Page 35 of Stables

I bet if my mom was still alive, Paisley would have felt safe with her.

Except when Dad was drinking.

After growing up seeing him attack mom, I should have been better prepared to know what to look for.

I’m so stupid.

Maybe I should just stop the doctor now. Nip whatever he’s doing in the bud.

It’s obvious I can’t make good decisions about men.

Therapy would be the smart move, if only I could afford it.

With the house picked up as best as I can manage and the garden watered, I settle down with Paisley in the living room to enjoy the last of the alfredo that Libby made yesterday.

The knock at the door startles us both.

Panic races through me.

Is it Matt?

Libby?

“It’s Dixon.” A deep voice cuts through the thick wood.

My initial fear morphs into fluttering in my stomach.

When I swing it open, he’s framed in twilight holding my cup and jar with a scowl. “I forgot to give these back this morning.”

He smells like leather and horses, with dirt still clinging to the creases in his snug clothes.

It’s not fair how good he looks with that scruff on his jaw that blends in with the edges of his dark mustache.

“Thank you.” Is all I can muster as I hold out my hands for my dishes.

They’re still hot from his palms.

“You’re walking better.” He shifts to lean his shoulder against the frame, but doesn’t step inside. “How’s Paisley?”

“Princess!” she answers him unprompted.

I turn back just in time to see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’m sorry, Princess Paisley.” He reaches up and tips his cowboy hat at her, eliciting a wide smile from my daughter.

That’s new. My shy little girl isn’t so much with him.

“She’s doing much better today. Sassy and happy.” I move back near the back of the couch near the entryway.

What do I do now? As tempted as I am to invite him in, I don’t want to encourage anything.

“I have a question for you.” Dixon’s caramel colored eyes narrow on me. “My brother just put a steer in the freezer and gave me some, but I rarely cook. Did you want some steaks?” His gaze never falters as he watches me.

“Oh, wow. I haven’t had beef in—” I stop myself. That sounds awful when I put it into words.

It’s been months since I had the money for any. When I sold that horse, I only allowed myself a single coffee with Libby as a celebration. But he doesn’t need to hear that.

My arms wrap over my ribs as doubt begins to worm its way into me.

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