Texan's Baby. Barb Han
on his tongue. “Fifteen minutes and you’ll feel all better.”
He yawned again and rubbed his eyes. “Sleepy.”
“Try to rest.” She couldn’t help noticing that Dawson still held her son’s hand.
Melanie perched on the couch next to Mason, turning the cloth to the cooler side, rubbing his back.
“What’s going on with him?” Dawson whispered. Concern deepened his tone.
“At first I thought he was teething but it has to be more.” All of Dawson’s attention was on Mason. Good. Melanie wouldn’t be able to stand it if Dawson scrutinized her.“He’s had teething syndrome, which means several of his teeth have been trying to come in at the same time. They’ve been giving him fits.”
“But that doesn’t explain the coughing and congestion.”
“Exactly.”
He looked up at her. Sensual heat crawled up her neck, and her face heated, which couldn’t be more unwelcome under the circumstances. She diverted her eyes to Mason, her safe place. No one could argue she’d been a good mother. Well, no one but her. Apparently delivering a child meant second-guessing every decision. By the time Mason’s first birthday rolled around, she realized it was most likely a normal part of the turf.
Growing up watching her own parents live in a loveless marriage, Melanie didn’t want to make the same mistakes. She wondered if they’d ever really been in love. Their relationship felt more as if they existed in the same house, like roommates and not husband and wife.
What they had was more of a mutual understanding than a marriage, and maybe a healthy fear of ending up alone.
If Melanie committed herself to a man, she wanted fire and spark and forever. Not someone content to live under the same roof or who was afraid to be by themselves.
And maybe that was a childish notion. Until she was sure about a relationship, she had no problem going solo. But then her last relationship, the one with Dawson, had set the bar pretty high before the unexpected pregnancy and everything that followed.
Fifteen minutes had passed and Mason’s skin was beginning to cool. He’d turned on his side and his breathing had grown steady. Sleep was a good thing for her little angel.
Dawson pulled his cell out of his pocket.
“Who are you calling in the middle of the night?” she whispered.
“My mother. She’ll know what to do.” His voice was low.
She’s already done enough, Melanie thought.
“It’s too late,” she said with a little too much emotion. “And this isn’t the first routine fever I’ve gotten my son through.”
“Is it? Routine?” The way he emphasized that last word made her realize he had other questions about his son’s health, questions she knew would come.
“It’s already coming down.” Panic skittered across her nerves. His mother’s words wound through Melanie’s thoughts. If the baby became sick from the genetic illness that had taken his baby sister far too early, Dawson wouldn’t survive. Then she’d reminded Melanie that Dawson had been adamant about never having kids of his own. He would never risk putting a child through the same thing his sister had endured. His mother had said that if Melanie told him about the baby, then he’d stick around, trapped, and that he’d resent her for the rest of their lives.
Melanie thought about her parents, who’d been forced to marry after an unplanned pregnancy, about their empty lives.
“He felt so hot when I touched his forehead. He was an inferno. It can’t hurt to get a doctor’s opinion,” Dawson said, forcing her out of deep thought.
“Mason tends to get sick fast and hard, and he gets the worst temps. Luckily, he gets over them just as quickly. He needs rest and plenty of fluids. I’ll give his pediatrician a call in the morning just to be sure.”
“His name is Mason.” It was more statement than question, the fire still burning behind Dawson’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“How did this happen?” He held up his free hand. “Don’t answer that...that I know.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“The rest is complicated.” Her gaze bounced from Dawson to Mason. She didn’t want to disturb his peaceful sleep.
“Not from my viewpoint.” Frustration and confusion drew his dark eyebrows together.
“I’m exhausted, Dawson. I’ve been worried about Mason. Is there any chance we can talk about this tomorrow?” She started to turn but was stopped by his strong hand on her arm. She ignored the sensual trill vibrating through her where he touched, shrugging out of his grip.
“I saw a shadow pass by the front window. I should investigate before I leave. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until I know why this is the first time I found out I have a son.” His voice carried a subtle threat, but there was no way Dawson would ever act on it. He was hurt, she could see that in his eyes, and he needed time to adjust to this new reality.
“Do we have to go through this right now?” she asked, hoping for more time, time to clear up her churning thoughts so she could speak like a reasonable adult.
The look he shot her could’ve burned a hole in Sheetrock. “Don’t you think you’ve kept him from me long enough? Or that he deserves to know he has a father?”
“He needs his rest and I don’t want to disturb him. We can talk tomorrow,” she said as coldly as she could manage with Dawson so close.
“Oh, you really must think I’m an idiot. First, you hide my own son from me for...how old is he?”
“Eighteen months.”
“A full year and a half...and then you think you can just tell me to leave so you can slip out of town again. Not this time. I’m not leaving your side until I know everything.”
Hell would freeze over before she’d tell him the whole truth. Besides, he was acting as if this were all her fault and that fired anger through her veins. She wasn’t just being selfish by not telling him about Mason, she’d been trying to protect him. “It takes two to tango, mister. You had to know this was a possibility.”
“But we were careful.”
“Condoms are only effective 98 percent of the time. Look who’s in the 2 percent.” She held her hands up and shrugged.
“They really should put that on the package.” His anger was still rumbling along the surface and this was not the time for a rational discussion.
“They do. You’d need a magnifying glass to find it. At least, that’s what I used.” Her attempt at humor was met with a chilly response. For a split second, she wished for that carefree breezy smile of Dawson’s. The way one of his lips curled in a half smile was just about the sexiest thing she’d seen. And it had been great at seducing her. Just thinking about it caused a similar reaction she had to consciously shut down.
She refocused on a sigh. “You already know he’s eighteen months, so ask me something else.”
“How’d you decide on his name?”
“It was easy. That’s where he was conceived.” She didn’t want to admit to Dawson how very special that day was to her. And it had been.
“The night we spent at Mason Ridge Lake?”
She nodded. Dawson deserved to know that much at least. She had no plans to tell him what had happened a few weeks afterward in his mother’s office. Her shoulders relaxed a bit the way they always did when she talked about her son, correction, their son. Like it or not, Dawson was most likely going to be part of their lives. For Mason’s sake, that was a good thing. But she was worried about Dawson. Had she just condemned him to the fate