CHAPTER TWO
-:- DALLAS -:-
Soaking in my tub, I take my glass of chilled white wine and sip it.
I love my tub, and I have a relaxation routine that I follow religiously.
The water has to be as hot as I can bear it with drops of sweet-smelling oil in it.
I love patchouli bath oil as it is my absolute favorite.
It also has a bubble bath that has virtually no scent to it, but makes the water soft and soapy which moisturizes as I soak.
I’m not into rubbing all the body lotions onto myself after I’ve dried down.
I don’t use the candles when I do my routine after a night shift.
The bathroom isn’t dark enough to make candles worthwhile, but I truly like the atmosphere they give.
When I can get my own place rather than rent, I’m having the most luxurious bathroom ever!
A huge sunken bath I can step into. It’s going to have water jets with air bubbles and it will be big enough for four people, but there will never be more than two in it.
I’m not that way inclined when it comes to sharing my space. One on one is my preference.
It takes thirty minutes for the water to cool past my liking, so I’m out and dried in no time.
Catching sight of myself in the full-length mirror, I take a moment to preen.
I’m not one for blowing my own trumpet, but I like what I see.
My skin is blemish-free except for the battle scars of cowboying and bar work.
The good thing is they are all out of sight until I’m naked, and there aren’t too many of them.
The ugliest one is the belt knife scar that some drunk asshole sliced on my left hip.
If the knife had been sharp, it wouldn’t have been so bad.
A clean cut would have healed better than the jagged mess that I’m left with.
The right side of my waist has my storytelling scar.
That’s what I call it anyway. I got thrown from my horse when a big mossy-horned steer popped out of some brush and scared my horse.
He jumped sideways and tossed me into the air.
When I came down, he was six feet west of where he started, and I landed sideways on a big thorny branch.
When the doctor looked at it, he commented that if it had gone right through, the marks would have resembled a cougar bite.
That was enough for me! I made up a bullshit story, and the telling of it and showing these scars has bought me many a drink since.
My breasts are a bit more than a handful, but they are sure as heck not Dolly’s! They complement the rest of me nicely. My ass is very nice, even if I do say so myself, while being at the top of my sexy legs, it completes a good-looking package, I think.
Dressed and ready for tonight's night shift, I set to making my lunchbox for the break we rarely bother with. We’ll be stopping by the Wine Shop at least a couple of times, so maybe I’ll get to see that good-looking young manager that I stitched up.
Cork…that was his name. I would love to arrange something with him and see where it went.
I haven’t been interested in a man in years, and here I am lusting over some guy I’ve seen only a couple of times in one night, like a pervert.
I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a little fantasizing now and again.
That’s been a coon’s age too. Most of the bars I worked in didn’t cater to my taste in men, and most of the cowboys I worked with were just too full of themselves.
On top of that, I’ve never wanted to date someone I worked with.
That just puts up too many red flags for my liking.
Hearing a knock at the front door I know that will be Pryce. He’s always early so he can eat my first round of lunchbox making. I don’t know why I put up with him eating my food all the time.
Checking the little spyhole in the door, I know it’s him when all I can see is a horrible tongue wiggling around. That’s just gross. Opening the door, I walk away without looking.
“You shouldn’t walk away without knowing who’s standing there. You know that, right?” He has some nerve telling me that when he never stands back from the door so I can see him.
“If anything happens to me at my front door, you’ll only have yourself to blame.
If you didn’t behave like a kid every time you knocked, I’d recognize who was there, instead of guessing that the jerk with the slimy tongue is you.
” Arriving back at the table, I place a sandwich on a plate and slide it over to him as he takes a seat.
“Sandwiches again? Don’t you know how to cook?” Pryce has a comment every day he comes to eat.
“If you don’t like what’s on the menu, you can always eat elsewhere. It’s not like you get a bill or anything, is it?”
“I bet if I were a wine shop manager, I’d get a T-bone steak so I could keep my strength up!” Damn. I can’t stop the blush that rushes to my cheeks, neck and even my chest. It’s a good job my collar is fastened up fully. “Wow, I bet you cowhands have a saying for going red like that?”
“My daddy used to say, ‘You sure got some fire in them cheeks, Hunny.’ I used to blush even harder. Pryce, don’t you use my daddy’s words. They're not for the likes of you to mess with. They’re special to him, you hear me?” I point at him with the knife in my hand, and I see he knows I’m serious.
“Sure thing, Dallas. I wouldn’t mess with a daddy and daughter thing, um, stuff.
” Taking a bite of his sandwich, he tips his head as he looks me over.
“You sure look good for your twenty-nine years and all that tough life you’ve been leading.
You know that stud you’re gonna go after is only twenty-seven?
Does that make you one of them cougars like the one that bit you?
After some young, tender meat?” He knows he’s overstepped the mark when I slam the point of the knife I’m holding into the table between his fingers.
“We get along really well, Pryce, but you need to learn where your boundaries lie with me, and you just crossed one. Now, go wait in the car, and I’ll be out directly.
” I’ve never told him to wait in the car before, and I see that he knows he’s in trouble when he leaves the half-eaten sandwich on the plate and makes his way out.
Dammit all to heck, that was an over-the-top reaction to a stupid comment. I don’t know why I reacted like that, but he didn’t deserve it.
Taking two tubs of freshly prepared salad from the refrigerator, I add ham and cheese to both and figure that one of these will go some way to a quiet apology.
Halfway through the shift we pull up behind the wine shop. I suggested that we take our main break here just to show a presence. I sense Pryce wants to say more about the manager, but the quick glance I give him seems to do the trick.
Five minutes in and there’s a light shining from the door to the apartment. A figure walks over to us, and as I’m tonight's designated driver, which is normal as Pryce doesn’t enjoy driving, he heads to my window.
“You guys wanna come in for a coffee while you’re on your break? It might wake Brag up. He’s tonight’s babysitter, but he works in construction, so he sleeps like a log. Only it’s a damn noisy log that sounds like it’s going through a sawmill.” He looks pleadingly out of huge brown eyes.
“Dallas, go with the man. I’ll stay here and watch for bad guys. I prefer that to listening to boring conversation.” I catch Pryce giving a wink to Cork, but he looks totally oblivious to it.
“Sure, Cork, I’ll come and have a coffee with you.
Pryce, keep your eyes open. It had better be strong enough coffee to melt a horseshoe in it.
I don’t do these skinny lattes or cappo-choco-mocha-cinnos made with tree milk and tofu toppings.
” Smiling at him, I slip out of the vehicle and we head inside.
“I wouldn’t know how to make one of those things you just said, and I don’t have any tree milk in the entire building.” Oh no! He is so sweet! My humor has gone completely over his head.
Reaching the apartment, I hear the most horrendous snoring. “I sure do hope you get a different babysitter tomorrow night, Cork.” I see him twitch at my comment, and even though he mentioned babysitter first, I can see he doesn’t like having one. “So, how are you feeling now? Headache gone yet?”
I stand near him as he begins to make the coffee, but he shuffles away as though I’m invading his personal space. Taking the cue, I sit at his table and wait for the coffee.
“I still get a headache, usually when I’ve been moving about.
Whatever swelled up inside hasn’t fully shrunk back to normal.
At least that’s the easiest way to understand it.
Stitch has other things like cranium, contré- coupé, hippos-camping.
I don’t know what the hell hippos have anything to do with it, unless it was one of those that hit me!
” He gives me a lopsided grin and I can’t help but laugh out loud.
“Oh Cork. You know that cranium refers to the eight bones that help to make up the skull, right?”
“Eight bones? I thought the skull was all one bone?” He looks both shocked and interested, so I decide to show off a bit.
“There are eight cranial bones and fourteen facial bones that make up the skull. The contrecoup you referenced means bruising on the opposite side of the brain from the point of impact. The hippocampus is a part of the brain. I think it has something to do with learning and memory.” I give him my brightest smile, and all I get back is, “Oh!”
Grumbling from the couch ends our discussion as the babysitter named Brag appears.
“Some of us have work in the morning, you know. Gimme some of that coffee. It’ll help me sleep.” I almost laugh at his comments.
“Well, if coffee helps you sleep, good luck with that. It’s already ‘in the morning’, and as it’s Sunday morning, I’ll be surprised if you’re working.
At least if you’re awake, I might get some sleep.
Let yourself out will you, Dallas?” With that, Cork disappears to where I know his bedroom is, and Brag takes his coffee back to the couch.
Sitting at the table like a fool, I finish my coffee, leave my cup on the table and go back to work, slamming the apartment door as I go.
“So, when’s date night number one?” Pryce asks me. At first I think he’s being a dick again, but then realize he’s genuinely serious.
“There is no date night number one. Not yet anyway.” There will be, I think to myself, Cork just doesn’t know it yet. “Oh crap,” I mutter quietly. “It’s Sunday morning!”
Pryce chuckles before saying, “Well spotted, Tonto, my faithful…”
“I am not your Tonto. I am not your faithful anything, let alone companion. You are certainly not my Kemosabe, and yes, it’s Sunday. In case you’ve forgotten, Knuckles told us we had to be at their clubhouse for extra training this morning.” Gloating, I give him my most smug look ever.
“Okay, erm, let’s see. I don’t have extra training this morning, just you. I may however come along just to watch you suffer, I mean train. It is possible that I could offer some pointers or perhaps shout encouragement to you,” Pryce smugly states while giving me a huge smirk.
The rest of the shift passes surprisingly quietly.