King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,39

nice bath, I wouldn’t delay any longer. It was my personal bargaining chip. I’d take a bath, then go to the RV. In the morning, I’d clean the entire trailer so I wouldn’t dread using the bathroom. Maybe I could clean it well enough that I wouldn’t have to live at the cabin all summer. But I wasn’t going to worry about it tonight. If that was possible.

I went inside. Dawson’s place was quiet. I would miss this quiet. My RV didn’t block a single moo, and the wind made everything creak until I fell asleep afraid I’d wake up in another county. Did Dawson want his place back to himself? Would he ask me to stay longer? The invitation had been extended but we hadn’t discussed it.

We hadn’t had sex yet either.

I thought he’d want to go beyond spooning after our date in Billings. But he’d been quieter than normal all the way home. Had Aiden said something to scare him off? I’d never had much to do with the oldest King brother. Growing up, he’d been even more untouchable than his brothers as far as I was concerned. He still acted as lofty, but like he functioned on his own plane, one that no one else could reach. Not even his wife.

Kate had chattered the entire time she’d taken me through their gigantic house. The pictures were beautiful. All local artists, all Montana scenery. I’d managed to hold back my heartache when she’d stopped in front of Sarah’s framed photos. The first King matriarch had used nothing but the intrinsic beauty of the land and natural lighting. And her pictures included my land. She’d never separated the two.

Once, she’d even told me that our families weren’t meant to be separated and that I’d always be welcome in her home. I had believed her.

Then I’d been hurt for years because I thought she’d lied.

I believed her again. But being welcomed on King land was different than living there. Was that the divide Dawson had a hard time spanning?

I needed to move back home. I didn’t mind moving slow, but it was starting to feel like I was the only one who knew the terms.

I took my bath, groaning as I sank into the warm water, bubbles covering my chest and giving me teeny-tiny massages as they burst. The whole time I was in there, I searched my phone for the type of physical therapy exercises I should be doing. Whenever I found one, I took a screen shot. I couldn’t afford PT, but I also couldn’t afford to hobble around and possibly hurt myself again. I kept thinking I heard doors opening or footsteps, but the house remained quiet.

It stayed that way as I dressed and loaded my clothing into the grocery bags I’d packed them in. I stopped in the kitchen and made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’d have to get groceries for the RV tomorrow. After I threw out everything in my little dorm fridge and wiped it out.

I took a bite of my sandwich and went out to the pickup. The bath had helped ease the ache in my leg. My sandwich was gone before I reached home. Dawson’s pickup was no longer by the barn.

I looked at the rust-stained trailer. Then at the barn that needed a new paint job twenty years ago. The shop with the door that’d been stuck open for five years and the fences that had been cobbled together out of scraps. Some posts were wood, some were metal. Some were round, some square, and some probably stolen from someone’s garden in the middle of the night.

Pop wasn’t a thief unless he took something that wasn’t worth pursuing.

Daisy romped into the RV, happier than I was about being back but not as excited as she was when she darted into Dawson’s place.

“Home sweet home.” The words died in the silence. It wasn’t like I’d meant them.

I put my stuff away and started cleaning. The place was dusty and I changed my bedding, grunting to get between the full mattress and wall of drawers on each side without wrenching my leg.

There. Done.

I looked out the window toward the trailer house. Could I make it all night without using the bathroom?

Probably. But I’d forgotten to bring a water jug.

Damn.

I sighed and flopped onto my back. The sun had set. My phone stayed silent.

Had Dawson been that content to get rid of me? Had I misread everything between us? It wasn’t like