rest of the room, not even looking at the rest of the arrangements. “Come show me why you love Texas.”
Dawson led her to the entrance of the main room in the barn.
Sometimes they had shows out here, with Chuckwagon dinners and fiddles and real barn-raising music.
Sometimes they had a display of Christmas trees that Three Rivers residents could buy, and all the money got donated to the Food Bank for the holidays.
And on special occasions like tonight, the big space had been transformed into a lover’s paradise, with tables that weren’t too close to each other, a big area in the middle for dancing, and huge, splashy urns full of…
more flowers. Several had silver, white, pink, or red heart-shaped balloons rising from them, while still others had the cardboard variety poking out of greenery and blooms.
Bare light bulbs hung from the ceiling over every table, providing a rustic atmosphere while also providing that pale, yellow, romantic light. The dance floor stood empty and waiting, and a man moved over to Dawson.
“What number, sir?”
“Thirty-one,” he said, showing the man his ticket. All the waiters wore tuxedos, with the waitresses in black dresses.
“This way.” The man led them out of the doorway and into paradise, getting them to the right table far faster than Dawson could’ve. He pulled out Caroline’s chair for her, and as she sank into it, he leaned over and whispered, “I love Texas even more now that you’re here.”
He went to his seat and sat down, taking the menu from the man who’d escorted them to the table. Once he’d gone, Caroline said, “I’ve lived in Texas for a while, actually.”
“Then in Three Rivers,” he said without missing a beat.
The menu only held three choices for an appetizer, three for the soup and salad course, three main dishes, and three desserts. “It’s one price,” he said, noting there were no listings on the menu. “I’ve paid for two, and you get one thing from each section.”
“Okay,” she murmured.
“Do you like seafood?”
“Not this far from the ocean,” she said.
He grinned at her, catching her eye for only moment as she glanced up while he looked down. “I love seafood,” he said. “Even this far from the ocean.”
“Noted,” she said coolly as she lay down her menu. “I know what I want.”
That she did, and Dawson needed to start praying that she’d continue to want him in her life. If he had a pad of sticky notes, he’d make himself a note to remember to pray for such a thing—on a white note.
Dawson had the menu memorized, so he set his aside too. “So do I.”
“Can I guess?”
He gestured for her to go right ahead, feeling playful and alive, because she wore such a playful and vibrant look on her face.
“Well, knowing the seafood thing now, I think you’ll get the scallops for an appetizer.
You only eat green things when your momma makes you, so I’m going to go with the French onion soup for the second course.
Surf and turf for your main, and the dessert…
that’s tricky.” She folded her arms on the table and tilted her head in the cutest way.
“I’m going to go with chocolate,” she said. “You seemed nuts about it in ice cream last week.”