Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
BECKETT
I ’m going to give this one more shot because I can’t get Skyla Gallagher out of my head, and I have a feeling I’ll regret it if I don’t do everything I can to get to know her better.
Those alluring eyes.
That thick red hair.
That voice that slips its way under my skin and heats me from the inside out.
I need to at least try because something tells me that she’s definitely worth the effort.
The bell above the door of Paula’s Poseys rings as I push through and see the owner, Summer Wild, fussing with a bouquet at the front counter.
“Hey, Beckett,” she says with a smile. “How can I help you today?”
“I need flowers, but I’m not sure what kind.”
“That’s what you have me for.” She sets her bouquet aside and gives me her undivided attention. “Who are they for?”
“Skyla Gallagher.”
Her eyebrow lifts, and her lips tip up in a smile. “I like where this is going. Is it for an occasion?”
I could tell Summer it’s to congratulate Skyla on her first recital, but let’s face it, this is a small town. Summer’s friends with my sister, so honesty is the only option.
“Yeah, it’s for please give me your number so I can take you out. ”
Summer laughs now and nods. “We’re going to make this happen, my friend. Give me five minutes to do a little research, and I’ll put together something beautiful.”
“Have at it.” I grin at her and hear the bell over the door ring.
“Hey, blondie,” Chase says to his wife as he walks in. “Beck.”
“Hi, Chase.” I shake the man’s hand. Chase and I have known each other since we were kids, and I consider him a good friend. Our ranches aren’t too far apart, and our families have always been close. “Any crime to report out there today?”
He rests his hands on his policeman belt and shrugs a shoulder. “Nothing to speak of. How’s the milk business treating you?”
“I can’t complain.”
“I got it!” Summer exclaims as she rushes out of her walk-in cooler, carrying a bouquet.
“You’re fast.”
She grins at me. “I know my flowers. Okay, so Skyla is Irish. I don’t have any shamrocks or anything like that around here, but I do have ranunculus, which are a part of the buttercup family and grow in Ireland.”
“Wow, I just wanted pretty flowers, Summer.”
Chase laughs and runs his hands down his face. “It’s never just pretty flowers, man.”
“I guess not. Those look great, and I’m sure she’ll love them.”
“I hope they do the trick.” She wraps them up in pretty paper with a green bow and rings me up. Once I’ve paid, I make my way out of the store and walk the couple of blocks over to Skyla’s studio.
The door’s unlocked, so I step inside and pet Riley’s head when he perks up, but I don’t make any noise because…the woman is dancing, and all of the air has been stolen from my lungs.
She’s fucking spectacular.
I don’t know how her body can do what she’s doing. Up on tiptoes, jumping effortlessly into the air, her legs so high above her head.
I’ve never seen anything like it. She’s graceful and confident. So goddamn strong. Her muscles flex, and it’s clear that she works hard to be in such good shape with that much flexibility. So talented.
Skyla is exquisite. I’ve never been one to fantasize about what the perfect woman would be, especially not for me. In the back of my mind, I figured I’d be with someone who loves the land, who loves small-town life. Someone strong, both physically and mentally. Because let’s face it, I don’t want or need a doormat. Never have. But Skyla Gallagher has somehow crushed through those thoughts and has completely captivated me. She’s like a dream come true even though I’ve never dreamed of her.
When the music fades away, Skyla stops in place, breathing hard and in a pose that would probably put my back out and send me to the hospital. I’m so moved by what I just saw that I don’t want to break the spell.
I don’t want to ruin it.
“Alexa, stop music,” she says, and the room goes silent, except for Skyla’s gasping breath. She opens her eyes and sees me standing behind her in the mirror and shrieks before covering her chest with her hand. “Bloody shit, you scared me.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to interrupt because I think I just witnessed the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Her face softens, and she licks her lips. Noticing her water bottle on a table near me, I fetch it and take it to her, and she accepts. She’s breathing fast as she drinks, her bright eyes on me.
“Thanks,” she says.
“These are for you.” I offer her the flowers, and she smiles softly. “Summer helped me, and I think she did a good job.”
“They’re beautiful. I love ranunculus.” She accepts them and leans in to fuss over a bloom. “You shouldn’t have.”
“No, I really should have.” With my hands empty, I shove them into my pockets and rock back on my heels. “I feel like I interrupted something personal, but I’m not sorry because watching you dance is breathtaking, Skyla.”
She frowns down into the flowers before answering. “Thank you. It is personal, always. But I don’t mind sharing it. I performed on a stage for far too long not to enjoy an audience.”
I want to ask so many questions. I need to know everything there is to know about this woman.
“Are you going to ask for my number again, Mr. Blackwell?”
I could try to turn on the charm or be funny, but something tells me that isn’t what this woman wants or needs.
So I go with flat-out honesty.
“Yeah, Ms. Gallagher. I am.”
Her brows pull into a frown, and I want to reach out and smooth the pad of my thumb over the lines between them, but I keep my hands in my pockets.
“Am I so out of practice, having spent far too long with only cows and chickens, that I’m fucking this up so bad?”
She simply raises an eyebrow, her chest still heaving from her dance.
“Cows. Bessy’s pretty, but she doesn’t respond to adult conversation all that well.”
That earns me a smile, and a wrinkle of the nose that is fucking adorable.
I’m already obsessed with this woman.
“One date, Skyla. Let me take you to dinner, converse, and be near you for one evening, and if you decide that I’m a complete idiot, I won’t ask again.”
Those mossy eyes watch me for a moment as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“I have character references,” I add. “And I can give you a background check if you want. I don’t have any arrests in my past unless you count the time when I got caught toilet-papering the math teacher’s house when I was sixteen. My dad made me sit in jail overnight just to teach me a lesson.”
“And did it work?” she asks.
“Hell yes, it worked. I’m not cut out for prison.”
She laughs again, and I can see the moment she softens. “Dinner sounds nice.”
“Are you free this evening?”
“That quick, is it?”
I grin at her and can’t resist reaching out to tuck a lock of that gorgeous red hair behind her ear. She doesn’t pull away.
“My luck just changed, and I’m going to take full advantage. I don’t want you to change your mind and break my heart.”
“Hmm.” She swallows and glances at the clock on the wall. “I have a class coming in fifteen minutes, and I’ll be done for the day at six.”
“Pick you up at seven?”
Skyla bites that lower lip, then nods. I wisely hold back my fist pump. “Seven it is. But I can meet you.”
“That’s not a date, Skyla. I’m a gentleman. I’ll pick you up and drop you off when the evening is over.”
She lets out a chuckle. “You’re good at pushing, aren’t you then?”
“I know what I want. You’ll need to send me your address. And to do that, you’ll need to give me your number.”
“Pushy cowboy,” she mutters as she crosses to a table, sets down the flowers, and retrieves her phone. “All right then, it’s my number you’re getting out of me, Beckett Blackwell.”
It’s about fucking time.
I give her my phone after unlocking it. “Go ahead and text yourself.”
She does, and when her phone buzzes with a notification, she passes me back my cell, opens her phone, and shows it to me.
“There, was that so hard?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” she says and lifts her gaze to mine. Jesus, I want to pull her in and kiss the fuck out of her. Push my hands in that thick hair and hold on tight as my mouth memorizes hers.
I want to lose myself in her. Fuck her so hard that she’ll forget anyone who came before me, then I want to talk to her for days.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what, exactly?”
“Saying yes. I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”
Her smile lights up the whole room, but then a car door slams out front, signaling the first of her class to arrive, and cueing my time to leave.
“I’ll see you at seven.” I lean in to kiss her cheek and breathe in her soft lavender scent before I pull away and walk to the door.
I have to go get ready for a date.
Because she finally said yes.
* * *
At seven on the dot, I pull up in front of the house in a neighborhood I don’t know all that well. It’s a newer subdivision with larger lots, so she’s not close to her neighbors. A wrought iron fence, at least eight feet tall, surrounds the property, and she even has a gate and cameras. Her security system is impressive.
When I press the button, there’s only a slight pause before Skyla answers.
“It’s Beckett,” I say to her.
“Drive on through,” she replies, and the gate swings open, allowing me to pass.
The house isn’t huge. My farmhouse likely has more square footage, but Skyla’s home is newer, and I can see it’s well taken care of, with tulips blooming along the side of the porch and shrubberies perfectly groomed.
After parking, I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. I hear Riley bark only once as if he’s letting his human know someone’s at the door.
And when said door swings open, my jaw drops.
Skyla’s dressed casually, but that doesn’t mean she’s not dressed to kill.
And kill me she just might.
Her jeans fit her waist and ass perfectly, and her soft pink sweater falls off one shoulder, showing me creamy white skin and even more freckles that I want to trace with my tongue.
Her hair is loose and straight, falling almost to her waist.
But those alluring eyes currently taking a tour of my body hypnotize me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I breathe, unable to hold the words in, and Skyla’s gaze snaps up to mine. Her cheeks darken as she bites her lower lip.
“So are you,” she whispers before clearing her throat and turning her attention to Riley. “I prefer to take him.”
“Of course.” I’m glad I thought ahead about her mountain of a dog. “I called ahead and made sure he could come with. We’re just going to Old Town Pizza, and Heather, the owner, said it’s no trouble at all for him to join us.”
Skyla blinks up at me. “You included Riley in the reservation?”
“Well, yeah. I noticed that you take him everywhere and that he sometimes wears a service-dog vest, so I thought you’d want him along.”
“Wow, thank you for thinking of him.”
“It’s no trouble. He should fit in the back seat of my truck.”
“Why don’t we take my SUV?” she asks, pointing toward the garage. “I bought it just to accommodate this big boy. Don’t worry, you can drive, so it still feels like a proper date.”
I grin at her and nod. “So I’ve brought you over to the real date side.”
Skyla laughs that infectious laugh and leads me through her house to the garage where her vehicle is. We get Riley situated and climb in, then I start it up.
“This is a nice car,” I comment as I push the seat back to allow for my long legs.
“I like it. Without the dog, I don’t need anything this big, but my boy weighs over one hundred and fifty pounds, and he needs something comfy.”
The gate opens for us, and I drive us through, surprised that I feel so comfortable driving her vehicle. I wonder if some men might take issue with her request, but I’m quickly figuring out that I’ll do anything to accommodate this woman’s needs.
Including calling Heather about Riley.
“Have you had him long?”
“Riley?”
“Yeah. He’s a great dog.”
“Thank you.” She grins back at the enormous canine. “I’ve had him for about a year now and can’t imagine my life without him. Do you have any dogs at the ranch?”
“I don’t have one right now, but my manager, Brad, has a lab named Sadie. She had puppies last year.”
“You didn’t snag one?” she asks. “You seem like the dog type. Riley’s taken with you.”
Here’s to hoping his owner is just as taken with me by the end of this date.
“No time for a puppy right now. I hope you like pizza.” I frown over at her once I’ve parked. “I should have asked.”
“Are there people who don’t enjoy pizza?” She grins and moves to open the door, but I stop her.
“Wait for me.”
Pushing out of the car, I walk around and open her door, reach across her to unbuckle her belt, and take her hand to help her out of the tall SUV.
Once we have Riley on his leash, we walk inside and are quickly shown to our table on the rooftop.
“Down,” Skyla says to Riley, and he lies under the table at her feet.
I have so many questions about the dog, but I’m going to hold those until later.
Instead, we order drinks, Guinness for both of us, and settle in with the menu.
“What do you like on your pizza?” I ask.
“I lived in New York City for a decade, so I’m pretty much a pepperoni kind of girl, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Works for me.”
“Bee tells me that you own a dairy farm,” she says, sipping the beer placed in front of her. “Ah, I get one of these a year, and it’s bloody fantastic.”
“Just one? And you’re using that one on me?”
Skyla winks at me over the rim. “That I am. Now, tell me about your farm.”
“Tell me why you only get one beer a year.”
“Because it has a lot of extra calories, and dancers stay away from those. Maybe now that I’m not dancing professionally anymore, I could have it twice a year.”
Yeah, I have a million questions.
“The farm?” she prompts me.
“Yes, I run a dairy farm I inherited from my parents. I also have a fairly new guest ranch that’s a pain in my ass.”
“Yes, guests can be difficult. My family owns hotels.”
Gallagher Resorts. Everyone in the world recognizes that name, even if they don’t travel often. It’s as recognizable as Hilton or Ritz-Carlton.
“Honey, your family owns an empire.”
Her cheeks darken, and she shrugs a shoulder. “Yes, well, that’s true enough. I grew up in hotels all over the world, and I can tell you that whether you’re a small operation or a large one, patrons can be difficult.”
“You didn’t want to go into the family business?”
We’re interrupted by the server who takes our order, then Skyla leans her elbows on the table.
“I didn’t want to work for my family, no. I’ve been a dancer since I was old enough to walk. I moved to New York City to dance when I was just sixteen.”
I lift an eyebrow. “I assume your parents went with you?”
“My mother did for a while. Then they’d send a nanny or my brother. I always had someone with me to help, but I was so focused on the work that it didn’t matter who was there. I was too busy working my way up through the ranks until I finally secured a prima ballerina position. It’s all I wanted. And I worked my arse off for it.”
“I believe it. I only saw you dance for a few minutes, but it was pure magic.”
“I know that it was meant to be a private moment, but it’s glad I am that you saw me dance, so you have an idea of what it looks like.”
“It looks like art.”
“And it is art, yes. I loved it.”
“Why did you stop?”
A shadow moves over her face as the pizza is set down between us. When we’re alone again, I reach across the table to take her hand.
“Hey, Irish. You don’t have to talk about that. Forget I asked, okay?”
“I don’t mind,” she admits, but doesn’t let go of my hand right away. “But maybe we’ll talk more about it after dinner, okay?”
“Sure.” Reluctantly, I pull my hand away, and we dish up slices of the pie and take a bite. “Mmm, fucking good pizza.”
She nods, then wipes her mouth with a napkin. “It reminds me of a favorite spot of mine in New York. Anyway, tell me more about your dairy farm. How many cows do you have that produce milk for you?”
I frown as I swallow a bite. “Do you really want to know about this stuff?”
“Of course. It’s what you do, where you live. The purpose of a date is to get to know each other better. I want to know everything.”
It’s been my experience that women don’t want anything at all to do with my ranch, least of all the farm side of it.
Tori couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It almost gave me whiplash.
“I have six milking cows,” I explain. “They’re milked twice a day.”
“But not with a stool and your own two hands,” she says with a grin.
“Not anymore, no. We have machines for it that are faster, but sometimes a cow needs to be milked by hand. We’re a small dairy, not a huge corporation, so if a cow needs a little TLC, we can give it to her.”
“I’ve milked a cow, you know.” Her eyes shine as she bites into her crust.
“Tell me more.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. The way her eyes flick down to my biceps isn’t lost on me. It almost makes me want to flex. “I find it surprising that a hotel heiress has had an occasion to milk a cow.”
“I’ll have you know that my best friend as a girl, Bridget Mary O’Reilly, had a farm, and they milked the cows for their own milk, and whenever I spent time there, I was permitted to milk them myself.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You squatted on a stool and milked a cow?”
“Well, to be fair, I was a wee girl, so I didn’t have to squat. I sat.” She grins and sits back, mirroring me. “And I’ll also have you know that I was quite good at it. Someday, you’ll take me out and introduce me to Bessy, and I’ll show you what I’m about.”
Jesus, I’ll take her there right now and keep her there.
“You’ve got a date. You’re welcome out there anytime, and you don’t even have to milk anything.”
She chuckles and takes a bite of her pizza. “Billie said you make ice cream. What flavors do you offer?”
I can’t help but grin at her. “Are you an ice cream fan?”
“It’s a weakness, but I don’t indulge often. Tell me you make peppermint ice cream, and I might try to sweet-talk you into a pint.”
“During the holidays, we do. Mostly, we specialize in the typical vanilla, chocolate, huckleberry, and strawberry. But we add one or two flavors with the different seasons.”
“I haven’t had huckleberry ice cream yet,” she says, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “I didn’t even know what a huckleberry was until I moved here last year. I was too late to pick some of my own.”
“I will have plenty growing on the ranch this summer. You can pick all you want.”
Her smile is so wide, I feel like I just won the lottery.
“How often do you get back to Ireland?” I ask.
“Typically just once a year, during the holidays. Maybe now that I’m not dancing, I can try to get over there for a couple of weeks in the summer as well.”
“Do you miss it?”
She tips her head to the side as she finishes her crust as if she’s giving it some thought. “I miss my parents, and yes, there’s plenty about Ireland to love, but I adapted well to living in the States. How long has your family owned the ranch?”
“My parents bought it when Brooks was a baby, and the rest of us were all born there. Home births.”
“You were born in the house you still live in?” She blinks at me in surprise. “That’s amazing, Beck. And quite unusual these days.”
“My mom was afraid of hospitals,” I reply. “I find it ironic that one of her kids is now a doctor and spends most of his time in one.”
“That is funny.” The conversation continues to flow as we eat. Not only does Skyla ask intelligent questions but she also seems interested in the answers.
When we’ve finished our dinner and the server approaches, I’m surprised to discover we’ve been here for over an hour.
“Can I get you two any dessert?” the server asks, and we shake our heads. I pay the bill, and my jaw tightens because I don’t want to simply drop her off and leave.
There’s still so much to talk about.
And I’ve quickly become addicted to being in her company.
“I should get Riley home,” Skyla says quietly.
With a nod, I stand and offer her my hand, helping her to her feet. Before letting her go, I pull her fingers to my lips and press a kiss against her knuckles.
I’d never stop touching her if I thought she’d let me.
We’re quiet on our way back to her place. When we reach the gate, I look her way.
I have to punch in a code to get us in, and she worries her bottom lip before saying softly, “Six one nine four.”
I’m quite sure that telling me the code to her gate was a big deal for her, and I won’t let her regret it.
The gate swings open, and I park her SUV in the garage, where she had it before. However, she turns to me in the darkness before we can get out.
“Why don’t you come inside for some tea?”
Thank Christ.