Seven
Dallas
We’re about halfway to the lookout before I realise that I have all-but kidnapped my daughter’s music teacher. Okay, well, not kidnapped so much as adult-napped. Is that a thing? Although, she did come willingly, so, despite this being wildly inappropriate, here we are.
Her knee bounces in time to the music, and a soft hum emits from her lips as the chorus booms through the speakers. It’s barely audible, but I can already tell she’s got a beautiful voice. Without being able to help myself, I start humming along in time to the beat.
An unspoken agreement seems to happen somewhere along the drive, and before I know it, we’re both belting the chorus of Nicotine Dolls’ rendition of The Best. I am not a young man, and you can’t convince me otherwise that Tina Turner struck a gold mine with this song, and the gritty, acoustic cover is fucking brilliant.
I may never be able to sing like this bloke, but that doesn’t stop me.
The drive to the lookout isn’t long by any means, but with present company, good music, and a bottle of bourbon calling my name it feels shorter than usual.
I pull my ute onto the familiar dirt road, my hand passionately drumming against the leather steering wheel.
Our voices still ring out through the cab, neither of us holding back as we make it to the final chorus and drive it home.
I pull into my usual spot next to the bench at the lookout, noticing Annabeth’s eyes darting around manically.
She’s scanning her surroundings. Of course she is, I’m basically a stranger and she’s just jumped into my ute and is now in what appears to be the middle of nowhere.
Great one, Dallas. Way to make yourself look like the world’s biggest slimeball.
“This is the lookout off the old stock route that connects all of Flame Tree Flats. Usually, I come here earlier to watch the sunset. The cliff is high enough that you can watch the sun go down over all of Hawks Hollow, and it’s close enough to Fires Creek to get those perfect hues of orange,” I offer.
Her glare softens, her entire body visibly relaxing as she exhales.
“Really? It connects the whole area?”
“Yep. The stock route and the river run through from Wattle Ridge to the outskirts of Blackridge.” I gesture towards the cliff nestled in the clearing ahead and continue.
“Fires Creek was home to the first trail, where the founding families decided to connect every corner of the town. It took decades to clear, but they had a vision for optimal stock delivery. You don’t care, do you? ”
My gaze flicks from the river to Annabeth, her eyes meeting mine as she offers me a gentle smile.
A melodic laugh escapes her lips, her dimples creasing as the smile deepens.
“No, it’s sweet. I haven’t met anyone here who knows so much about this place.
Or, at least, no one who’s bothered to tell me. It’s nice.”
“I’m sure there’s lots of things about me that will surprise you.”
Fuck, Dallas, why are you flirting?
Her teeth sink into her lower lip, and I genuinely can’t tell if she’s displeased, or if she’s going to reciprocate my shameless flirting.
Crimson flushes her cheeks, her fingers move to the hem of her oversized tee, toying with the stitching.
Her nails are a deep shade of navy, perfectly manicured with an array of golden bands adorning almost every finger.
I hadn’t noticed before, but the way her shorts creep into the flesh of her thighs is sending a rush of blood from my brain to my dick.
“Sorry, that didn’t come out exactly how I intended it to,” I tell her with a sheepish grin.
Emerald-green eyes stare at me from across the dashboard, and I find myself being pulled into the gemstones that sit above her freckles. She’s beautiful.
“Will you show me?” she asks.
The puzzled expression I flash her must convey my question perfectly because she’s barely taken a breath when she continues, “The river. Will you show me the river?”
“It would be my honour, Annabeth.” I kick my door open, rounding the ute to the passenger side where Annabeth is already half out the door.
I take her hand in mine, feeling every curve of her soft skin against my calloused palms, and guide her across the lookout grounds towards the overhanging cliff.
Our boots crunch against the dry ground beneath us, the grass in desperate need of some rain.
This place may be breathtaking during Spring, but the hot summers hit us hard.
We can go weeks without a drop of rain, and everything from the grass to the livestock suffer.
I can think of countless times where Colt and I have had to fix makeshift hose lines from water tanks just to keep the cattle going when the dams dry out.
We make it to the end of the cliff as the hot afternoon breeze rolls in.
Annabeth’s hair is tossed up in a messy bun, the curled wispy bits framing her face catch in the wind.
She pauses, letting her eyes close as she inhales, before turning her gaze to the sunburst horizon.
Each town in Flame Tree Flats has a lookout.
Fires Creek, Hawks Hollow, Wattle Ridge, and Blackridge.
I love them all in their own way, but this one is definitely my favourite. This one doesn’t remind me of her.
My eyes are locked onto Annabeth, making sure I don’t miss even a second of her just existing here.
Why do I care so much? I haven’t noticed a woman since…
well since Sam. A familiar and unwelcome thump starts in my chest. Bile rises, and I gulp it down without question.
I shouldn’t have brought her here. I can’t do this.
“It’s so beautiful out here. You can see everything from this peak,” Annabeth murmurs joyfully, her voice carrying through the clearing.
I whip my head around, finding her standing on the edge of the cliff with her arms outstretched like she’s scored the lead role in the remake of Titanic.
“Don’t let go, Jack,” I say with a smirk. My moment of contrition apparently forgotten the moment she uttered a word.
“You know Titanic?”
“If by that, you mean, do I know the movie that should have won DiCaprio his first Oscar? Then yes, yes, I fucking do.”
“I wish we still dressed like that.”
“What? Corsets and puffy skirts?”
“Yes. The gloves, and the gowns, and the jewels. I would have thrived as a sophisticated woman from old money,” she says with a giggle.
Her arms flail in the air as she gestures to her outfit, which I now realise is adorable.
She’s got an oversized tee that’s been cut off at the waist, jagged edges rest against the worn denim of the shorts she’s wearing.
I linger for a moment too long at her thighs and her soft belly peeking out from the tiny space between the two pieces of fabric. She’s gorgeous.
“I think you’re perfect how you are,” I blurt out without thinking. Good one, dickhead.
Her freckled cheeks flush with heat, but it fades just as fast as she finds her inner sass and chooses that exact moment to flash me a wink and say, “You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
Now, it’s my turn to have heat-flushed cheeks.
And a heat-flushed dick. God, that sounds painful.
I mean, I have to mentally will myself not to instantly get hard.
I feel like a creep. Maybe she thinks I’m a basket-case – I did adult-nap her after all.
But no, something about her smirk, and the wicked gleam in her eyes, tells me she has me right where she wants me.
Hanging off every word, and one smart-ass remark away from being wrapped around her fucking finger. Damn.
Her eyes remain locked on mine, neither of us dare speak another word. We’re frozen in this moment together. As if nothing else around us exists.
“I should get you back to town,” I tell her, my heart racing.
She nods slowly, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she stares at me through her thick, black lashes. “Maybe you should,” she offers, though the way she says it makes me think she wants nothing less.
Several moments pass before I muster up the courage to clear my throat and say, “To the chariot, milady.” Annabeth stifles a giggle, playfully turning on her heels and making her way back to my car.
As I trail along behind her, I know that I’m never going to get enough of this mysterious, bubblegum pixie. Or her lips.