Dawson whirled away, even more pissed off than he’d been before. What the hell was it with that guy?
“I see the stone arrived,” Rita said as she came across the yard in her boots and hat. “How much more is there?”
“Just those two truckloads,” he answered, still angry and tense as hell. Dawson knew he shouldn’t let Sinclair get to him, but he did each and every time. “Then I can get the men back to work.” This whole thing was just a distraction from the real work of the day, and there was plenty of it.
“It looks like they’re working now,” Rita said, smiling. “I like how this looks. And it will be a lot better when it rains.”
“Maybe, but we’re going to have to be careful with the horses or we’ll have stones in every horseshoe in the place.” God, he just wanted to go home and be alone for a while.
“Then it’s good that the horses are being transitioned,” she said in her usual unflappable way. “How is the rest of the work coming?”
“The herds are down near the watering holes. The rain did us a lot of good, and we’re supposed to get some more.”
Rita patted his shoulder. “Dawson, I know you have everything in hand on the ranch. That’s not what I’m asking. Is the shed all cleared out?”
“Almost, and the muck pile was being moved and spread. But then the stone showed up, and if we wanted to be able to get in and out of the drive, then that had to be done. So all other work has stopped.” The third truck got into position and began dumping the gravel, and then Brad spread it with the loader before the guys raked it to further smooth it out.
“Is it really the gravel that has you all worked up?” Rita asked gently, a knowing smile on her lips. “Or is it Sinclair? I know he can be a little over the top.”
“A little?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her, something he had never done before. “That man is….” Dawson clenched his fists, wanting to shake from sheer frustration, but turned away, watching the last load of stone get dumped and spread. The drive looked a lot better and would handle the upcoming rains without turning into a mud pit. At least he hoped so.
“It’s just for a little while, and then Lilly and Ben will be married, Sinclair will be gone, and you can go back to normal around here.”
She watched as the last of the gravel work was completed, then thanked the drivers, giving each one a tip for a job well done before heading for her truck. He wondered where she was going, but didn’t ask her because it was none of his business. Dawson hated when folks poked their noses into his life, so he stayed out of other people’s.
“All right, guys. You did a real good job,” he said to the men, smiling.
Brad headed back to finish shoveling the poop as the others returned to their work.
Damn, Dawson was starting to wonder if he was going to survive this wedding. Still, he reminded himself that it was two months away, it would make Lilly and Ben happy, and he’d get a workshop out of it. Also, the heavy work was largely done—he hoped to hell—and now it was up to Sinclair, Lilly, and whoever else they had, to decorate and spruce up the place to get it ready. And that wasn’t going to be him.
Few times in his life had Dawson ever been so happy to have a day end. The sun had set a while ago, and yet because of the interruption with the stone, they had continued working well after dark to finish everything up. Now he was tired as hell and looking forward to a quiet night at home.
Georgia greeted him as she usually did, up on the chair, her back end going a mile a minute. He picked her up and gave her some love before letting her outside to do her business. Georgia ran around the yard, sniffing and running off some energy before squatting and taking care of things. Then she zoomed inside and ran around his legs in excitement.
“I know, I’m late,” he told her, and went right into the kitchen to get her dinner ready. When he set down her bowl, she attacked it, eating fast and then drinking her water before doing a back-leg stand and pumping her front legs. “Yes, I know. You’re the sweetest thing there is.” He sat so he could put her on his lap and pet her. “You’re the only one around here who doesn’t make problems.”
She stilled, listening, then hopped off and raced to the door, barking up a storm. She might be small, but Georgia was ferocious. At least that was the façade she put up until someone actually got inside. Then she was all excited and wanted their attention as well as his.
He opened the door and stifled a groan. “What do you want?” Dawson asked Sinclair. “Do you have more loads of gravel, or maybe a surprise delivery of flowers and bunting that needs to be unloaded?” Okay, so he was pissy and too tired to hide it.
“Man. Someone sure crapped in your cowboy hat.”
“And it was you,” Dawson growled, purposely not letting him in. This was his house, and he didn’t want the disruptions and chaos that Sinclair seemed to bring with him to envelope the one place where he could just be quiet and have some peace.
“Okay.” Sinclair rolled his eyes. “I came bearing a peace offering. Knowing you, I figured that you would be working late, so I stopped by the closest thing to a grocery store around here and picked up the stuff for dinner. I figured it was the least I could do after showing up with four dump trucks of work.”
Dawson unlatched the door and pushed it open. “Not to mention relocating a shit ton of crap.” He stepped back so Sinclair could come inside.
Georgia jumped up on the chair so she could assess this new person.
“Well, look at you,” Sinclair said with a smile, then turned to Dawson and grinned. “Now if that isn’t a surprise.”
Dawson stepped closer. “Don’t ever make fun of a man’s dog.”
“Are you kidding? She’s adorable. But I had somehow pictured you with a bulldog or something much more aggressive and mean-looking, like a Doberman or something.” He put his hand out, and Georgia sniffed it and jumped down, heading for the kitchen, which made Dawson chuckle. “Where did you get her?”
“I found Georgia as a puppy. She was this tiny thing hiding under my truck. I coaxed her out, and after unsuccessfully trying to locate her owner, I just kept her with me.” He led Sinclair to the kitchen, where Georgia stood guard at her empty dish.
Sinclair set two plastic grocery bags on the counter. “Like I said, I figured a peace offering was in order, and I thought that steak was probably a safe bet.”
Dawson leaned against the refrigerator. “So now wouldn’t be a good time to tell you I’m vegetarian?” He held a straight face, but the shock in Sinclair’s eyes was more than worth it. He had finally gotten the better of the man. “I’m just kidding.”
“Ass,” Sinclair retorted without any heat. He fished in the bags and pulled out potatoes, which he washed and got in the oven to bake. Then he fished around in Dawson’s cupboards for something to season the steaks. “I’m assuming you have a grill. If you don’t mind, I’ll put you in charge of these when the time comes.”
“You know you didn’t have to do this.”
Sinclair shook his head. “Yeah, I did. I think if I pushed any more of your buttons, your head was going to explode. Either that or short-circuit and you’d end up going in circles on a never-ending loop of ‘Danger, Will Robinson.’” Sinclair flailed his arms, and Dawson actually smiled.