logo and his hands shoved into his dark brown coat. How his brown coat hid all the grunge that came with working on a ranch and mine only looked dirtier, I didn’t know.
Emma closed me in with him. The small exam room shrank even further around his broad shoulders. I wasn’t short, but he towered several inches over me.
Dawson’s brown gaze was serious by the time it collided with mine. He didn’t start with small talk. “Why can’t you stay with me?”
“Because I don’t need to.”
He cocked an arrogant brow, and it only added to his rugged manliness instead of making him repellent. “The snow’s started. I have your horse, your cow, and your dog. You might as well stay.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Are you going to put me in the barn too?”
“I have nice straw, what can I say?” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what cave you think I crawled out of, but I have a big house. You won’t even have to see me that much.”
I gestured to my cast. “All your bedrooms are upstairs.”
“Not mine.” Grief hid in the depths of his whiskey eyes. “I have Mama and Dad’s old room downstairs,” he added softly.
The reminder of his mom peeled open the haphazard bandage I’d slapped over my heart years ago. Sarah King had been one of the best people who roamed the earth, and one of my dad’s stupidest decisions had stolen her from us.
“I don’t want to sleep on a couch.” Dawson’s couch was probably nicer than the salvaged mattress I had in the RV, but I didn’t want to sleep under the same roof as him. If only the trailer were more inhabitable.
“I’ll stand at the end of the stairs so when you fall hopping up them, I can catch you.” His tone was dry. “You can use my bed.”
Heat swamped my body. There was no reason on God’s green earth that I needed to be near or in Dawson’s bed. I didn’t care if it was for convalescence. No. “I’ll be fine at home.”
That wasn’t true. I had no goddamn clue how I was going to stay in my RV and do what needed to get done, but I’d figure it out like I had all my life.
“Bristol.”
“Take me home.” I sat up and scooted my legs over, biting back a grimace. My right leg was killing me and my cuts screamed. “Never mind. I can call for a ride.”
“And pay them how? I didn’t see a purse on you.”
“I can call . . . someone else.”
“Like a boyfriend?” His voice was stilted. Odd.
I gave him a careful glare. “Yeah, like a boyfriend.”
He pulled out my phone and handed it over. The screen blinked on. The barrage of messages from Marshall would’ve been easy to see. My cheeks burned. Would there be a time I wasn’t ashamed around Dawson King?
I snatched the phone away from him but had nowhere to put it. I slapped it facedown. “Reading my stuff?”
“Didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “I saw it when—look, I’ll bring you home and maybe you’ll come to your senses before we get there.”
“Fine.” I sounded like a petulant child. Pop used to hate when I said fine. “Let’s go.”
“You need to get dressed.”
“I am dressed.”
He frowned and it did nothing to detract from his good looks, like the square jaw. The dark lashes around eyes that didn’t miss a single detail. Or the silky hair sticking out from under his hat. Dawson King was the hottest man I’d ever seen, and I hated him even more for it. “You need more than that.” He spun and left the room. Probably to go find equally hot Emma.
By the time he got back holding a foam-green pair of scrub pants, I was in my ratty winter coat, grateful that I hadn’t gotten blood on it. I pulled my stocking hat out of the pocket and stuffed it on my head.
He dropped the pants on the bed and left the room. I slipped the scrubs over my good leg and then wiggled around to get them over my cast. Pain screamed over my skin as wounds opened.
There was a soft tap at the door and Emma popped her head in. “Oh goodness, let me help you with that.”
“I don’t need—” I gave up. My chest was heaving and I hurt. Who the fuck cared anymore? At least she wasn’t Dawson.
“I’m glad you finally agreed,” she said as she slid the pants over