No One But You

4

Dawson wasn’t entirely sure Sadie would show up. At one-forty, he still hadn’t heard from her. He kept pausing to gaze toward the highway, hoping to see her distinctive green-and-brown car. But there was no sign of her.

Had her ex-husband gotten hold of her? Convinced her not to work for a “murderer”?

The memory of how Officer Harris had tried to bully him at his own door made Dawson long to break his jaw. The dude deserved it. If Dawson had his guess, Harris wouldn’t be much of an opponent. He hid behind his badge and his gun, would have no clue how to handle himself in a fight where those things weren’t allowed and his position as an officer didn’t count for shit. But if Dawson wanted to bring his sister home and rebuild his life, he had to be careful. He couldn’t get in trouble, especially with a Silver Springs cop. The entire force was so sure that he’d gotten away with murder, the blowback would be severe, and he couldn’t afford to become a victim of police harassment right now. Law enforcement had done enough to destroy him.

At a quarter till two, he pulled out his cell phone again. He had his ringer turned on, in case she tried to reach him. He’d already checked his call history. But maybe something weird had happened and her call had inexplicably transferred straight to voice mail...

Nothing. No missed calls. No texts. He was dialing her number, figured he might as well face it if she had bad news, when he heard the sound of an engine and looked up to see her El Camino turn into the drive.

“Hallelujah,” he muttered and hung up before the call could go through.

She was out of the car and grabbing the handles of four bags of groceries by the time he could reach her.

“Hey,” he said.

She glanced over one shoulder. “Hi. Sorry I’m late. The diner was busier than usual, so they made me stay an extra half hour. Shopping took a bit longer than anticipated, too.”

“I’m not upset.” He was just glad she’d come. He tried to take the groceries from her, but she wouldn’t relinquish them.

“I’ve got these. Why don’t you grab the vacuum out of the back? And the slow cooker next to it,” she added as she headed to the house.

“Got it.” Her vacuum didn’t look like much. Neither did the slow cooker, or her car, for that matter. Even she looked a little beleaguered. He’d noticed the dark circles that underscored her hazel eyes when she interviewed with him, but they were more pronounced today, when she wasn’t wearing makeup and had her fine blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Now that she was in jeans and a Lolita’s Country Kitchen T-shirt, and not the blousy top and skirt she’d had on before, he could also tell she was thinner than he’d first thought.

Although he knew there were probably a lot of guys who’d find that waiflike look attractive, he wasn’t one of them. He liked his women with plenty of curves. But he hadn’t hired her for her looks. He only needed her to be reliable.

She was making room on the counter to stack the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink when he set the vacuum in the living room and put the slow cooker on the table.

“Sorry you’re starting at such a deficit,” he said, seeing the mess he’d created the past several days through fresh eyes. He’d thrown out everything that’d been broken—all the beer cans, cigarette butts and other trash teenagers and various vandals had left behind, as well. But he hadn’t been taking the time to clean up after himself. “Daylight hours are precious to me. I haven’t been able to waste them on housework.”

With the sink clear of dishes, she began running hot water. “I understand.”

He propped his hands on his hips as he gazed around. “So...you’re going to start in this part of the house?”

“As far as I’m concerned, the kitchen is always the best place to start. It’s the heart of the home, as they say. I’ll get this clean and organized so that we can make meals and...get around in here. It’ll take some time, though. I might have to tackle the other parts of the house tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.” Hungry, he began rummaging through the groceries to see what there might be to eat. “How much do I owe you for this stuff?”

She wiped her hands before getting the receipt out of her purse.

Once he saw the total, he pulled $200 out of his wallet. She tried to give him change, but he waved her off. From what he’d seen, she didn’t have much, either. “Consider it a very small bonus. Have you had lunch?”

She watched as he opened a loaf of bread. “I heated up some leftovers when I changed out of my uniform. Why? You haven’t eaten?”

“Not lunch.”

He was surprised when she took the package of ham he’d just picked up and started to shoo him out of the kitchen. “I’ll make you something and bring it out.”

She didn’t seem to expect a lot of hand-holding. He liked that about her. “Are you sure you don’t have any questions or...need some direction?”

“I’ve cleaned plenty of kitchens,” she said with a wry smile.

“Right. Thanks.” Dawson breathed a sigh of relief as he left the house. He hadn’t had a lot to go on when he hired her, but he was beginning to think he’d found the right person.

* * *

After Sadie made Dawson a sandwich, she cut up carrots and celery and added them to his plate along with a small puddle of ranch dressing. Then she carried it all out along with a thermos of coffee. The farm was nearly a hundred acres, big enough that it took her several minutes to find him, but she eventually spotted a lone man weeding and trimming artichoke plants in the far quadrant and figured that had to be him.

He removed the ball cap he was wearing and wiped away the sweat on his forehead as she approached. Maybe he was a murderer, but no one could say he wasn’t a hard worker, she thought. A glance at the field revealed that he’d done a lot to clean it up—a Herculean task for only one man. “Thanks,” he said simply.

“Happy to help. Will this be enough, or—”

“Plenty. I can’t overeat. Too much food will bog me down.”

“I’m getting the impression you need to eat more than you have been. How else will you keep up your strength?”

He was so intent on the sandwich, he didn’t look up. “Anger and determination make for pretty good fuel.”

“Even that can’t carry you forever.”

He met her gaze. “No.”

“So it’s a good thing I’m here.”

He said nothing, just took another bite of his sandwich.

“Do you intend to run this farm by yourself?” she asked.

“This year,” he replied when he’d swallowed. “Until I start making a profit, I don’t have much choice.”

“Once I get the house cleaned, I can help.”

“Outside?” This time he spoke as he chewed. “You’d be willing to do that?”

“Until your sister arrives, and I need to keep an eye on her, why not?”

“With all the hoops I have to jump through, there might be a few days where that’s a possibility,” he admitted.

“I don’t have your strength, but I’ll do what I can.” She lifted the thermos. “This is coffee, by the way. I figured you’d have water—”

“Yeah. I’ve got a jug over there.” He jerked his chin to indicate the edge of the field. “But—” he took the thermos “—where’d you get this? I don’t remember seeing one at the house. I looked.”

Sort of proud that she’d anticipated his need, she smiled. It was a small thing, of course, but she liked feeling successful at her job, especially because it was only the first day—typically the toughest. “I brought it from home. I didn’t know what you had and what you might need, so I put a few things in the car, in case.”

“What else did you bring?”

“Some spices and utensils. And a knife. I’m picky about my knives. They have to be really sharp.” He made her so nervous she’d spoken without thinking. Only after those words were out of her mouth did she realize she was talking about an item that could be used as a murder weapon to a man accused of killing his parents.

He paused with a carrot stick halfway to his mouth, as if he could guess her thoughts, but he let it go. “I see. That was thoughtful of you.”

She tried not to notice the way his T-shirt clung to his muscular torso. He looked good enough to be featured on one of those man-candy calendars, she thought. Sly had a nice body, too. He spent a lot of time in the gym to make sure of it. But he didn’t have the face that Dawson did. His skin was too pockmarked, his features too angular and harsh. The pull of attraction was something she hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. Feeling it now proved a little disconcerting, considering what Dawson had supposedly done.

Embarrassed by her own reaction to him, she gestured to the field surrounding them, hoping to direct his attention elsewhere before he could recognize the romantic interest. “You’re getting a lot done.”

“You’d think it would go faster.”

“How long have you been at it?”

Yanking on the bill of his cap, he settled it back on his head. “Since the day I got home, nearly two weeks ago.”

That explained the sun-kissed color of his skin. “Then I’m especially impressed. You’ve made a lot of progress for such a short time.”

He squinted at the ground he’d covered. “Doesn’t feel like it. Not with so much yet to do.”

“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.”