Chapter 53
Tabby gazed up at the ancient beams of the barn as they lay together on the old cot. Cole had insisted she have the lion's share of it, which meant probably about a whole eighteen inches. He managed to stay pressed up tight against her, though, on the remaining few inches. She didn’t mind that at all.
But now it was time for her to go back home to Sheba and to whichever Dawson family dog was currently staying the night with her. “Gotta get back to my cabin.”
“I know.” He trailed a lazy finger lightly on her face, around the purple marks.
“Are you going around my scars, Hot Breeches?”
“Yup,” he answered, appearing completely unworried about her tone. “Somethin’ to do.”
“Well, you’re welcome. Glad my disfigurement keeps you from being bored.”
“You're welcome.” He stopped for a moment, propped himself on one elbow, and stared at her. Intently. “So, you’re a writer, huh?”
Her eyebrows rose. “I believe we've had this conversation? Like, a few months ago? When we first met? When you answered the ad to work for a, um, writer?”
He grinned at her. "Yeah, no. I know all that. But I mean, you can write more than just sexy stuff, right?”
She shook her head. Men. Even the ones who seemed relatively intelligent at first often became a question mark fairly quickly.
She pointed a finger at herself. “Writer. Means a whole bunch of other things can flow out of my pen. Smut, yes. But not just smut.”
“Right.” He got up, went and checked the heater, butt naked—which was really a quite fine process to watch—and turned the dial a bit higher. “Tabby, I’ve got a proposition for you. I've listened to my dad and grandpa tell stories all my life about the Dawsons and our history. Stuff they’ve been through, their grandparents too. I've looked up a few things in the library, or in older documents for school projects, but it's never been my focus. But now I really want a family history. A serious, real one. Of us, and our land.” He gazed at her with a faraway look. “Dawson Ridges Ranch. The real story, all of it. Documented, with proof. You said you're a bit of a history buff. Could you do that for us?’
“You mean…” Excitement swelled in her. “Research, get dates, names, any pertinent papers, find out who did what, when?”
“Exactly. I can’t pay you for it yet, and I’ll pay you as soon as I can. But I’m warning you right now, that may be years in the future.”
Her smile deepened. Did he really know what he’d just said, in this somewhat, off-hand conversation? “So you’re thinking about keeping me around… into the future?”
“I pretty much think my body parts just told you that story.”
“Well, people use their body parts without it meaning a contract, all the time. You know?”
“Well, this is one man who pretty much wrote up a contract earlier with his. If you’re interested.” He gazed at her wistfully. With a measure of—she couldn’t believe it—was that fragility?
She enjoyed the delicious feeling pulsing through her. Then she moved aside to give the man another inch of her eighteen, on the cot. Or two, tops. “I'm interested.”