His answer is more of a grunt, and I stand to the side as he unlocks the door and then ushers me in. I look at the house and am amazed by the farmhouse vibe. Everything is in place, framed pictures on the wall, big wood furniture. It’s amazing. I drop the bags, and even though I shouldn’t, I start to walk around, just taking it all in. “This is your house?”

  He nods, and with his hands still full, he walks through the living room. “This is the living room, kitchen,” he says with a nod toward the kitchen I can see from the open concept. “This is my room, and this will be yours.” He stops in front of a door and waits for me to go through. The same design carries through into the bedroom, and I know I should leave it alone, but I can’t. “Dawson, this place is beautiful.”

  I wait for him to explain. Who decorated it, the story behind the house, anything. There has to be something to say. This place is immaculate, and it’s cozy and just screams home. It’s nothing like the man I’ve come to know over the last month.

  He drops my bags on the bed. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to make a sandwich. I’ve got turkey, ham, roast beef.”

  “I can do it. You don’t have to wait on me.”

  “It’s a sandwich, Emily.” It’s obvious he’s losing his patience with me. It makes me wonder if I ruined his plans for this evening. I wonder if he had a date or something, but as soon as I think it, I get a burn in my chest. I don’t even want to think about why him with another woman bothers me, but it does.

  I blow out a breath. No matter what I do, I piss him off. “Do you have peanut butter and jelly?”

  He smirks and nods. “One peanut butter and jelly sandwich coming up.”

  I watch him walk out of the room. I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from looking at the way his jeans are snug on his ass. I’ve noticed him before, plenty of times actually, but it feels different now that we’re in his house. There’s a pull low in my belly. I’ve been attracted to him since the first day I met him. Even though he was scowling at me and still continues to do so every day at work, I still can’t get over these feelings that I have for him.

  I grab my toiletries, a shirt, underwear, and shorts and walk into the connecting bathroom. I shower quickly and get dressed before walking out to the kitchen. Dawson is sitting at the table, an empty plate in front of him. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is at the place setting across from him.

  When he sees me, his eyes travel down the length of my body and back up again. I can feel his gaze as if it’s an actual caress of his hand moving up and down my body. I swallow when he continues staring at my legs. My T-shirt is so big, he probably thinks I have nothing on underneath. I grab the hem of my shirt and knot it at my side to show him I have shorts on. Albeit short, I still have some on.

  His body physically trembles, and for the first time, I wonder if he’s attracted to me. He has never touched me or made me feel uncomfortable, but right now, I can feel the heat coming off him, and it’s directed right at me.

  I sit across from him, and he stares down at his empty plate. I must be a glutton for punishment because I want his eyes back on me. “Thank you,” I mutter.

  He lifts his eyes to look at me, but they’re guarded, and it’s obvious that I bother him just by sitting here. “How long have you worked at Savage Ink?”

  He leans back and lifts the water to his lips and drinks it. I figure he’s not going to answer, so I take a bite of the sandwich. The moan is instantaneous. Perfect amount of peanut butter and jelly. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, so this is really good.

  He shifts in his seat and starts to talk. “I worked at Red’s Diner in high school.”

  “At Violet’s diner?” I ask, surprised. Vi didn’t tell me that.

  He nods. “Yeah, well, her mom and dad owned it then. But yeah, same one. After high school, I started working at Savage. Aiden trained me, helped me get my license. I’ve been there ever since.”

  “Well, you’re good at it. I appreciate you training me on piercings.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve never been good at anything, but I love piercing. I love giving people a way to express themselves.”

  He stands up and walks over to the sink to wash his plate. Everything is in order here. Everything. There’s nothing out of place; it’s all very rigid. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s the same at work. All his tools and room are clean with no clutter. “You’re good at piercings,” he says and clears his throat. “You’re good with clients too. They like you.”

  I have to strain to hear him, but I almost choke on my sandwich when I hear the compliment. “Thank you,” I mutter around my mouthful. I finish the rest of my sandwich and take a drink of water before standing up and joining him next to the sink. He’s drying his plate, so I go about washing mine. He’s standing right next to me, and I know I should stop while I’m ahead, but I’m not that smart. I rinse my plate and turn to him, holding my hand out for the towel. He hands it to me, and I start to dry. “Except you. Most people like me, but you don’t.”

  He takes a step back, and his eyes look wild, like I’m trying to cage him in or something. He shakes his head. “I don’t not like you.”

  I shake my head at the phrasing. The way he worded it, he definitely doesn’t like me. I put my plate in the cupboard, fold the towel, and lay it next to the sink. “I’m going to sleep. Thanks again for letting me stay here. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

  I walk off before I can see the scowl on his face because I know it’s there.

  6

  Dawson

  I slept a total of three hours. I tossed and turned all night, thinking about Emily in her tiny little shorts sleeping in the next room. I finally fell asleep, but only because I was totally exhausted. I woke up with a massive hard-on, took a cold shower, wrote Emily a note, and got the hell out of there. She’s tempting... way too tempting. And I’m a weak man.

  If she thought I was an asshole before today, she definitely will now. No sleep, sexual frustration, wanting things I shouldn’t... all of it is taking a toll on me.

  I spent the morning getting the apartment ready for her. I kept picking up my phone, waiting for her to call me. My house is only a fifteen-minute walk from the shop, but I put in the note for her to call me when she woke up and I’d come get her. I wasn’t surprised, though, when she didn’t call and she showed up at the apartment midmorning.

  Once she got there, I got the hell out of there, ignoring all her thank yous and the curious looks I was getting from Aiden and Treyton. By the evening, I was a cranky son of a bitch.

  “Thank you.”

  My whole body tautens at her soft voice. I shrug, not even facing her.

  “Tate had my car brought back over. He didn’t charge me for the tow or the labor, only parts.” I don’t say anything. She doesn’t need to know that I offered to give Tate a tattoo in trade for the labor.

  When I don’t say anything, she continues. “And all the stuff upstairs. A lot of that was new, Dawson. Tags still on it. You didn’t have to buy me anything. I already owe you—"

  I cut her off, because I don’t want to hear it. “You don’t owe me anything. You had to have a bed and covers and stuff. Don’t read more into it than that,” I say, knowing I sound like an ass.

  She doesn’t say anything else, and my breathing only returns to normal once I know she’s gone. I lean against the wall, banging my head. I can’t do this. I can’t be near her without being an ass and then I feel guilty. It’s an endless cycle.

  I stalk out to the front. “When’s my next appointment?” I ask her from the doorway. I could easily walk over and look at the book, but I don’t trust myself to get that close to her. I worked the day shift today so I’m ready to have the night off and get out of here.

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  I stuff my hands into my front pockets. I was hoping that my last appointment had cancelled. The lack of sleep is catching up with me, and honestly, I need a drink right now.

  I’m looking out the front window. “Tattoo or piercing?”

  “Piercing,” she answers, and I can tell she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. No doubt she wants to do this one.

  Even though I’m completely on edge, I don’t want to disappoint her. “Bring them back when they get here. You can do this one.”

  I turn and walk back my room. The sound of Aiden and Treyton in their booths working fills the air, but all I can hear is the excited intake of breath from Emily. I can’t stop the smile from forming on my face. It’s not a big deal at all, but knowing that I put that smile on her face makes my world feel right in a way that I can’t even explain.

  I start setting things up when mere minutes later, Emily and Rick come in the door. Rick is a cowboy that works out at the Hayes ranch. He’s always been a quiet guy that never causes any problems when he’s in here, but the way he’s looking at Emily’s ass makes me crazy. Rick and I might have a problem today.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “So what are you getting done today?” I ask, getting right down to business. The sooner I get him out of here, the sooner I can go get my drink.

  “Nipples,” he answers.

  I nod at Emily, and she starts getting things ready. “Have a seat, Rick,” I say.

  He takes his shirt off and flexes like he’s trying to get Emily’s attention. She’s all business, double and triple checking everything, bringing the tray of equipment over.

  “You can lie back,” she says.

  He does with a smirk. “Hell, if I knew you were doing the piercing, I would have picked another piece of my anatomy.”

  Emily doesn’t acknowledge his joke, but the thought of her having to put her hand on his dick has me seeing red. “Knock that shit off, Rick,” I say with much more force than needed.

  His eyebrows lift, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Emily’s gaze jumps to mine, and I don’t even try to tamp down the way I feel. I won’t stand by and let someone talk to her like that.

  I stand over Emily’s back and watch as she cleans both of Rick’s nipples. I have to squeeze my eyes shut because I hate the image of her touching another man, even though it’s for work. I’ve done all kinds of piercings on women—nipples, clits, hoods, bellies—but I’m always able to do it in a professional manner, so I know this is not a big deal. But it’s still not easy to watch.

  Emily is very strategic and goes step by step in the procedure. When she lifts her gloved hand, she’s shaking. Rick doesn’t notice because his eyes are closed, but I do. I put a firm hand on her back to calm her. She lifts her green eyes to me, and I nod at her encouragingly.

  She smiles at me, and I hold in the groan. With a steady hand, she pierces both nipples. As she goes over the aftercare instructions, I start cleaning up. I give a head nod to Rick as he walks out the door, and Emily follows behind him. I finish cleaning up and grab my keys off the hook. I walk out front just as Rick is walking out the door. “I’m heading out,” I say to Emily without looking at her.

  She wants to say something. I can feel it, but I don’t stick around to see what it is. I keep walking, go past my truck, and walk on down the street toward the Whiskey Whistler.

  I barely get seated at the bar and Janie Bradshaw stops in front of me. “Did Carter send you here to check on me?”

  At first I’m a little shocked to see her here. She’s the daughter of Pastor Blake, and I’m pretty sure she’s not supposed to be hanging out at the bar. But she’s not asking me about her dad; no, she’s asking me about a rancher that I know is going to be pissed she’s here. “No, I didn’t know you were here.” I point at the bar top. “So Carter knows you’re here?”

  She shrugs. “If he doesn’t yet, I’m sure he will soon enough.”

  I let out a whistle. “Well, I’m not going to tell him, but you know when he finds out, it’s going to be ugly, right?” I tell her, shaking my head. I can already imagine the way Carter’s going to tear this bar apart when he finds out. Poor Malcolm, what was he thinking letting in Janie Bradshaw?

  She sits down beside me as the bartender stops in front of us. “Beer?”

  I nod. “Whatever you got on draft is fine.”

  He looks at Janie, but she shakes her head, turning down a drink.

  Janie sighs. “Carter is not my boss. I’m a grown woman, and I can do whatever I want.”

  She’s hurt, that much is obvious. The whole damn town knows how Carter feels about Janie. It seems like everyone does but her. I lift my mug at her. “Well, good luck with that.” And then I mutter under my breath, “You’re going to need it.”

  She tells my bye and goes down the bar seeing someone she knows, and I lift my mug to my lips. I chug a big drink and then set the mug down heavily on the bar. Fuck, I needed that.

  A woman that I’ve seen before comes up and sits next to me. I can’t place her, but when she turns in her seat, eyeing me, I know what she wants. “I’m not interested,” I tell her before she even says a word.

  Ignoring my lack of interest, her hand reaches out for me and lands on my thigh. I don’t touch her, but I do turn and look at her, scowling. She sees the look on my face and pulls her hand back. I say it again, enunciating each word. “I’m. Not. Interested.”

  She gets up, calls me an asshole, and then walks away.

  Yeah, it’s been awhile, and I’ve been known to pass time by taking a woman home with me, but I haven’t even looked at another woman since I saw Emily. I don’t want any woman’s hands on me... except hers.

  I drain the glass in my hands and order another one. “Keep them coming,” I tell the bartender.

  I can feel Malcolm staring at me, and I can’t say I blame him. I’ve started a few brawls in here but nothing too bad, and I always pay my tab, including anything that may get broken. I lift my mug and give him my best smile.

  He just shakes his head, walks up to me, and pats me on the back. “Let’s try and have a good time tonight. Drink a few, unwind, whatever. But can we try not to trash the place, please.”

  I laugh and lift the second beer to my lips, draining it in one chug. “Sure thing,” I tell him with a smirk.

  7

  Emily

  I should be working. Scheduling ads for the Whiskey Run paper. Doing some social media posts. Hell, there’s a whole list of things I should be doing, but instead I’m sitting here, still trying to figure out Dawson.

  He obviously doesn’t like me, but that doesn’t make sense. He’s gone out of his way to help me. He literally saved me last night. He bought me brand new things for the apartment upstairs, got everything moved in and set up before I even got here, and he’s taken care of my car. If he was really an asshole, would he have done all that?

  I thought since he had the night off, I would be able to get work done without worrying about him always scowling at me, but as the night goes on, I start to miss him, which is crazy. I obviously don’t have the best taste in men. Why would I want someone that is going to be an ass?

  Ring. Ring. I pick up the phone, ready for a distraction. “Savage Ink. This is Emily.”

  “This is Malcolm.”

  I silently groan. There’s usually only one reason that Malcolm would be calling. He’s the manager of the Whiskey Whistler. He owns the bar a block down the street, and I’m already wondering if I can just hang up and unhook the phone. “How you doing, Malcolm?” I ask lightheartedly, as if I don’t know why he’s calling.

  He growls into the phone. “I’ve been better. Send Aiden or Treyton down here to get Dawson before he destroys the place.”

  “They’re both in the middle of tattoos.”

  He sighs loudly into the phone. There’s all kinds of noise in the background, and I’m pretty sure one of the voices I hear is Dawson. “Fine. I’ll just call the sheriff.”

  “No, don’t do that.” I don’t know why I stop him. This is becoming a regular occurrence where Aiden or Treyton is having to go and save him. I should just let him spend the night in jail and sober up—face the consequences, but after everything he’s done for me, I know I can’t. “One of us will be there in a minute.”

  “Fine. Ten minutes, then I’m calling.”

  I hang up the phone and walk back to Aiden’s booth first. “Sorry to interrupt. Malcolm just called... Dawson is...”

  “I can’t go. I have to finish this. Can you ask Trey?”

  I nod and walk down the hall to Treyton’s booth. I lose hope when I walk in and Trey is in the middle of a big back piece. There’s no way he’ll be able to go. “Hey, Malcolm called and said someone needs to come get Dawson before they call the cops.”

  Trey stops the buzzing tattoo gun and looks up at me. “How is it up front? You busy?”

  I shake my head. “No, but...”

  “He’s harmless, Emily. He’d never hurt you. He’s just hard on himself and doesn’t know how to deal with his shit.”

  I purse my lips together. I’m not sure what all that means or why he’s telling me that, but that’s the second time that someone has made it seem that there’s more to Dawson than I know about.

  “Can you go and get him? Take him home?”

  Reluctantly, I nod my head. “Yeah, I’ll be back later.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll lock up.”

  I nod and go back up front to grab my purse. I drive down the block and park right in the front of the Whiskey Whistler. The place is rundown on the outside, and if it was my first time here, I’d be surprised by what I find inside. Everything is fancy. It’s like a big city bar instead of the small-town dive that it appears to be on the outside.

  As soon as I walk in, I spot Malcolm, and he points his head toward the back of the bar. I walk to the back, and Dawson has a chair raised over his head like he’s about to throw it. “Dawson!” I scream over the loud music and chaos.

  His head turns toward me, and he drops the chair instantly. I stomp my way over to him, and I don’t know if it’s all these weeks of dealing with his bullshit and attitude, but I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him. I grab his shirt and pull him down until we’re face to face. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

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