Page 87 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

Then I log out and head for the stairs.

ChapterTwenty-Three

DAWSON

When I spinfrom the doorway, Quinn is halfway down the stairs. Our eyes lock, and my stomach hardens.

“I can explain,” he says, his jaw set.

“Allow me,” Brielle says, striding into the room, a porcelain cup of coffee cradled in her hands. “First, Quinn lies that you’ve agreed to the contract. In good faith, I approve our divorce. Then Dawson sends me his hair-brained idea to walk away from the mine and start a copper recycling enterprise instead. And then I meet your little plaything, and it’s all perfectly clear—”

“That’s enough,” I say because I’m not wasting time bickering. Especially with Brielle, a master manipulator. Brielle would never understand what Lexie means to me.

“Give me your keys,” I say to her.

She scoffs. “Why?”

“Damn it, Bee.”

She must read the tortured look on my face, because she strides to her purse in the kitchen and plucks out a set of car keys.

Clutching them in her fist, she returns, the sharp tap of her heels on the hardwood floor like a clock ticking down, reminding me that I may already be out of time.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, dropping the key chain into my palm. “We’ve come too far, Dawson.”

I stare into her cold eyes. “We’ve come to the end, Brielle. That’s for sure.”

“Wait.” Quinn hurries to the doorway where I’m slipping into a pair of shoes. “I’m coming with you.”

“Like hell you are,” I fire back.

“This is my fault,” he says. “At least let me help—”

“Let’s go.”

“What about me?” Brielle cries, throwing up her hands. “You can’t just leave me here!”

Without looking back, I leap down to the driveway and hurry to the black Nissan coupe. I slide behind the wheel and Quinn takes the passenger seat. With a squeal of tires, I reverse to the street.

“I didn’t know you weren’t going to sign,” Quinn says as I accelerate onto the main road.

I side eye him. “So you just went ahead and lied about it instead? Do you realize what a giant mess you’ve caused?”

Grimacing, he gazes out the window. “I heard her. She’s going to get what she wants. Fighting her isn’t going to change the outcome.”

“Giving in isn’t the answer either.”

“We could have worked together on this. Why did you keep me in the dark?”

I don’t have the right words for this yet. Did I want to be solely responsible for a solution? To take all the glory? Is it driven by greed—I want Lexie to myself?

“I want to build a life I’m proud of.” I grip the steering wheel. “That’s what I want.”

He leans back in his seat and rakes through his hair. “What about last night?”

My gut hollows so fast I feel sick. I replay the hunger in Lexie’s eyes, the warmth in her touch. The way her body fit with mine. Nothing has ever felt so good. So real. So perfect.

It felt like the beginning. A start of something precious.

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