No One But You

“You had breakfast, I hope.”

Her comment drew his attention back to her. “I had a bowl of oatmeal.”

“When?”

“Six or so.”

She frowned at him. “That’s too far to go between meals, especially when you’re working this hard.”

“I meant to go back in and grab something else, but I was too busy—and too nervous.”

This was nothing she’d expected him to say. “Nervous about what?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. His teeth weren’t perfect. There was one on the right side that crowded the tooth next to it, but the fact that he hadn’t had braces—that his smile was natural—worked for him. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. I promised Angela I’d have her home in a week. That wouldn’t be possible if I had to keep looking for someone to help me get the house ready and care for her.”

Sadie bent to tie her shoe. “What’s the rush? She’s in good hands, isn’t she?”

He was scowling when she looked up at him. “Of course she’s in good hands, or she’d be out of there already—even if I had to bust her out.”

Sadie cleared her throat. Perhaps she’d been too cavalier with that statement, but she hadn’t meant to insult his ability to take care of those he loved. “Right. I wasn’t implying that you would ever allow her to be mistreated.” She tightened her ponytail. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ll see you later.”

As she trudged back to the house, she breathed a sigh of relief to be out of her new employer’s presence. He made her uncomfortable for so many reasons. He had a huge chip on his shoulder, was too driven, too intense. And he was so damn handsome that she could stare at him for hours. All of which made her self-conscious. She constantly screwed up and said the wrong thing, something that shouldn’t be said to a man who’d been through what he’d been through.

“Just do your work and ignore everything else. You need the money,” she muttered to herself.

Once she reached the kitchen, she plugged in her slow cooker and added the roast and vegetables along with some water and a gravy packet. Then she set to work in earnest, pulling everything out of the cupboards and drawers, washing them and reorganizing them. She also cleaned the fridge and oven and scoured the sink, counters and table so she could feel more comfortable cooking in this space.

While she worked, she kept expecting to hear Dawson come in—to return his lunch plate if not to take a short break. But after two hours, she guessed he wouldn’t quit until sundown. He was nothing if not determined. That was one thing that seemed sure. So she used her phone to put on some music and tried not to think about being in a house that had a crime scene upstairs. Although the unnerving images she’d seen on TV crept in now and then—whenever she heard a strange sound that was probably just a settling noise—she stubbornly ignored it. She had plenty to keep her busy where she was, she didn’t have to go upstairs. She figured tomorrow would be soon enough to face that daunting prospect.

Although dinner was ready at six, she still hadn’t seen any sign of Dawson. Rather than put the food in the fridge for him to warm up later, she decided to take another plate out to him. He had to be starving. She’d seen how hungry he’d been at lunch when he’d wolfed down that sandwich, and that was hours and hours ago.

She found him in the same field. Once he spotted her coming toward him, he stuck his shovel in the freshly turned earth and leaned on it as if he could hardly stand up any longer.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack working so hard,” she said. “You realize that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think there are many people who would mourn my passing, do you?”

He spoke flippantly, as if even he didn’t much care whether he lived or died, and she realized just how lucky she’d been to be loved and wanted as a child, despite what’d happened to her parents later. At least they’d been able to give her a solid base—before she screwed up her life by marrying Sly. She wondered what the situation was with Dawson’s birth parents, if he’d ever had any contact with them, or if he’d been an orphan from the beginning. “Do you have any extended family in the area?”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t have any family at all, except Angela.”

Sadie couldn’t imagine a man who cared so much about his sister would murder their parents even if it did mean he’d inherit. That brought her some comfort—but it also made her question her own thoughts and feelings, made her wonder if she was building a case for his innocence because she preferred to believe he was innocent. “What about friends? I mean...you went to school here...”

“I stay in touch with a few guys. But the kids at New Horizons are sent there from other places. Most leave when they graduate. Other than the Turner boys, none of my friends stuck around here. I actually left for a while, too. Went to Santa Barbara, where I attended college and then worked, until my parents needed me to come home.”

“When was it that you returned?”

“Three years ago.”

The fact that the community didn’t know him all that well couldn’t have helped when he was accused of killing his parents. It was always easier to think the worst of a stranger—or someone with a bad reputation.

His attention shifted to the food. “Roast? Wow. Smells delicious.”

She tried to hand him the plate, but he waved her off. “Go ahead and take it inside, okay? It’s getting too dark to keep working out here. I’d like to wash my hands and eat sitting down for a change.”

“Okay.” She was glad to hear he was quitting for the night. Although he hid the extreme exhaustion she’d noted before behind a smile as if he was fine, she could see the fatigue in his eyes.

“I’ve got to put away my tools. It might be a few minutes.”

“I’ll keep your dinner warm.”

She picked up his empty lunch plate on her way to the house, put his food back in the slow cooker and set a place for him at the table.

The slap of the back door alerted her when he arrived. She heard him go into the bathroom off the rear porch, recognized the slide of the pocket door as he closed it. When he came out, his hands were slightly damp as he gestured at the single place setting. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate while I was waiting for you to come in. I’m just going to mop the floor. Then I’ll go.”

“It’s after six-thirty. I’m sure you’d like to see your son. Go ahead and leave. You can mop tomorrow.”

Now that she could see him in full light and not the dim twilight, he looked even more fatigued than before. She wondered if he was going to be okay after she left. “I checked on Jayden not too long ago. He’s watching a movie with the babysitter’s kids. I’d really like to get the floor done so I can go home knowing I have one room finished, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It’s all the same to me.” He gazed around as he took his seat. “You’ve made good progress already.”

“Only in here. Cleaning out the cupboards and drawers takes time, especially because I had to wash a lot of the stuff that was going back in them. Maybe when you’re done eating, I can show you what I accomplished,” she said, dishing up his food once again.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he said as she carried it over.

He didn’t have the energy to get up for something so trivial, she realized. He seemed grateful for the food, though.

Before she could fill the bucket she planned to use, her phone rang. She’d kept her ringer on in case Petra needed her. But when she checked her screen and saw it was Sly, she winced.

“Is that about your son?” Dawson asked.

She hesitated. Her new boss had been so intent on his dinner she hadn’t expected him to be paying any attention to her, whether her phone was ringing or not.

“Because, like I said, you can go,” he added.

“No. It’s not my son.”

“You don’t seem pleased to hear from whoever it is.”

“I’m not. It’s my ex.”

His chewing slowed. “Does he know I offered you the job—and that you accepted it?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he have to say about that?”