Texan's Baby (7 page)

Had Dawson lied about how well the night had gone? Why would he do that?

Melanie thanked her neighbor, deciding now was not the time to remind him how many times his TV had been turned up so loud that it had disturbed Mason. Instead, she promised it wouldn't happen again. She hoped it wouldn't, at least. Those first few months had been rocky, but she'd figured out plenty of tricks to keep her son calm since then. Sickness or pain couldn't be helped, though. She wished for thicker walls.

Maybe when Mason went to school and she got a better job she'd be able to afford to rent a small house somewhere?

In the meantime, she needed to find her son.

As she turned to go find her cell phone, she heard Mason's laughter. She moved to the parking lot and realized where it was coming from—the playground. Her complex had a small area with a slide and a few swings.

Well, now she was just angry.

She stalked over to the source of Mason's joy, stopping when she saw Dawson smack himself in the head with one of Mason's toys.

Mason roared with laughter.

“What are you thinking taking my son outside without letting me know?” she said, maintaining as calm a voice as she could muster so as not to upset Mason.

“Mama!” Mason exclaimed.

She walked over and kissed his head while the swing stopped. Dawson didn't immediately say anything.

“You're going to give yourself a concussion with that thing,” she said to Dawson, moving behind Mason to give his swing a push.

The boy giggled, clapping his hands. He loved the swings.

“What, this?” Dawson bopped his head again.

Mason laughed so hard he could barely breathe. Melanie giggled. She wasn't thrilled about it, but she couldn't help herself. A grown man smacking himself in the head with a fire engine was funny.

“Is that how you finally stopped Mason from crying last night?” she asked, giving Mason's seat another shove.

“Confession?” he asked.

“Fine. Go ahead,” she said, knowing that meant she'd have to forgive him for whatever came out of his mouth next.

“Last night didn't go so well,” he said, sounding defeated.

“Why didn't you tell me?” she asked.

“I didn't want you to worry. And I didn't want you to think you had to bring in his babysitter tonight. We survived and I know I can do this,” he said quickly.

“Not without being honest with each other.” Didn't those words taste bitter?

Especially when Dawson shot her a look and said, “Like you have been with me?”

Okay, he had her on that point. She wouldn't deny that.

“I can't change the past, Dawson. I'm sorry for how everything turned out. I should've trusted you and I was scared.” She didn't want to tell him the rest just yet. Not in front of Mason. “We both have adjustments to make if this is going to work. For starters, you can't take the baby without telling me. I was frantic.”

“You didn't see my note?” he asked. “I tacked it to the fridge. Figured you'd get a Pepsi first thing when you got up.”

That was actually really thoughtful. She was too busy running around the house like a crazed woman to see it.

“All I did was blast through the place looking for you and Mason. When I didn't hear or see anyone, I panicked.” The swing came back a little too fast and hit her arm. “Ouch.”

Mason roared with laughter.

“I won't do this again without telling you first. But the same goes for you. I want to know where my son is and what he's doing at all times,” he said, firing back.

He made sense. It would be impossible to keep each other updated every second. Wow. This was going to be more difficult than she'd thought. And she hadn't figured it would be a picnic before.

“Leaving a note was the right thing to do,” she conceded. “We'll figure it out over time. We're both new at this sharing thing. And you do seem to be doing a good job with him.”

“It was dicey until I figured out that me being in pain cracks him up,” he said, and she appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood.

“I had no idea he was such a masochist,” she said, doing her best to calm down.

“Apparently so.” Dawson gave another push.

“I wonder if we should be worried,” she joked.

Dawson's half smile tightened a coil low in her belly. It had been too long since she'd been with a man. Suddenly she realized that she must look a mess, and embarrassment heated her cheeks.

Or was the flush caused by something else? Something more primal that accompanied being this close to Dawson?

Chapter Eight

Dawson didn't mean to sound the alarm for Melanie earlier. He'd left a note. The panicked look on her face was the same he felt every time he thought about what had happened to Bethany and the gene he might've passed on to Mason.

Alexander disease might be a rare genetic disorder, but it was a devastating one, taking away everything about Bethany until it had drained her life, too. A burst of anger exploded in his chest as he thought about the past. Sitting on the sidelines with Bethany had him watching a slow death of the brightest star. There'd been nothing he could do to stop it or make it better.

Did Melanie have the same fear?

“Has he been tested?” He studied her, waiting for a reaction.

“No.” She looked at him apologetically.

“Have you considered it?” he pressed.

She nodded but didn't speak, and that pretty much told him she didn't want to think about it even though she had.

“When did you feed him lunch?” she asked, and he realized why she was redirecting the conversation. She wouldn't want to discuss something that important in front of Mason.

And she was right. They could talk about it once they got through the weekend.

Dawson checked his watch. “At about twelve. He seemed hungry, so I gave him Cheerios and I cut up bananas. He seemed to really like those.”

“I'm impressed. How'd you figure that out?” she asked. He shouldn't allow himself to feel a sense of pride.

“First, I checked in the cabinets. Then I searched my portable nanny here.” He held up his phone.

“Of course.”

“To be honest, the first thing I looked for was peanut butter and jelly. Thought I'd make him a sandwich.”

“His pediatrician wants us to wait until he's at least two. There are so many food allergies now,” she said. Then added, “It's about time for an
n-a-p
.” She spelled out the last word. “You were so insistent on figuring out everything on your own last night that I didn't warn you how hard it is to put him to bed.”

“I deserved that.” He could be man enough to admit that.

Melanie gave her son,
their
son, a five-minute warning that they would have to leave the playground.

“I'm guessing the
b-a-t-h
went okay.”

“No drama there. The tears didn't start until I tried to dress him after.”

“Let me guess. He threw off his clothes and ran down the hallway naked?” Her laugh was musical and Dawson didn't want to notice those little details about her anymore.

“He usually does that?”

“I call him The Streak for a reason. We have a whole thing that we have to go through to get him to bed without him feeling like the world is ending. When I saw you guys on the couch, I worried he might've given you a hard time,” she said. “You were so quick to push me out the door last night that I figured you had a handle on it.”

Dawson had a lot to learn about his son. He glanced up at Melanie and saw the brightest smile on her face.

Hold on a damn minute. He recognized that look.

“You're gloating,” he said.

“Am not,” she denied with a twinkle in her eye.

“Are, too,” he said. And didn't this argument take him back to their childhood? They'd fought like brother and sister, fierce yet forgiving, except that was where the familial similarities ended. Dawson had never thought of Melanie like a sister.

“Prove it,” she countered, and then gave Mason a three-minute warning.

“Challenge accepted,” he teased. They both needed a light moment. Even though his heart belonged to his son, becoming a parent overnight was a lot to process. Between that and the very real threat they faced, Dawson could use some levity.

“Time's up, little man,” she said.

Dawson steadied himself for the screaming fit sure to come because Mason looked pretty darn comfortable on that swing.

“Are you ready to race?” she asked her son while holding her arms out. Mason's face lit up.

Damn, she was good at this parenting thing. Dawson reminded himself how much more practice she'd had.

He followed behind them, scanning the perimeter of the playground and then the parking lot as they headed back to the apartment.

They'd had a few good moments on the playground and Dawson hoped to expand on that sentiment as they got to know each other as parents.

“I'll just clean him up and tuck him in,” she said, looking at him pensively. The awkwardness returned. “Did you want to... ”

“Come here, little buddy,” Dawson said, dropping to his knees, realizing after watching Melanie that confidence was half the battle with a toddler.

Mason flew into Dawson's open arms, melting any frustration he had about the change in temperature from Melanie. She'd closed up again based on the tension framing her eyes.

After a nice hug, she and Mason disappeared down the hall, hand in hand.

Dawson got busy in the kitchen. Living alone had given him the skills he needed to get by. He'd fed Mason but skipped eating lunch. Melanie was probably hungry, too.

He should still be furious with her, and that emotion simmered somewhere below the surface. However, putting Mason first meant getting along with the boy's mother. That meant setting Dawson's personal feelings aside, because one look at his son and Dawson knew that his own feelings would take a backseat from now on.

For now, he'd focus on lunch. A trip to the grocery store would come later.

From the supplies on hand, he could heat up bean and cheese burritos.

Melanie came in the room, fresh-faced with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Dawson tried not to think about the full breasts pressing against her white T-shirt or the soft cotton shorts resting on those full hips—hips his finger had trailed down while he admired her body not that long ago.

Even dressed down she looked incredible. Sexy. And woke all kinds of urges inside him. The sex he'd had since was lackluster by comparison.

Based on his body's reaction to thinking about it he needed to think about something else.

Diapers. Now, there was a subject that could kill a sex drive.

“Why are you smiling?” Melanie asked, entering the small kitchen.

“Already fixed a Pepsi for you.” He motioned toward the peace offering on the counter. He didn't want to notice the electricity pinging between them or the sizzle of attraction causing his blood to heat. Instead, he focused on stirring the pot of beans.

“That's really nice of you. Thank you,” she said as she moved to the other side of the counter.

“How'd you get him to bed so quickly?” Dawson scanned the hallway, half expecting the tot to come running.

“I told you. He loves his routine,” she said.

“Which is?”

“For naps I always wash his face and hands and then we race to the bed.”

“I'm picking up on a theme here,” Dawson said.

“Yep. He loves to run. The more I make things a game, the less resistance I get. I'm all about making things easier and saving the big battles for the important stuff,” she said, then took a sip of her Pepsi.

Sounded easy enough. Dawson could do fun.

“What are you making?” Melanie asked.

“Burritos.”

“They smell amazing.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent.

He should've looked away sooner and not let that heart-shaped face distract him. He didn't. And when she opened her eyes again and smiled at him, he lost himself for a second.

“Oh. Watch out for the burner,” she said.

Didn't he feel like an idiot? Standing there, staring at her, he'd burned lunch. Dawson pulled the skillet off the stove, set it in the sink and then withdrew his hand.

He'd gotten distracted and now lunch was ruined.

And wasn't that poetic justice?

* * *

M
ELANIE
HOPPED
OFF
the bar stool and sprang into action, opening the window before the fire alarm went off and woke the baby.

“You need some help in there?” she asked.

“No,” was the gruff response.

Dawson wasn't being a jerk. He was embarrassed and she felt bad. She could see that, even though he was still processing things, he was making a huge effort to get along and find some common ground. And maybe that meant he wouldn't show up with court documents requesting full custody when the dust settled from recent crazy events.

And would it be so bad to have a partner to help her bring up Mason? If she were being honest the past couple of years had been lonely.

“I can run out and pick something up. You can't imagine how nice it would be to run an errand while Mason's sleeping,” she offered.

His eyebrow went up.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about caring for him. He's still the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

His other eyebrow hiked.

“I'm just saying that I trust you to stay here with him while I pick up lunch.”

“Okay. I'll clean up this mess,” he relented, waving his hand around the kitchen.

“Turn that thing into a magic wand and maybe the whole place will be clean by the time I get back,” she joked, trying to recover the light mood from earlier. Sure, they were stepping on each other's toes and making mistakes. It had only been a few hours.

Dawson surprised her with a sexy little smirk. And didn't a thousand butterflies release in her stomach when he did? Thoughts of his glorious naked male form crowded her mind. So not a good thing right now.

It was a good time to make an exit before her lack of a sex life had her throwing herself at the man after one cute smile.

She grabbed her keys and made it to the car without giving away her reaction and embarrassing herself. No way did Dawson share the same attraction as she did. Okay, that was a lie. Maybe he still felt a spark. It wouldn't matter. She knew the man better than anyone and he'd never forgive her. Plus, she still wasn't being completely honest with him. She needed to find a way to tell him about his mother. Heck, there was so much to talk about. Where did she even start?

Bringing back fast food was most likely the easiest thing she'd do that day.

She returned with burgers, fries and strawberry milk shakes. His favorites. Hers, too, but she didn't want to think about how much they had in common. Right now she wanted to focus her energy on figuring out why Sprigs had come after her in the first place and on keeping Mason safe.

Dawson didn't smile when she handed over the food, and she figured now that Mason was asleep the questions would begin. Dawson had many. She could tell by his expression, and she'd always been good at reading him.

“How long does he usually nap?” Dawson asked halfway through their meal. He must've been starving to wait this long to speak, especially with the way he cleaned his plate.

“Hour and a half if I'm lucky,” she said in between bites. “Thirty minutes if I'm not.”

“He's a handful when he's awake,” he said.

“I'm not complaining,” she said defensively, careful not to give him the impression she couldn't handle this on her own.

“It's
me
, Melanie,” Dawson said. “Relax, okay?”

That was half the problem.

“What do you want to know?” She eased back on the beige stool.

“What's his favorite food?”

“Easy. Spaghetti,” she said, forcing her shoulders to chill.

“Color?”

“He'll tell you that it's blue, but it's actually green.” She hadn't thought about how much Dawson had missed of Mason's life. Sharing him would be difficult, but it hit her that it was the right thing to do for Dawson and her son. The two deserved a chance to get to know each other.

Dawson had been taking everything well so far.

“Why didn't you tell me about him?” Dawson asked.

“I was scared.”

He shot her a look that said he recognized BS when he heard it.

“Why didn't you really?”

She shrugged.

“I keep thinking about how I'm going to tell my family,” he said.

Melanie must've given him a look without trying to, because he pinned her with his gaze.

“What aren't you telling me?” he demanded.

“It's going to take time to learn everything about him, Dawson,” she hedged, trying to redirect the conversation back to a comfortable place. “Maybe it's enough for the two of you to get to know each other. We don't have to do this all in one day, do we?”

“No. Of course not. I have plans to stick around. I know we have a lot to work out and he needs to get used to my presence, but you need to know that I have every intention of being there for my son as he grows up.” He must've picked up on her discomfort. “And I want to contribute financially, too.”

“No, Dawson—”

“I've already given this some thought. All this stuff—” he picked up a diaper and a toy “—must cost a lot. I understand that you don't want to depend on me, but it's not fair for you to bear the burden alone. I have money saved that's sitting there, doing nothing.”

“Money that you've been saving since you were thirteen years old. I can't take any of that money. I'll let you help out with diapers and you're welcome to bring him toys—”

“Let me help you buy a condo or small place outside of town. Nothing fancy.”

“No way.”

“That way you won't have to depend on me for a check every month. Isn't that what you're worried about?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but—”

“You wouldn't have to be if you let me put a roof over your head,” he said.

She was shaking her head, which seemed to make him even more determined.

“How much do you pay here?”

“Nine hundred dollars a month.”

“For this?” Shock was written across his wide-open eyes as he glanced around.