Rescued (A McKenzie Ridge Novel Book 1) by Stephanie St. Klaire Page B
Authors: Stephanie St. Klaire
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work out the way it’s supposed to.”
He sat quietly for some time just looking at Sam, trying to figure out what it was he was trying to get across to Everly Shaw, what was this . He knew he wanted to be there, needed to in fact, he just didn’t know why, what was stirring in him. Why did he care so much? Was it what the gang back at the House said? Was he in a relationship ?
He cared about her, enjoyed her family even. He didn’t see himself seeing anyone else at this point, and definitely not sleeping with anyone else. The night they shared at the rodeo, by the creek, and the days leading up to it, were something he couldn’t explain. He enjoyed their time together, desired the time with her, she wouldn’t leave his thoughts, and he wanted more than anything for her to wake up.
CHAPTER 8
Days turned into weeks and Sam’s condition hadn’t changed, other than the bruises fading and wounds healing. When Dawson wasn’t working, he was at the hospital or helping her family with all that needed to be done while Sam healed. His mornings usually included trips to Baker’s, collecting everyone’s favorites, down to how they took their coffee, or chocolate milk as it may. They had developed a routine of sorts, that included taking turns on all fronts, beyond just watching Sam.
When meals weren’t sent over from friends and colleagues at the House or brought in by Sam’s hospital friends, they took turns bringing them in themselves. Dawson found himself chipping in more often than not, even with Ellie—trying to keep her busy and distracted was harder and harder as each day passed. She missed her mama.
More than once, Dawson had volunteered to take Ellie to Sugar Pine’s for her riding club, and to her “Art on the Prairie” class. It was good to get her out of the hospital; it was good for him to get out of the hospital so he could reconcile the events of late and figure out what the hell he was doing. As much as he wanted to be there by Sam, wished her to wake, and felt drawn to help her family, he just couldn’t settle on why those desires were so deeply rooted?
Sam the mystery had become Sam the muse, and now he didn’t know what this was called; a challenge he clearly accepted, but what is his goal and why was he so determined to achieve it? That, he could not answer. He was learning about and growing more fond of the woman that flooded his thoughts and kept him awake each night. He really needed to get a grip. He was falling hard for a girl in a coma.
His handful of outings with Ellie usually ended with a stop at the Snow Cap Soda Shop for ice cream cones and floats.
“What flavor are you feelin’ today, squirt? I think I’m having another round of that Sherbert.
After a long pause and with eyes out the window, after a long sigh, she finally replied in a sad, small voice, that lacked all the charisma that was Ellie Lou, “I don’t feel like ice cream today.”
“What? No ice cream? Are you trying to fool me into getting you extra ice cream again? Cause I’m on to you twerp!” His smile faded at the sight of what had to be the saddest little girl he had ever seen.
“Not even my favorite lemon taster’d with whipped’d cream and fairy sprinkles. It might spoil our dinner and give us belly aches and make our teeths fall out.”
“Wow, this is serious, I know how you love that lemon custard ice cream, and who doesn’t love all those fairy sprinkles that make you run faster?”
He paused at his own statement, trying to figure out when he learned to speak kid, and how it flowed so easily. Fairy sprinkles make your wings and feet faster? He was clearly spending a LOT of time with the four and under club. If the gang at the House heard him, he’d be the butt of every fairy sprinkle foo-foo joke there was. They’d have him in a damn tutu in no time.
“I just don’t feel the happies today, Dawson. Can we just go see mama? I wanna tell her I painted her favorite flower today with
He sat quietly for some time just looking at Sam, trying to figure out what it was he was trying to get across to Everly Shaw, what was this . He knew he wanted to be there, needed to in fact, he just didn’t know why, what was stirring in him. Why did he care so much? Was it what the gang back at the House said? Was he in a relationship ?
He cared about her, enjoyed her family even. He didn’t see himself seeing anyone else at this point, and definitely not sleeping with anyone else. The night they shared at the rodeo, by the creek, and the days leading up to it, were something he couldn’t explain. He enjoyed their time together, desired the time with her, she wouldn’t leave his thoughts, and he wanted more than anything for her to wake up.
CHAPTER 8
Days turned into weeks and Sam’s condition hadn’t changed, other than the bruises fading and wounds healing. When Dawson wasn’t working, he was at the hospital or helping her family with all that needed to be done while Sam healed. His mornings usually included trips to Baker’s, collecting everyone’s favorites, down to how they took their coffee, or chocolate milk as it may. They had developed a routine of sorts, that included taking turns on all fronts, beyond just watching Sam.
When meals weren’t sent over from friends and colleagues at the House or brought in by Sam’s hospital friends, they took turns bringing them in themselves. Dawson found himself chipping in more often than not, even with Ellie—trying to keep her busy and distracted was harder and harder as each day passed. She missed her mama.
More than once, Dawson had volunteered to take Ellie to Sugar Pine’s for her riding club, and to her “Art on the Prairie” class. It was good to get her out of the hospital; it was good for him to get out of the hospital so he could reconcile the events of late and figure out what the hell he was doing. As much as he wanted to be there by Sam, wished her to wake, and felt drawn to help her family, he just couldn’t settle on why those desires were so deeply rooted?
Sam the mystery had become Sam the muse, and now he didn’t know what this was called; a challenge he clearly accepted, but what is his goal and why was he so determined to achieve it? That, he could not answer. He was learning about and growing more fond of the woman that flooded his thoughts and kept him awake each night. He really needed to get a grip. He was falling hard for a girl in a coma.
His handful of outings with Ellie usually ended with a stop at the Snow Cap Soda Shop for ice cream cones and floats.
“What flavor are you feelin’ today, squirt? I think I’m having another round of that Sherbert.
After a long pause and with eyes out the window, after a long sigh, she finally replied in a sad, small voice, that lacked all the charisma that was Ellie Lou, “I don’t feel like ice cream today.”
“What? No ice cream? Are you trying to fool me into getting you extra ice cream again? Cause I’m on to you twerp!” His smile faded at the sight of what had to be the saddest little girl he had ever seen.
“Not even my favorite lemon taster’d with whipped’d cream and fairy sprinkles. It might spoil our dinner and give us belly aches and make our teeths fall out.”
“Wow, this is serious, I know how you love that lemon custard ice cream, and who doesn’t love all those fairy sprinkles that make you run faster?”
He paused at his own statement, trying to figure out when he learned to speak kid, and how it flowed so easily. Fairy sprinkles make your wings and feet faster? He was clearly spending a LOT of time with the four and under club. If the gang at the House heard him, he’d be the butt of every fairy sprinkle foo-foo joke there was. They’d have him in a damn tutu in no time.
“I just don’t feel the happies today, Dawson. Can we just go see mama? I wanna tell her I painted her favorite flower today with
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