Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Magnolia sat in the window seat of the bookstore with her face inches from the glass waiting for the Hennessys to come out of the town hall.
She had been on pins and needles ever since Huck and Dawson had left.
As soon as she saw all four siblings step out into the bright morning sunshine, her heart did a flip in her chest.
Although maybe it didn’t have to do with finding out who was contesting the will as much as the sexy man in the brown cowboy hat, faded jeans, and one of her uncle’s white T-shirts that clung to his muscular chest like a second skin.
Damn, Dawson had a nice body. It had taken sheer willpower to keep her gaze from his naked chest earlier that morning.
And when he’d gotten out of bed to pull on his jeans, she’d almost swallowed her tongue at the sight of his lean muscled legs and tight butt in those navy boxer briefs.
All she’d wanted to do was tackle him to the floor and slide her hands over all those muscles from broad shoulder to hard calves.
And if the kiss he’d given her was any indication, he would have let her.
What held her back? What caused her to ignore the cravings she had for him? Was he right? Was she scared of wanting something so much she couldn’t live without it? Terrified that she’d end up like her daddy . . . a sad man unable to even talk about the woman he’d loved and lost?
The Hennessys suddenly dispersed and Dawson and Huck started down the street toward the bookstore.
She hurried downstairs thinking they’d step inside to tell her the news.
But by the time she got to the front of the store, Huck’s motorcycle was already pulling away . . . with Dawson riding behind Huck.
Which made her spitting mad.
She grabbed her cellphone and fired off a text to Dawson.
You weren’t even going to come in and tell me?
When several minutes went by without a reply, she texted again . . . and again . . . and again.
Don’t you even think about not answering when I went out of my way to help you figure out who it was.
I swear I’ll blow up your phone with calls and texts.
Have you ever heard Jingle Bells texted one word at a time?
She was about ready to type Jingle when her phone pinged with an incoming text.
Cadee Stockton.
She stared at the name. Cadee Stockton? She was the person contesting the will? Magnolia’s mind raced with questions and there was no way she could text them all.
She thought he would ignore her call, and it would go to voicemail. So, she was shocked when he picked up on the first ring.
“What?” She could barely hear him over the wind and rumbling of a motorcycle engine.
“Don’t you what me, Dawson Hennessy. You can’t drop a bomb like that and think I’m not going to have a lot of questions.
What did Billy say? Why would Cadee want to contest the will?
Why would your mama give her the right to?
Was she there today? Did y’all get to talk to her?
Or does she even know that you know that she’s—”
Dawson’s deep laughter shocked the heck out of her.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“Yep.”
“Well, stop.”
There was a long pause. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” While she struggled for a reply to that, he continued. “I’ll stop by the bookstore as soon as I get my truck and answer all the questions I can.”
He hung up.
He took his good, sweet time getting there.
It was well after one o’clock in the afternoon by the time his truck pulled up in front.
She was going to let him have it for making her wait so long, but the words died when he stepped in holding a big bouquet of flowers and a sack from Sloppy Joes.
He didn’t offer them to her. He just set both down on the counter and glanced around.
“Is anyone here?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the flowers. They were roses. Pink roses. “Umm . . . no.”
He walked back to the door and flipped the Be Back in 15 Minutes sign over that Uncle Otis used when he had an errand to run before he turned back to her and took off his hat.
It looked like he’d showered again. His scruff was less scruffy and his hair looked damp. Uncle Otis’s T-shirt had been exchanged for a jade green T-shirt that not only showed off his nice body but also brought out the gold of his eyes.
“No, Cadee wasn’t at Billy’s office,” he said. “And Billy doesn’t have any other information about why Mama put her in the will or why Cadee is now contesting it. But I intend to find out.”
Magnolia looked at the bouquet. “You brought me flowers?”
He cleared his throat. “They’re a thank you for . . . last night. Huck suggested red roses, but I know how much you love your pink.”
She picked them up and brought them to her nose. “They’re lovely.”
“I got you lunch too. Caesar salad with chicken because I figured you wouldn’t eat a sloppy joe and fries.” His eyes twinkled. “What with your willpower and all.”
She laughed. “I’ve had a sloppy joe and fries before.”
He quirked a brow. “A fourth of a sloppy joe with four fries?”
“A half with ten fries.”
The grin was quick, but enough to make her heart leap. “Well, then next time I’ll get you a sloppy joe and fries and we’ll split it.”
She stared at him. “Next time?”
He sighed. “Okay, so the truth is I was thinking about cutting things off with you.”
“Cutting things off?”
He awkwardly waved a hand between them. “This friendship thing.”
“Oh.” She tried not to let the wave of disappointment she felt show.
“But then I realized . . . after your million texts today that you aren’t the type of woman who can just let things go. Or people. What I’m saying is that I guess I’m stuck with you as a friend. At least until you head back to California.”
The wash of joy that spread through her body scared her. But not nearly as much as the thought of losing Dawson . . . as a friend. Simply a friend.
“You know I can still text from California.”
He tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. “Shiiit.”
She giggled and opened up the Sloppy Joe’s bag. “What are your thoughts?” She took out the salad and removed the lid. “Why do you think Cadee is in the will?”
He helped himself to a crouton on the top of the salad. “I don’t have a clue. Neither does Huck, Poppy, or Jaxon. The only thing I can think of is that Cadee must have spent a lot of time with Mama before she passed. I guess I’ll find out when I drive out to see her.”
“And you think she’s going to just answer the door this time?”
A stubborn look hardened his features. “I’m not leaving until I talk with her.”
Magnolia rolled her eyes. “I can just see it now. You and her brothers having a knockdown drag out brawl in the front yard. I’m sure that will get her to accept your offer of your inheritance.”
“Then how do you suggest I talk with her?”
“I don’t think you should talk to her. I think you should let me make the offer.”
“You didn’t get past the front door either.”
“That was because I took you with me. Next time, I’ll go to the ranch alone. I’m extremely good at getting past good-lookin’ cowboys.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve dealt with a lot of good-lookin’ cowboys, have you?”
She smiled smugly. “I got past your defenses, didn’t I? And you are one hard nut to crack.”
He hesitated for a long moment before he nodded. “Fine.”
She was more than a little surprised by how easily he’d given in. “Really? You’re just going to let me help you without grumbling and fighting?”
“I’ve discovered that there’s no fighting you when you want something. It’s better just to give in.”
For some reason, an image popped into her head. An image of Dawson stretched out on her bed upstairs completely naked . . . while she had her way with him.
“Maggie May?”
She blinked the image away and saw Dawson staring at her with a crinkled brow.
She pinned on a smile. “Then it’s settled. I’m going to talk to Cadee. Now did you eat lunch? Because this is definitely enough to share.”
“Thanks, but I don’t eat salad.”
“Then you can have some chicken.” She started to open the set of plastic utensils when his cellphone rang.
As soon as Dawson answered, his face lost all color. “Yeah . . . okay.” He hung up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it one of your siblings?”
He took a deep breath and released it. “That was the vet. Wilbur is ready to be picked up.” He shook his head. “This was a bad idea. I’m not good with dogs. Certainly, there’s someone in town who will take him.”
For a second, she considered taking Wilbur.
What Uncle Otis didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
But something told her that Dawson needed this dog.
Pets helped heal deep emotional wounds. The little rescue terrier, Gigi, her daddy had gotten her after they’d moved to California had certainly helped her through a tough time.
Now all she had to do was get Dawson to keep Wilbur for a few days and realize that.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sure there’s someone in town who would love Wilbur.
” She paused. “Of course, not a lot of people are going to jump at the chance to own a dog who is going to need special care until he gets over his surgery. And three legs might be a deterrent. They might worry he won’t be able to walk. ”
“I’ve seen three-legged dogs before. They get around just fine.”
“True, but people won’t know that until they see it for themselves.” She opened the set of plastic utensils and pulled out the fork. “What about if you just kept him until he gets up and around? Then I’m sure people will be more willing to take him.”
“You mean just for a week?”
She speared a piece of chicken and held it out to him. “Yes, just for a week . . . or so.”
He nodded before he opened his mouth and let her feed him. He chewed and swallowed. “Okay. But you’re coming with me to get him. If he’s a biter, you’re taking him for the week.”
As it turned out, Wilbur didn’t get a chance to bite.
He was muzzled when the vet tech led him out on a leash.
Magnolia was shocked by how well the dog was walking after having his back leg removed.
He was wobbly, but that probably had just as much to do with the painkillers as the missing leg.
He looked much better now that he’d been washed and deloused.
But he was still huge . . . and mean looking.
Especially when he took one look at Dawson and started growling.
Magnolia figured Dawson would have walked right out the door if she hadn’t grabbed his arm and kept him there.
“He’s just scared, is all. Aren’t you, boy?
You just don’t know what these strange people are doing to you.
” She lifted Dawson’s hand and held it palm down toward the dog.
“Go ahead, Wilbur, take a sniff. He might look a little grumpy, but he’s got a good smell.
Like sturdy pine trees and cold winter nights.
” When Dawson didn’t say anything, she glanced over to find him staring at her not the dog. “Well, say something.”
“Thank you.”
She laughed. “No. Say something to Wilbur.”
He looked down at the dog. “Hey.”
Wilbur sniffed his hand and growled.
And the growling didn’t stop. He growled and fought when the tech led him outside to the truck. And he growled and fought when Dawson and the tech tried to put him in the kennel in the bed of the truck.
Not wanting the stitches to tear open, the tech suggested they forgo the kennel and let him sit in the front seat between Dawson and Magnolia. Something Dawson wasn’t thrilled about.
“You’re taking him,” he said as they headed out of the parking lot.
“No, I’m not. He’ll be much happier in a big house with a big yard than at the bookstore.” She scratched Wilbur’s ears. “Huh, Cutie Pie?”
Dawson downshifted and Wilbur growled low in his throat. “Cutie Pie, my ass.”
When they got to the Hennessy’s house, Dawson lifted Wilbur down from the truck. The dog would have taken off if Dawson hadn’t made a grab for his leash.
“You won’t be able to let him off leash until he realizes this is home,” Magnolia said as she came around the truck.
“This isn’t his home. It’s just a rehabilitation center.” Dawson’s eyes widened as Wilbur squatted to take a poop. A huge poop. “Holy crap!”
Magnolia laughed. “We should have put doggie poop bags on your list.”
Since Huck and Poppy were working at Honky Tonk Heaven that night, they had the entire house to themselves.
Dawson had set up a special place for Wilbur on the back screened in porch with the bed, food and water dishes, and chew toys he’d picked up at the store.
Once Wilbur had finished doing his business and peed, they took him around to the porch where Magnolia poured some of the food the vet had given them into the food dish.
“What are you doing?” Dawson asked when she reached for the dog’s muzzle.
“I’m taking off his muzzle so he can eat and drink.”
He backed up as if she was getting ready to light a firecracker. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Stop being such a chicken.” She took off the muzzle, then watched in horror as Wilbur growled and hobbled straight for Dawson. Dawson froze with terror in his eyes.
Grabbing the dog toy closest to her, she started squeaking it. Wilbur stopped inches from Dawson and whirled around, his dark gaze pinned to the toy.
“Lookee, what I got, Wilbur. It’s a cute little squirrel.
” She squeaked the fuzzy blue squirrel numerous times before she threw it into the dog bed in the corner .
. . as far away from Dawson as she could get.
Wilbur looked at the squirrel and then back at Dawson.
After a nerve wrecking moment, he hobbled over to the bed and grabbed the toy in his mouth, squeaking it repeatedly as he flopped down.
“You’re taking him home,” Dawson said.