Page 36 of Stables

“Dixon, what is going on here?” I’m having a hard time reading him.

His head tilts back as he mirrors my movement, crossing his thick arms across his broad chest.

The way his biceps bulge under the tight fabric of his t-shirt momentarily distracts me before I jut out my chin. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” I don’t want to be obligated to him, to owe him for whatever this is he’s trying to do.

He looks down, letting his hat block my view of his face. “I see shitty things happen to people every day. From patching up accidents and fights, to declaring the time of death on those I couldn’t save.” He raises his head far enough I can see his jaw tick. “This is me trying to do something…anything to save just one person.” He turns to glance at Paisley. “Two.”

“Am I supposed to feel lucky?” I try to chew on my lip, but the scab pulls on it.

“Char, you can feel however you want to,” he growls. “The meat is going to go bad in my truck. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. Can I put it in your freezer until morning at least?”

“You’re staying here again tonight?” Why does that make me both happy and terrified?

He nods.

“How long are you going to do this?” I ask quietly.

Those thick arms and shoulders of his shrug. “Until I know you’re safe.”

I blink at him.

What do I say to that? “I have room in my freezer.”

His hat dips before he disappears outside.

I’m not sure what I did to deserve his protection, but so far he seems legitimate. He’s so much bigger than Matt, there’s a little sense of peace knowing that he could probably hold his own against my ex.

Look at me, pitting them in a battle royale like I have a choice in the matter.

The cooler appears first, and it’s much larger than I expected.

“Oh, um, is that full?” I don’t think I have room in this fridge.

He grunts as an answer.

“There’s plenty of space in the freezer on the back porch.” It’s embarrassingly empty, but I’m slowly gaining some traction as the garden kicks me produce.

He sets his load down for a moment to kick off his boots. “Lead the way.” Lifting the meat to his waist, he follows me through the kitchen.

Pushing open the sliding glass door, I start to open the heavy lid, but my ribs stop me.

“I got it.” With a thump, he drops the Yeti and raises the top. “Is that zucchini?” he asks as he starts to transfer white wrapped packages into the icy depths.

“Yep. They are doing really good with the heat.” I won’t admit it took me two summers to get them to grow decent enough to get a crop.

Libby teased me as the only person in the world who isn’t successful with them.

I don’t think I’d have much food left if it wasn’t for them this year.

He moves the last of the meat quickly, and it nearly doubles the amount of stuff in the cavernous container.

The last time it was that stocked was before Paisley was born.

“My damn brother always gives me more than I can use,” Dixon grumbles. “So if I can keep this here for a while, feel free to charge me a storage fee of a few packages.” He pats the worn lid, then takes a deep breath like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.

Grabbing his cooler, he pulls one more thing out before he picks it up.

A big bag of coffee.

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