Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
HANGIN’ IN THERE LIKE HAIR IN A BISCUIT
Shelby
Is cowboy porn a thing? If it wasn’t before, it sure as hell is now. Holy mother of pectorals!
Day to day, it’s easy to forget how hot Dallas is.
I mean, there are so many other things about him to distract from the packaging.
Like how he sings so off tune that Nelly can’t help but join in the howling, and how truly terrible his dad jokes are, and how he insists on first eating all the crust off his sandwiches and is subsequently shocked every damn time when the rest of it falls apart in his hands.
Or how he gets giddy as a schoolgirl at the start of a new woodworking project, and he rides a horse like he was born on one. And he tells the best stories about anything at all, but mostly about his family. And how he listens in a way you know he’s not just thinking of what he wants to say next.
But every once in a while—and especially in these last weeks I’ve been living with him—I am acutely reminded of exactly how breathtaking the man is. Case in point, this cowboy porn shower scene that’s playing out behind me right this freaking minute.
One second, I was scraping cow shit off my boot, and the next I looked up to see my best friend with his head thrown back under the hose spray, water gliding over his muscular upper body and plastering his jeans to his thick thighs.
All he needed was a Bluetooth speaker blasting “Pony” by Ginuwine, and he could sell tickets.
I suddenly wished more than anything that I could be the Wonder Twin from Saturday morning cartoons who could magically take the form of water. I would kill to be the water sluicing over that hard chest, dripping down to lick over those abs. Whoa, mama!
Of course, when he caught me staring with my tongue hanging out, I came to my senses. Thank god. Lusting after my bestie is not allowed. Even if we already shared the best kiss of my life, and I’ve felt his dick pressed up against various parts of me. Nope.
“What’s the matter? You look a little flushed,” Skye says, appearing at my side out of nowhere.
“What? Who? Me? No.” Fuck. I sound like a teenager who’s just been caught watching porn. Oh, right.
Thankfully, she lets me off the hook. This is one very good reason why we’re friends. Frankie will get all up in your business like a chihuahua sniffing for bacon on your breath, but Skye understands that sometimes a girl just needs to keep shit to herself.
“Pops looked upset. Is it the calves? How many now?”
I exhale loudly, taking in the scene around us.
Fifteen mommas and their calves stand swishing their tails or napping in the paddock to the west of the barn.
A water trough has been hauled over for extra hydration, one of the farm dogs drinking from it like it’s his personal water dish.
“We’re up to fifteen diagnosed and still living as of last count.
Haven’t lost any more since we talked yesterday, though, so there’s that. ”
“If Ridge hadn’t already ripped the Kincaids a new one over their fence and crappy animal management, I’d be on Lulu’s back right now delivering a big ol’ bag of dicks for them to eat. Who the hell is running things over there anyway?” Skye is fit to be tied, not that I blame her.
“I stopped by to offer my services, but Boyd declined, of course. They’ve got a vet in OKC they bring out.”
“No surprise there. Those rich a-holes wouldn’t dare use a local vet, no matter you could run circles around any stick-up-their-ass big city doctor. Besides, they only care about their mineral rights, not the poor animals they pretend to farm.”
Since I can’t argue with her there, I get back to the matter at hand. “Hey, just thought you should know Pops was on the phone with the bank. Don’t know what was said, but I’m pretty sure the conversation explains the look on his face.”
“Shit.” Skye’s manicured brows scrunch together, and she glances toward the house where Pops must have disappeared. “Okay, thanks, Shelbs. We’ll talk later.”
I nod and head for my truck. There’s an arthritic alpaca named Weasel waiting for me on the other side of town, and the last thing I need is to hang around here waiting for more cowboy porn.
“Hey! Where you goin’?” Speak of the porn devil.
I spin to see Dallas, thankfully wearing a T-shirt now, even though his jeans are still stuck to him like a second skin. Do not look at his package, Shelby. Do not look at his… Dammit. I just looked.
I clear my throat and square my shoulders. “Gotta get to my next client.”
He runs a hand through his wet hair as he gets closer, and now we’re in the middle of a shampoo commercial. I need to get out of here. “Let’s grab drinks tonight at Knockin’ Boots. Whaddya say?”
And maybe because he’s shooting me that lopsided grin, or maybe because I can’t resist country music and a beer, or maybe because he’s my best friend in the world, I nod. “Sounds like a plan.”
Not five minutes after I pull onto Big Knob Road, my phone rings on the dash. I smile before hitting accept and pressing the speaker button.
“Hey, little brother. What’s up?” My brother, Archie, lives in Tulsa, a good three and a half hours east of Big Knob, where he works as a lawyer.
“I should be the one asking you that.” His voice has a frustrated edge to it. Uh oh. “Dallas? Really?”
I decide to play dumb to buy myself half a second. “You know I hate Texas, Arch. So, no, I have no plans to visit Dallas anytime soon.” I turn the steering wheel to take a back road and skip downtown.
“As much as my younger self always claimed, you’ve never been stupid, and you’re not now. Tell me why Charlene just texted me that you and Dallas are getting married?”
Why can’t Charlene—and everyone else in this town, for that matter—mind her own business?
Sure, I consider pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.
What is he going to do, drive here to call my bluff?
But things always have a way of coming to light when it comes to Archie and me, so, of course, I give in.
“It’s complicated.”
“So is my love life. Explain.”
I sigh and shake my head at the rows of waving wheat stalks catching the summer breeze as I pass. “We’re not really engaged. We’re just pretending.”
“How old are you? Ten?”
“Very funny. It’s for a good reason. Well, kind of.” When he doesn’t miraculously change the subject, I’m forced to continue. “You remember Shane?”
“I remember you telling me about him. I also remember thinking to myself, I hope he isn’t anything like Richie. Or Marco. Or that bounty hunter guy—what was his name?”
Must we recap my entire dating life? “Olaf. And he wasn’t a bounty hunter; he was a bail bondsman.” Olaf actually wasn’t bad. I just kind of got bored with him, if I’m being honest.
“Fine. My bad. So, what about Shane?”
“Well, turns out your hoping didn’t work. Thanks, though.”
“Damn, sis. I’m sorry. Maybe you should look into becoming a nun. I hear convent life has evolved a lot in the last couple centuries.”
Archie might be the most practical person I know. He’s the guy with a 401(k), a condo in a well-established corner of Tulsa, and a life insurance policy—even though he’s single.
“Unless the pope decides to let nuns bang, that’s not gonna work for me.” My truck tires throw up red dust as the road turns to dirt, and I inhale the earthy scent through my open window.
“Touché. Okay, so how does Shane being an idiot require you to propose marriage to Dallas?”
“Who says I was the one to propose?!” I sputter.
I’m shocked Archie doesn’t pass out from choking so hard on his laughter.
“Rude,” I’m compelled to add.
Still chuckling, he says, “Sorry, Shelbs, but you sewed yourself the first of many wedding dresses when you were twelve, and Dallas Gamble was voted most likely to die single from a venereal disease in high school. Just using my basic deduction skills here.”
“Well, Sherlock, I’ll have you know that neither of us proposed. Dallas just sort of…announced it. In public. In front of Shane.”
“Oh shit.” He’s not laughing now, is he?
“Oh shit is right,” I barrel on. “And now the whole town thinks we’re engaged because Dallas was trying to do this stupid noble thing and protect me!”
“Protect you?” Crap. “What does that mean?”
Double crap. “Um, nothing. How’s work?”
“Nothing, my ass. If you don’t tell me, you know Gamble will be my next call, so you may as well spit it out.”
Archie may be my little brother, but his protective streak is big and burly. And so is his affection for me.
So, I tell him about Shane being aggressive and rude and slightly stalkerish. And even though I do my best to tone it down, it takes all the way to the Fultons’ farm and poor Weasel to talk him out of storming out here on his trusty steed (a practical, midsized SUV) to avenge me.
“Let me know when you set a date,” he finally says when I tell him I need to go.
I pull my keys from the ignition and pause. “Have you even been listening this whole time?” Sometimes I wonder if I’m the central character in my own psychedelic nightmare.
His response? “Yeah.” And then he hangs up.
“Shelby’ll have a lager. Just the bottle, no glass. And an order of hummus with the pita things toasted and extra carrots.”
Norinne eyes me over her reading glasses before turning to Dallas. “I’ve been taking her order for going on twenty years, Dallas. I know what the woman drinks.”
Dallas lets her comment slide right off his back, smiling at both of us and leaning back in his side of the booth. “Just making sure my woman gets what she needs.”
Norinne grins and finishes jotting on her order pad. “I don’t know what you did to him, Shelby, but next time I’m in need of a miracle, I’m calling you up.” I’m not entirely certain how to take that, but I smile back anyway. Norinne is good people.