Finding Northlane (Hawks Hollow Duet #1)

Prologue

Dallas

Nine Years Ago

“CAAANNOONNN BAAAALL!” I shout, flinging myself off the rickety bridge. I curl myself into a ball and launch my entire body into the water below. I arrive with an almighty splash and – as expected – it’s fucking freezing. I’m gonna regret this in the morning.

“Dallas Northlane, you’re a madman!” Samantha calls to me from where she sits under our tree on her picnic blanket next to the lake. Her blonde hair blows wildly in the wind as she fights to keep her head from being completely covered by the huge splash I just created.

When I finally surface, water splutters from my mouth as I scramble to the edge of the lake.

Sam’s eyes light up as I crawl seductively to her across the dirt.

Well, at least I think I look seductive.

I am nothing if not a complete heartthrob.

Despite being absolutely positive I look like a flailing walrus, I continue my display of sheer, masculine dominance until I’m almost in her lap.

“Oh, baby, how sexy,” she taunts, rolling her eyes at me. She picks up the towel that’s lazily plonked in her lap and throws it at me.

Feigning injury, I wink at her, wiping the fabric across my dripping chest. “You wound me, wife,” I tell her, pausing to soak in her beauty.

She looks absolutely incredible: pregnant and glowing.

I can’t help but smile as I trail my eyes across her swollen belly, loving how the soft, white knit of her sweater clings to her bump.

Leaning in, I plant a kiss on her cheek, and she emits a giggle that sounds like music to my ears.

“Get away from me, you grub. You’re all wet and you smell like the damn lake,” she exclaims, shoving me away from her.

Throwing the towel behind me, I lunge for my wife – carefully avoiding her belly – with a wicked twinkle in my eyes as my lips meet hers, and our mouths connect. Her tongue tastes like happiness as she slips it gently between my teeth.

She arches her back, deepening our kiss, and her hands curl up and run through my wet hair. Her fingers feel so soft as they press into my scalp and her lips tremble beneath my own as gentle moans escape her mouth.

My calloused palms snake up the milky flesh of her thighs, her body quivering as she writhes against my touch.

Goosebumps form, creeping their way across her skin.

She lets out another giggle as I pull my lips from hers, letting my mouth find its way down her chin and across the tender area where her neck meets her shoulders.

“Dallas, behave yourself! Anyone could walk past and see us,” she protests, feebly. Her smile now envelops her entire face, causing her dimples to sink further into her flushed cheeks. She lets her hands fall from my hair and leans back slightly, allowing me better access to her.

“I can’t help it, Bee, you’re a fucking vision,” I groan, my lips trailing their way down her arms. I slide her hand into mine, whispering sweet nothings as I continue to kiss my way down her hands.

The large, pear-cut diamond planted on her ring finger glistens in the sunlight, alongside its matching counterpart; a delicate, gold wedding band with a thick line of channel-set diamonds.

She always says the set looks so out-of-place on a woman who spends most of her time in jeans and one of my shirts – or her pyjamas – but I was not having anything but the best for her. Plus, I know she loves it. She didn’t spend hours designing it with me for nothing, right?

I release her hands gently, sitting back on the tartan picnic rug with a heavy sigh.

I watch her roll her eyes at me again. That’s twice in one day, that will not do.

My own hand raises ever so slightly, making the familiar journey to my wife’s swollen belly.

No sooner has my palm reached the peak, I feel the comforting drumbeat of tiny kicks as our baby acknowledges my presence.

Leaning forward, I place my lips to her bump; the drumbeats meet them forcefully. “She’s got a bloody good kick on her,” I exclaim.

Samantha chuckles. “She? We don’t know that, Dallas. You can’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m telling you, Sam. That’s our daughter in there. I just know it.”

“And if it’s a boy?” she questions, cocking her brow.

I lean into her belly and whisper, “Then Uncle Colt and I are gonna have to teach you how to spit.”

“You’re both disgusting,” she grimaces.

After over an hour of sitting on this shitty chair in the ultrasound technician’s office, Samantha’s knee begins bouncing uncontrollably against the weird paper sheet on top of the bed. Waiting for the news is agonising.

“What’s taking so long?” she asks. Her lip sucks between her teeth and they sink into the pink flesh.

“It’s fine, Sammy. Stop stressin’.” I press my hand to her cheek, and as she leans into my touch her knee slowly eases.

“What if there’s something wrong?”

Before I can respond, the technician, Eloise, bursts through the door holding a manila folder. Her lab-coat flows behind her as she floats into the room, making her way to the chair next to mine.

“Mr. And Mrs. Northlane, thank you for your patience. I apologise for the delay, we had to finalise a few things,” she announces.

“Finalise what?” Samantha asks, her expression worried. She turns in her seat on the bed, and her eyes bore into me with an unspoken question.

Eloise offers Sam a gentle smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Northlane,” she begins, peeling open the folder and sliding a small photograph from inside. She palms it softly for a moment before she continues, “Are you ready to see your daughter?”

Samantha launches at me, nearly knocking me from my seat. “Babe, be careful,” I exclaim. Tears begin forming in her big, blue eyes as her arms wrap around my neck. She clings onto me, allowing her tears to soak into my shirt.

My voice comes out shaky and broken as I drift my gaze from my wife to Eloise and say, “We have a daughter.” I feel my own tears beginning to fall down my cheeks.

“Congratulations, both of you.” Eloise stands to leave, looking back at us – still holding each other – and with a gentle nod, she turns and exits the way she came, leaving us to enjoy this moment together.

I nestle my face into my wife’s shoulder, her soft, golden hair tickling my nose. “Billie-Mae?” I ask her.

Samantha stays silent for what feels like an eternity before pulling herself from my embrace. Tears still flow from her eyes as she smiles and says, “Billie-Mae.”