Page 84 of The Cowboy Who Looked Again

Caroline stepped over to Sandy and said, “My friend had to leave. It’s just me.”

Sandy frowned. “Just you?” It was clear she didn’t want to serve singles today, though Dawson had never had any trouble before. “It’s a table for two.” She glanced at all the others waiting, clearly torn about what to do.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed away from the wall and took the few steps to Caroline’s side. “There you are,” he said above the din in the diner. “Sorry I didn’t see you before.”

Caroline looked at him like he’d spoken Japanese, and even Sandy’s mouth had dropped open a little.

“You can cross me off, Sandy,” he said. “I’m with her, and we’ll take that table you’ve got for two.”

Sandy recovered first, and she snapped her mouth shut and waved the two menus in her hand. “All right. This way.”

Dawson waited for Caroline to go ahead of him, but she simply stood there staring at him. “Do you want to eat breakfast, or not?” he murmured. “Come on.” He moved in front of her and reached back to take her hand.

Her skin against his sent a pulse of warmth through his body, which he tried to ignore. This was insane. The woman didn’t even like him. His pancakes would probably taste like poison with her sitting across the table from him, glaring and throwing thinly veiled insults at him.

Sandy led them to a table against the wall, and Dawson sat down. “Thanks,” he said as he picked up a menu. Caroline sat too, and Sandy had already left.

“She wouldn’t have seated you without me,” Dawson said. He studied the menu he had memorized like his life depended on having his eyes on the breakfast choices printed before him. “We don’t have to talk. I’m just hungry.”

Caroline made a noise of disbelief. “We don’t have to talk?”

He glanced at her. “No.”

“Well.” She huffed, but Dawson went back to his menu. She wore a burgundy cardigan though it wasn’t anywhere near cold enough to wear such a thing this Sunday morning. He’d only met her once, but Dawson found himself wondering if she had a thing for sweaters.

Why do you care? he asked himself.

He didn’t, and he looked up as a waitress arrived. “Ah, howdy, Marianne.”

A smile split her face. “Dawson Rhinehart.” She laughed like they were best friends for life. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He glanced over to Caroline and then looked at Marianne again. “Been busy with harvest and Market Day and all that,” he said. Then he allowed himself to smile at the woman who was probably only five or six years older than him. “I mean, I’m playing hooky from church just for some pancakes.”

She laughed, and Dawson joined his chuckles to the sound of it. “You and a whole lot of other people,” she said. “You want water and orange juice now, with milk when the food comes?”

“You haven’t lost your memory,” he said.

“I should hope not,” Marianne joked. “I’m only thirty-six.” She grinned over to Caroline. “What about you, honey? Something to drink before I take your orders?”

“Diet Coke, please,” she said through tight lips and partially gritted teeth.

Dawson’s heartbeat skipped over itself, and not in a good way. More of a what-have-I-done? way. Dear Lord, he thought as Caroline then asked a question about the hashbrowns here. Don’t let this be too big of a mistake. I just wanted pancakes.

Marianne left to get their drinks, and Dawson looked over to Caroline. “You’ve never been here?”

“I’ve only been in Three Rivers for a few months,” she said. “I got assigned up here out of the Amarillo office, and the burrowing owl issue is recent. There are three of us here to deal with it.”

Dawson nodded, hating that they’d gotten to the owls already. His unfiled paperwork was surely only one breath behind. “The hashbrowns are good.”

Caroline actually looked like he’d attacked her favorite band or insulted her sweater. “They’re home fries,” she said. “I want shredded, crispy hashbrowns. With cheese.”

He found himself smiling at her, albeit briefly. “My mom makes them like that,” he said. “They’re really good.”

“With the cheese too?”

“Sometimes,” he said coolly, not liking her challenging tone. “Are you a cheese aficionado, then?”

“A what?”

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