Chapter 6
Camilla
Her palms were sweating.
Why on earth were her palms sweating?
Just because Dallas was back in Copper Creek didn’t mean a thing.
She wanted nothing to do with him. And Mateo promised that she wouldn’t have to see him.
So that begged the question.
Why on earth was her body reacting this way?
Cheyenne had insisted that she’d be fine when she’d dropped her brother off. Mateo had warned her he invited Dallas to dinner—but he hadn’t come.
It had been three days.
Three days!
And she hadn’t seen any sign of Dallas since he’d driven off with her brother in the direction of the hunting cabin they’d built last summer.
She was on edge, fidgeting as if she’d consumed several cups of coffee. Her fury had turned into a strange sense of anxiety mingled with an exhilarating anticipation. For seven years, she hadn’t seen him. For seven years, they hadn’t spoken. Seven full years wondering why he’d left without a word.
Answers.
Didn’t she deserve something from him?
She’d asked Cheyenne that exact question more times than she could count, and her friend had insisted Dallas wasn’t worth the energy.
Maybe she was right.
“I’m heading to town. You want to come?” Isabelle called from the open door. When Camilla didn’t answer, she hollered, “Camilla?”
“I’m good!” Camilla yelled, startling back to the present. “I’ve got some chores to do.” Chores that she’d been putting off because she’d been worried Dallas was going to pop up and ask if they could talk.
Not going to happen.
Under no circumstances would she waver.
If only Cheyenne was here to help her stay strong.
She blew out a heavy breath before she reached for her cowgirl hat that hung on the hook. Armed with her favorite pair of wranglers, her new boots, and her favorite hat, she headed outside.
The latest litter of puppies were now old enough for her to work with.
Some of their clients didn’t want more than the basic commands, while others wanted the full menu.
Camilla specialized in the foundational work, and she absolutely loved it.
If she could get to the pen where she’d told Isabelle to take the puppies earlier today without seeing Dallas, she’d call that a win.
Yes, she knew that the warring thoughts in her head made her sound crazy. But maybe that was a given after how things had ended between them.
“I’m definitely crazy,” she muttered to herself as she hurried past the barn and toward the secondary structure.
It had been a barn once upon a time, but they’d gutted it in order to suit their needs.
They’d added windows and installed an HVAC system so the dogs and their puppies remained comfortable in all weather conditions.
Camilla reached the building and exhaled with relief as she tugged on the door.
It wouldn’t move.
Frowning, she ducked to the side to peer through the closest window. The dogs were in the pen, ready and waiting. No one was inside. Had Isabelle entered from the other door? Or had she locked the door behind her?
Camilla patted her pockets. She hadn’t thought to bring her keys, and she wasn’t in the right headspace to go back to the house to grab them. Unfortunately, she might not have a choice. Tossing back her head, she let out a groan.
“Something wrong?”
A very unladylike screech escaped her throat, and she whirled around to find the one person she had hoped to avoid.
Dallas looked good.
Too good.
His beard was trimmed neatly along his angular jaw.
His hair was trimmed and combed back, begging for her fingers to run through it.
She missed the mussed look he used to pull off so effortlessly.
He was older. But then again, they both were.
Only Dallas had aged like a fine wine where she felt she’d gained a few too many wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.
As her eyes continued to sweep over his form, she couldn’t help but notice the way he filled out his Henley and jeans.
Yes, he looked mouthwatering good. Life wasn’t fair.
“Dallas,” she said, her voice too high-pitched.
He cocked his head, his eyes drinking her in and making her feel uncomfortable in her own skin.
Standing there, she felt utterly exposed to him. This kind of vulnerability had her panicking as she lost the venom and fury she’d harbored for the man who broke her heart.
Dallas sighed. While there was an appreciation in his gaze, there was also a sort of sadness and a surprising familiarity—one she wanted to hold against him. Especially when the next words fell from his lips. “Hey, Beautiful.”
She crossed her arms and her eyes darkened as they narrowed into slits. Somewhere deep inside, she knew if she attempted to speak, the words would come out cracked and painful. So, she spun on her heel and stormed away from him.
“Camilla, wait. We… I wanted to talk to you.”
“You’re seven years too late for that,” she snapped.
Camilla could hear his footsteps behind her getting closer, and her whole body practically vibrated with the return of her anger.
He’d made her fall in love with him. He’d made her believe they had a chance at a future.
Then he’d shattered her dreams when he’d walked away.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, and with a gentle tug, he pulled her around to face him. “Camilla,” he said firmly.
“What?” she bit out.
“We need to talk.”
She scoffed. “You had more than enough time to talk. You could have called. You could have written. You could have done something. But you didn’t.”
His brows furrowed, and for a moment her dedication to maintaining the distance between them wavered. Thankfully that flicker of doubt was snuffed out like the flame of a candle in the wind.
Camilla scowled. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is you think you want to say. Whatever the excuse might be. I don’t want to know.”
Dallas took a step forward and she stepped back. The hurt in his eyes nearly tore her in half, but she stuck to her plan. Without waiting for him to reach for her again, she charged away. If she could get the keys, she could slip into the building and lock him out.
The rest of the day was spent with her looking over her shoulder—or rather out the windows. She kept expecting to see him through the pane of glass. Worst of all? Camilla couldn’t shake the disappointment in not seeing him.
After several hours of hiding away, Camilla pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.
Eventually, Dallas would demand to hash things out.
She saw it in his eyes. Her only hope would be to get her work done at an hour of the day when he was less likely to drive the ATV out to the main part of the property.
Early morning?
Yes, definitely in the early morning.
“I can’t believe you came out! Things must be going okay?” Cheyenne shouted over the sound of the music playing at the country club. It had been a week and a half since Dallas had shown up.
Either he’d listened to her and was leaving her alone, or he was too busy getting situated with his job. Camilla couldn’t bring herself to dig too deep into why she hadn’t seen him.
“Camilla?”
She startled and met Cheyenne’s eyes. “What?”
“Everything going okay? At home? Dallas isn’t…”
“What, Cheyenne? Dallas isn’t what?” There was a bite to her tone—one that made Cheyenne flinch. Camilla sighed. “You know what? I’m going to get some air, okay? You want to come?”
Her friend frowned. “No, you go ahead. I’m going to get something to drink.”
Guilt hit her like a throat punch. Camilla couldn’t breathe. Cheyenne hadn’t done anything wrong. She was just trying to be there for her the way any friend would. And how did Camilla thank her? By practically biting her head off.
She pushed through the crowded room toward the open doors and nearly reached it when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her against a firm chest. Her palms landed on his chest, and she stared up into a familiar pair of blue eyes. “Dallas,” she whispered.
“Hey, Beautiful.” His eyes roved over her face. “Dance with me?”
All sense of self-preservation left her as she allowed him to tug her toward the dance floor. Maybe it was the music. Or maybe it was the electricity that flowed between them as his fingertips grazed the small of her back. Shivers wracked her body at his touch and at the familiar smell of him.
All at once, memories of what they’d had came rushing back in an onslaught that absolutely terrified her. She closed her eyes and turned her head. It was all she had the strength for. But then he whispered her name. Her heart stuttered as she looked up at him.
“Camilla,” he whispered again, searching her face. “Can we… I want…” He shook his head and pulled her against his chest. Her cheek rested against him, and he blew out an unsteady breath. “I’m sorry,” he rasped.
“Dallas—”
“Just let me…” Dallas let out a big sigh. “You’ll never know how much I regret it.”
She shut her eyes tight. As much as she wanted to believe him, she couldn’t.
Too much pain and history existed between them.
But rather than tell him that, she kept her thoughts to herself.
Right here, during this song, she’d allow herself three minutes of her past. She’d give herself this moment of peace.
Camilla had never felt as safe and secure as she had in his arms. But that had been before. Reliving those moments was addicting. And if it was only going to last for three minutes, she’d permit herself this time—only once.
Dallas’s fingers brushed the hair from her neck, his light touch causing a fresh wave of goosebumps to lift over her whole body. The warmth of his breath as he exhaled brought back even more memories of the first night they’d ever held each other like this. Tears prickled behind her eyes.
She’d missed this so much.
She’d missed him.
“Camilla?” he murmured against her temple.
“Hmm?” she murmured.
“I want you to know—”
“Camilla?” Cheyenne’s sharp voice rang in her ears and Camilla jumped away from Dallas.
Her face heated with humiliation. Cheyenne had been there with her through her heartbreak.
She’d been there through the hours of tears and prayers.
Cheyenne had suffered just as much, their friendship barely hanging by a thread when Dallas left.
How did Camilla thank her?
By dancing with the enemy.
Camilla’s eyes darted toward Dallas, half-wondering what he’d been about to say while wishing she’d been strong enough to resist him from the start. The heat in her cheeks intensified to the point that Camilla felt she might burst into flames.
A different sort of betrayal seemed to pierce through her, right into her heart. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” she whispered.
“Camilla,” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.
She darted toward the door, trusting that Cheyenne would still be willing to cut Dallas off if he tried to follow. She needed air. Then, she might be able to convince Cheyenne to take them home. After that? She didn’t know.
Something needed to change. She couldn’t keep living like this—scared for the next moment she’d bump into him. She didn’t have to forgive him. And she refused to be miserable while he was here.
If Cheyenne was willing to look past her momentary insanity, maybe she’d have an idea of how to make sure Dallas didn’t get to her.
Anything was better than how things were going right now.